#too much of a coward to kill myself too terrified of the unknown to run away too convinced of my own stupid burden curse to accept help

[saddlepunk]

can literally only swing an apartment w another person and my bf is on the brink of backing out so i have to figure out what the hell is goin on there but god... god!!! i just want to escape!!! i was so goddamn close and now im being knocked all the way back!!! i dont even know where to /start/ looking for a new place to live or people to live with i just. what the fuck is wrong with me and why does this keep happening.

[suchalonelysunflower]

“Half the World Away” (l.h) 

Pairing: Luke Hemmings X Reader

Summary: Based on the unrealeased song “Half the World Away” by One Direction. Luke is missing you, but he knows he fucked up. Could a drunk call make everything right between the two of you?

Warnings: The reader uses She/Her pronouns, I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, it was not my intention to do so. Angst. Language. Mentions of Smut. Mentions of Alcohol. Maybe a few grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 1.6 k

Author’s Note: It’s so late but I couldn’t get the song out of my head and I needed to write this, so I hope it’s good 😅 Reblogs, comments and feedback are always appreciated! I love to hear about you guys 💕 You can find my other works HERE including my recent Ashton fic and the first part of the Entangled series. Hope you like it and Happy reading 🦋✨

Another sleepless night in a hotel room of a city he doesn’t really know much about. Another night of turning around in the bedsheets trying to find the comfort he so desperately needs, a comfort he knows he is not going to get. Not from you, not tonight and probably not ever. 

He regrets how he left things off with you. He never intended to say those things but he just couldn’t help it as they came bursting out his mouth and before he knew it, it was already too late. 

“You are not my girlfriend, Y/N” He said in a harsh tone, already tired of the conversation that has just started. 

“Don’t pretend that makes us nothing, Luke” You spatted those words like venom. 

You were exhausted of being Luke’s therapist every time he fought with one of his flings. Every single time he called you were there to dry his tears, listening to him talk about yet another heartbreak or another conquest gone wrong, depending on the night, and it always ended up the same: with you tangled up in his bedsheets between his arms, wondering if you could ever be enough for him. 

It hasn’t started that way though, you were friends with Luke since he moved to LA a few years back, always hanging out with the same group of friends and actually becoming besties in no time, finding out you had a lot of things in common. You didn’t know when your feelings towards him changed, however. Maybe it was the third or fourth night he called you, surprisingly not to comfort him, but just to hang out. Maybe it was the way he held you tight while you watched that movie with the time-traveler, or maybe the words of reassurance that came out of his mouth were to blame. It could also be the way that he makes time pass you by without even noticing, the way his voice sounds as he sings sweet tunes to you while you are cuddling with Petunia. He made falling so easy, but he never promised you he’d be there to catch you. 

“Every time you call I’m here” You stated calmly, though the tears falling from your eyes made it easy to see how upset you actually were “I’m here listening to you talk about every girl that comes your way. I’m here to wipe your tears or hear about the unknown bitch that never called you back and for what? To feed your ego? To supposedly make you feel better so you could just fuck me after like I’m some sort of consolation prize? I’m breaking, Luke. Tell me something that I can hold onto, something that makes it stop hurting” 

Luke knows he should’ve said something to reassure you that you were not, by all means, a consolation prize. That you were the only constant thing he had in his life, the only person he could trust besides his bandmates and the only person that could make him feel like he was actually worth something. He should’ve told you that more times than not he creates fake heartbreaks in order for you to come and be with him because he is afraid that if he ever admits that he needs you, you would just walk away. You meant more to him than you could ever know, but that night he couldn’t find the right words, the right thing to say. Blame it on the stress of leaving in the morning, blame it on the drinks he had that night, blame it on his stupidity and fear of you breaking his heart. Blame it on everything that happened that night where he broke your heart. 

“You can leave if you don’t like it” He said coldly, not looking into your eyes “We are nothing, Y/N. I don’t need you to stay” 

The memory of that night haunts him wherever he goes. As of right now he could still hear you slam the door on your way out, he could still see the silent tears make their way down your cheeks as you let those harsh words sink in, letting all the love you had for him disappear from your eyes. He needed to quiet down his mind, so he started walking to the mini bar, hoping some cheap whisky could drown his regrets. 

His thoughts, however, did not stop. The alcohol running through his veins burned like a thousand suns yet his only comfort was the thought of you. You and your pretty laugh, the look in your eyes when you got sleepy, the feeling of you wrapped around his body as you cuddled into the night and the sound of voice saying his name. 

He needed you. He needed to hear you. So he did the best and worst thing he could ever do, he called. 

You jumped when you heard your ringtone echo through the empty room, waking you up from yet another dreamless sleep. You were about to curse the person who so rudely started calling in the middle of the night, but all of your coherent thoughts went out the window when you saw his name lighting up the screen. 

You doubted, not knowing if you should answer. Not knowing if you wanted to answer. But your feelings got the best of you as you slide your fingers across the screen, fearing something must’ve happened for him to make that call, aware that he must hate you.

“Luke?” You said in a sleepy voice, trying your best to fully wake up.

The line was silent on the other half. But you knew he was there, his breathing being the only thing you could hear. 

“Luke, is everything alright?”

“Say that again” He pleaded, a melancholy tone whispering in his voice “Say my name again”

You sighed “Luke, are you okay?” 

He stayed silent for a while, you debated on whether you should end the call right there and there, but before you could move your finger he said “I missed you” 

“Luke…”

“I was missing you and… And I started drinking. I don’t know half of what I’m thinking, I’m deep in. I’m scared I’ll stop breathing if I didn’t hear from you” 

Your heart beat loudly inside your chest. Your feelings were all over the place, your common sense urged you to remember the hurt he gave to you, begging you not to believe a word he said. But your heart, oh, that sick bastard was telling you to keep listening to what he has to say, you couldn't deny that you missed him too. 

“I’m gonna sleep alone tonight and if-” He choked “if you were a good friend you'd always be there when I need it, cause I'm on my knees and babe I'm bleeding” He cried into the phone, unable to hold the tears any longer “But you were never a friend, Y/N. Never. You were always more than that and I knew, I always knew but I pushed you away and it kills me that you're not around” 

You stayed silent, knowing better than to interrupt him when he was pouring his heart out. You could feel the tears welling up your eyes and clouding your view, confused about everything at this moment. 

“Tell me you don’t miss this feeling. That you don’t miss me like I miss you. Maybe it’ll be easier to calm the guilt I’m feeling. I was a fucking coward, Y/N. I was so scared of you walking away from me that the only thing I knew how to do was pushed you away when all I wanted to do was hold you closer and closer” 

“Luke, what are you saying?” You stated with a broken voice “Cause if this is just another one of your tricks to get me falling for you all over again just to get hurt then don’t even bother. I'm starting to see who you are and I don’t like it” 

You heard a sniffle coming from his end “I messed up”

“You’ll be fine” 

“No!” He cried “No, I won’t because you are not here with me! Don’t you get it, Y/N?” 

You didn’t answer, allowing him to gather his thoughts. 

“Cause there's a time, there's a place and I'm always gonna hear your name wherever I go. You are always with me and it fucking hurts that you are so far away at the same time. I get that there's a right, there's a wrong and now I see that all along I was the only one holding myself back to tell you how I really feel, because I love you, Y/N. I’m so in love with you and it terrifies me” 

“What are you so scared of?” You asked after a moment of silence.

“I thought that-” He breathed “That things were never going to be the same again, that you’ll end up hating me and…”

“I could never hate you, Luke” You quickly reassured him “I’m just disappointed”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry” Luke cried again “I never meant to make you feel that way. I fucked up and I don’t know how I could ever make this right to you… I walk to you 'till my feet hurt if I have to, even if you tell me that that's not good enough. I’ll do everything in my power to prove to you just how much I love you, in hopes that you love me too. Because I don’t know what I’ll do without you and I’m losing my mind cause you’re half the world away and I need you.”

“You need me now?”

“I’ll always need you. In more ways than once. I want you around, Y/N” He said “Always”

You smiled.

“I want you around, too”

[alehaj15]

King and his Queen

Klaus Mikaelson x reader

Imagine: You and Klaus are on your way to your friend, when suddenly you take part in a car crash.

Warnings: car crash, torture, Klaus being… Klaus

Autor’s note: I didn’t want to split this in two, so it’s a little longer. Enjoy :)

MASTERLIST

   ’‘I’ll be back soon. It’s just a few miles away and I promised her I’ll be there.“ you told Klaus before putting more of your clothes into your suitcase.

   ’'Why am I not allowed to go too?” he asked trying to persuade you to stay “I won’t cause any trouble, I promise.”

   ’'You do realize she doesn’t like you, right?“ you turned on him with hands full of clothes.

   ’'Besides, don’t you have a city to run?” you asked  ’'Just don’t set it on fire while I’m gone.“ you chuckled and a smirk appeared on his face.

   ’'You call me as soon as you get there, alright love?”

   ’'Don’t be so scared, I’m a hybrid too, I know how to take care of myself.“ you opposed.

   ’'But not the original one.” he smirked “Just promise you’ll call, please.”

   ’'Fine, if it calms you, I’ll call . Can I get my suitcase now?“ you asked and signed him to move, because he was standing right between you and the bed on which was your over-filled suitcase. He moved and you tried to zip it, but vainly.

   ’'Little help here Nik?” you looked at him and sat on the suitcase.

   ’'Is it true? You, the independent hybrid and in need of my help.“ he joked and helped you immediately.

   ’'Oh please, don’t act like it bothers you.” you said “You’ve always loved to be my hero.”

It was true, he would help you with anything, anywhere and anytime. He would even breathe for you. When the suitcase was closed, you picked it up and headed to the front door.  

  “Can I give you a lift at least?” he still tried “I’ll come back, when I’d be sure you’re safe.”

   ’'If you insist on it that much, fine.“ you replied actually quite glad he treated you like royalty.

He took that suitcase for you and put it in car. You grabbed the handle of the car door and pulled it to open it. You sat on the frontseat, fully ready to spend next seven hours with him locked in a moving car. Despite your unconditional love, he was sometimes able to drive you extremely crazy. He sat on the driverseat and started the engine.

   ’'Shall we?” he asked and looked you in the eye.

You nodded your head and the car left the mansion.

After the first half hour, you fell asleep.

You woke up when the car stopped at the gas station.

   ’'I’m sorry love, didn’t mean to wake you up. I’ll be right back. Do you want something from the shop?“ he asked

   ’'No, I’m fine, thanks.” you answered with your eyes closed and your body curled up to keep yourself warm and comfortable.

He gave you a cute smile and left. After a while, you were back on the road.

   ’'So, why is this friend of yours so important, we travel across states because of her?“ he started.

   ’'She is my friend and needs my help, isn’t that enough?” you replied.

   ’'Sweetheart, you have many friends and we don’t drive to them as soon as they call. So do tell me. What is so special about her?“ he continued.

   ’'She was my only true friend, before I met you and all you supernatural beings. Before I knew I’m one myself too.” you explained.

   ’'You didn’t know she is a werewolf, did you?“

   ’'Neither of us did. If she didn’t try to protect me at that time, we would never know. I feel kinda guilty about it. She killed and triggered her curse just because of me. If a wasn’t so stubborn and went right home— ” you continued explaining when Nik cut you off.

   ’'You’re not to blame, love. I’m sure that’s a thing we all can agree on.“ he said ’'How did you react, when you learnt it?”

   ’'I freaked out, as any normal person would do if they were me. But I didn’t leave her, I tried to help her even though I was terrified. And she did the same with me, after my trigger. She’s the one I went to remember? She helped me.“ you confessed.

   ’'I’m still not quite alright with the fact that you left.” he replied.

   ’'I had to leave, you know that.“

Suddenly, you heard tires squeaking and a huge crush.

  ———————————————————————

 ”(y/n)! What a pleasure to finally meet you.“ you heard some masculine voice getting closer to you. You were in chains, sitting on the ground like some prisoner.  When you opened your eyes, you looked around and searched for Niklaus. You saw him nearby, also chained up. His eyes lit up when he saw you were awake.

   ’'I guess we have a lot of catch up to do.” the stranger said as he came to you.

   ’'Who are you?“ you asked through pain caused by mixture of vervain and wolfsbane flowing through your veins.

   ’'Tyler, what is all of this supposed to be?” Klaus asked, in quite clam tone according to the situation, before now not-so-unknown person could make a sound.

   ’'You know, you made my life living hell back in the day.“ Tyler started ’'I’m here to do the same to you. You know, the plan was to kidnap only (y/n) and torture her, but since you’re already here, you can watch.” he said and stabbed an iron rod inside your stomach. You screamed from pain.

   ’'See Klaus? How does it feel to see your beloved suffer?“ he asked with anger.

Nik tried to get out of those bloody chains, but in vain. Tyler’s minions beat him down as soon as he made even a small move.

   ’'What do you want from us?” you asked catching a breath through the pain you were in.

   ’'That’s quite simple, darling. I’m just gonna torture you till your death.“ he turned on you.

   ’'You’re wrathful with me, leave her out of this!” Nik tried to save you “Let me out of these chains and let’s finish this, you coward!” he raised his voice in frustration of you getting hurt because of him.

   ’'That’s the problem Klaus!“ he shouted ’'You didn’t leave Caroline out of our problems, why would I do that with (y/n)?”

   ’'So this is what it’s all about, you’re mad at me, because Caroline left you.“ Nik smirked.

   ’'Not just that, I also had to broke every bone in my body multiple times, to break your stupid sire bond and let’s not forget that you tried to kill me too. So take this as my vengeance for all of that.” Tyler replied and stabbed your thigh with another rod. You didn’t even had the power to scream, all you left out was sigh.

   ’'You’re gonna regret this.“ Klaus said as his eyes turned yellow and veins under them popped out.

Tyler looked at him. Just like that, Klaus broke free and started to kill everyone who crossed his way to Tyler. You somehow managed to rip off that cannula from your arm and tried to pull out those rods. You heard Tyler’s people dying, one by one. You got rid of one of the rods and threw it away. Almost everyone’s heart in the room was ripped out. Only you, Klaus and Tyler were there. Nik grabbed him by the throat and pressed him against the wall.

   ’'I shouldn’t have listened to Caroline, I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.” he said. You collected all your strenght and somehow hobbled to them with one of the rods in your hand. Nik turned on you.

   ’'He’s all yours (y/n).“ he gladly moved slightly away still holding Tyler by throat.

You ran the rod through his stomach. Seeing you were weak, Klaus helped you and got it even deeper and then he bent the rod so Tyler couldn’t get away so easily. You nearly passed out from the exhaustion, but Klaus caught you.

   ’'I got you love, I’m right here.”

   ’'You’re always there for me, Nik. Thank you.“ you sighed and he bit his wrist to feed you his blood. You accepted immediately and drank. You could feel your form getting stronger and stronger with each sip.

   ’'How are you able to actually love him, after everything he had done?” Tyler, nailed to the wall, asked.

You stood up and came to confront him “Because all the bad things he’d done, were to protect him and his beloved.” you defended your love.

Klaus’ eyes fell on you and you could say he was pleased by your words and your understanding.

   ’'Oh please, he killed his own parents, not just once and he kept daggering his siblings all the time.“ Tyler snorted ’'As far as I know, he locked you too, more than once.”

   ’'I don’t know why are we even talking to you. Isn’t that rod deep enough?“ you asked sarcasticly and pushed it deeper inside his torso. Seeing Tyler suffer was making you a little less upset.

   ’'Alright, that’s enough. Goodbye, Tyler.” Klaus stated and he immediately ripped Tyler’s heart out and threw it away. The silence was too loud. You looked at Tyler’s body, but then remembered you were supposed to be somewhere.

   ’'Can we get out of here now, please?“ you turned on Klaus, who’s eyes didn’t leave the dead body in front of you both.

   ’'Hey, are you okay?” you asked in concern.

   ’'I’m sorry, I failed you, love.“ his eyes fell to the ground.

You cupped his face and turned him to face you ’'You didn’t fail me, Nik. Look at me, I’m alright, you see?” you comforted him “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

   ’'I don’t deserve you, (y/n).“ he stated with a tear growing in his eye.

   ’'No. Don’t say this. I love you, Nik, I’d always do.” you tried to prove him wrong “Look, if you didn’t go with me, I might be dead by now. You saved me. Again.”

   ’'You wouldn’t be in danger in the first place if it weren’t me.“ he argued.

   ’'Niklaus Mikaelson, we’ve already talked about this. We can’t split up. You love me, don’t you?” you got worried.

   ’'I do, that’s why it hurts me to see you suffer because of me.“ he replied ’'You’d be better without me.”

   ’'No, I’m not doing this. Get your ancient ass here and let’s find some phone and call Elijah to come for us, since your car is destroyed.“ you commanded.

   ’'I’m serious (y/n)!” he raised his voice as you were walking away

   ’'So am I.“ you raised your voice too ’'I’m not leaving you. Not at any cost. I’ll be with you always and forever Nik.” you turned on your heel, vamp-speeded to him and kissed him. He placed his hands on your waist and held you tight. Like it was the last time.

   ’'Don’t you dare to walk away from me.“ you threatened him between the kisses. He chuckled ’'How could I abandon my queen?’' 

   ’'Finally, you’ve realized it.” you recalled.

   ’'And what is it, love?“ he asked.

   ’'That you do not have any other choice.” you laughed and kissed him again with your hands wrapped around his neck.

   ’'Now, how are we gonna get home?“ you asked playfully.

   ’'First of all, let’s get out of here, and as soon as we find a telephone booth, I’ll call Elijah and Freya would perform a finding spell.” he suggested.

   ’'Great, and then I’ll call Cora to let her know about us getting back on our way to hers as soon as possible.“ you added.

He placed his hand around your waist and he pulled you into a hug on the go. Both of you chuckled.

[renee-writer]

Sisters Chapter 14

Tabitha lays beside her love nursing Fallon as she does the same with Adam. They are alone. Eve and Lovelyn left to tell the other sisters about the situation. Oona lays against her, tears leaking out of her eyes to land on the contently nursing baby.

"I love him! I really do."

"He is yours. Of course you do." Her own hand runs over the soft dewy hair of her daughter. "We are made to love our offspring."

"Yes. Her hand runs across the softness of his back and he wiggles closer, swallowing before resuming sucking. "But he is forbidden. Shouldn't exist."

"But does. There is a reason. Our son." She moves a hand over to join hers, joining them together over the soft skin of the baby.

"I love you Tabitha. But you don't have to stick with this. No one anticipated this when we decided to be co-mama's."

"Do you think I would leave you? Really? I love you. You and our children. We are family. Forever. I knew it wouldn't be all roses without thorns."

"There are some pretty big thorns."

"Yes and my love for you and ours is pretty big too." She moves Fallon to the other side, placing her by Adam. She reaches her tiny hand out to touch him. "And our daughter feels the same." Oona, overwhelmed with everything, cries harder at seeing this. Tabitha draws her close, as the babies lay across their chest. Adam's legs on Tabitha's belly and Fallon's across Oona's, tangled with her brother. "This is how it is supposed to be. The rest will work itself out. Somehow." In that moment, with her love and their children all together, she believes her. She is beyond tired and falls asleep against her.

Tabitha changes her daughter's diaper and then her son's, making a face at the almost forgotten tar like first stool. He is swaddled firmly in a pink blanket, all they have, before she lays him by his sister. Her heart expands when they instinctively curl against each other. "That is it Fallon. Keep your brother safe. He will need all the help he can get."

"That he will." Eve enters and looks down at the sleeping children. "I so looked forward to holding my daughter's daughter. But I can't bring myself to hold him. I fear, getting attached and..."

"Don't! Don't you dare think that. We will protect him. Adam. He is your grandson. My son. Oona's whole heart. We will see that he stays. Do you understand me?"

"Tabitha, even if Lovelyn can produce a deceased baby to pass off as Oona's, how do we keep him outside of society until he is grown?"

"One day at a time. We also change what we can. As much as we can."

"You are talking about going into government? Becoming a Mother?"

"I am. Oona was but with Adam so if she can't, I will. As the co-mama of a First and the sister/daughter of a super mama, I've a good chance."

"Yes but, I thought you wished to work in construction?"

"Things change. For them, Oakley, the others. Eve, they could have killed my daughter, would have killed our son. I must do as I can to see them safe."

"Yes. Do you think me a coward because I fear?"

"No Mama Eve, " she hugs her to her side, "I think you are human. I am scared too. Terrified. But, they give me courage. They and their mama. I love Oona desperately. I love my sisters and hers. To love is to be courageous, don't you think? Placing your heart in the hands of another. As I have, I can do nothing but do all I can to see them safe. When my legs feel like they can't hold themselves up another minute, I can just look at them and regain my strength. It is what mama's do."

"It is." They hold tight to each other as they watch the babies sleep. When Adam stirs in his sleep, it is his grandma that soothe him, placing her hand on his chest. "Sh, little one, granny is here. You are safe." When he settles back down, Tabitha remembers to ask her about the others reactions.

"I imagine they were right shocked."

"Oh very. Enya couldn't even fathom the idea. She will need to see him. Teagan seemed excited by the unknown. Oakley is grieving. Thinks the same thing I did."

"Grieving is good. We need a public face of grief to full those in authority."

"Good point. They all know to act like Oona is still pregnant."

"Good. We will have them show grief if we success at getting a body."

"How macabre and awful." Before she can say anything, she adds, "but needed, I know. For him and Oona, I will do whatever is necessary."

"Good because this deception is just beginning." They both sigh.

[the-sweetest-dragon]

Things Can Only Get Better - Chapter Two

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Stiles Stilinksi x OC (Evangeline Monroe)

Word Count: 12k (I went buckwild)

Warnings: kidnapping, allusions to abuse, allusions to trauma, anxiety, Stiles being an idiot, blood, wounds, injuries 

AN:  I am still on my bullshit with this fandom and I don’t know when it will end.  This is based on the last few episodes of season one with my own little spin on it

Tags: @nerdsarebetter​ @audder17​ (READ MY STUFF YOU COWARD)

chapter one

________________________________________________

“If you live among wolves you have to act like a wolf.” - Nikita Khrushchev

The months after the party went by quickly.  Not much happened.  Well, a lot happened but just not to me.  Everything had been quickly going downhill; Lydia, Stiles, Allison, Jackson, and Scott had gotten trapped in the school one night while the alpha roamed around and killed the janitor.  Which had been one of many murders that had happened since we had been turned.  A bus driver had been found, not quite dead but then later passed in the hospital.  I did my best to stay out of it.  Derek never approached me, thankfully.  They eventually figured out that the alpha was Peter Hale, Derek’s uncle who had been horrifically burned in the fire six years ago.   Which was terrifying to hear, but made since in the overarching scheme of things.  

A few things went down in our social group as well. Allison and Scott broke up mid-semester for reasons unknown to me.  I still sit with Scott and Stiles at lunch most days, mostly just to stay in the loop about what was going on.  Jackson had (somehow) figured out what Scott and I were, but he wasn’t aware I was one too, thankfully.  I could feel the tension between the two boys and ultimately decided it was best if I stayed out of it. 

However, it was when I finally heard all the details of the breakup, that I decided to stop sitting with them at lunch and instead moved to sitting with just Allison.  We were quickly joined by an apologetic Lydia who missed her friends.  I ignored Scott as much as I could, which also meant ignoring Stiles.  That hurt my heart a little, a small crush blossoming in the weeks we had spent together investigating the murders.  

Stiles still texted me updates when he could and we talked in the halls.  We no longer pretend to be dating, or whatever people thought we were doing.  A week after Thanksgiving break, Isaac Lahey asked me to go to the winter formal with him and I, of course, said yes.  No one else was going to ask me and Issac was cute, with curly blonde hair and blue eyes.  He was also on the lacrosse team, though Lydia didn’t recognize the name.  I had said yes before thinking about Stiles, but if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t think he really cared if I went at all.  Which broke my heart a little, but I did my best to ignore it.  He still had a huge crush on Lydia and I didn’t really want to mess around with that. 

I tried to focus on Lydia more.  She and Jackson had broken up not too long after Allison and Scott had split.  Lydia seemed… heartbroken.  Her sadness clung to her like a second skin and nearly made it impossible to sit near her.  No one else seemed to notice, besides me and maybe Stiles, for obvious reasons.  She had really loved Jackson, for whatever reason.  I still don’t like the guy, especially after the shit he pulled trying to get the bite.  He was reckless and didn’t listen to reason, two of my least favorite qualities.  

One day, after a few weeks of refusing to speak to him, Scott stopped me in the hallway.  The stench of desperation surrounded me, making me want to gag.  I glared at him and he held his hands up in surrender.

“I just want to talk,” he said, his brown eyes pleading with me.  At that moment I spotted Isaac’s blonde head over the crowd of people and I hurried towards it, Scott meeting me stride for stride.  “I need you to get Allison’s necklace for me.  We think it may have to do with the murders.”  I stop in my tracks and turn a glare onto him.

“So you want me to steal from one of my best friends?” I practically growl at him.  His eyes go wide, and I try to calm down.  Scott was one of the few people who managed to really get under my skin, and I knew in that moment that my eyes had gone yellow. I collected myself, pushing the anger and panic down.  “I am not stealing from her.  If you want it, why don’t you ask for it?  I won’t be your go between.”  He stops following me and I quickly get to Issac’s side.

“Hey, whats up?” he asks quietly.  I shake my head.  Isaac is shockingly good at reading my emotions, and knowing when I don’t want to talk.  He just nods, and wraps an arm around my shoulders.  We walked to class in relative silence, only catching a few looks in the process.  

Isaac wasn’t the most popular choice in friends, but he was kind.  He had a rather bad home life, so in the few weeks we had been friends, he had been over at my house nearly every night.  Partially to work on homework, but also to just get away.  Mom instantly liked him, and Dad seemed to like him, as much as Dad liked any of my guy friends.  I wasn’t sure if Isaac liked me in a romantic way but nothing with him was ever boring, and it felt… normal.

A week before the formal, Lydia took Allison and I shopping for dresses.  It was her way of apologizing for everything.  Not to mention that Allison is acting weird.  We had figured out her family’s secret, that they were hunters.  Allison didn’t seem to be clued in on that fact, but I had decided that being her friend was more important.  She wouldn’t hurt me.  

We walk into Macy’s, heading towards the escalator.  We had been talking about formal plans, but I tuned them out fairly quickly.  I tune back in when Allison turns towards Lydia with a triumphant smile.

“I’m going with Jackson,” Allison states.  I blink a few times, confused as to why anyone would willingly spend time with that snake.  Lydia’s face twists with shock and I feel a little bad for thinking such things.  “He asked, and I said yes.”  I shrug, not wanting to dig too deep into whatever was happening between them.  Lydia looked almost mad, her face going red with anger.  It was almost comical.  

“Is this payback for making out with Scott?” she asks quietly.  Allison just smiles and shakes her head, infuriating her more.  “And who am I supposed to go with?”  Once her question is asked, a familiar scent hits my nose.  I groan internally.

“Him,” Allison says, pointing towards the scent I had smelled.  Stiles.  He leans to sniff something at the perfume counter and inevitably does something klutzy.  I laugh softly, covering my mouth with my hand to keep the sound to myself.  I turn to see Lydia’s eyes narrow and then turn to me.  She raises an eyebrow in question and I just shrug, knowing that I had no claim on him.  I push down the small, insecure part of me that is screaming to tell her no, it’s not okay.  That pang of jealousy would have to be explored at a later point.

After Allison points him out, Stiles follows Lydia around like a lost puppy, holding her mountain of dresses for her and shooting off sarcastic comments that make me laugh.  His eyes meet mine a few times, as if asking if this was going to be okay.  I nod, refusing to let that feeling overtake me.  We’re friends, I can handle this weird little crush that has been lingering. 

We walk around for what feels like hours, Allison disappearing to take care of her car an hour into shopping.  Lydia decides on a silver dress with a black ribbon around her waist and Allison decides on a ruffled silver number that really compliments her coloring.  They both leaned very heavily on the ‘winter’ part of winter formal with those colors.  I still couldn’t find a dress I liked that fit me well, until Stiles waves me over to a rack a few feet from where I am.

“Evie, come here!  I think I found something,” he says, a big smile on his face.  I hurry over to him, excited to see what he had found.  He pulls out a deep green dress with an iridescent overlay on the skirt and bodice.  It laces up in the back instead of having a zipper and has some boning in the front, to keep it stiff.  I run my fingers over the fabric, a smile creeping its way onto my face.  “Well, what do you think?” he asks, a nervous lilt in his voice.

“I love it.”  He smiles, relieved and I quickly find my size and head towards the changing rooms.  As soon as I slip the dress on, I know it’s the one.  I struggle slightly with tying the ribbons in the back, but mange to get it tight enough that it won’t slip off me.  Stepping in front of the mirror, I admire how it looks on me.  The green makes my hair look more red, and compliments my dark eyes.  I twirl, watching the skirt spin with me.  It gives me fairy vibes and I’m absolutely in love with it.

I step out into the main area where everyone is waiting.  Lydia insists on seeing all the dresses, to help us pick I guess.  I hear a soft gasp when I walk out, and my eyes immediately go to Lydia, who has a grin on her face and a look of approval shining through.  Allison is smiling, her dimples really coming through from the strength of it.  Stiles’ eyes went wide when he sees me, an odd look coming onto his face.

“Wow!  You look great!” he says.  “Not that you don’t always look great!  This is just… wow.” I laugh, a blush heating up my face.  I ignore the butterflies in my stomach, trying to squish them before there’s a whole horde of them in there.  

“Well, you picked it out.  You have a good eye, for a guy,” I say with a grin.  “So, this is a yes, right?  Please let it be a yes, I don’t think I can handle anymore dress-trying-on.”  Lydia laughs, the first I had heard in a long time.

“Yeah, that’s a definite yes.  Isaac won’t know what hit him.”  At the mention of Isaac, Stiles’ light eyes go dark with what I assume is jealousy, which makes my heart do flips.  Maybe he does like me the way I like him.  He hurries away, mostly to help Lydia put all the no’s on the return rack, but I can hear his heart beating faster than usual.  Stiles avoids me the rest of the night, and I try not to worry about it, though his actions make me nervous. 

We go out for a quick bite after we buy our dresses, Lydia insisting to buy both Allison and I’s.  I argue slightly, until I see the price tag and know without a doubt that I don’t have that much money in my bank account.  Us girls discuss hair and makeup ideas, while Stiles does his very best to not look bored.  For his part, Lydia had made sure that he had a tux that would go well with her dress.  I made a mental note to ask Isaac about his tux, though I wasn’t too concerned with matching. As long as it was black and white, it would look fine.

Lydia dropped Allison and I off, Stiles going home on his own.  I hurry up to my room to put my dress in the closet.  I had tried my best to decorate my room in a nice way.  We had painted the walls a nice ivory color, nothing too bright.  One wall was covered in false ivy and had an oversized chair in the corner, next to my bookshelves.  Another wall held my bed, it’s warmth especially inviting after these past few hours of tedious shopping.  The weather had started to turn chilly, though not nearly as cold as it had been in Kansas, which I was grateful for.  My desk was pushed up to the window, so I could see out while doing homework.  Books littered my desk, some for school and others for my own downtime.  

I do my nightly routine, making sure to remove all makeup before heading to bed.  There had been a night about a month ago where I had forgotten and woke up to a perfect imprint of my face on my white pillow.  Needless to say, Mom was not very happy with me for that one.  I slide into my warm bed, a feeling of comfort seeping into my bones.  

I often have dreams, or rather, nightmares.  My brain seems to think that I don’t worry enough while I’m awake, so it creates scenes in my brain to have me react to and become anxious upon waking.  Lately, I have been having the same dream over and over again.  I was in the woods, a gauzy white gown covering my otherwise nude body, as I ran between the trees.  I wasn’t being chased, but I could feel someone following me.  We were laughing in the dream, and at some point it felt like I had been tackled to the ground by this person but nothing hurt.  I could feel them leave soft kisses on my exposed shoulders and I felt so completely comfortable.  It didn’t make sense, and I had no clue who the person was but I found myself searching for them upon waking.  The urge to find them was so strong it was almost painful.  

Tonight is no different.  As I fall asleep, the scent of the woods hits my nose immediately.  The same dress covered my body, and I could almost see the person behind me before we started sprinting through the woods, my speed surprising me.  I turn back to see the person, but they’re far behind me.  I slow down so they can catch up and their scent hits me.  Sweat, but something else, something… manly.  Before I could place the smell, I was being tackled to the ground.  This time though, I was facing the person and I felt a slight pain in my back, making me close my eyes in discomfort.  A hand gently cups my face and his thumb gently caresses my cheek.  I lean into the touch, savoring it before the dream melts away into darkness.  

I wake slowly, wanting to stay in my dream as long as possible to gather any more clues about the person.  The sun hasn’t even rose, and yet here I am, awake.  I sigh, deciding that if I have to be awake, I might as well use the time efficiently.  I take a long, hot shower, trying to get the scent of the man out of my nose.  Everything about him felt so familiar and yet I couldn’t place it.  Closing my eyes, I try to mentally put it in a folder to look at later; focusing on it now would do me no good.  I take a few deep breaths and turn off the water, stepping out into the cool bathroom.  Wrapping a towel around myself, I head back to my room.  I flip on the light and pad to my closet when I hear a soft sound.

I turn slowly, spotting a man sitting in my desk chair.  I freeze, much like a deer caught in headlights as the man stands.

“Hello, Evangeline.” 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

I rub my eyes, yawning as I pull on my jersey.  I hadn’t slept well last night, partially because of this recurring dream that left me feeling exhausted and partially because I didn’t fall asleep until very early in the morning.  My phone buzzes relentlessly in my pocket, the buzzing catching the attention of both Scott and Coach, which is unfortunate for me.

“Stilinski!  If you can’t shut that thing up, I’ll shut it up for you!” he yelled from across the locker room.  I wince and fumble for it, nearly dropping it onto the hard concrete floor.  

“Yes Coach,” I say back, ignoring the call.  I sigh, putting the phone into my gym locker, not bothering to look at who had been calling me.  Scott gives me a funny look before turning back to whatever Coach had been lecturing us about before I had rudely interrupted.  I tuned him out most of the time, and this time was no different.  

It was way too early to be having practice; the sun was barely up, but here we are, cold and running laps.  Practice itself wouldn’t take that long, but it had gotten so cold this past week that no one really wanted to be out on the field.  Everyone was sluggish, even Scott, who still looked like a kicked puppy about Allison going to the formal with Jackson.  I still hadn’t figured out how Allison had talked Lydia into being my date but to say I was excited would have been an understatement.  This was my one chance to show her how great a boyfriend I can be, and I’m not about to give that up.

Practice goes by quickly, the cold settling into our bones within a few minutes.  After showering and dressing, I grab my phone from my locker, noticing that I had four missed calls.  I scroll through the call log, realizing they were all from Evie and she only left one voicemail.  I open it, my foot tapping against the floor, the only sign of my nervousness.

“Stiles, he found me…” a loud bang in the background and a yelp from Evie nearly sets me running.  Her voice is low, barely there.  “I… I don’t know where I am.  It’s so dark… Stiles…”  The voicemail is cut off there and I bring the phone in front of me in shock.  Scott comes up beside me, his jaw set in anger.  He lays a hand on my shoulder and looks at me dead in the eye.

“We’ll find her.”  I nod, the situation still not quite making sense.  He who?  There were several contenders at this point.  It could be Peter, or Derek, or Argent… There were too many people involved for anything to be clear.  I take a deep, calming breath.  “Do you have anything of hers that I can get a scent off of?  Or do we need to raid her house?”  I pause for a moment, trying to remember if she had ever left anything in the Jeep.  I shake my head, coming up empty.

“No, but I think we may be able to get something from her locker.”  Scott gives me a funny look and I explain quickly.  “She never locks it, says that the combination takes too much time.”  He nods and we head towards the hallway.  I nearly walk past it and have to double back after I spot it.  I open it, the pictures inside fluttering at the movement.  Scott takes over from there, grabbing a sweater Evie had left in there.  I refuse to focus too long on her smiling face, knowing that something very easily could have ruined that smiling face forever.

After taking the sweater out, we rush towards the Jeep, nearly crashing into Allison and Lydia in our hurry.  Scott slides to a stop but I keep going, tumbling to the ground.  I hiss at the pain in my knees and Scott helps pick me back up. 

“Woah!  Where are you going?” Allison yells after us.  Neither Scott nor I stop to explain, too busy hurrying towards the Jeep to realize they were going to follow us.  The two exchange a look and rush after us, their heels clicking against the floor.  “Wait up!”  

We made it to the Jeep in record time, me nearly running into the side window, because I was unable to slow down enough to not.  The girls reach us as Scott hops into the car, leaving me to explain our rush to them.  

“We got a call from Evie,” I say quietly.  “She’s being held somewhere, we don’t know where.”  Lydia’s eyes go huge, reminding me of an owl.  Allison sets her jaw, and I can see her decision in her eyes.  She reaches for the door and climbs silently into the car.  I turn to Lydia, awkwardly wrapping an arm around her while quiet tears fall down her face.  “We’re going to find her, okay?  Everything will be ok.”  I move her so we’re looking each other in the eyes, hers shining with anger now instead of tears.

“I want to go with you,” she says.

“Lydia, you need to-” she cuts me short with a curt laugh.

“She is my cousin!  I will not stand by and let anything happen to her!”  I wince at how loud her voice had gone, but the anger in her face makes me sigh.  I reluctantly open the door for her and watch her climb into the back, a satisfied look on her face.  Scott glares at me; I just shrug and get into the car.  Lydia’s eyes narrow, catching sight of the sweater in Scott’s hands.  “Why do you have her sweater?”

Scott and I exchange a look, as nervousness floods my body.  I hadn’t thought about having to explain how we were going to find her.  Scott tries to come up with a reason, but I know that it’ll never curb Lydia’s curiosity.  The girl’s mind was a steel trap; she’d remember anything we told her and use it against us if anything happened out of the ordinary.  

“Evie left it in the front seat one day after school,” I say quickly.  That answer must have made enough sense to her, since she dropped it.  I let out a breath of relief and started to drive.  Scott rolls down his window under the disguise that it’s easier to see with it down.  We drive for a long time, when Scott goes stiff.  “What?  What is it?”

“I… I think I see her.”  I hit the brakes quickly, causing the girls to shout in surprise.  I mumble a sorry but turn my attention to where Scott is looking.  A small, pale figure is moving towards us quickly.  She’s stumbling through the woods, the light making a halo around her head.  “It’s definitely her.” 

At that, we all hurry out of the car and I run towards her.  There’s blood on her forehead, the cut already closing.  Blood slips down her bare body from twin cuts along her ribs, a matching set visible on her thighs as well.  She stumbles a few times when she spots us, trying to hurry while also looking over her shoulder.  Lydia rushes forward, and I avert my eyes, trying not to stare at her nakedness.  

Scott hands Allison the sweater and I dig a pair of athletic shorts out of my gym bag.  Lydia does her best to clean off the blood with an extra shirt she found in the back of the Jeep.  I make a mental note to replace these clothes and get better detergent to get the blood out.  Evie is silent the entire time, only making soft sounds of pain if Lydia pushes too hard on her cuts.  Her entire back is scratched up, a few deep cuts littered here and there.  The sight of her blood makes me nauseous but I do my best to curb the urge to vomit or pass out.  Allison and Lydia help her dress, making Scott and I turn around.  

“We should take her to the hospital,” I say quietly to Scott.  “Her wounds aren’t healing.  They must have put wolfbane on the knives.”  Scott shakes his head.

“Those are definitely from Peter.  A wound from an alpha takes longer to heal,” he says.  I make a face, unsure as to why he assumes that it was Peter.   “He had to have done this, his scent is coating her like a second skin and the Argents don’t even know she exists.”  I sigh, a headache beginning to form.  I look over to the group of girls, watching as they hug, careful of Evie’s cuts and bruises.  Relief washes over me and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.  She’s okay, she’s here and she’s not dead.  That’s all I could have asked for.  

Evie meets my gaze and gives me a small smile.  I grin back at her, the situation lightening momentarily.  We had found her, she was okay, and we had an idea of who took her.  Then it hit me; we would have to explain this to her parents at some point.  That would not be a fun conversation.  She gestured us over, the smile lingering on her face.  Evie pulls Scott into a hug, making him smile.  He ruffles her hair slightly, getting her to laugh softly.  Then, she turns to me.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice hoarse.  I swallow, worry and relief warring inside me.  She pulls me into a hug, her arms nearly crushing my ribs but I hug back just as fiercely.

“Don’t ever get kidnapped again.”  She laughs, this time a real, full laugh.  I smile, glad to know that this experience hadn’t ruined her spirit completely.  Evie pats my chest after letting me out of her bone crushing hug and steps back into the safety of her friends.

“I’ll do my best not to get kidnapped again,” she says.  

“So, do we need to go to the hospital or would you rather go home?”  I ask.  Her brown eyes go wide at the mention of a hospital and I mentally kick myself.  Of course a hospital would be a bad idea.  Her cuts would be healed in a matter of hours, making any stitches she got useless.

“Of course we’re going to the hospital!  We just found her in the woods, naked and bleeding!” Lydia snaps, making me wince.  Evie faces her cousin, a deep frown on her face.  She points to the fully closed cut on her forehead, where it had been bleeding not two minutes ago.

“There’s no need for a hospital,” she says softly, taking a step towards Lydia and Allison.  Allison, for her part, didn’t back away from Evie, though fear sparked in her eyes.  Scott and I exchange a look, knowing that everything that Allison had been suspecting was now revealed to her.  There were no more secrets left to tell, except maybe Evie’s.  

“I don’t understand,” Allison starts.  “You were bleeding, you had really deep cuts… and now they're just gone?”  Making a so-so gesture with her hands, Evie nods, a look of compassion taking over her face.  Her dark eyes have lost their usual shine and a weight has been placed on her shoulders.  “What does that mean?  What are you?”  Evie glances at Scott, visibly tiring before our eyes.  Scott nods, taking over explaining for Evie.

“Remember when you said that your family was hiding something from you?” A nod from Allison.  “Well, we’re what they’re hiding from you.  Evie and I are werewolves.”  Lydia blinks a few times, then turns her attention to Evie.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks quietly.  Evie rubs her face, smearing blood and dirt across her cheek.  A part of me itches to wipe it off her face, knowing that she would hate looking so filthy.  

“I didn’t want you to worry about me, after everything I’ve put this family through the last thing I wanted to do was give you another reason to worry.”  In that moment my heart breaks for Evie.  I don’t know all the details, but I knew that whatever happened before she left Kansas had to have been bad if she didn’t even trust Lydia with her secrets.  Lydia hugs Evie tight, tears streaming down her pale face.  

“You don’t get to decide what will make me worry and what won’t.  If anything happens to you, I should be the first to know,” she says, making Evie laugh as they broke from their hug.  Allison holds up a hand.

“Hold on.  Everyone is just okay with this?  No one is concerned that there are supernatural beings in this town?”  Everyone looks around, and I shrug.

“Honestly?  I’ve been freaking out for the past three months.  Werewolves are fucking scary man.”  Scott glares at me and Evie raises an eyebrow.  “Current company excluded of course,” I say.  “I’m more worried about the other two, the ones that want Scott, and now Evie, to join their pack.”  Evie nods, a bit of light returning to her eyes.  “Derek isn’t so bad but Peter is absolutely insane.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Lydia asks.  

“Derek and Peter Hale are also werewolves.  Peter is the crazy alpha who has been killing people and attacking us since September.  They want Scott and Evie to join their pack because “we’re stronger together”, but Scott said no and they didn’t know Evie existed until now.  Not sure how they figured out where she was but now we have to be on guard all the time so no one gets kidnapped.”  I let out a breath, winded from so much talking.  

Lydia shakes her head, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing with the movement.  Another thought pops into my mind but before I can voice it, Scott is ushering Evie into the Jeep, Lydia and Allison right behind her.  I look over my shoulder quickly, seeing a dark mass quickly approaching from the woods and get into the Jeep as well, hoping it starts on the first try.  I rev the engine, once, twice, three times before it finally kicks over and we’re barreling down the road towards Evie’s house.  

“He knows where I live!” she reminds me from the backseat.  

“Well, where the hell am I supposed to go?!” I bark back, immediately regretting it when I see her eyes go yellow in the rearview mirror.  “I’m sorry!”  They’re quickly gone, but I know I’ve hurt her feelings.  Scott looks over at me, a confused look on his face.

“Head towards the vet clinic,” he says calmly.  Why is he so calm?  Wish I could be calm with a lunatic wolfman following us.  I nod, turning the car sharply onto the correct road.  

We’re at the vet clinic in record time, though I’m pretty sure that I broke several traffic laws in doing so.  The dark figure is quickly gaining on us.  Scott and I usher the girls inside before entering ourselves, locking the door behind us.  

“Anyone want to tell me why we’re in a vet clinic?” Lydia whispers.  

“The whole building is made of mountain ash,” says a voice from behind us, making both Evie and I jump.

“You can’t just sneak up on us like that!” I whisper yell.  Deaton, Scott’s boss, stands behind the counter, a serious look on his face.  He pushes us behind the counter and into an examination room before locking that door as well.  

We all hide in various spots as we listen to Peter talk to Deaton, or rather threaten him.  Evie, somehow, has ended up pressed into my side, her warmth chasing away any chill that was left over from being outside.  Scott eyes us from the other side of the room, a small frown on his face.  Allison  is pressed against the examination table, Lydia squished in next to her.  We hear the front door slam and we all let out a collective breath.  Evie scoots away from me, and I almost immediately miss her warmth.  It’s freezing in here; Deaton must not have switched over his air conditioning yet.  

“You can all come out now,” Deaton calls out.  I hear the lock turn and pop up, everyone else slowly getting to their feet.  We all make our way out into the main lobby, where Deaton is waiting.  He scans Evie, as if he can see the cuts and bruises her clothing is covering.  “You need some medical attention.  May I see?” he asks.  Evie nods and they step back into the examination room, Lydia joining them after a few moments.  

Scott, Allison, and I wait outside.  I pace around while they have a quiet conversation about whatever it is that they usually talk about, my brain not catching onto any words they’re saying.  After what felt like hours, the trio emerges from the examination room.  Evie looks freshly showered and I briefly entertain that idea of Deaton washing her like a dog in one of the sinks.  She’s small, she’d be able to fit.  

Scott and Allison stand, the latter rushing to help Evie back to the car.  Any energy Evie had before was completely sapped by the time she made it back to the Jeep.  Scott lifts her into the back seat, settling her between Lydia and Allison while I race to the drivers side.  I take her back to her house, leaving Lydia with her.  Allison, Scott, and I all go back to school, the day weighing heavily on our minds.  Allison and Lydia know now, and there was no going back from that.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I slept for what felt like days, dreamless and deeply.  A warm body is pressed against me the entire time I’m asleep and I can hear soft music coming from somewhere.  I curl into the warmth, still freezing from my jaunt in the woods and being naked in the old Hale house.  I feel fingers rake gently through my hair, detangling it and removing any leftover sticks that my dip into the sink didn’t catch.  I sigh, awake now but not wanting to open my eyes.

“Stiles…” I say softly.  The hand stops and I open an eye to see Lydia sitting beside me, definitely not Stiles.  Refusing to feel embarrassed, I meet her stare.  She rolls her eyes and smiles.

“I knew you had a thing for him.  You should see the way you look at him,” she says with a smirk.  I huff, pulling myself up with a soft groan of pain.  The bruises would last for a few hours, but everything else had basically healed.  I was beyond grateful for Deaton’s help, but I didn’t appreciate being bathed like a dog in the sink.  I mentally put that on my list of top ten most embarrassing moments.  

“I don’t have a thing for him.”  Lydia just smiles, making me sigh.  “Okay, maybe I have a small crush on him.  You can’t say anything to him,” I plead, hands clasped. She taps her chin, making my anxiety levels rise quickly, before smiling.

“I won’t say anything.”  I let out a breath, not realizing that I had been holding one.  “But, you’ll have to tell him eventually.”  I shake my head.

“No, by the time he even has an inkling of it I’ll be over it.  I don’t need a boyfriend.”  Lydia stares at me, searching my face.  Her eyes narrow, a suspicious gleam in the green depths of them.  Suddenly they go wide with a realization.

“You’re afraid,” she says, breathless at the realization.  I hang my head, refusing to make eye contact with her.  

“He deserves better.”  Lydia shakes her head but I continue.  “What happens if I have another anxiety attack like I did last winter?  What if he finds out why I was in the hospital?  I don’t think I can take the look on his face if he were to find out, Lydia.”  She sighs, a soft sound that nearly sets me crying.  I had put my family through so much, I couldn’t do that to another person I cared about.  No one deserved that kind of pain.  

“What happened wasn’t your fault Evie.  Bad things happen to good people, and we have to decide how to react.  I admit that several of us reacted badly in the moment,” she shot a glare towards where I assume my parents may be.  They did not react that well, I will admit, but I hadn’t realized everyone else knew that as well.  “But that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the quality of our character.”  She studies my face, gently wiping away a tear that had fallen without me noticing.  “You deserve to be happy, Evie.  Especially after everything you’ve been through.”

I curl into her, using the blanket to wipe the remaining tears from my face.  We stay like that for some time, not talking but enjoying each other’s company.  Lydia reads quietly while I doze off, until a loud knock resonates through the house.  I hear Mom saying something, but I chose to not focus too hard on it.  Lydia, however, straightens up, causing my head to fall to the bed.  We watch the door, and I cringe at the sound of multiple pairs of feet coming up the stairs.  

Stiles is the first to burst into my room, out of breath and flannel flying out behind him like a cape.  Scott and Allison are close behind him, though they enter much quieter.  Lydia raises an eyebrow and stands up, stretching slightly.  I turn my focus to Stiles, noticing that he had a rather large bouquet of flowers in his hands.  I feel my cheeks start to burn and I glare at Lydia when I realize that the flowers are daisies, which are my absolute favorites.  She just smiles at me and graciously takes them from Stiles before he can crush them anymore than he already has.  

“Hi, we brought you your homework, well Allison did.  I didn’t realize you were in a modern literature class, when did that become a thing and why didn’t anyone tell me?  You guys are literally reading comic books.”  I blink a few times, trying to keep up with his stream of speech.  He spoke too quickly for my brain to handle.  He smiles widely and gestures as he talks, going on about some comic book he had read a few weeks back.  I tune him out and turn my attention to Scott.

“What’s going on?” I croak, my voice still not a hundred percent after screaming for so long.  Peter did not have an easy time getting me to come with him, which prompted him to give me the wound on my forehead, effectively knocking me out.  Scott and Allison exchange a look and Stiles finally goes quiet.  

“Derek wants to talk to us. Both of us,” Scott says, his voice loud in the silent room.  I narrow my eyes, considering his words.

“I don’t think he is in a position to demand anything from me.  He did not help me today, and any respect or interest I had in this pack Peter is trying to create disappeared the moment he thought he could kidnap me and push me to submit to him.”  I’m so angry I can feel my body shaking.  Pain shoots up in my gums, signalling that I had changed.  Scott raises his hands in surrender, knowing better than to fight me on this.  Stiles comes closer, laying a single hand on my shoulder.  Relief spreads through my body at his touch, making the fangs disappear within seconds.  I don’t miss the look Scott gives me, but chose to ignore the question behind it.  

“I agree with her.  This Peter guy sounds like bad news and, frankly, I don’t like him at all,” Allison states.  I crack a smile at that, happy she agrees with me despite not being included for so long.  Lydia nods in agreement.

“The moment he took my cousin was the moment he was put on my shit list,” Lydia says.  I laugh, a slightly broken sound.  I clear my throat as Stiles gently squeezes my shoulder.  I give him an appreciative smile, which he returns, before letting go of my shoulder.  I miss it immediately but I refuse to let Lydia know how deep this crush goes by looking sad.  

“You know where I stand on this Scott.  And it seems like everyone kinda agrees with me,” he says.  He leans towards us.  “Thanks for that, by the way.”  Scott just shakes his head, not seeming to upset with our verdict.  I smile, glad that he agrees with us.

Everyone crowds onto my bed, Stiles dramatically flopping himself down next to me.  Allison and Scott sit awkwardly on the foot of my bed while Lydia claims the small spot between Stiles and I.  

“So, uh, not that I don’t love having you guys here, but is there a particular reason you’re all on my bed?” I ask, a frown making its way onto my face.  I love my friends but Scott and Stiles smell like four day old gym shorts, and I really don’t want my sheets smelling like that.  

“This is what is called group bonding,” Stiles points out, a grin plastered on his face.  I raise an eyebrow, confused.  “Well, I guess more like pack bonding, since neither you nor Scott want a piece of Peter’s fucked up one.”   I laugh at that, shaking my head slightly.  

“In all seriousness, we do need some sort of plan,” Allison states.  “My family is still keeping things from me and I still haven’t heard the entire story of how all of this happened.”

Scott and I exchange a look, mentally trying to decide who’s better equipped to tell her the whole story.  I point at Scott and he sighs, knowing that he knows more about the situation than I do.  He starts at the beginning, describing the night we were both bit and what transpired after that.  I input where I think there needs to be more detail, much to Stiles amusement.  

“So, basically a psycho murderer is trying to get you guys to be in his pack while my family actually hunts you?”  We nod our heads.  “And no one thought it was important for us to know this?”  I shrug, knowing that I had wanted to tell both her and Lydia immediately but was shut down by Scott.  He didn’t want to freak her out, but that ship has sailed.  To her credit, she seemed to be handling it very well.  I reach over and grab her hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I know this is a lot, but I’m glad you’re here.”  We share a smile, Scott looking confused as usual.  I pat his knee, a slight smile still on my face.  Scott may be cute but his head is totally empty.  No thoughts.  

We hang out for a while, just enjoying each other’s company after a very crazy semester.  Lydia and Allison exchange plans for the dance, Scott complains about not being able to go, Stiles continues on his rant about comic books, and I try to keep up.  We order a pizza and watch a movie, really just being normal for one night.  One by one my friends start to leave, starting with Lydia.  Allison is next to go and then Scott, leaving me and Stiles alone in my room.  He stretches out on my bed, one arm under his head and looking completely at ease.  I give him a confused look, earning me a laugh and the shake of his head.

“We agreed that until Peter is taken care of, we won’t leave you on your own.”  I snort, waving a dismissive hand at him.  “Hey, I can hold my own!”  I outright laugh; the thought of Stiles protecting me from Peter is actually hilarious.  A plan starts forming in the back of my head; I can prove that he can’t beat Peter rather easily.  I stop laughing and put on a serious face.  “What are you doing?” he asks rather loudly.  I tilt my head at the question.  

“I’m not doing anything,” I say innocently.  I stand, going to my dresser to get different clothes, since I had been in the same sweater and gym shorts since arriving home.  I hear Stiles get up to get his homework and that’s when I strike, moving quicker than he could process to pin him to the wall.  My hands barely circle around his wrists but I keep him securely against the wall by using my newly acquired strength, my body pressed against his.  I watch him swallow, a nervous look on his face and he won’t make eye contact with me.  Odd.  I raise an eyebrow. 

“Pinned ya.”  He laughs, some tension leaving his body.  “Honestly though, I don’t think you’d hold up long against Peter.  You can barely hold your own against me, and I’m much smaller.”  I give him a triumphant smile, totally aware of my win.  He takes a deep breath and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are to each other.  

Against my better judgement, I lean in slightly, taking in a lungful of his scent.  He smelled like the woods and gasoline and old books.  His heart beats quickly, almost too quickly for what little activity we had done.  I allow myself to just look at him, my eyes tracing his face and I let myself be amazed by the pattern of moles that litter his face.  I rarely let myself focus too long on his face, afraid of what I may find in his eyes.  Going on my tiptoes, I let go of one wrist to cup his cheek, brushing my thumb against his cheekbone.  Stiles’ eyes close,  a sigh emitting from deep in his chest.   He wraps one arm around me, a half hug that forces me to lower my hand.  I allow him to escape completely from my hold so he can wrap the other arm around me.  

“Evie,” he whispers.  I shake my head, knowing that whatever he’s about to say can wait.  For right now, I just want to be held.  As I lay my head on his chest, the music that had been playing for most of the day switching to something slow.  Stiles starts to sway, in that awkward way boys do when you’re supposed to slow dance.  His chin rests on the top of my head and we stay like that for a long time.  Eventually, the music changes and we pull away, his eyes opening when my hand cups his cheek again.  

I search his expression, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he feels even a kernel of what I feel.  Desperately, I search but come up with nothing.  Stiles’ face gives no inclination that what just happened was meaningful in any way, shape or form.  I pull myself farther away, the beginnings of tears in my eyes.  He reaches for me, but I slip out of his grasp.  Gathering my courage, I put on a happy face when I turn to him. 

“I appreciate the thought, but I think I can take care of myself.”  Stiles frowns, not understanding my change in emotion.

“Are you sure?  I don’t want you to feel unsafe.”  I wave my hand, dismissing his worry with a smile on my face.  On the inside, I’m screaming at him to leave and to never come near me again.  But I can’t do that.  Even though it’s torture, I would much rather have him close to me than to be separated.  

“I’ll be fine.  Don’t worry,” I say with a bright smile.  He nods, packing up his stuff before finally leaving.  I fall onto my bed, desperately trying to keep the tears in.  No boy is worth crying over, I harshly remind myself.  But, a few tears slip from my eyes and once those are free, the rest come rushing out.  Soon, I’m a blubbering, disgusting mess.  The stress from today hits me all at once, dissolving me into more tears until I have no tears left.  

I wipe at my eyes, curling into myself.  I calm myself down enough to call Isaac, my hands shaking as I hit the call button next to his name.  He answers on the fourth ring, sleep coating his voice.

“Hey what’s up?”  I sigh, and he must hear something sad about it since he snaps immediately into action.  “I can be at your house in fifteen, there’s definitely some place still open for a milkshake.  Be ready.”  I laugh softly, already feeling better.

“See you in fifteen,” I say before hanging up.

When Isaac says fifteen, he means it.  By the time I had put on heavier clothes and shoes, he was waiting patiently outside, his dad’s car still running.  I hurry outside, not bothering to tell my parents where I was headed.  They trust Isaac, for whatever reason.  He opens his arms and I rush into them, inhaling the smell of freshly mowed grass and the citrus scent of his cologne.  Issac holds me close and I feel the last of the tension in my body be released, everything melting away.  We head towards the car, a small smile on his face.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing, you just look like shit,” he says with a smirk.  I give him the bird, making him laugh.  We both get into the car and I scrunch my nose up at the smell of it.  His dad’s scent is everywhere and it kind of makes me want to vomit.  It reeks of chlorine and dried blood.  Isaac looks over at me, a grimace on his face.  “I know it smells bad but I didn’t really wanna ride my bike all the way here.”  At that I laugh, the smell forgotten.

The drive to the nearest diner doesn’t take long and we talk the entire time, the chatter keeping me together.  Once inside, Isaac orders us milkshakes (mine chocolate and his strawberry because he’s an odd man) and we sit in our regular booth, three from the front door.  While we wait, we talk about school and our plans for the dance.  Everything with Isaac is so easy and simple.  We never run out of things to talk about and he doesn’t seem to mind that I don’t tell all of every story.  He does the same, so it’s hard to be a hypocrite with that sort of thing.  

Seeking comfort, I reach across the table and grab his hand.  Without thinking, he immediately starts gently rubbing circles on my hand with his thumb, a familiar action between us.  And to think, a few months ago I was worried about making friends.  I sigh, balancing my head on my other hand.  Something has to be done about my crush on Stiles, but what?  He’s obviously not into me the way I’m into him.  Then, I remember how he reacted when Lydia brought up Isaac yesterday in the mall.  His face held an intense amount of jealousy, something I had never seen him wear around Lydia and Jackson.  A plan starts to form in my head, something I’m not sure will work but I’m willing to try.  Things couldn’t get worse.

“I have a question for you,” I say as the waitress sets our milkshakes down in front of us. 

“Shoot,” he says, letting go of my hand to put a straw in his shake.  I gather my courage, deciding that if he says no, it won’t be that big of a deal.  I watch him tear the wrapper off the straw, taking a deep drink of his pink monstrosity, and take a deep breath, deciding it’s now or never.  

“Do you have feelings for me?” I blurt out.  Isaac chokes on his shake, coughing slightly.  I furrow my eyebrows and hand him a few napkins to clean himself up with.  His shirt is covered in ice cream, which would usually set me laughing but I held it in, just to save him embarrassment.  I’m such a good friend.  

“I’m sorry what?” he asks once his coughing is under control.  I play with a piece of my hair, suddenly worried about this very, very stupid plan of mine.

“Do you have feelings for me?  Like, in a romantic sense?”  Isaac narrows his eyes at me, a befuddled look on his face.  If this wasn’t so serious, I may have laughed.  “I’m being serious, Isaac.  Do you have any sort of romantic feelings towards me?  Yes or no?”

“Uh, no?” he says.  I nod, somewhat pleased with his answer.  I kind of figured he didn’t like me in that way, but it would definitely make the next part of my plan a little easier on the both of us.  

“So, I have recently discovered that I have a…”  I pause, searching for the right word to describe how I felt about Stiles.  “Infatuation?  Crush?  I’m not sure.”  Issac holds up a hand.

“It’s not on me is it?  Because I see you as more of a sister…” I laugh, shaking my head.  He sighs, relieved that I’m not into him in that way either.

“No, definitely not on you.  I have a mild crush on Stiles.”  He makes a face at me.  “Yes, I know he loves Lydia but I have a plan.”  I tell him all about our shopping trip and how when Lydia mentioned him, Stiles seemed to get jealous.  I describe what happened before I called him and my plan of how to get Stiles to be interested in me.  

“Hold on.  You want to use me to make Stiles jealous?” he asks.  I nod, confused as to what part of my plan he was confused about.  “Stiles is jealous of me?”  I nod slower this time.  Isaac smiles, a proud look on his face.  “Stiles is jealous of me.”  I roll my eyes; boys.

“Yeah, don’t go getting a big head about it.”  He laughs and I crack a smile.  Isaac agrees to my ridiculous plan, after very little convincing may I add, and even adds his own take on things.  I am impressed with his dedication to my half thought out plan and I know that anything Issac does will drive Stiles insane.  We finish our shakes and head out, the smell of chlorine nearly suffocating me in the car once again.  The drive home is filled with me bouncing in my seat and Issac singing along with the radio.

Once back at my house, Isaac walks me up to my front door and bids me good night.  At this point it’s basically midnight and I’m exhausted.  Just going up the stairs to my room takes a lot out of me, exhaustion hitting at the top of the stairs.  I collapse onto my bed, still wearing the clothes I had borrowed from Stiles.  My sleep is dreamless and deep, and I’m thankful for it.  

The next morning, Isaac is there to pick me up, yet again with his dad’s car.  I made sure to dress warm, in a black turtleneck and jeans, because the heater in the car did not work.  Which is unfortunate for everyone involved, because the chlorine smell did not get pushed around and Isaac refused to put any of the windows down.  I rush outside, hair still half wet from my shower and instantly regret not blow drying it.  It wasn’t cold per say but the chilly wind definitely did not feel good blowing through my hair.

“Ready to make Stilinski jealous?” he says smiling.  I nod, a grin settling on my face.  Confidence settles into my bones and sets my face into a permanent smirk.  Isaac has a matching one plastered onto his face and I know that this will work.  

School goes fairly normally.  Isaac and I get a few stares, most focusing on our linked hands and his arm slung casually around my waist.  Things are going smoothly, almost too smoothly.  We sit on our own at lunch, heads bent over our math homework, Isaac trying to help me figure out a few difficult equations.  He sneaks a kiss on my cheek and I allow myself to blush, knowing he did it to sell it to my friends, who are gawking at us from across the lunch room.  I look up from my book and meet Stiles stare, a smile on my face.  He quickly looks away, embarrassment leaking from him.  I turn towards Isaac, leaning into him a little.

“Do you think he’s buying it?” I whisper.  Isaac nods, laughing quietly and dipping his head to look back down at his notebook.  We eat quickly and start moving towards our next class when Lydia approaches us.

“Evie, I didn’t know you had it in you,” she says, a smirk on her face.  Isaac pauses, making me stop as well.  

“Have what in me?” I ask innocently.  There’s a proud gleam in her eye as she leans towards me.

“You’re going to have him wrapped around your little finger before the month is over.”  I laugh, blushing slightly.  “Seriously.  He can’t stop talking about how much he doesn’t like Isaac.”  She turns towards the man in question.  “You should probably watch your back though.  I’ve heard lots of upset people today.  Evie had more admirers than anyone thought.”  With that, she flips her hair and walks off, leaving a confused Isaac in her wake.  

“That answers my question then,” I say with a laugh.  He just shakes his head and grabs my hand, ready to face more stares.  

The rest of our day goes by quickly and Lydia insists that I attend lacrosse practice.  The temp has dropped by then but I still feel comfortable in just my sweater.  I had purchased a pair of glasses without a prescription to maintain my image, even though my eyesight had perfected itself after becoming a werewolf.  My glasses had clouded up on several occasions while waiting for the boys to appear from the gym.  Lydia wraps a blanket around herself, not used to the cool weather.  I tease her relentlessly for it, but she maintains that it’s a necessary thing.

“Why are we here again?  You aren’t dating Jackson anymore, doesn’t that let you off the hook for these things?” I ask, still confused as to why we’re here.  She sighs, a puff of white air coming from her mouth.

“You should be here, as Isaac’s girlfriend.  I’m just here to reinforce that idea and because I enjoy spending time with my cousin.”  She turns her bright smile onto me. I sigh, knowing that she’s right.  “Besides, these guys don’t really have a lot of support right now, especially since it’s so cold out.  No one wants to come and watch when they could be at home.”  

“You’re not wrong.”  I turn fully towards her.  I pause for a second before asking what’s been eating at me since lunch.  “So, what has Stiles been saying?”  She laughs, shaking her head and making me smile.  Having a crush is kind of nice when you can share it with your friends.  

“He doesn’t understand how Issac managed to land a girlfriend before him,” she says.  I make a face, knowing that if he pulled his head out of his ass for a few minutes he’d be able to see that I was right in front of him.  Lydia just nods, as if not understanding him either.  “He’s so wrapped up in Isaac having a girlfriend that he hasn’t fully processed that you’re the girlfriend.”  Lydia turns to me, a sly look on her face.  “So, what happened last night?  Stiles refuses to tell us  why he left your house but something must have happened between you two for you to go to Issac for help.”

I sigh, deciding to tell her the full story.  With every word she becomes more and more outraged at Stiles reaction.  By the time I’m done, her face has gone completely red with anger.  I have to hide my laugh behind my hand.  

“HE’s an absolute idiot!  Those were clear signs and he just ignored them!” she exclaims, gaining the attention of Coach, who turns to look at us.  We just wave and he goes back to ordering the boys to do sprints.  I sigh, upset again at what had transpired.

“He’s too in love with you to notice anyone else, unfortunately,” I say, sadness lacing my voice.  Lydia narrows her eyes, clearly not aware of how Stiles looks at her.  I huff; of course she doesn’t see it, she barely knew who he was before all of this.  “He just doesn’t see me in that way.”

“Yet,” she says.  “This plan of yours is going perfectly so far and I think that the winter formal is the perfect time to put the last nail in his coffin.”  I tilt my head, confused by what she’s implying.  “We are going to make you so hot that no boy will be able to resist you.”  I laugh; should have seen that one coming.  “Come on, let’s ditch this popsicle stand.  I think it’s time for a bit of makeover.”  She stands, pulling me with her.  I wave at Isaac, blowing a kiss in his direction to really seal the deal.  He waves back and I watch Stiles glare at him.  Interesting.  

Come to find out, ‘a bit of a makeover’ actually meant a complete makeover.  She found the perfect dye to give my strawberry blonde hair a bit more punch to it, making it a more vibrant red shade.  We went to a salon to have my eyebrows waxed and reshaped, as well as to get haircuts, Lydia deciding to do a bit of refreshing herself.  Lydia led me around a few stores, picking out a few new outfits that I could wear this spring, or as she liked to call them ‘man catching clothes’.  She insisted that they would drive Stiles crazy and who was I to deny her?  Hell, we even got our nails done.  

We dyed my hair in my bathroom, trying our best to not make a mess, which was a total fail.  I’ll have red dye on my floor until I’m eighty.  Lydia steals a bottle of wine from my parents liquor cabinet and we get a little wine drunk.  At one point Lydia calls Allison and we all end up sprawled out on my floor, Dirty Dancing playing in the background.

“So, what’s Scott like in bed?” Lydia asks suddenly.  I hit her with a pillow, directly in the face.  “Hey!”

“Too soon Lyds!” I exclaim, while Allison laughs.  

“No, no I can answer,” she says.  We gossip like that for hours, sharing stories and just having fun with each other.  No boys, no craziness, nothing to ruin our perfect day. Both decide to stay over, since it was Friday and I’m happy for the company.  Keeps me from being sad about how my life has decided to go.  We watch movies and just relax for once.

The next day is the winter formal and Lydia insists on helping Allison and I get ready.  She curls my hair, pinning in places where I’ll forget there are pins and helping Allison apply a rather dramatic eyeshadow look.  We all get dressed together, taking pictures as we go, making sure to document this happy time, especially since we don’t know when we’ll have a chance to feel normal again.  The flash from the camera triggers my eyesight, making them glow in every picture but neither girl seems to notice or care.  

The boys all pick us up at my house, where we make them wait in my living room while each one of us makes an entrance, at Lydia’s request.  Allison goes first, with no reaction from Jackson, unsurprisingly. He’s such a piece of work.  I bet I could take him in a fight.  Break his fragile jaw in a single punch.  The confidence those thoughts give me does not last.  I go next, nervously smoothing out the fabric of my skirt and barely able to breathe thanks to Lydia pulling the corset strings exceedingly tight.  

I make it down the stairs without tripping, thankfully.  I hear an intake of breath and I look up from the stairs to see Stiles staring at me, open mouthed.  Isaac glares at him, before turning a smile to me.  I do my best to focus only on Isaac, smiling and spinning a little to show off the back.  Hearing a soft gulp, I turn towards Stiles again, a smirk on my face, the confidence coming back almost immediately at his face.

“You’re drooling Stilinski,” Jackson states, making me laugh.  The only time he will ever say something humorous.  Stiles immediately snaps his mouth shut and steals glances at me everyone once in a while.  Lydia descends rather quickly but he keeps looking at me.  I do my best to ignore him, instead focusing on fixing Isaac’s tie.  

After fixing his tie, I go on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, leaving a near perfect impression of my lips there in the dark red lipstick Lydia had applied.  I can feel Stiles’ stare on my back and can hear his heartbeat quicken. My parents snap a few pictures of all of us, everyone complaining about it.  

We leave quickly after that, Stiles following us in his Jeep.  The dance itself goes off without a hitch.  Isaac and I dance, trying to ignore the fact that Stiles eventually gets Lydia to dance with him and the jealousy that comes with seeing her pressed so closely to him.  I know she doesn’t like him, but it still hurts.  Scott sneaks in at some point, dances with Danny, and then proclaims his love for Allison before they both disappear, presumably to go make out somewhere.  Jackson also disappears mid-way through and doesn’t reappear.  Not long after that, Lydia leaves to go find him with Stiles trailing after her like a lost puppy.  I push aside my irritation at him to focus on helping my cousin find her awful ex.  

“Hey, maybe we should go help Lydia find Jackson,” I yell over the music.  Isaac nods, a grim look on his face, which does nothing to curb my approaching anxiety.  

We make our way out of the school when a blood curdling scream comes from the practice field. Panic crawls up my spine; that was distinctly Lydia.  Without a look towards Isaac, I start sprinting towards it, following the scent of fear and Chanel perfume that laces the air.  I get there right as Stiles starts to leave with Peter, Lydia’s body bleeding profusely from multiple wounds.  I stop, partially not wanting Peter to see me, but also out of pure terror.  

It takes them a few moments to leave completely, and I feel Isaac come up beside me, breathing heavily.  Once they are completely out of sight and I can no longer hear Stiles’ heartbeat, I dart onto the field, Isaac close behind me.  I kneel down next to my cousin and check her pulse, fighting back the terror I feel in my stomach.  Peter did a real number on her; her dress is torn and blood is leaking steadily from a bite on her shoulder.  There’s blood everywhere, streaked across her face and other shoulder.  I have to listen very closely, but I can hear her heart beating.  I let out a soft sob of relief at the noise.  

I hear Jackson run up behind us; Stiles must have called him to come get her.  Paying the boys no attention, I manage to lift Lydia off the ground, carrying her towards the school.  A deadly calm settles over me, replacing the usual panic.

“Isaac, call my mom.  Jackson, call 911.”  Both nod at my directions, heading in opposite directions to make their calls.  After he’s done, Jackson heads towards where I’m standing with Lydia and tries to take her from my arms.  “I’ve got it handled,” I growl at him, flashing my eyes. He takes several steps back, a look of terror on his face.  

Isaac pays no attention to us, having a very heated discussion with my mom that I do my best to tune out.  I turn towards the school, walking slowly so as to not cause any more harm to Lydia’s already broken body.

It takes the ambulance ten minutes to reach the school and take my cousin from my arms.  I ride in the back with her, since I was the only relative present at the time.  I hold her hand the entire ride to the hospital, managing to keep my tears in check by listening to the rise and fall of her heartbeat.  As they hurry her inside, I finally let myself fall apart, that calm disappearing entirely.  The tears came quick and hot, ruining whatever makeup was still left on my face.  A nurse led me to an empty waiting room, got me a bottle of water and a chocolate bar, and just sat with me until my tears stopped.  

“Lydia is a strong girl, I know she’ll be okay,” she said.  I nod, wondering how she knows Lydia.  She must see the confusion on my face because she adds, “I’m Melissa McCall, Scott’s mom.  You’re Evie right?  He talks about you all the time.  You and Stiles are the main reasons he’s not failing more classes.”  I feel my face go hot; Scott was the last person I expected to actually enjoy my company.  She smiles and hands me a tissue from her scrubs pocket.  “Here.” I take it, loudly blowing my nose and wiping my eyes, feeling much less panicked about the whole ordeal.  

“Thank you,” I say quietly.  She wraps an arm around me, pulling me into an awkward sitting hug.  Melissa lets me go after a few moments, clearing her throat.

“I have some extra clothes if you want to change out of your dress.”  I look down and nearly vomit at the sight of my ruined dress.  Lydia’s blood had dried in the fabric, the bodice was covered in it.  How I hadn’t noticed before now was astounding.  I nod and Melissa takes me to a locker room in the basement of the hospital.  She digs out a pair of clean scrubs and hands them to me.  “There’s a shower around the corner if you’d like to freshen up.  I have a feeling it might be awhile before anyone is allowed to see her.”  

“What about my dress?”  I ask, picking at the material of the skirt.  I would be sad if we had to discard it; it really had been the perfect dress.  Melissa taps her chin a few times, thinking.

“Let me see what I can do,” she says with a smile.  I nod and head towards the shower, peeling the blood soaked dress off and laying it gingerly on a nearby bench for Melissa to collect while I washed myself off.  

I struggle with the faucet for a few moments, not understanding which way to turn it to get the hot water flowing.  Once I got it figured out, I spent several minutes just standing under it, letting the hot water relax my tense muscles.  I do my best to not let the events of the evening replay, to just focus on right now.  I scrub off the dried blood that leaked through my dress and try to forget about how it got there and who it belonged to.  My mind wanders as I gently wash my face free of any traces of makeup and turn off the water to see that Melissa had taken my dress and replaced it with a clean towel.  I gratefully dry myself off and dress in the scrubs she had given me.

I emerge from the locker room more tired than I had been when I went in.  I take the elevator up to where the waiting room is, barefooted and holding my heels in my hand.  Leaning against the back wall of the elevator, I watch the numbers rise as it passes each floor, the soft bell noise calming my frayed nerves.  When the doors open, I pull myself away from the wall and exit.  Turning the corner into the waiting room, the yelling match happening finally hits my ears, making me wince, immediately recognizing the voices as my aunt and uncle.  Lydia’s mom and dad argue all the time, and, despite their daughter being in the hospital, this is no different.  They scream about who’s fault it is, who’s going to pay the hospital bills, where she’s going to go after she’s let out, everything that didn’t matter right now.  

I sigh and collapse into a chair as far away from them as I could.  They had divorced a few years back, to no one’s surprise.  Lydia’s mom, my aunt, is kind and loves Lydia with her whole heart, but marriage had never sat well with her.  She wasn’t domestic and Lydia’s dad hated that.  They fought all the time, to the point that even Lydia could see the cracks in their relationship before their separation was even announced.  I don’t think she ever processed it thoroughly.  

Eventually they quieted down and I heard her dad leave, slamming the door as he went.  My aunt collapsed down next to me and I turned my tired eyes towards her.  She looks a lot like my mom, though Mom has fewer worry lines around her emerald eyes.  Natalie had aged well but she looked tired, it was evident in her eyes.  

“Thank you for…”  she pauses, swallowing.  Her eyes go glossy with tears.  “For everything.  I don’t know what I would have done if she had… if she had died.”  I nod, lacing my fingers with her own and squeezing.  She squeezes back and wipes her eyes with her other hand.  

“She’s going to be okay,” I whisper.  She nods, though neither of us are sure of anything anymore.  Natalie nods again, relaxing further into the chair and closing her eyes.  I do the same, hoping that maybe sleep will find us and grant us an escape from the mess we are in.  

[crimsoncompendium]

Little one,

I only just learned about you a few weeks ago, but already I feel so much and want to tell you everything. I was terrified when the doctor told me you’re coming. I thought there was no way I could raise a child, but I hope I’m wrong because I love you more than I can say, and above all I want to protect you and keep you safe.

I don’t know what your first name will be yet, but your last will be Sunjata. You will be born in Elona. I want you to know where else you come from, so I’ll share what little I know about our family’s history.

I don’t know who your great grandfather was, but your great grandmother’s name was Subira Sunjata. She fled from Kourna with the Order of Whispers after Palawa Joko rose to power. Her daughter, my mother, was named Mirembe. She grew up in Ebonhawke and married another Elonian whose lineage is unknown, Jackal Stone. Mirembe and he had myself and your uncle Zarek, and were taken to prison in Kryta when we were very young. Zarek and I were sent to Queen’s Heart Orphanage in Divinity’s Reach where I was adopted by two Ascalonians, Linda and Thomas Lewis, who brought me back to Ebonhawke. Zarek left the orphanage and was homeless until he met his foster father, Walter, a norn. We didn’t meet again for a long time. When we did I was a promising young soldier of the Ebon Vanguard and he, even without knowing that, joined.

Family is more than blood. You will have fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters who do not share your blood. These people mean no less than those who do.

Zarek adopted his first child, your cousin Luke, after Luke’s mother was killed. Then he had your younger cousin who shares my name, Arvanna Stone. A sylvari and a dear friend to me, Fiatri, has taken up motherhood of them.

As I write this you have two fathers. Atlas Oak has blue eyes and callused hands, and in spite of his outstanding talent for vulgarity he’s impossibly kind and a good, gentle man who loves us both. He’s the reason I lived long enough to get pregnant with you. Kabou Dabi is young and foolish as everyone is at this age, but he too is a good man. His eyes make me weak and his voice could talk me to sleep. He’s suffered much and been wronged at every turn, yet he hasn’t let that ruin his optimism.

Now that I’ve settled into the idea of having and raising a child I can’t overstate how happy and excited I am to grow you within me and then hold you in my arms when you’re finally here. I wonder what your hair will look like. Will you have any when you’re born? Will you look more like me, or your biological father? I can’t wait to touch your little toes and fingers and watch you sleep. You’re no more than a tiny lump in my belly, but already you’re the most precious, sacred thing I’ve ever known.

You won’t have a run-of-the-mill childhood, but I can promise you you will be loved. You will be loved fiercely and guarded from as much danger and hardship as I and your fathers can. You will see and know amazing things. I will teach you humility, and I will show you the worth of a day’s labor and a copper coin. I will tell you about the Gods that I worship and also what I know of other faiths. I will allow you to decide for yourself what, if anything, to believe. If you choose to believe nothing I won’t love you any less—and that applies to every aspect of your life. There is nothing you could ever do to lessen my love for you.

My life has been troubled at times and there were several situations in which I could have made better choices. I’ve been a coward and sometimes a liar. I want you to know that I’m far from perfect, but I’m going to live for you, little one. All of my thoughts now have you in them, and all my decisions are toward your betterment.

One of the hardest things I’ve had to learn is to forgive, yet to grow and protect myself after I’ve been hurt (or hurt myself). Forgiving the snake that bit you is not the same as giving it a second chance. Forgive for your sake; grudges will rot you from the inside out. Still, guard yourself as a form of self-respect. When you respect yourself, you don’t suffer others to disrespect you.

I want you to know as well that there is nothing you can’t tell me. I could never judge you, baby. If anything your actions will be a reflection of how I’ve raised you, making it hypocritical of me to think poorly of you (which I could never do). I guarantee you you will make mistakes and errors in judgment and for those things I will always forgive you. You’re fallible, just like everyone you’ll ever meet.

If you’re anything like me the moment you know what your wings are for you’ll be gone. Know that you may always come home, no matter what may have happened or what you’ve done or said. I don’t care. As long as my body is able I’ll protect you, and as long as my mind is sound I’ll guide you. I mean this: There is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you. I’ll always want you to come home. No matter what. I love you.

While there’s nowhere you can go where my thoughts and my love won’t be with you, there will be times when you’ll have to rely solely on yourself. Be prepared as best as you can. Love your friends, love your family, but learn to be alone and to be your own best friend. I promise you this will enrich your life.

I pray to the Gods I’ll have decades to tell you more, little one. Dwayna knows I have so much more to say than I can put on paper.

Love,

Your mother

[mae-gi-writes]

Who Told You It Was Okay To Stop Fighting? (YoungK & OC) Oneshot

Summary: Twenty-year old Brian Kang has nowhere to run to, no one to turn to when his world collapses. He stands at a bridge, knuckles tight on the metal handrails as he thinks of what might happen if he jumps and erases his existence from his world. But a surprising encounter with a stranger changes his mind and pushes him to try again one more time, one day at a time. 

"People are so focused on what's already past and what's to come that they don't appreciate the present." 

It’s cold.

Thirteen degrees celsius, with a thirteen percent chance of slight drizzle. Clouds hang low in the sky, barely giving the moon any space to breathe. Not that it matters, becaus I feel the same way. Like the moon, I mean.

It’s suffocating and dark, a grey monotone of color that has slithered into my wounds before I got the chance to dab in some ointment.

But that’s okay because I accept my fate.

I know what’s coming for me, the ending isn’t a pretty one if that’s what you’re wondering.

The wind bites at my skin as I slowly climb my way up onto the railing, looking over the river that separates my country into two. The lights are scattered across the city like a million of stars dancing through a galaxy of possibilities that unfortunately aren’t given to me through choice.

It is not a good night. Too cold and too windy. Easy to fall off with one wrong move, one wrong step. If the coldness of the water doesn’t kill me, the impact of the fall will. I don’t know which one I prefer, to be honest. The alternatives don’t seem very appealing and I wish that I have enough courage to back out before it’s too late, to take a step back before I know what kind of mistake I’m going to be doing.

But I’m a coward, and cowards always back out of things.

They like the easy way out and today, this is the easy way out for me. Jumping, that is.

I want to stand up and spread my arms wide, but I don’t. Instead, I look down at the impending darkness and wonder what lies behind those murky waters. Are there monsters ready to chomp onto one of my limbs? Is there a black abyss to suck my body in only to spit it out on the other side?

God only knows.

But tonight I’ll know. Tonight,I”ll figure out the puzzle that is the unknown dark matter that is waiting for me.

I just won’t live long enough to tell the tale.

“What are you doing?”

The unfamiliar soprano almost makes me topple over to the other side. Flustered, my arms scramble for purchase before they catch onto one of the metal bars, ears ringing with alarm.

Slowly, as though I’m a deer caught by a car’s headlights, I look down and almost scream out loud at the girl leaning against the railing beside me.

Her arms are supporting her as she nestles her face onto them, gaze flitting dow to the omniscient darkness before her eyes locked onto mine.

Her brown orbs are dark and intense, intimidating.

They make me flinch.

“What are you doing?” she repeats slowly as though she’s talking to a kid, and her somehow condescending tone makes me snap.

She’s a stranger and doesn’t even know me. I let people trample all over my ego, I’ve been holding the bucket of insults full in my arms for a while and that small comment is enough to make it overflow.

“None of your business.” I say.

“Geez, no need to bitch. I was just curious.” she shrugs, unseemingly bothered by the fact that I’ve just snapped at her, “So, what’s your plan? To jump?”

She hit the right spot.

For a moment, I hold my breath and hear the bustling traffic noise that sounds a little too loud and uncomfortable for my liking. I could lie, I could say that o, I’m just here to admire the view.

But I’m tired of lying. Tired of beating myself up for others and cleaning up after their mess.

“Yes.” I look at her straight in the eye “want to help?”

She sighs before raking a hand through her hair, a gesture that girls do whenever they’re slightly frustrated about something, “See, the thing is, I was told to save you.”

“What?” I frown.

“I’m from your past and your future,” she smiles but her teeth glint with a dangerous light, “I’m your subconscious.”

“Heck no,” I’m horrified. That is definitely not something --someone-- I would conjure up by myself, “if my subconscious was human, she’d definitely not resemble you.”

But it’s then that I focus on her features. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, pale skin that reflects the moon’s light, thin lips that stretch wide into a smile, she definitely isn’t my type. But I have to admit that she does have her charm despite the oddity of her face.

“Fine, don’t believe me. Being your type isn’t in my job description anyway.”

I just throw her a pointed look that shows I’m weirded out.

“Anyway, don’t jump.” She continues, “and I’m saying that not because I give a slight inkling of shit about you, but because I’ll lose my job if you do.”

“Are you drunk?” I ask her.  

“No.”

“Take any drugs?”

“No,” she scowls, and I can’t help but feel amused by the way her features shift her expression. She looks terrifying, “Even if I was, I wouldn’t care about a stranger standing on the edge of the railing.”

“You’re doing that now.”  

“That’s because you’re my responsibility,” the anger pulsates through her voice, “Brian Kang.”

How does she know my name?

She rolls her eyes, “Do you need more evidence?”

“Maybe.” Is she a psychopath? Maybe she just wants my money so that she can run away with it with her lover, have some kind of romantic road trip or something. Or maybe she’s just really desperate to-- “--make someone’s life better because she thinks she’s a saint.” her voice bursts through my thoughts, finishing up the sentence as though I’m saying them myself. One of her eyebrows quirk up when a smug smile makes its way onto her lips.

I stare at her, “How did--”

“--you do that?” she finishes. I glare before I say, “You don’t know--”

“--what I’ve been through and what I am. I’m not your toy nor your puppet, and you can’t just go around playing barbie doll and ken with me.” she finishes suavely as though I’ve implanted my thoughts into her brain, and that freaks me out just the slightest.

Crossing her arms and looking up at me with an expression mirroring content, she continues, “Do you want me to continue? Or is that proof enough?”

“Okay,” I try finding a comfortable position so that I can settle myself onto the railing, knuckles holding on tight to those metal bars when another gust of wind makes me shudder. But I try to ignore the icy coldness biting at every inch of exposed skin at my knuckle, and instead focus on the girl before me.

“Say you’re actually a figment of my imagination, my subconscious, whatever,” I can hear myself speaking and it’s almost as if I still don’t believe her. Up until two seconds ago, I didn’t. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to save you,” She replies instantly without missing a beat.

That causes something in my throat to clog up tight. Emotion.

I press my lips together, “You can’t.”

I thought she’d make a fuss, or scream, or shout at me until I see reason. Any other human being would grab me by the shoulders and shake me senseless until it would get ingrained in my head. But she’s not human and she’s definitely not real, therefore she can’t touch me.

But it’s nothing like that. She shifts a little, rocks from one foot to the other. And then asks the most surprising thing:

“Why?”

I blink, “Why do I want to die?”

She nods.

Because it’s an escape. Because I’m a coward and I want to get away from everything and everyone. Because in the end people just keep using me and using me like a post-it note they can just throw away. I’m useful but only for a short period of time, I’m an option when there are no options left.

And because in the end no one really cares.

In the end, I’m all alone.

I don’t say all that, but I’m pretty sure my thoughts speak louder than my words ever will. I see her expression soften into one of pure sympathy, and although I hate it when people look at me as if I’m just another poor dog on the street without any master, her eyes offer some kind of comfort and understanding, an understanding that I am an equal of everyone else and that she’s sorry to see me suffer for something that I’m not responsible of doing or saying.

In her eyes I see that she understands what it feels like to be knocked out just because you’re the weakest, kindest link in a chain.

“I’m sorry,” is what finally falls from her mouth.

I chuckle, but it’s dry, half-hearted. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry that the world was so harsh and unforgiving to you, that you now look at friends like they’re a potential threat and that you think of yourself as the last option that doesn’t seem to be worth anyone’s time.”

“I’m sorry too,” my gaze is glued on the blinking city lights and the permanent black ink that is the scenery beyond me, but inside my mind is roaring and my heart is drowning with choked up emotion as I think back to all those times I’ve been let down and ditched by people, every time I’ve been stabbed in the back without so much of an apology, every time I fell for people’s malicious intentions in hopes of salvaging the thought that people can still be the best versions of themselves.

But everyone has a limit, and I think I’ve reached mine sooner than I’ve expected.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

My head turns slowly. I look down at her, at the bright hope in her eyes and the way her face lights up with an expression that resembles faith. Faith in…

Me?

“You don’t have to put such high expectations on people, because that’s exactly what kills you in the end.” she continues hurriedly as though she fears I might jump at any second now, “You don’t have to put so much faith in others, nor do you have to trust anyone but yourself. But that’s kind of a saddening existence, isn’t it? To be alive only to be alone. That’s not why we live.”

Her eyes slide away from mine before she gazes out the scenery, “I’m not telling you to live a lonely life. I’m just telling you that you should be conscious of who you trust and who you decide to trust with all your heart. But that too doesn’t work sometimes. Sometimes, the ones that we trust the most are the ones that wish the worst for us. You’re going to be stabbed in the back again and again after this. Continuing to live means that you’ll suffer the consequences of pain. Human beings are cruel and will do anything to get what they want. So I know how it feels, to be the only option when people run out of them.”

And suddenly, her brown orbs are staring right into mine, deep and dark and serious. It’s a stormy wave of emotion crashing to the shore and I almost flinch back on impulse. But there’s something in her eyes that reel me in, that make me want to look even when I know I’ll probably regret it.

“But if you jump, you admit that you’re nothing, that your life is worth nothing.”

The words fail me. I want to speak but seems like I can’t.

I open my mouth only to close it again.

She continues, “What about your parents? Did they raise you right to throw this life away? What about your family? Are you going to be the problem that breaks them apart? What about the friends that genuinely care? Do you want to see them fight and take the blame for this choice of yours that you’re not even sure is the right one? Because let me tell you, it’s not the right choice. Running away wasn’t not a choice to begin with.”

“I’m not running--”

“But you are. You’re running away from a healthy life while others are struggling to live. Are you really going to sacrifice this just because you’re not strong enough to put people in their place? Are you really going to make everyone’s life a living hell just to satisfy your own wants and needs?”

Her hands suddenly enclose my own. They’re warm and tangible and here. They’re a blessing from the cold, they feel real enough for me to grip onto them with a tighter grasp. She searches my face with a desperation I haven’t seen cross anyone’s eyes yet, and another wave of emotion hits me in the gut, so hard that I have to force the tears at the back of my eyes.

“You’re here. You’re real,” she insists as her grip tightens, “Who told you it was okay to stop fighting?”

I bite my lip so hard I taste blood at the edge of my mouth.

Why is she fighting so hard to keep me alive?

“Look, let’s make a deal.” she says, “Try to live for one more day. One more, one day at a time. What do you say?”

I want to shake my head, “I can’t--”

“You can, Brian,” she says gently, “You can. You just don’t want to try.”

“I’ve tried enough!” My tone rises with frustration and anger, tears prickling the corner of my eyes, “I’ve tried again and again and again and yet it never feels like it’s enough!”

“Try,” she pleads, “try one more time. One more. Please.”

I don’t want to say yes because I don’t want to promise something I don’t believe in. But she grips my hand harder if that’s possible, and I’m obliged to look into her eyes. Brown jewels shining into my own, they’re urging me to try, giving me a strength that I’ve lost in this endless battle.

I don’t know who she is, or what she wants from me. I don’t even know if she’s real or if she’s just a passing stranger that decided to take my life into the responsibility of her own hands.

But she’s trying so hard, and something in her expression causes a surge of faith to leap in me.

It’s burning my chest but it’s not uncomfortable. On the contrary, it feels warm and cozy, just like I’ve settled on a futon next to a fireplace.

And so I say yes.

“One more time,” she repeats like a mantra, “Try one more time.”

I nod.

I’ve never seen her again, but I did try. More than once.

And started living as I should.

Author’s Note: Because YoungK is slowly killing me inside and wrecking my bias list. Have you guys listened to Day6's newest song "I Loved You"? If you haven't, you're missing out on the most important, heart wrecking song in your life. Please go and listen, it's a masterpiece T.T 

Here's another small oneshot inspired by a quote I found recently on Tumblr. People focus too much on the past and the future, only to miss out on the present. So here is the result of pondering and senseless writing in my notebook. I actually freehandwrote this before typing it out and I found that it helps me a lot more than just typing. There's something purely authentic and free about writing on paper that makes it a lot easier for my thoughts to flow. 

I hope you guys like it!<3 <3

[14knightdawn12]

My abuser started sexually abusing me when I was three. Three. My first memory is of hiding behind a sofa as my brothers play hide and seek with us, and my not-cousin carefully telling me to touch and kiss his dick. I was three. I was three and my first memory isn’t playing with my friends and family but the disgusting sensation of my lips against the rough skin of something I shouldn’t have had to touch.

It kept going every time we visited them. I always went to his room because, I have to admit now, I was groomed. I knew that his actions were wrong and mostly I refused to let him touch me in most ways, but I still watched him masturbate. I watched as he showed me videos of child pornography and tried to tell me that it was normal, that the kids in those videos were having fun. I always told him that children couldn’t consent. That it was abuse. I thought, in a way, that maybe he was just misinformed. That I could change his views.

Somehow I didn’t make the connection between the victimized children in the videos and myself. Somehow I never thought of myself as a victim.

I was so scared of him having children of his own. I couldn’t go to the police, not when his father is a guard and his uncle part of the police. I couldn’t say anything because I was terrified of breaking the family apart, because my mum always told me to forgive and forget but never clarified that some things were not meant to be forgiven. Some things cannot be forgotten.

If he did have a child, I always figured, I would have to tell. It would be my fault if something happened to them. It would be my fault for not bringing it to attention, for being a coward. I don’t want to deal with that guilt but what could I do? Crimes have an expiration date.

Crimes have an expiration date but trauma doesn’t. Trauma is immortal in my veins, in my breath, in my memories. Trauma will never expire.

When depression hit, when the worst of my memories resurfaced, I thought about killing myself. I wanted to make it end—the pain, the fear, the shame. The feeling of poison brewing inside of me, as more and more memories resurfaced and claimed their throne in my conscious mind.

I told him I hated him, once, while he tickled me. He touched me all over my body and the imprint of his hands is still a shadow in the depths of my soul. He tickled me and I was laughing but it felt so dirty that my tears turned into wails of frustration.

I said; I hate you and my voice carried the unconscious knowledge of everything I knew he had done but refused to admit. My voice shook with the power behind those words, defiant in spite my tears.

I hate you.

He got up and looked at me in disappointment, and he asked me how I could say such a thing. I felt bad. I felt I was being unfair. I remembered the innocent words of my mother, her usual intonation of forgive and forget, and I said I was sorry.

I’m not sorry.

I’m not sorry.

I’m was sorry, then. I am sorry I apologized. I’m sorry I never understood that forgiveness is granted to mistakes and human error, not to the evil that was your presence.

I am sorry.

(I will never be sorry again)

He said we used to have so much fun playing together. He let his hand casually wander towards my chest, looked me in the eyes, said; what happened to our little secret?

I should have said I had grown up enough to recognize my own face in the dozens of anonymous videotaped children who had suffered (who still suffered) under the hands of people like him.

I wish I had told him that the monsters under my bed were my friends now, that I knew fearing the unknown was childish. I wish I had pushed his hand away, locked my eyes into his, and said: all children fear monsters and growing up is recognizing that monsters never existed in the first place. The monsters were an invention to make us look away from the real monsters that walk unpunished, who think their actions are justified. You are the only monster under my bed and I am not scared of you.

But I was thirteen, then, young and scared and angry and hurt. I was all of thirteen when I took a step back and asked him to stop in a quivering, terrified little voice. I was thirteen as my heart pumped in my chest in fear and adrenaline. I was thirteen when he put his hand in my vagina, not for the first time, as he smiled down at me with a wolfish grin.

I was all of thirteen when I started crying, startling him enough to stop. I didn’t run out of the room. I didn’t move from the spot. We stared at each other with ragged breath from completely different reasons and then he turned around to his computer and ignored me.

I refused to go back to that house after a few more times there. I refused to acknowledge them as family. I refused to listen to the broken pieces of memories that I wanted to pretend weren’t real.

I started letting tiny pieces of information out. I told my forum friends that my cousin used to watch porn with me in the room. What I never said was that I had been five years old and the porn was child pornography. What I never said was that porn made me want to puke, to cry, that the images of those videos will forever be blemishes in my soul.

I wanted them to know. I wanted them to know but I couldn’t get the words out. Like a well that is about to explode but has been covered in a thick layer of cement. I wanted them to know without having to say the real words.

I was nineteen the first time I said I was a victim of childhood sexual abuse. I was nineteen the first time I cried about it. I was drunk and everything became too much, too fast. I told my best friends that my cousin had abused me. I told them about my terror. I remembered fragments of my weeping in the morning as a cold feeling settled in my stomach.

My mum said we had to talk and I wanted to run away, to hide and never let myself out again. Why? Why? Why did I have to feel like a criminal when the crimes were committed against me? Why?

I downplayed it. When my mum asked, I said he’d touched me a few times and that he’d watched porn with me in the room. I didn’t say what kind of porn or at what age it had started. I didn’t say that my first memory was of him and that I felt broken for it.

I didn’t say; how could you not see the signs? I played with myself in the bathroom of preschool and no one ever questioned it. I had sexual behaviors that my teachers complained about, and grandma said I was dirty when she was told instead of asking me why. You found me crying under a table afterwards and you held me tight but didn’t question my tears, my terror, my profound feeling of wrongness and impurity. Did you see the signs and ignore them? Was it too hard to admit you couldn’t keep me safe? Why did you not see it, mum?

But mum also said, let’s keep this quiet. Let’s not ruin your aunt’s life for the actions of his son. You know how much it would break her heart to know this of him? Let’s not tell.

(I laughed.

Keep it a secret, mom? This has been my personal hell since the moment I was born. I stopped believing in God because I could never reconcile Him with my experiences. I lost two years of my life to depression and the knowledge that I would never outgrow this.

Childhood trauma is a funny thing, did you know, mum? Childhood trauma shapes who you are so integrally that you become nothing without it.)

Keep it a secret so as not to break my aunt’s heart but mine was already broken. I wanted her to force to go to the police and I wanted her to care only about me. I wanted her to decide I was more important than anyone else on this planet.

My mum would apologize for this, later. I forgive her for it, not because I think I have to, but because there are tear-marks on her face and I know she understands. I’ll forgive if you deserve it. I will never forgive and forget those who are not worthy.

I was three and my first memory is of a dick in my lips and my hands. I was four and I couldn’t see myself in the videos of children whose innocence had been taken away. I was five when I was shamed for innapropiate sexual behavior. I was eight and I puked when I tried to drink milk because it was too similar, too much of a trigger, for me not to associate it with my trauma. I was ten when a kiss to the cheek gave me anxiety but no one listened to me. I was thirteen when it stopped.

I was fourteen when my friends said I was the most innocent person in the world and I laughed and laughed and laughed. I was sixteen when I stopped dropping hints because silence was better than being ignored. I was nineteen when I got drunk and told.

I’m 22 and it stopped years ago but it also never has. I live with the bleeding wounds that time could not heal and I live with the scars that no one thinks about. I’m twenty-two but I am also three, four, five, eight, ten, thirteen, sixteen, nineteen.

The memories of what he did to me will forever haunt my dreams. The somatic memory of a touch, of a flicker, of a voice, will always haunt my mind.

I can’t escape the truth of what you did to me, but I can live with it. I live with it. This is my truth, cousin:

I hate you.

I will never be scared of you again.

I will never forgive nor forget.

You never deserved my mercy.

[dangerousimagines]

The Deal (Joker x Reader)

“Imagine being the Jokers girlfriend, you’re kidnapped and tortured. To make it all stop, all the Joker has to do is turn himself in to Arkham Asylum and give up his freedom forever. Regardless of what happens, there is going to be a lot of pain.”

Requested by Anon: “Hey I was wondering if I could request something like this; the jokers girlfriend is used as leverage for the joker to turn himself into Arkham. But, the jokers girlfriend is the opposite of Harley and is quite innocent and fragile. I’ll leave the actual torture and if she dies or not elements up to you, thank you!”

A/N: I really had fun with this. I’ll apologize in advance! And I actually decided to make this into a series, so expect a second part in the future! 

Warnings: Violence, Kidnapping, Torture, Abuse, Angsty-stuff.

How long had you been down here?

How long had they been torturing you?

How long would it be before he’d come save you?

You were hunched over in the chair you were tied to. You could hear someone talking but you didn’t have the energy to even lift you head. You needed to save what little energy you had left, you needed it to try and fight back. As pointless as it was.

You felt a hand grasp your tangled hair and yank your head backwards. Your neck ached at the motion. The room was brighter then you realized as you tried to open your eyes. There were three men in the room, one had his hand gripping your hair, other standing in front of you talking to something, and the last had a camera. You figured the one man was speaking to the camera. You couldn’t make out what he was saying as you tried to process your own thoughts.

That was when he turned to you, memories pulsing through your head of the torture this single man had put you through. He stepped closer to you, running his fingers down your face towards your mouth. Once they were close enough to your mouth, you opened your lips slowly enough for him to think you were just trying to take a break.

Well, surprise bitch.

You lunged your head forward and bit down on his finger, biting down hard enough that it wasn’t long before you could taste the iron liquid sweep into your mouth. You felt the back of his hand make contact with your cheek, forcing you to release him. He hit you at least three more times after that before he was satisfied.

He grimaced at the mess you’d made of his hand and glared at you. “I’m going to make you regret that…”

And he definitely did. He stepped up his torture regimen. You were no longer allowed to sleep and your life had become 24-hour, around the clock, torture sessions.

The Joker paced the length of the room, items had been thrown and smashed against the walls and floor. The tape he had received was paused and his anger had no rival. He was beyond pissed, he was worried about your safety.

“Who is that guy…” he suddenly asked Frost.

“The new commissioner, Gordon stepped down and this guy took over. Clearly, he doesn’t play by the rules…”

“He wants me to surrender myself to Arkham, throw away my freedom for her. But I don’t even have any guarantee that she’ll be alright if I do give myself up…” he let out a deep sigh that he’d been holding, the mental images of that bastard hitting you, even just touching you, made his blood boil.

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you think I’m going to do? Tell the boys to get ready. I’m getting my girl back and I’m going to make him regret he ever touched her…”

It’d been hours since the last torture session. That was even worse then having it happen on schedule. The fear of the unknown scared you more then anything. Your heart pounded frantically in your chest as it heaved with every panted breath. You tried to draw in a shaky breath but you just started to cry again. You didn’t want to endure any of this anymore. You wanted it all to stop. A choked sob escaped you as your heard footsteps approaching you.

“P-Please, Don’t hurt me anymore. I’ll do anything, just make it stop…” you begged with your unknown captors but he didn’t reply.

You lifted your head slowly. You looked at the man and saw something you didn’t like in his eyes. He walked behind your chair, where you couldn’t see him. His arm wrapped around your throat, tightening painfully around your fragile neck. You started to thrash about helplessly. You screamed and cried, but he just tightened his grip. You kept trying to take air in but you were getting nothing. Your head became dizzy. The lights in the room were darkening. You stopped struggling, allowing yourself the time to think about your lover as everything went dark.

Gunfire erupted through the underground building. The corrupted cops of the GCPD were scattered about the building. Prepared to take on the Jokers goons if it meant that they’d be able to take down the clown himself. The Joker ran through the corridors, searching every room for you. His goons had been taken care of by the cops and the commissioner was nowhere to be found, it wouldn’t be long before they tracked down the clown prince of crime. The last room he came across was locked, he pulled out his gun. One bullet left.

He aimed it at the handle of the door and fired, once he had the door open he felt relief and anger wash over him. You were tied to the chair, the commissioner standing beside you, a gun of his own pointed at your temple.

“Here’s the deal, Joker. And this is the last time I’ll offer it. Turn yourself over to Arkham and I’ll release your girl, I’ll even allow you visitation with her. But if you even do much as make a move, I’ll shoot and you’ll never have her back.”

Joker stared at you, you meant a lot more to him then he’d ever admit. He couldn’t watch you die, not like this. Not here. He considered his options, realizing that he really didn’t have any.

“You’ll keep your word, if I give myself up, you’ll let her go?”

The commissioner nodded, the smirk on his face pissing the Joker off even more. “I swear.”

“I hope you know that when I get out of Arkham, you’ll be the first person I’m coming after,” he growled.

The other officers came in through the doorway, they looked terrified to see the criminal just standing there. The commissioner nodded to one of them and the Joker was cuffed. His only solace was that you’d be alright.

“Now. Release her,” he growled.

“Sure thing,” he took out a knife and cut through the rope that kept you restrained to the chair. He then stepped away but you didn’t move. The Joker stared at you, confusion on his face.

The Commissioner suddenly started to laugh, “I warned you.”

“What did you do to her?” The Joker hissed.

He picked up one of your arms and then released it, watching its dead weight drop back down. “I’m afraid you were too late. I can’t say that I didn’t warn you. I’d say she’s been dead for the last 2 days.”

The Jokers eyes widened, his chest aching as he stayed at your lifeless face that was now in view. Your blue lips and pale skin. He’d never felt like this. His anger was replaced with overwhelming grief. He made a move to lunge at the Commissioner, the officers held onto him. He walked over to the Joker, smirking.

“Take him to Arkham.”

The director of Arkham Asylum stood next to the Commissioner, their eyes focused on the camera feed before them.

“I gotta hand it to you, you really got him to surrender.”

“Well, I can be rather persuasive,” he smirked, watching the Joker sit on the bed in his cell.

The Joker knew that this is what the Commissioner wanted, he wanted the recognition of being the one who got the infamous Joker to surrender. But in the end he was a coward, the man wanted to make sure that the joker would give up, killing you was the only way he saw that happening.

So he sat still in his cell, giving him the idea that he was safe, that he had given up on escaping. He glanced at the camera pointed at his cell, knowing that they were watching him.

You sat alone in the room you’d been brought to. Your neck was bruised and even swallowing hurt. You gripped the remote in your hand, watching the tape you’d been given, over and over again. Your eyes were focused on the small tv as you watched the scene for the hundredth time. You felt a tear trail down your cheek.

He thought you were dead. Nobody would save you now.

-/-

To be continued…

[tomatofishcake]

Perpetuity

Isn’t the thought of being able to live forever thrilling? After all, being able to fully grasp this world’s laws grants you immeasurable strength. Moreover, humanity’s greatest enemy was and will always be death.

‘We are nothing but a speck of dust dancing in the outskirts of a whirlwind.’

As for Junho? He was never interested in this power; he merely wanted to see the world as it is. When he was a mere child, he wished every single day to get away from this life of poverty, death and endless despair. He had been forced to get through situations a normal human being wouldn’t even dream of.

(He was glad for that. This world was slowly, but surely evolving. Gone were the days when people died from unknown diseases. Sure, humanity had a long road ahead. There were still so many things that had to be changed; old, outdated ‘values’ that were in desperate need of rethinking. Nevertheless, it was common sense that taking steady steps towards improvement was always so much better than rushing ahead, mindlessly chasing after progress and prosperity. )

And it had been then, when he was young and thought he owned the world that the worst enemy he has faced so far, came to claim his life. It started with an innocent cold, which didn't worry him. But when the cold wouldn't go away, when fevers and coughing kept him up for many nights in a row, when herbs and his wife’s sweet remedies didn’t help, he knew that something was wrong.

It was not until one beautiful spring morning that his suspicions were confirmed; when he woke up drenched in cold sweat and started coughing up blood. He endured, he held on for as long as he could. It was too soon to leave his children unprotected and make his wife prey to those pretentious officials and their unquenchable thirst for alcohol and, well, sex.

When one chance of staying alive appeared . . .he grabbed it. He made a deal with the ‘devil’. At that point he was too scared, the pain was insufferable and he was too much of a coward to allow mother nature take its’ course.

Did he regret it?

Quite honestly, if the person who had turned him into this creature of darkness was someone else then yes, he would have instantly regretted it. He has seen the ‘Others’. After years of abandonment by their creator they turned into shadows. Their survival instincts drove them to insanity.

It was. . .terrifying. Not being able to control your own body, mindlessly killing everything and everyone that happened to stand on your path.

But his mentor was one of the greatest 'people' he had ever had the chance to come across. Up to this day he had no idea why that man decided to save him and take care of his family until they were able to do so on their own (even then, he granted Junho the freedom he needed to protect them and be with them as much as the laws allowed him to).

Grateful was a small word to describe his feelings and appreciation for him.

For he allowed Junho to watch his daughter get married to their neighbor’s son, one of her most beloved childhood friends. He was there when she gave birth to a set of identical twins; a boy and a girl. Little rascals is what they were, the glint in their wondrous eyes was the same he had when he was a mere child! He watched his son taking his own son for fishing, telling him tales about a grandfather he never had the chance to meet and a grandmother who used to constantly smile as she sat on the porch of their small, wooden house and watched her husband roll with their children on the grass.

Most importantly . . . He was there when his wife fell ill. She had grown old, her skin was wrinkled, the corners of her beautiful eyes had a constant crease and her once long, dark-brown hair was shorter and turned into a mix of silver and white. In her last moments she saw him. He tenderly held her bony, frail hand and apologized over a million times. In return she left this world with a merry smile playing on her pale lips.

With his wife’s last breath, Junho left everything behind in hopes of forgetting. But memory is a tricky thing.

The memory of pain that is deeply etched into one’s very core never disappears.

Years passed since then. Decades slowly turned into centuries. . .

‘The passing of time is . . .truly a beautiful spectacle.’

Someone tapped the back of Junho’s head, snapping him out of his self induced reverie.  Junho let out a quiet groan and tipped his head backwards.

As expected, Chansung was standing there in all his glory, hands on waist and brow arched. ‘’Are you thinking again? Because this room smells of smoke.’’

‘’Yeah, fuck you too Hwang Chansung.’’ Junho frowned lightly in mock offense and turned around just to kick the other’s leg and smirk in triumph at the painful gasp that escaped his lips.

‘’As much as I’d love seeing you two jump at each others throats-‘’ Junho blinked and turned his gaze to the door, where a man seemingly in his early twenties stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and watching them both through dark, filled with amusement eyes. The corners of Junho’s lips twitched lightly upwards creating a faint ghost of smile; Wooyoung was wearing the white, loose button down shirt Junho had brought him the week before as a gift from Italy.

And as expected, it was a perfect fit.

Then those same dark eyes left Chansung and focused on Junho. ‘’-we’ve all had enough with this, Junho.’’ Wooyoung said quietly, but loud enough for Junho to hear the disappointment behind that soft voice.

‘’Go to him. He’s been asking for you continuously these past few days.’’ Added Chansung and. . .that was the finishing blow. Junho lowered his head and stared at the carpeted floor. His heart was crushed underneath the sensation of excruciating shame and his mind screamed at him to leave everything behind and save whatever ounce of dignity he was left with.

‘’Oh, I know that look.’’ Soft fingers grabbed his chin and forced his head up, making him flinch as he was met with Wooyoung’s fierce eyes and Chansung’s arched brow and  pursed lips (that brat always had that look when he wanted to tell him ‘You are boring, you can do better than that’).

‘’You either go to him now or I’ll drag your ass there myself and trust me on this, Nichkhun won’t be enough to save you this time. You hear me Lee Junho?’’ The grip he had on Junho’s chin tightened considerably and Junho was pretty sure that if he was still human, it would have cracked under the pressure.

‘’I-I got it.’’ He muttered softly. There were no excuses or running away this time. He had to face his fears. It had to be done.

Junho bit his lower lip and brought his hand up, gripping Wooyoung’s pale wrist and nodding. ‘’But give me some time?’’

The other male narrowed his eyes and finally let go of Junho’s chin. ‘’Five minutes. No more than that.’’ With those last words, he turned around, grabbed Chansung’s arm and stalked out of the dimly lit room leaving Junho in shambles.

‘How can I fix this? I should have- I should have-‘

He groaned pitifully and gripped his hair in utter frustration. For an immortal, supposedly wise creature he was so foolish. So arrogant. So. . .human.