#╰ 🗲 ╮・ open.

[visionkept]

Fontaine was a year ago and yet the rpc never had a fontaine ball / masquerade event. . . We should change that.

[riderheart]

i know it's probably just the fact that she's turned in the third book but ry changing her profile pic on insta to "chapter three" kinda making me want to scour the third chapters for idk what

[anisotropy-kotetsu]

ᒥ🗲ᒧ—        "I-I'm so s-sorry!" Kotetsu says in the pitch black common room. "W-Watch your step, I-I think I shattered l-lights..."

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 14: Cover Me

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: An unprecedented strike at the heart of bangtan leaves you baring yours.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 5.7k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, swearing, (supernatural) animal attack, injury

a/n: if this whole time the slow burn has been me leaning nearer to a candle with a lighter... now is where I finally let the flame catch🤭👀

The one good thing to come of your escapade was, unexpectedly, quite a plethora of entertaining tales designed to make you feel better. As it turned out, most of the boys had also been just as, if not more, stupid than you on occasion.

While your body was exhausted, and smiling pulled at the cuts on your face, you couldn’t help yourself. All of you would be in bed long after the sun rose at this rate, but right now you made no complaint as you fell back against the couch with laughter. Even Yoongi, the butt of the current story, bore a begrudging grin.

“I still can’t believe it!” Jimin cackled, falling over Yoongi’s lap dramatically. In all honesty, you didn’t know how he even managed to speak around his giggles, “those innocent people just wanted to have a fun night!”

“Most of them were innocent-”

“And the non-innocent among them were terrified when the disco lights got hijacked,” you deadpanned.

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“I was in a bad mood.”

“You heard it here: don’t mess with our Yoongi, you can’t imagine what he’s capable of,” Jin teased.

“It’s less of an abuse of power than stopping an entire highway of traffic just so the Kan CEO couldn’t get away,” Yoongi responded, eyes pointedly fixing on Jimin.

Jimin’s head snapped up, surprised by the turn towards him. His hand tightened on V’s, but the next second he scoffed a laugh.

“He deserved it!”

“That’s the reason every time one of you makes a fool of yourself,” Jin smiled. “You can be stupid and they can still deserve it.”

His eyes flicked over to you, then. While embarrassment still washed over you, it gave way to a sheepish smile, your private response.

Sinking into the warmth of the squishy sofa, a smile laced your lips, not leaving, as your friends kept laughing and poking fun. The night went on, eyes beginning to droop and laughter growing sleepy.

They had welcomed you back with understanding. It was more than you could have hoped for, some hours ago fighting for your life in the cold.

This was your home. And the man who once wanted you gone had been the one to bring you back.

Jungkook hadn’t sat beside you. After the revelations you had shared in the bathroom, perhaps your both needed some reeling space. But you noticed his eyes on you from his spot opposite, and found your smile came easily.

Though he didn’t return it, he wasn’t cold. His expression unwavering, his brows were almost imperceptibly creased with intrigue.

You only let your body’s haze of exhaustion wash through you, not trying to read closer into his demeanour. Although you may not understand him half the time, you knew one thing for sure, and for tonight, that was enough.

He still wanted you here.

Noise drenched the space, wrenching you from sleep. Even while your eyes were still opening, your body moved without you, getting your legs under you.

Covers thrown off, the relative cold shocked you fully to your senses before another crunch shook the very walls.

Suddenly very awake, your brain whizzed through the last dizzying seconds. And didn’t land very far from the initial, sleep-crazed and panicked conclusion that you were dying.

The crunch was interrupted before it even finished ringing out, by another noise, splintering through the air. An immense thud of something hitting the ground buzzed through the floorboards beneath your feet.

Heart hammering as if trying to match the cacophony assaulting you, you sprinted for the door. You threw it open and stopped dead.

Sudden, brilliant light assaulted you. Of course it was light; you had all stayed up far too late after yesterday. So much for a rest.

But the light didn’t come from the window.

It came from the gaping hole in the ceiling.

Hardly daring blink, you let your eyes strain in shock and staggered from your doorway. A chunk of rubble sat in the hall, between yours and the others’ bedrooms. Gaping, you looked to the chasm above you, beyond which was sky.

Just then, another movement drew you back to earth.

You had never seen Namjoon with bedhead before, your scrambled brain realised as you met eyes with your bewildered leader through a doorway.

And then darkness plummeted between you.

Thunder deafened you, and you were forced to jump back from a shower of debris. Beyond the caving of the roof, a roar rumbled. Not another sound of stone or brick; it was like an animal.

You readied your hands, the only thing you could do.

The wall of wreckage settled so high you could no longer see Namjoon. But the others must be awake, too. Whatever the hell was going on, you would take it together.

A shape loomed then in the open space, blocking out the sun. Before you could make out more than a silhouette, it stomped closer, the building shuddering beneath it. Dust rained down in the thin remaining streams of sunlight.

Then, all at once, it pounced through the hole it had opened, and was filling the air with its great roar.

Rubble cracked under its feet. The floor shook. The doors rattled – before the thing lashed out an immense arm, and the wood splintered like paper.

So it had arms. And legs, poised beneath it like a predator. And teeth.

Eyes adjusting, you honed in. You didn’t like what you saw.

Unfortunately, it saw you too.

The beast’s furry head twisted your way, fixing you with eyes you would never forget. Its jaws opened, and your power surged within you at the same moment it lunged-

Then shot sideways in a blur. It fell with the crunch of its own weight, a lump of masonry disintegrating around it.

Aborting your shot at the last second, you fell back against the wall, blindly throwing your arms up as claws slashed through the air inches from you in the fall. Bricks flew, slamming dents into plaster.

You stayed there, fixed in place, gasping. Not just because of the near-miss.

You knew this beast.

A blur and Jimin was in front of you, feet skidding to a halt among the dust and smithereens. Looking up at him in shock, you found his face hardened, nostrils flaring as he glared towards the creature.

He stuck a hand under your nose, but as you took it, a lumbering shape reappeared in the corner of your eye.

Clutching your hand tighter, Jimin stepped back.

The monster whizzed around, limbs flailing. Nothing it came into contact with could put up a fight; the tv sparked as talons sliced through the centre. It fell uselessly to the ground and burst into flames behind the creature, who drew to its full height. The glinting gaze was the same, unperturbed by Jimin’s rock-solid attack.

“What is that?” Jimin hissed in horror.

You could have answered, but shock had words sticking in your throat.

Everything moved at once, the monster leaping forwards again. It forced you and Jimin apart, both diving away from the vicious claws. Its bulk smashed against the wall, but it was already scrambling up, readying a new strike.

Crawling below the kitchen table on your elbows, you looked over your shoulder in time to see the eyes swivel straight to you again. Dread overflowed in your chest.

But it got no further.

An impact knocked its head sideways, though not off-balance this time. Merely a jolt, as if dodging a fly. Growling deep in its throat, it looked around.

At the same moment, you found the form streaking through the air which had struck it. Hobi.

Uncaring for the chairs you sent crashing to the floor, you shot up from your shelter and took aim. Your electric blue took out the arm that threatened your friend.

And so it was back on you.

Thundering steps pounded closer and you were backed into the wall. Another strong blast hit it square in the chest, but only served to anger him more. Every nerve screamed at you to dodge, flee sideways, but you squared your jaw and let him run at you.

Remembering what Kuyang had told you, you hoped the same weak spot still held true on Frank. You had never actually had to use it before.

“Y/N!”

Jin’s yell of your name threw you off, tearing your eyes from the spot on Frank’s head. Flooding over the pile of rubble came the rest of your team. Jin cocked a gun by his head. Your eyes darted between the monster and your friends, the world slowing for a breath.

“No…” you whispered. Frank was almost upon you.

Jin fired. The crack of a bullet made Frank turn, the sweet spot on his head now out of sight.

Cursing, you ducked as he made impact with the wall, apparently forgetting you were ever there. Scrambling clear of his reach, you found your feet. But Frank was already moving again.

Among the mass of matted hair, you saw the tail of a dart poking from his back. A tranquilizer. While a good idea, you knew that it wouldn’t knock Frank out by a long shot. He needed strong sedation, and a lot at that. Your lab wasn’t equipped for that.

All they had done was piss him off more. Your heart thundered along with Frank’s steps as he lunged for your friends.

With a sweep of his hand, V shot up a wall of purple flames. Frank bellowed and swiped at them, unfazed by the burn. Orange fire burned thicker your end of the room, spreading from the tv to the rug, and you leapt around it, firing at the monster’s back. Anything to keep him from your brothers.

Sure enough, Frank turned, but a new shape came at him. Your heart squeezed as Hobi flew so close by – near enough to the weak spot on his head, but he didn’t know about that. Among the crashing and roaring of fire and fighting, he would never hear you. Your comms were safely tucked away in a room downstairs. This was a fight you hadn’t seen coming.

Frank’s eyes locked onto the boy coming for him. Hobi landed a solid kick and whirled away, but Frank wasn’t giving up. A slash of talons followed.

“No!” you screamed, firing with precision into Frank’s eyes.

The creature stumbled, claws fumbling wildly, but it hadn’t been enough. Hope’s form dropped hard to the floor, rolling away. He stayed there, still on the floorboards.

Jimin marched closer, a hand raised, and Frank was slammed back into the wall. Jimin flung his arm down and Frank’s face was smashed on the rubble, dropping to his knees.

With the brief distraction as cover, you raced towards Hobi. Skidding to your knees in front of him, a breath punched out of you as you saw his eyes open.

“Shit, Hobi.”

Reaching out, you circled your arm around his shoulders and hauled him to sit with your help. You winced along with him, but you had to move. A long gash ran down his chest.

“I’m… okay,” he panted.

“Bullshit,” you spat.

A new holler from the beast had you whirling to look over your shoulder. Frank held Jimin in a gargantuan fist, raising him from the ground.

“Jimin!” you cried, but your voice was drowned out in Frank's roar, and the bursts of desperate rifle fire from Jin.

V had already leapt into action, murderous purple tinting his eyes as he brought flames up around the beast, swamping him. Jimin’s eyes still burned pink, despite his immobilisation. His brows drew down in focus, and a new piece crumbled from the roof onto the monster’s skull.

Though it stumbled, the creature didn’t even fall.

“We need to get out of here,” you hissed.

Though Hobi sagged against you, you felt him nod. Easing him to rest against the wall, you stood.

A silhouette darting through the flames emerged. You had never seen V like this. His expression was clouded with dark, wild anger and he leapt for Jimin, catching hold of Frank’s arm and swinging from it.

Blazing purple circled Frank’s flesh along every inch where V made contact.

An ear-splitting howl of pain and rage ripped from the monster’s throat. Throwing his arms to the side, he tossed both V and Jimin who came flying towards you. In mid-air, Jimin caught hold of V, curling around him before they both came tumbling to the ground at your feet.

Thrashing his immense arms, Frank blundered out of the column of fire, leaving it to eat up the building behind him.

Seeing Jimin and V untangling themselves, bruised but mobile, you stepped around them.

“Get out of here,” you told them with urgency, “take Hope.”

“Y/N-!”

Jimin called after you, but you were already starting forwards.

The only one left standing was Jin – where were the others? – so you had to put a stop to this before anyone else got hurt. Dashing forwards, you found Frank hadn’t made a target of you yet. He took his fury out on your house, which was quickly devolving into little more than wreckage.

A glance at Jin showed him backing away, to your relief. In the other direction, Hobi was sandwiched between Jimin and V, rushing between the violet flames to escape through the garage.

A booming roar brought you back to Frank.

The monster stomped his foot, gaping jaws wide and snarling as he lifted his arms. Claws dug into brick, tearing off a chuck of ceiling. You jumped as he sent it crashing to the ground in a fog of dust.

A wall of rubble was stacked in front of you, but Frank’s enormous foot cracked it easily as he stepped over it.

Red fire spat at your back, the heat immense. You couldn’t back up further.

Frank’s giant fist descended, grip circling a couch, the end of which was already flaming. He lifted it, flung it to the side. Removing it from his path as he advanced on you.

Below it, someone moved. Ducking underneath, heading straight for you. Next moment, the figure crashed against you, throwing you to the side with strong hands gripping your arms.

They flipped, taking the brunt of the fall to their back as you slid together among the debris.

Instantly, you were struggling against them, throwing the arms off. They let you go, and you struggled to your feet, rounding on them.

“Jungkook?”

He staggered up too, reaching for your arm.

“We need to go,” he panted, “we can’t fight it.”

“I can,” you protested, shaking him off.

But he sprung forwards, grabbing you. With a startled cry, you were twisted around. His arm caught your waist, yanking you against him, placing him closest to Frank to fire a golden beam at the claws which had swiped for you.

“I thought we went over this?” Jungkook’s voice was ragged in your ear.

A new pounce from Frank sent you both diving over the rubble. You landed hard on your elbows, Jungkook’s arm on your back.

“We did,” you gasped, scrambling to right yourself, eyes never resting between Jungkook’s confusion and the looming threat of Frank. “But I mean it this time. I know how- argh!”

Frank swept a forceful kick at the table. It cracked under the force, two halves shooting into the air to crash against the kitchen cabinets.

Dropping to the floor, you rolled away from the hunk of wood as it clattered back to earth between you and Jungkook.

In the haze of dancing flames and cascading dust, thick in the air, you met Jungkook’s eyes.

“Just trust me!” you shouted, the words wrenching deep from your chest. Your chest rose and fell sharply with exertion. Frank was running again. You had had too many chances already; this had to be the one.

With one last glance back at Jungkook, you found his eyes blazing. But with determination, not anger.

“Cover me?” you called.

A sharp nod was all you needed.

Not sparing any moment to doubt, you took off. Charged straight at the beast.

Just as you trusted he would, Jungkook rushed the other way, firing gold right into Frank’s heart. Its predatory eyes followed Jungkook, while its back turned to you.

Frantic heart spurring you on, you fixed your eyes on the spot you aimed for.

And jumped.

There was no way Frank didn’t feel the human landing bodily against his back. The moment you made contact, you grabbed on fiercely, anticipating the enraged lurch of his body as he tried to throw you off.

Dangling from his shoulder, you swung a leg up, securing around his neck.

Dazzling gold knocked a fist aimed for you off-course. Jungkook had your back. You couldn’t afford to spare any attention on where the next one would come from.

Reaching up, you grabbed onto Frank’s head, fingers closing around a bony ridge that lined his monstrous skull. He shook harshly, making you cling with your every muscle as your hand fumbled over his skin.

And then you pressed down. Scrubbing your hand back and forth, the effect was almost instant.

The shaking stopped. You didn’t. This patch should knock him out for at least half an hour, you remembered.

Then Frank dropped, his entire mass hitting the ground as one. You were thrown down with him, head jerking forwards and stopping inches from the floor.

There you stayed for a long second. Just panting in the sudden stillness.

At last, you rolled off the monster’s form, bracing your landing with hands against the ground. A bit shaky from the adrenaline crashing through you, you let yourself smile, and looked up.

The place was a mess. If only you could have got to Frank sooner, it need not have escalated like this. But you had no way of telling your friends not to get involved. At least you had done it now, although the place was left a disaster scene of fire and debris.

Trying your best to ignore the crackling flames, you looked up to the figure silhouetted in front of them.

Jungkook looked back at you in total shock. His slack face was painted with a shade of bewildered horror.

“What. The hell.” He said flatly.

Huffing a laugh, you finally pushed yourself to your feet and wiped your hands on your trousers.

And found yourself knocked back by a fierce hug. The shock alone nearly swept you off your feet. As it was, you kept your ground and blinked, startled, into Jungkook’s shoulder as his arms wrapped fast around you.

It was all you could do to get your arms to stop hovering, and tentatively hold him in return. Not to mention the effort it took to ignore the frightening soar of your heart under his touch. Surely he would feel it thumping against him, with how tight he gripped you in that moment.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” he half-laughed, stirring the hair above your ear.

Forcibly shutting your gaping mouth, you chuckled, face falling forwards against his shoulder.

“So you keep saying,” you replied wryly.

Finally, you summoned the courage to ease away from him. Honestly, you were a bit worried about the speed your heart was pumping the longer you touched, but it was strangely counter-intuitive to step out of his arms.

Jungkook found you with wide eyes, and slowly lowered his hands in a mirror of yours.

With an awkward laugh, you darted your gaze away.

“Kuyang made this guy,” you nodded down to the creature. Your eyes lingered the closed eyes and tantalising teeth that had always made you shudder back in your days at the lab. “We called him Frank.”

You weren’t sure Jungkook’s eyebrows could climb any higher.

“…Frank?”

“Yeah. Bit more fun than ‘Necrus X’, I suppose,” you shrugged, and stepped to Jungkook’s side.

He kept eyeing Frank.

“How long do we have?”

“He’ll wake up in around half an hour,” you told him.

His eyebrows pulled downwards a fraction, and he glanced around the space.

“How do we kill it?”

But your focus was distracted by a pitch floating through the air, growing closer. Looking up, you found your gaze on the empty hole torn in the roof.

Sirens.

People were arriving.

“Let’s not stick around to try.”

Jungkook seemed to agree with you, reaching for your hand in an instant. Then he was tugging you with him, towards the stairs leading underground to the training space. You never usually had to scale piles of rubble to get there, but the world did change very fast these days.

Near the peak of the mini-mountain, you took the chance to peer up through the cracks. Blue lights flashed somewhere near, and you had never heard so many people at once in this part of town.

Soon, Jungkook’s hand was urging you on, and you jogged down the stairs side-by-side.

“Looks like we’re busted,” you worried aloud.

Jungkook sighed, but it could have been from the exertion. Your feet met the training floor and you raced away together. He kept clutching your hand. Of course, you had expected him to let go the first chance he got, and yet you found yourself holding firmly in return. Must be the need for some kind of steady comfort after that fight. Right?

“Namjoon and Yoongi cleared us out,” Jungkook was saying. You had to force yourself to tune in, wresting your mind away from the ever-present warmth of his fingers around yours.

“I guess they’re prepared for something like this. They shut down all the tech, collected some documents. Destroyed some things too. It was almost like Namjoon was... ready for this? He told me to just get everyone out.”

“But how did they find us?” you frowned.

Turning down the corridor where Namjoon’s office lay, you saw Jungkook was right. The doors all stood open, nothing but darkness beyond.

Jungkook led you both to the end of the hall. You had never been here before, but somehow it hadn’t crossed your mind to question Jungkook about where you were going. He eased to a stop beside you then, unable to help a glance over his shoulder. Just in case.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, meeting your eyes. His shoulders slumped and he frowned to himself, shaking his head. “I mean, there was the car you saw tailing you guys. Maybe there were more. They tried again, or-”

There was no way either of you could know right now. It wouldn’t change anything.

Turning himself from that line of thought completely, Jungkook dropped your hand and approached the wall. You bit your tongue, your fingers retracting straight away at the lack of his warmth. It had felt strange, standing still and yet holding hands – no, not holding hands, but… grabbing. Out of necessity.

It just hadn’t crossed his mind to let go. You ignored the fact that once upon a time, it would have been the only thing either of you thought about until you could finally be rid of the other.

Shaking your head, you almost wiped your hand on your trousers. You stopped, for some reason, and just ran your thumb over your fingers instead.

In front of you, Jungkook reach for a fire extinguisher fixed to the wall. Raising your eyebrows, you prepared to tell him that the place really was past repairing, when he pushed down on it instead.

It moved, something clicking into place out of sight. In a blink, a square had emerged in the blank wall, and Jungkook pushed it out. A panel swung inwards, revealing empty space beyond.

Lifting a leg to swing inside, Jungkook turned to you with a smirk. It was your turn to be stunned.

“That sure is helpful,” you muttered, before starting forwards.

A bright laugh came from Jungkook as he hopped down into the passage.

“Namjoon-hyung really thought of everything.”

Humming your assent, you climbed through the opening. Jungkook secured the panel back into the wall. For a moment, you were submerged in total darkness, only sensing the click of your hiding place being concealed.

A weak light filtered to life above you after a few seconds of waiting. It illuminated Jungkook, who was looking up, clearly anticipating its arrival.

“Right.” He met your eyes, and swallowed. The space here was much thinner than outside, the walls forcing you nearer. “Let’s get moving.”

Nodding rapidly, you waited for him to turn and lead you on. Once his back was safely to you, you let out a breath, feeling your heart winding down in your chest. Some adrenaline trip you had been on, huh?

“Where are we going?” you asked, hurrying after him. Something about this place made you hush your voice, however illogical that was.

“It should get us a safe distance away,” Jungkook replied over his shoulder, “Namjoon had time to give me this. We’ll head to the coordinates he sends.”

The emergency lighting in the tunnel was sparse, and as you walked you fell through light and shade. Currently in a patch of darkness, you squinted to make out a small pager screen which Jungkook held up to show you.

So you carried on. With no idea where you were, or what was going on, you probably should have been freaking out a lot more. But right now, you had a direction. Somehow, following Jungkook eased your concern. You were glad he was the one with you...

Wow, that was something you shouldn’t admit out loud. You eyed the man in front of you, as if worried he could have read your thoughts. He only kept walking.

Eventually, the passage gave way to a set of industrial-looking metal stairs. Together, your footsteps clanged gently against the comfortable quiet.

At the top, you found a door made of thick metal. A grate set into it at eye-level let in the buzz of traffic beyond – and sirens.

Ahead of you, Jungkook peered through the small gaps, before stepping back to make way for you. He met your eyes with the same concern you felt. Was it safe for you out there? Looking down at yourself, you took in your attire. Neither of you were wearing anything particularly distinctive, having been surprised at home.

“Let’s not chance it,” Jungkook interrupted your thoughts, but you could hear the frustration concealed in his voice. Neither of you much fancied sitting around doing nothing at a time like this.

Better that than blowing the whole thing up by being hasty, though. You had learned that the hard way.

The passage widened, but not enough to sit face-to-face. So, agreeing with Jungkook, you joined him and sat at his side on the top step.

It was impossible not to feel his eyes on you. Or the weight of his arms from where he had hugged you, lingering like a phantom. Having him so close only teased what you had just felt, the gentle warmth where your shoulders brushed sending ripples over your skin.

“Your face,” Jungkook spoke, “it’s better.”

Swallowing, you lifted your head from the surface of your thoughts and back into his eyeline.

Sure enough, when you lifted a hand, there was no need for the trepidation in your fingertips. No pain returned your touch. The skin was totally smooth where Monsoon had broken it yesterday.

“This lifestyle does have some perks, then,” you shrugged.

Jungkook’s smile rewarded you.

“Hey, you wouldn’t change it for the world,” he retorted jokingly, elbow nudging your arm.

You gave a small chuckle, but it soon faded into a more distant smile.

“No,” you sighed. “I really wouldn’t.”

“That… that’s good.”

You had never really heard Jungkook fumble for his words like this before. Maybe his mind was elsewhere, like yours. Although ‘elsewhere’, in your case, was directly on him; you just couldn’t tell him that. Among all this chaos, it made no sense that he was the thing dominating your mind.

“Thank you for trusting me,” you offered into the newfound quiet.

Though Jungkook let the silence stretch out a little longer, one lone siren soaring through it, he found his voice eventually.

“I should have done it sooner.”

Turning to him fully, your heart threatened to burst again with the earnestness in his eyes.

“You did it at exactly the right time,” you shook your head, adamant, “and… it’s good to know I earned it. Just about, in any case.”

You couldn’t help the joke creeping in. Giving into your cowardice, you ducked with a self-depreciating laugh from the force of his gaze. A force all too soft for you to know what to do with. When he gave you fire, you could push back with something just as solid. But here, with his defences long abandoned, all you were met with was the terrifying prospect of falling right in.

“Hey!”

The hard edge that crept back into Jungkook's voice, surprising you with his ferocity, was almost a relief. But the spark in his eyes that trapped you in his stare wasn’t of anger. Something far from it.

“You’ve earned more than-”

His words choked off. It was only now you realised how breathless you were.

You were quickly giving in to the pull of his gravity, the words floating unsaid only dragging you in further.

Eclipsed by him as you were, you hardly registered the warbling siren that drew nearer outside, and passed by. All you could see was the way Jungkook’s eyes slipped treacherously downwards.

At the peak of the siren’s volume, he drew the smallest gasp, pushing himself away. Hands bracing on the step, he hovered, breathing harder now.

The way your heart lurched at the thought he might leave right now sealed your fate.

His eyes met yours with vaguely panicked apology. Before he even spoke, you had made up your mind.

“Sorry,” he breathed, “I shouldn’t-”

Some of the steely determination he always stirred up in you made itself known. You needed him to hear, to see how certain you were of this.

“I think you should.”

In one frozen moment, you saw the reservation flee from his eyes. Rising temptation replaced it. His own hunger terrified him, but yours matched it, always, since the beginning.

You felt the moment he gave in. Felt it in the fingertips on your jaw, the heat rushing through you- the lips on yours.

In one movement, Jungkook had allowed himself to fall, and fall he did. He surged towards you, taking your face between his hands, kissing you with a blistering urgency. The vigour in his movements drowned out all trace of caution, everything flung aside the instant you kissed him back.

He needed to feel you.

Your body sang against his, warmth erupting in your chest. Every move of his lips stirred it further. Supple, like the rest of him, their softness belied the power there which he had never hid from you.

You relished it, the exhilarating force making your head spin. And you gave back equal fire, too, grazing his lower lip with your teeth. It summoned an electric sound from his throat, a grunt that accompanied his hands roaming further, hungrily running down your back, tugging you onto him.

He tasted gold.

It was a taste you knew, from his powers when he had trained you, when he had rescued you- yet so tantalisingly new in the way he gave himself to you now, painting it in laves along your mouth.

His desperate sigh, ripped from his lungs, told you he was being ruined the same way you were from this kiss. And you weren’t ready for it to end. You had no idea how long you drank him in, surrendering like you had to no one else. Your world was lit only by the glow his every touch made bloom on your skin: his arms around you, his lips, his tongue pressing between them and making your eyes flutter back.

You had repelled each other for so long. Now, at last, you had given in to the magnetism, and you could no longer bear an inch of space between you.

Even as you split apart, panting hot across each other’s faces, you welcomed the way Jungkook kept you pressed flush against his chest. Dozens of times, you succumbed to each other’s pull again, lips colliding to indulge in a desperate one-more, becoming two and three and...

Each a brief, fruitless struggle to escape the force drawing you together.

It had been there all this time.

You drew back again, panting, in time to see a crackle of gold spark in Jungkook’s heavy-lidded eyes. It mingled with a jet of your own, reflected blue dancing with the gold in his iris.

Stiffening, you remembered all the times your power had turned him away. The way he had run from you when you last lost control. The dreadful truth he had told you last night, about what Bolt’s power had done.

But his hands only clawed over your sweater, dragging you nearer again as he stared up at you with such open eyes.

“Fuck,” his voice was raw, barely more than a ragged breath, “you were right, Y/N. They are beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Every time, you never expected Jungkook to stun you more. Of course, he outdid himself at every turn, leaving you scrabbling for words again, as you were right now.

Eyes drinking in your gaping expression, his loosened into a grin. The lazy shift into a deep, breathy laugh was like the sun coming out. You refused to look away.

You couldn’t refuse when his arm tugged you back against his chest, though.

Flopping there with a breathless laugh of your own, you closed your eyes, pushed your face against his neck. The energy to question this, to resist what had been building, had abandoned you, and you were ready to accept it.

How could you not, when his touch made you feel like this? When you had proved yourselves to one another time and time over?

You realised it all now, as you listened to the mingled sounds of your breathing with Jungkook’s.

You realised something else, too.

The sirens had stopped.

Thank you for reading!!! I appreciate all those lovely people who leave comments🥰💜

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[cal-daisies-and-briars]

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108 for ⚡️:

---

Buck exhales a breath of laughter. “Not what I meant. I meant… This was your first time in charge.”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. “That was… Well, I was nervous.”

“You did great,” Buck says. “Bowman shit aside, and that was not anything you did, you were a rockstar, Eddie.”

“A rockstar?” Eddie repeats. 

“Totally,” Buck nods. “Can’t wait to… Watch you fight all sorts of disasters… Well, that sounds bad. I don’t want disasters to happen.”

Eddie laughs. “I get what you mean.”

“I’m proud of you,” Buck says. “Really.”

Eddie feels sort of mushy, for the first time since this whole mess.

“Thank you. And for what it’s worth? Having to work around Bowman and keep your cool through all of that? I’m proud of you, too.”

🗲🗲🗲

Buck has to answer questions for the investigation into Bowman. It starts about the flood. The call. He answers in Hen’s defense. Eddie’s defense. Not that anyone is questioning either of them. It’s clear that they aren’t to blame. 

“It seems like what happened that day is clear, from everyone’s account of the story,” the internal affairs person asks. 

“I’d say so,” Buck agrees. 

“Thank you, Firefighter Buckley,” she nods. “Just one other question for you.”

“Sure,” Buck says. 

“We looked into everyone we’re talking to,” she says. “And saw that you actually spent a bit of time working with Captain Bowman. Is that right?”

Buck tenses. 

“Um, yeah,” he says. “Yeah, in 2023. Not for very long. It was a temporary transfer, after my team and captain were injured in the I-10 collapse.”

The investigator hums in agreement, like this has confirmed what she already knew. 

“Can you tell me what that experience was like for you?” She asks. 

Buck swallows. He tries to think of the best, most professional way to respond.

“You don’t have to sugar coat it,” the investigator says. “You’re not the one under investigation here. Captain Bowman is. And if there’s something important to discover about his leadership skills, then we ought to know, right?”

It’s literally been years. Almost four years. And still, he hates thinking about that time. About that man and how he made Buck feel. 

So, fuck it.

He tells her everything. 

🗲🗲🗲

A week or so later, Eddie is working and Buck is off. Christopher is at school. It’s just him and Brooke. They’ve only been on their own for like an hour or so. Buck has finished up some housework, and is sitting on the living room floor with his daughter, playing one of those games where you match the correct plastic block to its respectively shaped hole. He thinks she’s pretty good at it. Probably a good sign for all future academic pursuits. 

“Oh, nice work,” Buck praises and Brooke slots the triangle in its correct place. 

“Yes!” She claps her hands together. 

Buck claps a little for her. “You’re so smart, kiddo.”

As she reaches for a diamond shaped piece, the doorbell rings. She drops the block and looks up and around. 

“Someone’s here,” he says. “Wanna go see?”

She reaches for him enthusiastically. Buck lifts her as he stands, swinging her over to one arm as he heads for the door. 

When he opens it, he’s surprised to see both Bobby and Hen standing on his front stoop.

“Uh, hey guys…” Buck says, confused. “Did we have plans?”

“YAY!” Brooke lets out a little shriek, straining towards Bobby. She would sell Buck up the river for Bobby, he’s come to learn recently. That’s just a reality he will have to accept about his dear child. 

“Hi, Brooke,” Bobby smiles, reaching for her. Buck lets him take her. “Hi, baby girl.”

“What’s going on?” Buck asks. “Or did you come for her?”

“No, we came for you,” Hen says. “You have five minutes to get ready. We need to be at LAFD headquarters by ten.”

Buck blinks. “What?”

“We tried calling you,” Bobby says. 

“I was… I was hanging out with Brooke,” Buck says. “What’s happening? Is Eddie okay?”

“Bowman was fired,” Hen says. “They want to promote internally to replace him. We’re making your case.”

“My case?” Buck gapes.

[chroniclesofkate]

13 MAY 2023 🗲 The Princess of Wales has taken part in the opening for the Grand Final of Eurovision, playing an instrumental piano piece by Joe Price/Kojo Samuel. It was recorded in the Crimson Drawing Room of Windsor Castle earlier this month.

[tgrailwar-zero]

And after that performance, the fight was over. You felt JAGUAR MAN give you a hearty pat on the shoulder.

JAGUAR MAN: "Now that was a fight, kid! You should feel proud. Little Miss Samurai should have been returned to the fighter's resting area."

With that, she walked out.

You stepped out of the locker room and returned to find MUSASHI was back in the rest area, laying down. She had taken her eyepatch off, though she sat up when you approached.

MUSASHI: "So? Pretty cool, huh?"

She had her Flame Pad on her lap, and you saw she had a few new notifications that she hadn't opened yet. She flipped it open and unlocked it, before handing it to you with a yawn.

MUSASHI: "Here you go, 'Manager'. I'll let you handle that, I'm kind of beat."

You looked at the notifications as she went back to lounging.

New Messages: ⟡ {ADAMAS} - 1 New Message! (Woah, now that…) ☠︎︎ {MNSLYR} - 1 New Message! (yeah, thats about…) ♛ {JISHNU} - 1 New Message! (Quite the show…) ☀︎ {CITT} - 1 New Message! (Lady Samurai, I've…) ❀ {JERAN} - 1 New Message! (Good game, Saber!…)

-

Recent Messages:

✴{JAGUAR} - Admin: JAGUAR MAN † {FATHER} - Admin: FATHER KOTOMINE ✘ {BLADE} - Fighter: WANDERING BLADE

-

✩ {3STAR} - Fighter: TRI-STAR ☕︎ {CHAJIN} - Fighter: CHAJIN ✴ {EAGLE} - Fighter: CUAUHTLI 🗡{STRONG} - Fighter: STRONG MASK ➶ {KARASU} - Fighter: CROW PRIEST ༄ {MOBYDK} - Fighter: MOBY DICK 𓆟 {WTRREV} - Fighter: WATERSIDE REVENANT 𖦹 {TWISTR} - Fighter: FLESH-TWISTER 🗲 {THUNDR} - Fighter: THUNDERER

--

You checked the available messages.

--

-{ADAMAS} -- [ Woah, now that was what I'd call a fight! I knew from the moment we met you were more than just a beautiful flower, but a special blossom with razor-sharp petals! Spend the evening with me, please! You're beginning to consume my thoughts, and I feel like I'm falling in love all over again!

Hi, this is Adamant's manager. We will make sure that he behaves himself if you choose to meet with him. ]

--

-{MNSLYR} -- [ yeah, thats about what i expected from you, saber. sleepin on the job and somehow pullin off a win? what kind of stupid shit was that lmao. man we better get a chance to fight or i'll be pissed.

listen, i can't meet now, but drinks tonight? you've earned it.

again, congrats. since your fight was goin on at the same time as the whale, you should actually feel pretty damn impressed that lady cleopatra was lookin at your bout more than the damn sea monsters. also the whale won (obviously) so thats your next opponent. so uh. good luck. or maybe i should be tellin that to the fish? ]

--

-{JISHNU} -- [ Quite the show you put on, Saber. It even had me on the edge of my seat! I'm assuming you've heard my deal with your allied Caster and Rider? If you claim victory, then I'll pull some strings and allow you a personal audience with Pharaoh Cleopatra. However, I do also have information on a certain Archer you may have been acquainted with in ages past. Curious? You're curious, aren't you? I'll send you my current whereabouts, and I'll expect to see you there. I'm not a man that likes to be kept waiting, however. ]

--

-{CITT} -- [ Lady Samurai, I've heard legend of people like you, those that people outside of the 'Solar Cell' deemed as 'Heroic Spirits'. I could tell from the way you battled that you must be one of them, though I apologize if I'm being presumptuous. Still, if I am correct, to have a chance to meet you in person would be a great honor. I understand you may be busy and certainly receiving a large amount of requests after such an exciting first match. However, if you do have the time to spare, I would be grateful to receive it. ]

--

-{JERAN} -- [ Good game, Saber! Talk about bad luck for me, getting put up against someone as formidable as you. Ah, but I guess I'm in the loser's bracket now… oh well, it's not a huge loss. As always, my services are available if you want some information on your opponents. Not every fighter is going to be as weak as me, you know. Not right now, though, I need time to recover, haha. Still... man, katanas really are the coolest... ]

--

It seemed like there were a few options already.

Going to a fight allows you to meet with at least one of your currently allied Servants, though their own availability may vary as the arc continues. It may also create a chance encounter as well.

[ignitefever]

🗲 — beat of the city. (app)

Click. Click. Click.

Her heels tap rhythmically as she walks through cobblestone streets, tram cars grinding along the rails, the roaring engines of passing cars, shopkeepers ringing their bells to attract customers…

It was the heartbeat of the city. A performance all its own.

“ ♪ …Duh-duh-duh, duh-duh… ♪ ”

Serval takes in each sound, each sensation, using the noise of the city and tapping of her heels to form the foundation of a beat. Mechanical Fever had been doing well enough with their shows, but the fans would get tired of the same ol’ eventually, and what rock band would they be if they didn’t flip the script every now and then?

Her walk has become a jaunty little sway as she approaches the door to her shop, humming as she takes out the key and slots it into the door. A lot of places around Belobog had begun to turn to more advanced security systems, but as seen with her taste in ‘prehistoric’ music styles, Serval had an appreciation for the classics.

A slot, twist, and a click, and she’s inside.

She picks up the mail she’d grabbed this morning, left on the counter just before she went out to do errands. Whistling, she flips through envelopes and vehicle catalogues, subscriptions to engineering and fashion magazines, only to stop when she spots a certain name.

Landau.

…Probably from Mom.

She sets the letter down, deciding she didn’t have the energy to think about family right now. Well. Former family, if her dad had anything to say about it. Serval—eldest daughter of the Landaus. Smartest in the Silvermane Guards. A once-in-a-generation genius.

Cast out like yesterday’s trash, by both friend and family. 

As if she hadn’t spent the better part of her life working to please a father with high standards, supporting her best friend as she faced the crushing pressure of becoming Belobog’s guardian, or studying the Stellaron, so that they might understand a piece of the world beyond the endless blizzards and tundras…

That they might learn where the monsters and the Fragmentum came from, or a way to end the Freeze; save Belobog and the whole damned world, even—

"Take responsibility for your choices and the people of Belobog..."

And that’s what she had done, wasn’t it? Ticked off all the boxes. Excelled in her schooling, researched the topics that made her heart sing; working her butt off and piling up accolades and credentials, serving the city and continuing the Landau’s longstanding tradition of dignity and esteem.

Yet it got her nothing but an abrupt discharge from the army, an unrecognizable best friend that wanted nothing to do with her anymore, and a father so ashamed of her he didn’t even want her to claim her own family name.

So! She wouldn’t claim it.

She takes a seat at the front counter. She’d given Molly the day off from the workshop, Lynxy was out on an expedition, and both Pela and Geppie were busy with Silvermane Guard business, which gave her the perfect window to work on a few personal projects.

Like… restoring this old relic of a stopwatch she found.

She sets the machine out on her desk, and before opening it, catches her own reflection on the surface. Huh. She looked pretty good today. Makeup hid the bags under her eyes, though her hair was left a little tousled from the wind gusts outside…

“Agh.” The maid groans, “Lady Serval, your hair is COVERED in soot and snow! Were you playing around outside again? You know how the lord and madam hate it when you muss up your hair…”

Pure locks of gold. Perfect and pristine. A lauded Landau trait… until it wasn’t. Humming, Serval brushes her hair behind her ear and opens the watch to a series of gears. The thing about being ousted from an esteemed family was that you didn’t have to follow little things like tradition anymore. 

Streaks of blue through the gold, brightly dyed tips… she’d always wanted to color her hair, just like the rock n’ rollers of old. Plus, there was a new glowing dip dye she was experimenting with…

Click. Click. Click.

Heels click with strong, purposeful strides. The halls of Qlipoth Fort were always noisy when Serval was around. 

In her school days, it was all the commotion from her band performances with Dunn, and the growing hordes of fans amongst their classmates. Now, it was the respect she amassed as a researcher in the Architects, soldiers and scientists all buzzing about with rumors—a new lead researcher was about to be elected for a big project, and Miss Serval Landau was a shoe-in for the position.

Because of course she was. What Landau wasn’t made for excellence?

Yet Cocolia still shut down her lab, accused her of insanity, and threw her away. For nothing. Their friendship, her achievements. Her dreams, aspirations, her life… and dad? The family elders? Pheeeew, they were having none of that. No disgraces allowed!

And fine, great. Less pressure for her. 

…Except they put it all on poor Geppie instead.

Click. Cli—

“Agh, darn. Looks like this gear’s jammed. Let’s see…”

But she made it through. Landaus were all about resilience and endurance, after all. Stubbornness, too. Even if those first few years after losing her job and leaving the family had been hell. 

The family had taken her money and support, so she clung to what she had: technology. Machines. Her brain. Things malfunctioned and broke everyday, and people needed someone to fix them.

Cocolia had completely trashed her reputation and career prospects, so she channeled her rage the best way she knew how—rock music.

It was how she vented back in the academy, taking out the frustrations of studies and her family with a good, cathartic jam session. 

And even now, her band attracted new and younger fans, lost kids seeking to find an outlet for the awkward and difficult feelings they were growing up with. Drama with love, peers, and family. The growing threat of the Fragmentum, and the bleak future that waited outside of Belobog’s walls.

The music helped them, like it helped her. The machines she tinkered with may not have been new, state-of-the-art technologies, but it felt good to see the smile on someone’s face when their heater got patched up, or the excitement in someone’s eyes when they got a new mod on their car installed.

Sure, she may not have been the Serval Landau. Not the Architect or prodigal daughter. But Serval Landau, the rock musician? The mechanic? She was making a difference, and that was just as good. Better, even.

There was still a place for her in the world. Helping little Bronya, forcing Geppie to chill out, making sure Lynxy and Pela didn’t get into too much trouble. Repairing machines, studying new intergalactic technologies, and coming up with ways to make life easier in both the Overworld and Underworld. 

There was a time when everything felt dark. When she wanted to run from her anger and grief, from a life that felt empty. 

But now, it’s different. Brighter, a little more hopeful. Not so bad.

A little more tinkering, and the gear unjams, Serval hums to herself as it begins to turn again, filling the silence with a steady, rhythmic—

Click. Click. Click.

Hm. She had the time. Maybe she’d read Mom’s letter, after all. Start writing that new song for Mechanical Fever’s next show, too.

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

Chapter 1.1 - The Unexpected Visit

Chapter 1.1 - The Unexpected Visit

Pairing: Harry Potter x Chosen One! Reader

‘“I dunno what it was, no one does – but somethin’ about you stumped him, all right.” Hagrid turned to you, a mixture of warmth and respect blazing in his kind eyes. You straightened your back, preening under his gaze. So, what he was saying, basically was that you were the hero of the wizarding world. It had been you. The antidote to the disease. The champion. You were the saviour.’ OR: in which unexpected encounters open your eyes to a whole new world. One, it seems, you know nothing about, but knows everything about you. → Set in a universe where you are the chosen one, and Harry Potter is your best friend who tries to help you navigate the woes of being the lone hero of the wizarding world. A swap au where you are the chosen one, your parents are dead but the marauders + Lily are not. Eventual Harry x Reader, slowburn, friends to lovers. Author’s note: throughout this chapter I’ve put in some obvious parallels to the canon HP universe, but as we progress through the whole series, the plot may or may not become more canon divergent since you are you, and not Harry Potter… Anyways, welcome!!! Let’s see what (Y/n) (L/n), the girl who lived, gets up to. Thank you and enjoy! Series Masterlist

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

Your scar was hurting.

The lightning bolt-shaped mark that rested above your right eye, in a manner of which your foster-mother, Mira Caddel, despised. Your hair had always been a flying mess because of her insistence in shaping it in such a particular way that it hid your ‘hideous scar’. You had definitely been through your pick of crude hairstyles and forced bangs in your lifetime. 

It also didn’t help that your foster-sister, Odette, enjoyed grabbing the ends of it when she pushed your head into the bowl of the toilet. You swore that she ripped out at least half of your head when she did (yet, strangely enough, when you got back up, your hair was as normal as it normally was).

Anyways, back to the matter at hand, you supposed. 

Your scar typically didn’t pain you. It was more like a weirdly-shaped birthmark at its best. But, right now, it was throbbing, releasing shockwaves of pain that reverberated throughout your head. 

You tried thinking of what you’d done to cause this. You couldn’t have hit your head on anything (even though this was a common occurrence since you had outgrown the cupboard under the stairs years ago), because you had just woken up. You didn’t think it was the usual migraine either, because they didn’t want to make you want to scratch off your lightning-bolt scar. You quite liked it after all — it added to your timeless charm. 

Maybe it was something you ate last night? What did you do last night? You couldn’t remember it point-blank but —

Oh, that was right. Seconds ago, you were fast asleep, in a dream that involved a bright green flash of light and the sound of a small child’s cry. You had a funny feeling that you’d had the same dream before. 

You clutched your forehead. The pain was slowly becoming unbearable, as though someone had stabbed a knife into your brain. You looked around, hoping to find some relief or explanation, but all you saw was the familiar sight of your tiny, cramped room. The floor was littered with clothes, books, and toys that you had collected over the years, mostly from the trash or the charity shops.

A sharp rapping on the door to the cupboard caused you to jump. 

A gruff voice snapped out. “Oi, girl! You awake yet? C’mon!” 

You groaned, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Callum Caddel, the final puzzle piece to your ‘family’, if that’s what one would call this arrangement. He was your foster father, a well-established family man to most, but a wacky old sod to you. He always managed to go out of his way to irritate or prod a taunting comment toward you. 

Your real parents, you’d been told, were killed in a car accident when you were very little. About one year old, too. That was also how you’d acquired your lightning scar. The Caddels didn’t often answer your questions about your biological family, mostly because they didn’t know the answers themselves. You had wound up in the foster care system for about two years before they had taken you in, although you presumed the only reason they did was because they got a sum of two hundred pounds a month for it. The Caddels often did find themselves on the shorter side of the economical scale, and from your own experience, knew how they jumped like fishes out of a bowl at any chance of opportune (free) money.

You stood up, dusting off your tattered pyjamas. A spider scurried up the pant leg, and you bent down to pick it off. Spiders weren’t an odd presence in your humble abode, in fact, you thought yourself to be basically a spider magnet of sorts considering how many you’d find latched to you when you woke up.

The fast knocking resumed. “I want you out! Out!”

You pulled open the door harshly, meeting the pink, rounded, wheezing face of Callum. You snarked at him. “Woulda keep quiet, old man? I’m up.”

“Good riddance,” he spat, looking awfully sour for someone with a chocolate stain on the right side of his mouth. “Hurry up and make us breakfast, girl. We do our own jobs around here, you need to pick up slack! Least, I remind you that you were the one to pick that as your chore. Don’t you know how long we’ve waited for you to wake up?” You eyed him distastefully. “I don’t see much waiting,” referring to the brown mark on his face. 

He swelled like a bullfrog, huffing and crossing his arms across his chest. “What did you say to me?” You run a hand down your face. It was too early for this. Brushing past him, you entered the kitchen and began your routine of cracking eggs onto the pan.

You had just begun to fry the bacon when Odette herself decided to grace the kitchen with her glorious presence. Odette looked like an odd mix between her two parents. Her face was in a perpetual state of pinky rage, and her neck blended seamlessly into her torso (in a way that made it seem she did not have any neck at all). Her blue eyes were wide-spread and little, obviously drawn freckles lined her cheeks, sort of in a straight line. You enjoyed making fun at how her freckles seemed to be inching ever so slightly off her face everyday. With how aggressively she would apply them, some freckles would end up roughly the same size as a failed chocolate chip cookie. Her black hair was down, greasy and shiny and damp, which didn’t help her case either.

You were glad that you were not forced to share the same bathroom as her, because the times you’d stepped foot in it (you were forced to scrub it clean, you would have never done it willingly), the poor drain was quite literally clogged with what seemed to be half of Odette’s scalp. You would say that the poor thing ate more than its owner, and that was certainly saying something.

Mira entered the kitchen soon after. Her skin was deeply tanned from all the fake-tanning solutions she’d gone through, still, it was very patchy and not done well at all. Her box-dyed blonde hair was thrown over her shoulder and she brushed her long, claw-like fingers through it. “She looks like a doll”, Callum loved to swoon and you would love to reply with exaggerated, painful gagging, which never went down well with the Caddels.

She narrowed her eyes at you before taking a seat at the table and waving her hand at you. “Glad to see you’re up.”

You glared at her, muttering “lazy oaf”, under your breath before handing out the plates until there was only yours left. It was a flimsy child’s plate, one that Odette had outgrown at the ripe age of four. You powered through your food, the smiling face of Bambi peeking through your slowly diminishing heap of bacon.

Odette’s ugly mug began to twist itself into her gruesome smirk, and her lips parted. Probably to hurl out a teasing jab at your oversized clothes (which was not a phase!) or messy hair. But, before said insult could escape your foster-sister, you all heard the click of the letter-box followed by the flop of letters on the door mat.

Too intune with the deliciously appealing food on your plate, you did your very best to ignore the petulant stares of the Caddels, the stares that edged you down expectantly to fetch the mail. 

“Get the post, Odette,” you snapped at her, not glancing up from your precious. 

She huffed and got up to get the post.

Your ears were finally being blessed, listening to the heavy thumps as Odette tramped her way down the corridor to the front door. Just as you sank into your chair lazily, her high-pitched shrill cut through the air of the Caddels’ kitchen. 

Mira gasped and sprung up from her chair. “Odette!” She sprinted to where you’d heard the scream. The pointy part of her high heel hooked onto the leg of the chair you were sitting on, causing her to stumble. She caught herself on the back of your chair, but the force of her grip somehow managed to topple it over, sending you almost flying and then rolling across the floor. 

Groaning, you sat up from your new position on the ground. The clicking of heels and the heavy pants emitted from Mira and Callum respectively grew distant, as the pair of them rushed to check on their precious daughter.

Now, you didn’t really care about the girl herself, but when there was just the slightest possibility that she could be out there, embarrassing herself or prissing her pants in fear - well, now that was an opportunity you couldn’t bear to miss.

As you follow after them, you deliberated whether or not to pop up over to get the camera in order to capture the moment ahead of you.

Looking back, you think that, perhaps, you should have, considering that very moment was to become one of the very best ones you would ever have in your life.

“Who - who are you?” you heard Callum shout. “Don’t you dare come in! Don’t y - !”

“Ah, shut up Caddel, yeh great prune.” retorted another voice.

You did not recognise that voice. The Caddels were social people, sure. They frequently left the house for social outings, like the occasional meetings run by Callum’s drill firm, but never had someone stepped foot near the house. Too ashamed to reveal the tiny size of their floor plan, you reckoned, or maybe they were afraid that the dreadful state of your cupboard under the stairs would scare the lot of them off.

Of course, that did not mean no one knew of your existence. Years of praying that some knight in shining armour would come to whisk you away from the Caddels led you to pick up on rather strange occurrences. Very strange strangers would often stop (quite dramatically too) in the middle of the street to gawk at you. A tiny, funny looking man in a violet top hat had bowed to you once, or when a terribly old woman had winked at you from inside a bus. Ms Fig, the cranky, resident catwoman and your babysitter, down the street also treated you with a gentle softness, offering you extra packs of crisps to take home with you.  

The point was, this whole situation was odd. But why?

Your feet skidded against the floor as you came to a stop. 

A giant man, one no less than ten feet, with a great, scraggly beard and obsidian eyes that glinted slightly in the light, was stood in the doorway. You barely had time to notice that the poor door was hanging off its hinges, like it had been forcibly opened. 

The house was already rundown and shabby enough, and you hoped the giant man would pay for the repair funds. The house wasn’t big enough to fit the four of you, let alone some giant. This was evident when he squeezed his body into the house, causing the door to pop off its frame and go crashing down. The giant man jumped slightly, and the back of his head bumped into the hanging light bulb on the roof. Tiny little shards of crystals pelted down. 

Odette squealed and stumbled backwards into the house. The other two, who had gone ghost white with fear, were opening and closing their mouths like lost fish. Callum raised his pointer finger at the giant man, but did nothing more.

The giant’s eyes swivelled around the room before settling on you. His face, still hidden under his mass of hair, grew into a warm smile at the sight of you. A smile, you decided, had to take second place on your very short list of best smiles (after your smile, of course. The Caddels hadn’t qualified, with their hideous jugs, so it was a meagre list of two). 

“Ah, there she is! ‘Ello, (Y/n).”

You looked toward him, and if your hands wanted to tremble, you didn’t show it.

Who was this man, and how did he know your name?

“Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby.” the giant man’s smile grew. His eyes swept you up and down, certainly taking note of the baggy, rumpled clothes you had on. “I got summat fer yeh.”

He turned around, fishing for something inside the massive coat he had on. He spun back around, brandishing two things; a letter made from yellowish parchment paper with a purple wax seal, and a slightly squashed box.

Now it was your mouth that was openly gaping at the man. He raised an eyebrow at you, grinning, before handing you the letter.

You almost ripped it out of his hands, your curiosity taking over you. The giant man chuckled at your eagerness. 

Ms (Y/n) (L/n)

The Cupboard under the Stairs

5 Alva St

Midlothian

You stared at the letter. 

You did often get letters. You were quite popular at school, after all, for your reckless charm. But, still, no one knew about the cupboard under the stairs. Not even a single whisper of it was breathed outside of the house. 

“W-what is that?” Mira croaked out. You had forgotten she was there.

The giant man looked like he was about to snap her at but you beat him to it. “Well, that’s what I’m finding out obviously. You think I know more than you?”

The giant man huffed out a small chuckle at your hostility.

Ignoring the faint flushing of Mira’s tanned face, and Callum turning a slight purple on behalf of his wife, you flipped the letter over and yanked out the paper within.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Ms (L/n),

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

You read the letter, and felt a warm tingle surge through your body. 

Excitement. 

Hagrid smiled warmly at you.

“Yer a witch, (Y/n).” 

You had always known you were different, that you had something special inside you. The strange occurrences, the oddly shaped scar on your forehead. That didn’t happen to just anyone. You weren’t like the Caddels, you knew you never had been.

And now, you had proof. You were a witch. A real, honest-to-goodness witch. 

You grinned down at the letter, before tilting your head at the giant man. “I can’t believe it. A witch. That’s — that’s well, incredible!”

The giant man was openly laughing at your ecstasy. Even Mira, Callum and Odette had nothing to say. You could see them craning their necks to stare at the letter in your hands.

You smiled at the giant once more when a sudden thought struck you. “Ah — er, maybe I should’ve started with this, but, who are you exactly?”

His shoulders shook with each of his chuckles. “The name’s Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper o’ Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts — yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’course.”

Mira stepped forward, quite suddenly. “I don’t understand. A witch? What are you talking about? Witches, wizards — the whole thing! Those aren’t real!”

Your smile faltered at this. In your excitement (the prospect of finally being whisked away from here), perhaps you had allowed a cloud of delusion to settle over your head. She was right. Magic? Wouldn’t you have known if there was a magical society thriving right under your nose? 

You shook your head at this. No. There had to be one. There just had to.

Hagrid’s face fell but he was quick to bring it back up. “Tha’s right. You lot are muggles. Yer hadn’t an inkling of magic.”

“What are muggles?” you asked, perking up at the unfamiliar jargon.

“A muggle,” Hagrid began, “is what we call non-magic folk like them. It’s real bad luck that you ‘ad to grow up with ‘em, instead of yer parents. I knew we shoulda left ya wit’ a wizarding family… ‘least then yeh woulda known about - ”

His eyes widened with realisation as he whipped around suddenly to face you, a sad expression taking over his features. “Then tha’ means you never learnt about yer parents. About Hogwarts. About yerself!”

He looked quite distressed, as he ran a hand down his big face. “A sad thing, really. The whole situ’tion with yer parents. A huge scandal, ‘specially since yeh don’t even know what happened. Ya know, every kid in our world knows yer name? Yer famous!”

Hagrid looked at you, his eyes sparkling brightly. You blinked dumbly.

“Yer famous!” he repeated, noticing the stunned faces on your and the Caddel’s faces. “Gulpin’ gargoyles, I knew Dumbledore said yeh didn’t know much but, I didn’t expec’ yeh knew so little.”

You sucked in a breath, chest puffing out affront. You certainly knew your stuff. Hell, you were salutatorian in your maths class, captain of the football team and the most liked person in your year level. You definitely weren’t stupid, if that was what Hagrid was suggesting.

Hagrid sighed deeply. “It begins, I suppose, with — with a person called — but its incredible yeh don’t know his name, everyone in our world knows — ”

“Who?” you asked testily, not quite enjoying the way he was talking about this whole thing like it was as obvious as the sky was blue or the grass was green.

“Well — I don’ like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does.”

“Why not?” “People are still scared of ‘im. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His  name was…” Hagrid visibly gulped. 

“Can you write it down?” you suggested helpfully, unfolding your arms.

“Nah - can’t spell it. All right - Voldemort.” Hagrid flinched, like some had just rammed a knife into his back. “Don’ make me say it again. Anyways, this - this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ‘em too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ his power, ‘ cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark days, didn’t knew who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange witch or wizards… terrible things happened. He was takin’ over. ‘Course, some stood up to him - an’ he killed ‘em. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn’t dare try takin’ the school, not jus’ then anyway.”

He breathed out, wiping at his eyes. “Now, yer mum was as good a witch I ever knew. Yer father was great as well. Brillian’, the two of ‘em were. Truly. But then, You-Know-Who turned up in the village where you was all living, on Hallowe’en ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an’ — an’ —”

He stopped suddenly, pulled out a very dirty handkerchief and blew his nose with it. A noise that caused the remaining chandeliers to rattle.

“He killed them,” you said quietly. It hadn’t been a car crash… no. They were murdered.

“He killed ‘em. An’ then — an’ this is the real myst’ry of the thing — he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin’ by then. But he couldn’t do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer mum an’ dad an’ yer house, even — but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ‘em, no one except you, an’ he’d killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts — an’ you was only a baby, an’ you lived.”

You raised your hand to cup the scar on your face. A vivid flash of green filled your vision, but this time, you could hear something else — a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid sighed again. “Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore’s orders. Brought yeh ter a buildin’ an’ — ” he reached for his handkerchief. “An’ left yeh there, since yeh had no other family!” Hagrid dabbed at the corner of his eyes.

The amount of questions you held grew exponentially. “But, what happened to Vol — er — I mean, You-Know-Who?”

“Good question. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That’s the biggest myst’ry, see… he was gettin’ more an’ more powerful — why’d he go?

“Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he’s still out there, bidin’ his time, like, but I don’ believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of ‘em came outta kinda trances. Don’ reckon they could’ve done if he was comin’ back. Most of us reckon he’s still out there somewhere, but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. ‘Cause somethin’ about you finished him, (Y/n). There was somethin’ goin’ on that night he hadn’t counted on — I dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin’ about you stumped him, all right.”

Hagrid turned to you, a mixture of warmth and respect blazing in his kind eyes. You straightened your back, preening under his gaze. So, what he was saying, basically was that you were the hero of the wizarding world. It had been you. The antidote to the disease. The champion. You were the saviour.

The Caddels gaped at you, and then at Hagrid, their heads swivelling like fans at a game of tennis. The foster-couple had their mouths angled toward the floor, looking positively bewildered and confounded at the entire exchange. You truly didn’t care what Mira and Callum thought of you. They were just muggles, according to Hagrid. They were ordinary and boring. Not like you.

You were a witch, a sorceress destined for greatness.

You looked up at the giant man, who was smiling at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “So, what do you say, Ms. (L/n)? Are you ready to join the wizarding world?”

You didn’t hesitate. You nodded eagerly, clutching the letter to your chest. “Yes, yes, yes! I can’t wait to go to Hogwarts!”

The giant man laughed heartily. “Tha’s the spirit, lass!”

“J-just hold on now,” muttered Callum, stepping forward. “That’s all dandy and all — ” you saw Hagrid’s eyebrow twitch. “—  but, who’s going to be paying for her funds? Not us, I can assure you.”

Hagrid scowled. “We’ll cover it then. Ungrateful old muggle.” 

You stifled a laugh. 

Callum snatched the letter from your hands, inspecting the list of equipment. “She needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books, wands, cauldrons. This is just some great joke isn’t it?” He turned to you suddenly, his moustache twitching violently. “You’re in one hell of a punishment after this, girl. Think it’s funny, do you? Wasting our time with this wizarding nonsense. Some hilarious prank.”

“It’s very much real,” spoke Hagrid, his voice rising steadily. “And don’ yeh worry yer little head off, Caddel. She’s one of us. You don’t need to be butting yer head into it now. Yeh’ve done all yeh needed to fer the past ten years, bare minimum from the looks of it, but we’ve got ‘er now. ”

Callum’s face went an ugly shade of purple. “Good, I suppose.” he replied stiffly. “Then get along.” 

He grabbed Mira’s shoulders and they started walking back into the kitchens. Odette turned to look at you, her eyes flickering to Hagrid, before her lips curled into a wide smirk. “Have fun, at your special school.”

You sent her a nasty glare, taking a step toward her before Hagrid disciplined her for you. A loud explosion blew Odette’s hair backwards, a warning blast that, to your pleasure, curtailed her growing ego. She shrieked and high-tailed it to the kitchen, sprinting faster than you’d ever seen her run before.

You barked out a laugh at Hagrid’s guilty face. 

“Sorry, shouldn’ta lost me temper. I’d be grateful yeh if didn’t mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts. I’m —  er —  not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin’. I was allowed ter do a bit ter get yer letters to yeh an’ stuff — one o’ the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job — ”

“Why aren’t you supposed to do magic?” you asked, tilting your head at him in interest.

“Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an’ everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.”

“Why were you expelled?” “We’ve spent alotta time here,” said Hagrid loudly. “We still gotta get yer books an’ all. Let’s get goin’.”

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

Diagon Alley was a strange little place.

After passing through a grubby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, and getting your hand furiously shaken by everyone in the store, Hagrid had led to the small outroom beside the pub and whacked his pink umbrella against a stray, mouldy looking brick.

You raised an eyebrow unimpressed when nothing happened after a second. The very next second, however, the entire structure began to collapse and expose the treasures hidden within. 

A knobbly street with stores positively hanging from the ground as they towered over everyone — even diminishing Hagrid of his giant stature. From what you could see, there was a cauldron shop with various different kinds of pewter, copper, brass, even silver cauldrons. There was an owl emporium, from which you could hear the distant chirping of owls, and a ‘Quidditch store’ (whatever that was) with boys and girls around your own age stood around the place, pressing their noses to the glass. At the very end of the street, there was a snowy-white building, significantly larger than the rest, whose sign read ‘Gringotts.’ 

Hagrid had debriefed you on some of the commonly known things in the wizarding world; one of which was Gringotts. Gringotts was the resident wizarding bank, where wizards would deposit their money (knuts, sickles and galleons) into vaults that were fiercely guarded by goblins. Apparently your parents had even stored a wizarding fortune for you in one of those little vaults.

And so was true. A goblin named Griphook cracked open your vault to reveal piles and mountains of bronze, silver and gold coins. You reached inside and grabbed as many coins as would fit into your pouch. 

You visited another vault too, one for ‘secret Hogwarts business’ as Hagrid put it. Of course, you tried your best to get a peak at the small item wrapped delicately in its brown paper package, but Hagrid had been quick to shove it into his coat pocket.

After a tumultuous cart ride back up to the surface, you went about doing some boringish house-keeping work, which included sizing your robes, buying your books, stationary and other equipment (Hagrid wouldn’t let you get the rainbow, colour changing ink bottle nor the quill that sung melodies to you as you wrote).

The last thing that was left was getting your wand. But before that, Hagrid had departed mysteriously, telling you to stay put at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour with your chocolate and raspberry ice cream (with chopped nuts) until he returned.  

Naturally, you did not stay put.

Sauntering over to the ‘Quidditch’ shop you had passed before, ice cream cone in hand, you joined the small crowd still present in front of the display windows. You took a small lick of the chocolate syrup as you squinted your eyes at the thing everyone was obsessing over.

A broomstick.

You stifled a laugh. Of course, witches and wizards rode brooms – what else were you expecting? It must’ve been a form of transportation here. The label under the broom read ‘Nimbus Two Thousand - newest model of the Nimbus line.’ You looked at it appreciatively. 

You leaned to the right slightly, trying to look at the models surrounding the Nimbus, but you swayed too far and ended up bumping shoulders with one of the boys next to you. He jumped and turned to you with a start.

“Sorry,” you grinned at him. “I was trying to look at the other brooms.”

He smiled back at you uncertainly. “That’s fine. Are you a first-year at Hogwarts too?” The boy had messy black hair and rounded glasses perched on his nose. His brilliantly emerald-stained eyes shone out, past the glare of his lenses, as he made eye contact with you. He was quite scrawny for his age too, or perhaps that was created by the robes he was donning. Weirdly, your breath stuttered slightly. Now that was strange - your breath had never frozen quite like that before. Maybe it was part of the wizard charm, he was the first wizard you had really talked to (aside from Hagrid, but you were still unsure if he was a giant, a wizard or both).

Oh cripes, he wanted an answer didn’t he? “Uh — yes, I am. First-year. Hogwarts.” You nodded, in order to solidify your statement.

“That’s cool,” said the boy. His hair flopped onto his face and he pushed it back to expose the unmarred skin on his forehead. Your hair too had also fallen onto your face, covering your scar, but you weren’t as fussed about adjusting it. “I’m a first-year as well.” He gestured to the shop in front of you. “Do you like Quidditch? Well, you’re standing here so you probably do. Do you play much? What position?”

“If we’re being honest here, I frankly have no idea what you’re talking about.” You scratched your cheek, smiling sheepishly at the boy. He blinked, tilting his head. “Oh, like you don’t know what Quidditch is? At all?” “Yeah.” you answered. “I just came here to check out what had everyone so excited.”

“Oh, okay,” said the boy. “Are you a muggle-born then? Sorry — I hadn’t realised.” You continued to smile blankly at him, head empty from the stuff he was speaking of (what on earth was a muggle-born?).

“I’m a half-blood, see. My father’s a pure-blood, but my mum’s a muggle-born,” he said. “They’re out picking up some extra supplies with my uncles. Don’t worry if you aren’t familiar with anything yet! My mum was too, when she was invited to Hogwats, but then she ended up being top of her year and head girl. Here, let me explain Quidditch to you - you’ll love it…”

The boy rambled on with his speech about the sport - something about seven players, four balls, something called a chaser? which was what position he played. You certainly didn’t absorb anything he was saying, but you did note that he had a nice smile. A bit awkward and unsure, but it was still nice.

He was about to dive into the finer details of the game when Hagrid’s voice called out. “(Y/n)! (Y/n), where are you?!” 

You grinned apologetically at the boy, stuffing the end part of the cone into your mouth. “Sorry - that’ll be me. Great talking to you though, see ya at Hogwarts!”

You began to scurry away toward the sound of Hagrid’s distressed call, missing the way the boy’s green eyes widened at your name. “(Y/n)... (L/n)?”

His father, James Potter, snuck up behind him and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “What’s up, little Prongslet?”

The rest of his family came piling up behind the two. His mother, Lily Potter, whose forest-green eyes and bright red hair were positively sparkling at the sight of her husband and son. Lagging slightly behind were his uncle, Remus Lupin – with his robes prim and proper, not shabby at all, how he liked them – and his other uncle, Sirius Black, who was currently partaking (with much joy, might one add) in trying to pull Remus’s robe hood over his face. 

“Alright, Harry?” asked Lily, her fingers brushing away his bangs. “What’re you looking at?” “Um. Nothing,” said Harry Potter, tearing his eyes away from the spot you were last standing and back to his family. They met his gaze with their own warm, bright ones. “At least, I think so.”

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡  　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

The thing, Hagrid had left to do, ended up being a present for you. A little something for your admission into Hogwarts, he had mentioned. You were grinning ear to ear, thanking him profusely, when you had discovered what he had given you. You were proud to say that now, tucked delicately under your left arm, was a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. You’d have to decide a name for her later, you thought.

The final store to get checked off was a shabby building tucked nicely away in the corner of Diagon Alley. Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

The place was tiny and quiet, and it almost reminded you of a strange library - though the only difference was that it was near empty and the shelves were lined with boxes containing wands rather than books.

Hagrid took a seat on a small pink spindly chair, though he nearly leaped off it when a soft voice echoed out within the small shop. “Good afternoon.”

“Hello!” you said back, twisting your neck to try and get a glimpse of the voice. “I’m (Y/n) - “ “(L/n). (Y/n) (L/n), yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon.” An old man popped up in front of you, his watery grey eyes fervently scanning your figure up and down. 

Mr Ollivander touched the lightning scar on your forehead with a long, white finger. “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out in the world to do…”

He shook his head, before suddenly whipping out a measuring tape to eyeball the length of your dominant arm.

“I remember when your mother was here, buying her first wand. Twelve inches exactly, malleable, unicorn hair. Aspen.” The measuring tape flew away from his hands, now measuring the width of your nostrils by itself.

Your mouth blubbered slightly, gaping at the man in astonishment. “How do you remember that?” The man chuckled. “I remember all of the wands I’ve ever sold, (Y/n) (L/n).”

“Do you know my father’s one, then?” “Your father never purchased a wand.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Was your father like Hagrid then? Expelled from Hogwarts before he could get a wand? (Well, Hagrid did have a wand you guessed, tucked inside his flowery pink umbrella). Your eyes widened. 

Was Hagrid your fath —

“He was a muggle,” explained Mr Ollivander. The tape had now switched to measuring the length of your face. “He didn’t have any magic.”

“Oh.” was all you said in reply.

“That’s quite enough,” he spoke to the tape, which fell limp to the floor. “Right then, Ms (L/n). Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it, and give it a wave.”

You took the wand from his hands but before you could do so much as to lift it, Mr Ollivander snatched it out of your hand at once.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -”

And try you did, but Mr Ollivander had snatched it back almost instantaneously once again.

“No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.” You tried. And tried. And a little more. The pile of wands on the spindly grew and grew until the poor chair was squeaking and compressing under the weight. Yet, despite the failures in finding your wand, the more Mr Ollivander pulled from the walls, the happier he became.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

You took the wand and it immediately spluttered to life. A shower of golden sparks exploded from its tips as you brought it swooshing down from your head. An explosion of colourful fireworks emitted from it, creating little light spots, like the sort you’d find at the surface of a swimming pool. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… How curious. How very curious…”

He began wrapping your wand in a brown paper bag. “Curious… curious…”

“What’s curious,” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

Mr Ollivander’s silvery gaze hooked onto yours. “I remember every wand I’ve sold, Ms (L/n). Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Your throat became dry.

“Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Ms (L/n)... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great.”

Great things. 

Terrible, yes, but great. That was right.

Ollivander, in his old manly rambles and silvery light gaze, was correct. That was you — (Y/n) (L/n). The only survivor of Voldemort’s wrath, and the sole hero of the wizarding world.  It was you who bore the weight of this burden now, and you sure did hope that your shoulders were steady enough.

→ Author’s note: Hello my lovelies, thank you so much for picking up The Girl Who Lived series! 💖 (I think I’ll abbreviate it to TGWL when I write about it though hehe)!!! If you couldn’t tell, this will follow the plotline of the books but it will deliberately omit, add or change some events ;0 Hoped you somewhat liked the whiff of interaction we got between reader and Harry (verrryyy brief but there is more to come, promise!) You don’t have to read this next part but I like analysing and explaining texts so I’m kinda gonna go ham on this chapter//series Reader grew up with her foster family rather than her aunt and uncle like Harry. There was no particular reason for this, ‘specially since both families are pretty similar 😀 Though, one thing that I wanted to point out was that the Caddels aren’t supposed to be as abusive as the Dursleys. The Dursleys are cruel to Harry because they hate magic and they’re spiteful of it, because Petunia was jealous of Lily.  On the other hand, the Caddels are an ordinary, Muggle family who happen to be quite prudent and stingy. They have a small house that’s not big enough to house four people, which is why reader lives in the cupboard under the stairs. Odette and reader’s relationship is a more hostile version of a typical sibling relationship, not the social hierarchy pyramid that was Harry’s and Dudley’s.  Anyways, the point is they hold no real grudge against magic, but they aren’t fond of reader herself, hence the mocking jabs. Because of this distinct lack of hatred, not only did reader receive her letter on the first day, rather than that canon goose chase/hunt thing, but Hagrid also wasn’t as aggressive to them as he was to the Dursley’s. They don’t hate magic, nor do they hate the reader. To them, she kind of just exists This partly ties into reader’s quite arrogant and brazen personality (which I will analyse more in depth later on… no spoilers!) So yeah, the Caddels aren’t evil or abusive at heart, just a family who needs money and happens to have taken in a teenager with a bucket load of angst (which I will also tap into later ;)  (One more thing soz… but if you’re wondering why you met Harry instead of Draco in Diagon Alley like in the og books, well in the canon, Harry goes to Diagon Alley like on the 31st of July (very late). On the other hand, reader received her letter first up so they went to get the supplies on like the 1st hence her and Draco’s times don’t overlap! I chucked Harry in here because since he lives with his parents now, James would def want Harry to get his stuff ASAP to teach him random crap and Lily would want him to start studying or practising for school LOL) Series Masterlist

[zeusraynar]

open up the door for me. + @oceanhcir

Raynar olhava para cima quando pediu a gentileza. Pedindo para os Santos e seus ajudantes a manter a linha, a paciência. A civilidade. Era porque não tinha pedido por favor? Ou porque, em sua pressa, o filho de Poseidon não estava rápido o suficiente? A caixa em seus braços tilintava suavemente. Frascos, sacos, material para curativos e emplastros. Ou qualquer coisa assim. Um pedido muito singelo de uma filha de Apolo, que tremia dos pés à cabeça por abordá-lo no meio do seu descanso entre treinos. “ 🗲 ━━ ◤ Eu não tenho o dia inteiro. ◢ Completou sem que precisasse, o olhar azul tempestuoso caindo no irritantes de Sebastian. E o rosto tentando manter-se o mais imparcial e apático possível. “ 🗲 ━━ ◤ Ainda tem coisa pra trazer da estufa. ◢

[visionkept]

Lately, they haven’t been able to rest properly. FATIGUE had overtaken their senses, making them lean against the other for a moment. A yawn spreads throughout the room, it’s contagious. Little did they notice they had been losing this battle from the start, slowly exhaustion making them yield. Their head leaned in, resting on the shoulder the person had offered. They might as well take small nap while they are here.

[riderheart]

MAAM

[where-is-soldiersam]

The Tragic Accountant

It was a seemingly normal Slornday morning just like any other, and it was a few minutes before service was to start at the Glornch. Attendees were filing into the sanctuary and finding their seats in the pews.

Thomas was usually the last of the acolytes to arrive, and always chose to sit near the back. That morning, he was filled with more dread than usual. The past few weeks for him had been a rollercoaster of emotions, between gaining a new friend with Clay, a new hope in Gropism, a renewed fear of Glornism, and a possible enemy with Theodore, of all people. One thing was for sure, and it was that he'd rather be anywhere else but there. And yet, there he was.

Thomas’ dread was further compounded when he saw the fellow acolyte and wretched bully Sam sitting next to his usual seat. Thomas worriedly looked around for any other open spot, which was now trickier since the spectacle of Bishop Percival’s horrifying win against Commander Peepers drew more attention to Slornday services. Thomas spotted an empty seat next to some random watchdog, but before he could sit down, he felt the hood of his robe get tugged back.

“Hey c’mon Thomas pal, sit next to me!” Of course it was Sam.  

Thomas shuddered but put on a nervous smile. “O-okay!” He complied and sat down with Sam to prevent being tugged around more. 

“Uhm, why aren’t you sitting next to Amy? L-like usual?,” Thomas asked as he pointed toward the front.

Sam shrugged. "She’s mad at me. So I figured I’d sit next to my second bff, Thomas.”

“Second bff?,” Thomas repeated curiously. “Heh, but, y-you’re always saying how much you hate me, always making fun of me for being a friendless loser, always explaining in graphic detail all the ways you could kill me and—”

He was cut off when Sam put one arm around Thomas’ shoulders and pulled him close to give the top of his head a noogie.

“Are ya stupid? How long have you been a Glornist and still don’t know that’s just the way we speak ‘round here? ‘I hate you’ practically means ‘I love you!’ I give ya a tough time to harden you up! It’s what we’re supposed to do.” 

Thomas squirmed out of Sam’s grip and readjusted his red hood. “O-oh, well, it’s just-”

He was again interrupted when Sam slapped a hand to Thomas’ mouth. “Shh! It’s starting!”

🗲

The Most Reverend Bishop Percival ascended the pulpit and tapped the microphone on the podium within. He seemed a bit stern and lacked his usual playful energy. He’d been this way since losing his mitre.

“Salutations everyone, it’s my displeasure to welcome you all here this wretched Slornday morning into our mighty Church of Glorn. Today we’ll be holding our usual worshiper confessions, followed by my sermon titled “How You Can Harness Glorn’s Righteous Cruelty.” Following that is the historical discourse delivered by Reverend Mike titled,” Percy sighed as if he was bored from the mere title, “The Rise of the Intergalactic Mazka Empire Under Glornism and its Fall Under Gropism.”

“We will now begin with our commencement bows and claps. For you new faces among us, feel free to join in or simply observe.”

The Bishop led the congregation through the customary bowing and clapping, then wrapped up commencement with a prayer. Once he said ‘amen’ he sprang his head up and clasped his hands together.

“Alrighty, let’s begin our worshiper confessions, shall we? Any volunteers to start us off?”

Almost every Slornday, Sam was the first to shoot her hand up and go. But this morning, she stayed quiet and put. Thomas definitely noticed this unfamiliar behavior. Did Sam not do anything too evil this week and was reluctant to go? That didn’t seem like Sam… 

So Thomas sat wondering what could be going on as each appointed member of the congregation took turns proudly confessing their sins. Bishop Percival even let a few non-initiated congregants who had been regularly visiting give it a go. While the non-initiated were technically allowed to partake in confession, they weren’t required to like the initiated were. Percival usually ignored them as he thought they were often boring. 

Finally, the Bishop recognized the morning’s confession session was winding down, but he felt like he was forgetting some members. “Now who hasn’t gone yet?”

He squinted and scanned the audience before spotting his answer, sitting together. Ah, right, Thomas and Sam. Well the Bishop knew he’d pick Sam to confess over Thomas any day, so he excitedly pointed at him.

“Ah, Slimy Sam! Where’ve you been all morning? Get on up here and indulge your slimy sins to Glorn and us!”

Sam slowly rose from the pew and gave a bow. He spoke with eloquence unbecoming of him. “Respected Bishop, I must forewarn that my confession this morning is going to be quite unconventional. You see, instead of confessing my own sins, I wish to tell you about a grievous misdeed a fellow acolyte committed on his behalf.”

“Huh? What’re you talking about?,” Percy replied. 

“I wish to report the crimes of Thomas.”

Thomas’ eye widened with alarm. “O-on my behalf? But I’m right here! A-and I haven’t really done anything outside of my usual stuff…”

Sam looked at him. She bent down and retrieved a small business suitcase from under the pew. She then grabbed Thomas’ arm and pulled him to stand up.

“Whatever. May we come up to the pulpit, Bishop Percival?”

Percy figured it’d be fine to hit two birds with one stone to finally wrap up the confessions. “I’m annoyed, confused, and a little intrigued. Sure, get on up here you two,” he granted.

Thomas stumbled behind the confidant acolyte as they dragged him down the aisle. “S-Sam, what’re you doing? I really don’t have anything interesting, you can take your own turn..,” he whispered as he futilely tried to tug his arm out of Sam’s grip.

Sam didn’t reply to Thomas, but just smiled and continued forward. Thomas tried to run through positive scenarios in his head to give this situation yet another pathetic, flimsy benefit of a doubt. Maybe it was just another prank that was hopefully harmless in the end. Or maybe… What if Sam was trying to glamorize Thomas’ sins to help up his approval with Bishop Percival? If that was the case, maybe Sam… Did consider him a friend?

But upon catching a glimpse of Theodore on his way up to the pulpit, all wishful thoughts immediately flushed from Thomas’ head as he remembered their encounter at lunch a few days ago. 

Thomas was too nice. Too weak. Too naive. And the most likely to be sacrificed. Who was he kidding? Sam wasn’t dragging Thomas up there to help him, nor were they his friend. He knew full well he was being brought before the congregation to be exposed as a miserable Gropist. Just one slip up in front of Theodore really had led to this so quickly, huh?

It was hard to focus on thinking about ways to escape this situation when Thomas was so panicked. And before he knew it, he was up in the pulpit, Sam on his right still holding his arm in a vice grip, Bishop Percival on his left, and the entire congregation staring at him. 

Sam set the suitcase on the lectern and tapped the microphone. 

“Wicked freaks of the congregation, Thomas here has been holding out on us. He has been deceitful. The unfortunate thing is, however, his crime has not been Glorn-honoring. In fact it’s us who’ve been deceived!”

A smile creeped across the Bishop’s face as he tilted his head. “Oh? How so?”

Thomas was shaking and sweating. The entire time Sam was talking, he was praying to Grop. Silently, of course, as Theodore suggested. But… It just didn’t feel right. Being silent felt hopeless. Thomas then remembered something he read from the Gospel of Grop (or the Grospel, if you will.) It was an account of a disciple who, when surrounded and persecuted by adversaries, loudly proclaimed their faith in Grop. In turn, Grop granted them a miracle and allowed the disciple to escape safe and sound. It gave Thomas a sliver of hope. It was his last resort.

So when Percival asked ‘how so,’ before Sam could sling her accusation that she’d been looking forward to for weeks, Thomas shouted at the top of his lungs,

“Grop, allow me to survive these demons unscathed and you will gain a devout disciple!”

He then immediately sucker punched Sam in the face. While Thomas was by no means a strong watchdog, the surprise of it all made Sam let go while they recoiled. Freed, Thomas clambered on top of the lectern, over the railing to jump down from the pulpit, and made a beeline for the door. The audience, and surprisingly Bishop Percival, did nothing as they watched the heretic flee in shock. 

And Thomas actually made it out of the Glornch! Uncontested! It was a miracle! But it wasn’t over just yet. He still had to flee far, far away from the Skullship.

“Thank you, Grop! Thank you!,” he shouted as he continued running for the ship’s hangar.

🗲

Back in the Glornch, while the audience was abuzz about what just happened, Bishop Percival looked to Reverend Miriam sitting at the organ. She felt his gaze and looked back at him. He silently gestured his head toward the door. The priestess knew what that meant; she had a target to hunt down. She quietly got up and slipped through the main vestry door to take a back way out of the Glornch. 

The Bishop then turned to Sam. “Ya alright there?”

Sam finished rubbing his eye. “Pff, yeah. Like being punched by a butterfly or something.”

He then angrily gripped his fists onto the lectern, losing his previous eloquence. “Damn it! I was so excited to grill and expose that dumbass myself!” He gestured at the suitcase. “I even got like, criminalizing evidence on his laptop I stole. And Deacon Cyrus helped me get audio of him shit-talking the Glornch! All of that just for him to admit it himself and run away…”

Percival gave a reassuring smile. “Haha, ah, well rest assured Big Top Thomas will be held accountable for his heresy. We will not let Glorn be insulted like this!” He then placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Regardless, thank you for bringing it to our attention, Slimy. And I would still like to hear that audio. Later, though. This situation is the perfect segue into my sermon!”

The Bishop nudged Sam’s shoulder toward the pulpit stairs. They dejectedly sighed and grabbed the suitcase before slinking back to their seat. 

“Well! What an interesting start to our morning, huh folks? The rest of today’s mass will explain precisely why fools like Thomas who try to defy Glorn bring nothing but shame and suffering to themselves.”

The Bishop placed a Glorble on the lectern and opened it up to commence his lecture. And Slornday mass continued on. 

🗲

Just as service wrapped up and attendees were filing out of the Glornch, Reverend Miriam returned to it. She entered through the secret back way which she had left from, out of sight from the leaving crowds. In her arms was an unconscious Thomas. 

When Thomas had gotten to the hangar, workers and guards barred him from taking any hovercycles or saucers since he didn’t have the proper clearance or authorization to do so. And unfortunately, “I’m wanted dead by the Glornitsts!” wasn’t valid enough.

Miriam had tracked Thomas to the hanger with her scrying. When she made it there herself, she found him patiently filling out a saucer request form in a quiet corner. Needless to say, it wasn’t a hard feat to knock him out by surprise and take him back. 

The priestess made her way into the depths of the Glornch, winding her way through dark twisting halls and stairwells to arrive at their very own secret dungeon. She gently laid Thomas on the floor of a cell and cuffed his hands. She stood over him and gave a small prayer to Mother’s Eye, asking her to forgive not Thomas, but Miriam herself, for aiding in the likely-death of yet another watchdog. 

“...But I’m sure you understand by now that it’s necessary,” the priestess concluded her prayer with. After that, she stepped out of the cell, closed and locked the metal bar door, and took one last look at the unconscious Thomas.

“...Dumbass,” Miriam muttered as she turned and made her way to Bishop Percival’s office to let him know their prey was caught.

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 15: Powerless

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: It's time to make the fight on your terms.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.4k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence, violence with superpowers, murder, this is the most violent one, swearing, injuries, discussion of homelessness, discussion of crime

a/n: If you didn't read the warnings!! Or even if you did! This is your warning for on-screen murder. It's not very gory, but it is very much there. (spoiler, but) we kill our villains in this one lads, it was kind of the whole point of this thing :))) also most of the word count on this one is the fight so help me lmao, why do I do this to myself🤣 With that out of the way, I am super excited for this chapter!! Protective Jungkook now applies to yn maybe more than anyone and hello yes I am here for it (ofc bc I wrote it ksdfghfl) Enjoy!! And do let me know if you like it!💜💜

Jungkook’s hand was still clutched in yours as you crept together through alleyways. Far, now, from your usual haunt, you recognised none of these streets, but Jungkook never hesitated in his steps.

Sure enough, he led you round a cluster of dustbins on one corner and stopped at last in front of a heavy door. Graffiti was scrawled over the entrance and across the entire wall. If you were to arrive here in the dark, you may not have noticed the seam marking out a doorway at all.

“I thought he might choose this place,” Jungkook muttered to you, “this is where Namjoon first picked me up, after I got my powers. He operated from here until his partnerships brought in enough money for the place in town.”

He turned to knock on the door. All you could do was squeeze his hand, eyeing the surroundings. Things must have changed from before. This was where your team had begun, long before you came into the picture.

The door swung open. Jin’s face emerged, morphing instantly from hostility to relief when he saw you.

Then his eyes moved down, and lingered on your clasped hands.

If you weren’t mistaken, a faint smirk lifted his mouth, but he closed his lips matter-of-factly and forced it away. Only a telltale raise of his eyebrows made you chew your lip as he let you both past him and inside.

A murky corridor led to another sturdy door, and then you were in a larger room. It was bare of furniture, the most notable features the peeling paint and a threadbare carpet lining the space. The walls either side of you sported large windows, but the curtains remained drawn; Yoongi could be the only explanation for the room being fully lit regardless. There were no bulbs in the fixtures.

Something in your chest loosened at the sight of your whole team gathered inside. Everyone had got here before you. Namjoon was pacing in the centre. Hobi slumped against the far wall, Jimin beside him, clothes bloody but a beaming smile on his face.

At the clunk of the door, Namjoon whirled around, finally stopping his impatient strides.

All eyes fell on you. A similar reaction to Jin’s outside swept the room. Reluctantly, you and Jungkook let your fingers slide apart, although you shifted a little closer to him.

Namjoon’s stare, intense and unreadable as always, left you in such suspense that you had to look away. Unfortunately, it brought you eye-to-eye with Jimin, who was being the least subtle of them all. His cheeks were plump with the force of his smile, and he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You bit back your own grin.

Namjoon, for his part, shook his head and resolved to ignore it. Or deal with it later, at least.

“What did you guys do?”

Or maybe not. Clamping your mouth shut, your eyes widened a fraction. What were you supposed to tell him?

“We, uh-” Jungkook stammered out, before Namjoon pinched his brow.

“I mean with the monster that attacked us,” he cut you off.

You sighed in relief.

“Oh, that…” Jungkook laughed, sheepish.

In three brusque strides, Namjoon marched closer, towards an old television in the corner behind you. A red glow surrounded it as he rapped on the top, and then images flickered to life on the screen.

Blue lights and smoke washed over vehicles rammed haphazardly into a street. Your street.

You didn’t bother reading the fast-scrolling banner below the picture, letting the voiceover fill you in.

“Reports were made of Bolt heading to stop a creature, which he claimed to have escaped from within an operating villain base…” the reporter read, “but on arrival, the beast appears to have been tamed. No damage was sustained to surrounding properties, and a team is working to sedate and control it…”

The screen flashed to a blurry close-up of Frank as you had left him, snoring among the wreckage.

“How the hell did you stop it?” Namjoon demanded, the device blinking back to silence as he turned back to you and Jungkook.

“Well, Y/N, um…” Jungkook gestured for you to take over.

“It’s one of Kuyang’s,” you explained, “there’s this patch behind his ear, it sends him right to sleep. It’s just… a bit difficult to get to.”

“That thing has ears?” Jin echoed.

Namjoon folded his arms and took in the both of you.

“Good work, then. That was lucky. At least it’s lessened some of what Bolt’s trying to pin on us. But this was more than a simple attack.”

He paced again to the centre of the room.

“Bolt doesn’t act on accident; he’s showed us that much. He tried to take us out directly today. He wants to eradicate us. That’s his message, and it’s final. He’ll keep coming for us until one side is destroyed.”

His words bristled around the room, but not with fear. You sensed the rage and determination you shared with your brothers.

You weren’t backing down.

If Bolt was going to make it us vs them, you would just have to win that fight.

Turning, Namjoon met eyes with Jin, who stepped forward to stand beside him.

“At least we know what Bolt has at his disposal,” Jin said, “and what he doesn’t. We know the weapons we’re up against, so I think we can take on any fighters he sends our way. What really counts is the man himself.”

“We’re going to him, right?” Yoongi spoke from his place leaning against the curtain. “I don’t want to wait for him to come after us again. He wants the fight; we make it on our terms.”

Regarding him seriously, Namjoon nodded.

Meanwhile, Jin’s words were stirring something else in your mind. Something you had forgotten in the blur of defeat and panic that had ensued since your fight with Monsoon.

We know what weapons we’re up against…

“Wait,” you breathed. It was enough to snag the group’s attention, tense gazes all finding you. Closest was Jungkook, frowning down at you.

You gulped, and met their eyes.

“When I went after Monsoon,” you began, “I found the shield ray, even if I didn’t get hold of it. But that wasn’t all… He had a collection. And I recognised another one, too. I thought I had burned it up, in the parking lot, but there was another one.”

You had to admit that some nerves crept in at the unsettled silence that followed. Namjoon stared.

“No…” he shook his head, “you’re saying they have the Razer?”

“The one that takes your powers…” you replied, “yes.”

Namjoon swore.

“You definitely destroyed it?”

“Without a doubt,” Jungkook cut in, “I felt the shockwaves in that fight.”

You nodded along with him. Namjoon wasn’t asking to doubt you, though, and took you at your word. You had seen the broken, lifeless shell of that awful gun. No, they had gained another somehow.

“They must have got hold of a blueprint, or a prototype, somehow,” Jin suggested.

“However they did it, it’s best we know what we’re going up against,” Namjoon resolved. He looked around, meeting everyone’s eyes. “You all know what it looks like?”

Nods met him.

“Then watch your backs. We’re still doing this.”

“What was it like?”

By now, you were acquainted with the view from this spot, sitting against the wall in a corner of this place. But how different had it been, when the boys still lived here?

“Hm?”

Jungkook turned to you, resting his head back against the wall. The two of you sat not far from the others, all of you sitting around waiting for Hobi to heal up and for Jin to get whatever results he was hoping for from a beat-up laptop he had pulled from somewhere. You had no idea if he had brought it with him, found it in here, or stolen it. You wouldn’t ask, either.

Though the room was wide open now, you still sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Jungkook like you had in that cramped hallway. It was difficult to keep the same feeling at bay too. His presence lit you up where you touched, but in front of the others you had to keep up some semblance of sanity, and keep from pouncing on him.

“When you first came here,” you forced your eyes away from his softly quirked lips, and to the room. “What was it like?”

To your dismay, his brows pinched into a frown. He eyed the walls, traced them up to the ceiling with its patches of damp.

He shifted his arm against yours in a shrug.

“It was a roof over my head,” he murmured, “at first.”

“Oh,” you stammered, quiet in your shock, “sorry…”

With a blink and a shake of his head, you watched him pull himself back to you. He shot you a disarmingly genuine smile, albeit small.

“Not your fault,” he assured you, “I never told you.”

Instantly, you knew what he was talking about. Just like you, Jungkook must have first moved in after he got his powers. Of course, the balm of the support from (most of) the others had eventually smoothed over the wounds that heralded your arrival.

They wouldn’t be forgotten though.

Nor would you forget your brothers’ wounds. Jungkook had yet to entrust you with his story, the knowledge of those probably painful moments. He had hardly let you near it, all this time.

“You don’t have to-” you said hastily, but he surprised you.

You spotted his jaw tighten, but his voice was level.

“After my dad… I had nothing. The first time I met Namjoon, I didn’t have powers. I did a job for him. I used to steal; it was about the only thing I could do. My dad taught me to fight, once, after he was home late and some older kids tried to break into our place. I fell in with a certain crowd, but half of them were backstabbing sneaks.”

You weren’t sure he even knew he was scowling as he said that. Despite your horror, you couldn’t break your gaze away from Jungkook as he told the story, spelling out what you had always wondered.

He looked over to Namjoon then, snarl easing.

“I guess he thought I was good. He gave me more jobs, paid good money. It wasn’t one of his where it happened. We were taking some kind of reactor – I can hardly remember the plan. Someone wanted power out to rob a string of banks, I think… All that matters is it went wrong. It wasn’t safe, and it… blew up.”

Your chest tightened along with his voice, hearing him straining to keep his throat from closing.

He slumped back against the wall then. Fixed his eyes on yours.

“I got the brunt of it. Two of the others died. One of them ran away when I woke up and asked him to help me. And there was this… this burning I didn’t understand…”

“I remember,” you whispered.

Slowly, he closed his lips. His eyes bled with recognition. You felt it too, conflict constricting your chest. Appreciation that you could share the feeling, understand one another without the need for explanation, mingled with the strain in your heart of knowing he had been subjected to the same torture.

Here you both were, on the other side of it.

Jungkook took a bracing breath, shifted up where he had sagged down the wall – towards you.

“Namjoon found me.”

His voice brightened almost immediately, and he was looking around the room with new eyes of the old memories.

“V came along not too long after I did… It was the boys that made it home. They still do.”

A soft smile took your lips without thought, and you followed his gaze fondly.

The moment your eyes fell on Jin, you saw him perk up, straightening his back. Then he let out a cheerful “Aha!”.

He was the centre of attention that instant, and went on without prompting, fingers still clacking away at the laptop.

“I managed to get into our own system – and Bolt’s taken something!”

“And that’s… good?” you questioned his jubilant tone.

Keeping his eyes trained on the screen, he quirked his head.

“It means I can see where he’s taking it.”

Namjoon came to hover over Jin’s shoulder until they were satisfied. Soon enough, you found yourself refreshing the mental list of what you were about to go up against.

“If he even manages to get it up and running before we get there, it only has three charges per round. This is the first time I’m glad I haven’t improved it yet,” Jin chuckled, telling you about the newest addition to Bolt’s arsenal, the one he took right from your lab. “Jungkook or YN’s powers will take it out easily.”

And so he went on, through power-extending shurikens to the shield rifle Monsoon had stolen, all the things that had slipped through your fingers and how to defeat them.

“And the Razer…” Jin landed on the last one, but tailed off and exchanged a look with Namjoon.

“Just don’t get hit,” the leader said.

Several eyebrows raised in trepidation. You shuddered with an echoing memory of the gun’s piercing cold.

“Hobi,” Namjoon turned away from the subject, “how are you healing up?”

Shifting to sit away from the wall, Hope pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal the skin where Frank had slashed him. It was still pink, but completely closed by now.

“Better,” he beamed.

“Okay,” Namjoon fixed him with a stern eye, “but check in. If it’s putting you at a disadvantage, I want you out of there.”

“Yes boss,” Hobi replied with a grin and a mock salute.

From that alone, you were sure he was feeling better.

“I say” – Jin shut the laptop with a clack – “we’ve waited long enough.”

You couldn’t help but agree. It felt good to get on your feet again. Inside your chest, the warmth of your powers bubbled alongside your bristling determination. Just enough for you to feel them, to assure you.

A private smile stole across your face, and you turned towards Jungkook.

He found you first. A gentle touch on your wrist made you glance down. His thumb ran firmly, softly, over the skin there, and when you looked up his eyes were dark and affirming.

You realised then, that his defensive ring of fire had never burnt away. You were only on the other side of it, one of the ones he accepted in. His look was one of complete trust. When he nodded, you nodded back.

Let’s do this.

Having been inside for some time, the lot of you know marched out to find it night, the city drenched in the darkness of who-knew-what hour. Your ‘march’ was actually more of a light-footed sneaking. Setting off any alarm bells just yet would blow the operation. Together, your group wove through shadows out of this part of town, unnoticed thanks to the camouflage Yoongi effortlessly provided.

Up ahead, Jin checked around corners and led you on, the buildings rising further above you at every turn. Neon screens flashed through the night in these neighbourhoods, where the inhabitants had money to spare.

The walk couldn’t have been long, but you were a world away from the run-down hideout by the time Jin stopped, facing one of many high buildings of polished glass and chrome.

“So this is it?” Jimin asked, head tilting back.

Your eyes, instead of trailing up the building like Jimin’s, found a looming structure beside it. A pylon planted firm in the ground, standing just taller than the building itself, up to a spidery convergence of wires webbed over the city rooves.

“Well, that sure is handy for someone like him,” Jin scoffed.

Hobi rolled his neck, already striding towards it.

“And now it’s handy for us.”

His leap up three rungs was unnecessary, really. The rest of you followed behind like the mere mortals you were, clambering as silently as you could between the intersecting beams, the metal cold beneath your hands.

You looked back once, finding Namjoon and Jin still on the ground.

“I’ll see you afterwards,” Namjoon was telling him grimly, “all of us have to fight.”

“I know,” Jin agreed. Then he punched him in the arm. “And I had better, alright? See you afterwards, I mean.”

Your leader nodded, then stepped forward to the pylon. You looked ahead and pushed on upwards.

It shouldn’t have surprised you to find Bolt in a penthouse. Following the others, you hopped from the pylon onto the skyscraper’s rooftop; only Namjoon stayed behind. It wasn’t so tall as Kuyang’s lab had been, but it felt miles above. In the darkness, a few glimmering lights dotted the edges of what appeared to be an eerie garden of sorts, although no plants were in sight. Dark tile slabs ran underfoot, broken up by sculptures you couldn’t discern beyond shadows.

The rooftop was halved, your group gathering on the lower segment while a set of stairs rose another floor to more of the same; Bolt’s viewpoint over the city.  Though your eyes darted between the statues, each one playing tricks on you as if they were people watching, your gaze rested eventually on two large glass doors beside the stairway.

A distant light from further inside showed just enough for you to see beyond the glass. An entire wall was decked in little plates, things you vaguely recognised as city awards, only seen on the screens and papers.

A trophy for each life Bolt had taken would have filled the whole building, let alone a feature wall, you thought.

The small huddle of you poised still, hunters, waiting. In the last few seconds before that silence would be broken, you felt Jungkook step behind you.

“This ends now.”

The voice coming over your shoulder was made of everything he was. Electricity, cold and bitter like metal, aflame with determination. The rows, fists and shouting, the tentative midnight whispers, his kisses.

His hurt and all the things he covered it with.

Namjoon didn’t even have to ask his soldiers if they were ready. He raised his arms and slammed palms back down against metal, and a red glow silhouetted you all like a sinister halo.

Everything went dark.

The meagre light inside the property blinked off. The glare of signs across the road plunged away to nothing. Only the dotted perimeter lights, which must run on for emergencies, remained.

Footsteps behind you brought Namjoon through the pack to its head.

Ahead, something moved beyond the glass. Your gaze sharpened on it as the handle turned, the door swinging soundlessly outwards.

While not in full gear, as he had been when he first attacked you, Bolt’s blue mask was in place. Otherwise, he wore dark, comfortable clothes. Internally, you celebrated the small evidence that you really had caught him unawares.

“I should have known,” his voice carried over to you, inflated with arrogance. “Flush out the rats and they’ll have nowhere left to run.”

In your ear, a sharp inhale sent your eyes to Jungkook for a second. His fists tightened at his sides.

“You’ve taken enough, Bolt,” Namjoon spoke. If you didn’t know him, you may not have caught the dark rage burning below his even words.

Then he raised his arms, stretched them towards the man in blue.

A great gust whisked from behind you, snatching at your hair, but you stood firm. In front of you, Bolt was thrown backwards by the air, colliding with the glass behind him.

The starting gun had been fired.

As your enemy crashed through a shower of glass, you began to run. Shards of it scattered, glittering, under your pounding feet. You skidded to the doorway just as Bolt drew back to his feet in the shadows.

Raising your arms to continue the offensive, you were cut short. A startling flash blazed in your vision. In that split-second, it illuminated a smiling Bolt, gun ready at his hip. Just long enough for your heart to sink.

The shield rifle, the very one you had failed to protect.

It seemed only right that you should pay the price.

Its impact slammed against you, wrenching your outstretched arm backwards. The pale sphere it had fired, glowing and crackling, caught hold and took you with it, ensnaring your wrist like a constricting snake. Helpless to detach yourself, your body flailed through the air behind it.

Someone called your name.

Just as fast, you jerked to a stop. Below you, your feet flung out above nothing. Your heart jumped.

Looking around wildly, you found the forcefield had snagged on the wall, stuck fast to it just like it did your arm. It was the only thing holding you here.

Somewhere behind you, above you, grunts and thuds assured you that the fight continued. For now, you had to get out of this trap before Bolt could reach you again, attack you in this helpless position.

“Y/N!”

Jimin’s voice rushed closer. It was an effort to crane your head up to see him. Pale pink hair poked over the ledge.

“Grab on!” he called.

You didn’t hesitate. Swinging yourself up with a kick, you grabbed desperately for the hand he reached out. Finding it clumsily, you clutched to his wrist with clammy fingers. Next moment, he hauled you up, clamping both hands around yours until you rolled over the wall and your feet stumbled against solid ground.

But you still weren’t free.

The forcefield bit at your arm when you tried to drag it free. You cursed.

“It’s just energy,” Jimin spoke, frowning at the luminescent mass.

Then he took a breath, frowning in concentration. With one push of his hand, the sphere shifted, as if it was simply a ball from training.

Resisting, you pulled the other way. For a second, it constricted harder, making your heart clench in dread of following it. Then all at once you were falling free, tumbling to the floor as the forcefield rolled out of sight over the edge.

Hurried hands tugged you up and you were wheeling around to face the battle.

“Thanks,” you quickly clapped Jimin on the shoulder. A brief grin from him, and you dived together back towards the fray.

More shining energy fields pulsed against one wall, but it seemed the others had dodged them. You ran past the discarded weapon on the floor. But there were more where it had come from.

A bright blue jet, just like your own, fizzled against a statue and sent it thundering to the floor. Behind it, Yoongi leapt out of the way just in time. He came sprinting towards Bolt, eyes burning white.

In an instant, the hero let out a yell, clutching his eyes. Staggering, he slipped onto one knee. But in his blind panic, he whirled around, lashing out again even without a target to aim at.

Blazing blue roared outwards. Namjoon had been marching towards the fallen Bolt, but was forced to duck for cover. The lightning sliced clean through the top of the stone figure he hid behind.

Even as Bolt’s attack died, something else caught your eye. Fast as a spark from a flame, he tossed a blade into the air. It whistled, carving a streak of seething blue through the night.

A shout shot echoed across the rooftop, straight to your veins. Yoongi.

Falling from his invisible cloak of darkness, you saw a glowing blue shuriken whizz along his back. The current flew outwards across his body, throwing his pained grimace into haunting relief. The blade skittered, useless, to the ground, having wreaked its injury.

“Yoongi!” you screamed as he fell, blue light dancing over his spasming body.

Staring in horror as you were, the next flash of blue nearly caught you. Running on pure instinct, your body retaliated before you did. Snarling, your powers leapt from your palms, clashing against Bolt’s in mid-air. Blue on blue.

In the flare of sparks, Bolt smiled slowly. Never breaking the connection, he took a step forwards, cocking his head.

“So it’s true,” he spoke, “I heard about you.”

Heart hammering now, you pushed back with all your might, feeling his hostile powers wrestle with yours. They may look the same, but they felt all wrong.

“Tell me,” he took a step closer. You barely resisted the urge to draw back. “How did you do this?”

Steeling yourself with a breath, you unleashed a surge of rage, your electricity hissing through the air. It should have satisfied you to feel his power startle, stutter at the sudden attack.

All you could do was glare. He had no idea. He never thought twice about who he killed, what he took.

But as you stared, there was movement behind him. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on Bolt, willing his attention to stay on you. As it was, he had no idea that Jungkook was stalking towards him.

“I didn’t do this,” you blurted out, needing to keep him focussed. Buying Jungkook time as his face came into sharper focus, closer to the battling blue lights between you and Bolt. “You did this to me.”

You spat your words with all the venom locked inside, ready for one last push as you watched Jungkook raise both arms-

WHOOSH.

You snapped the connection, staggering backwards as Bolt whirled around.

It had not been gold that fired. In a blur, Jungkook was slammed to the ground by a column of water crashing into him.

Everyone on the rooftop turned to its source.

“Shit-” you heard someone curse.

“No,” you breathed.

Feet touching to the rooftop up ahead, among a flood of water, was Monsoon.

Another cold, arrogant grin met you all. You stared in horror. Only Bolt laughed, stepping forwards to climb to his ally’s side. They faced you all from the staircase, looking down.

Pushing himself to his feet, Jungkook’s eyes blazed gold beneath dripping strands of hair.

“Jungkook! No!” you cried, but too late.

Gold split the night, but against Monsoon there was no use. Water surged instantly towards him again, and though your powers protested, burning in your chest with the need to act, you could only stand by. You couldn’t fight him.

Shimmering water engulfed the gold strands. Soon they would immobilise Jungkook, the moment it made contact…

Instead, a red glow sprung up in front of Jungkook with only a split-second to spare, sending the deluge spraying around the shield.

“Let’s start with you, then,” Monsoon smirked.

When you looked back to him, you swore your heart stopped beating.

Raised in one hand, pointing straight at Jungkook, was the Razer. Its eerie white form stood out starkly against the night sky.

The dead white light at its centre jumped to life. A whirring began, menacing and low. It rose at the same rate the strands of light started spinning within the sphere, preparing to drain its victim of all power.

It was stupid. It was stupid, you had already failed once before. You had watched Jungkook fail just seconds ago. There was nothing you could do, yet you had to do something.

You fired at Monsoon.

Easily, he raised his free hand to deflect.

But as the water rushed towards you, Jimin sprinted towards Monsoon. Thrusting an arm forward, he sent a fallen statue flying between you, a silhouette. Your eyes widened in realisation.

The inundation hit the stone with such force, you almost thought it would crack. But no – it sent the writhing water shooting straight back at its commander.

Darting forward, you shot without hesitation. Blue burst from you. The bright tendrils wove into the stream, flying like darts through the current and towards Monsoon. There was no time for him to react; only a fleeting shadow of shock stole over his face before the electricity caught him and his eyes rolled back.

You knew how it felt for your muscles to lock in place, for your body to leave your control entirely. You watched as it took hold of him, too, and smiled.

The force of the water, with no way to resist it, knocked him backwards until the floor no longer held him. A blond blur flew past you, just before the white-clad figure that was Monsoon dropped out of sight forever.

Lowering your palms, your chest heaved. Adrenaline rushed through you; this still wasn’t over.

Your eyes narrowed in on Hobi, whose feet made impact with the roof on landing. Clutched in his arms was the Razer, scooped from Monsoon’s arms just in time.

Bolt, apparently, had got over his ally’s demise already. His grief lasted the space of one step, away from the edge, before he swung round. Like you, he honed straight in on the weapon.

And then everyone moved at once.

Diving out of the path of a sinister blue bolt, Hobi rolled away on the floor. Bolt himself thudded closer, making your friend dodge again, leaping up and out of his reach. The air crackled by Bolt’s hand, but before he could summon electricity to chase Hobi down, a sheet of purple fire swept like a curtain in front of him, the fleeting shadow of V disappearing within the flames.

You were already sprinting at the enemy when Hobi touched down next to you. Stumbling around, he glanced behind him with a curse.

Confused, your eyes first darted over your friend. He didn’t seem to be more hurt, so then what-?

A clatter of metal rung through the spitting flames. Frantically searching, you quickly found the deathly white streak of the Razer on the ground, spinning away. In the desperate fumble to escape Bolt, Hobi must have dropped it.

It didn't matter how it got there. Darting to the side, you changed course towards the weapon. But you weren’t the only pursuer.

Bolt was a silhouette in front of the fire, growing rapidly in the corner of your vision. Your feet thudded as fast as you could make them, heart pounding out the same rhythm, and you were almost there, but Bolt was coming in fast-

A flash of blue. Instinctively, you pulled back, letting it cut through the air in front of your nose. Precious distance you couldn’t afford to waste.

Throwing your weight back further, you followed your body’s momentum. Your hip met the tile and you let your speed carry you, sliding over the tiles and kicking out-

Your toes met the weapon hard, snatching it from right under Bolt’s fingertips as he lunged down. His furious glare shifted to you, but he did not stay to fight. Both of you watched, panting, as the white gun hurtled over the staircase, resounding against each step out of sight.

Then Bolt was off again with you not far behind, jumping to your feet. Stairs flew beneath you as you surveyed the scene.

Bolt charged a decisive line towards the still-falling gun. Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook assembled on the lower part of the rooftop, ready to strike.

With relief, you saw Jimin move first. Raising one hand, he brought the gun arcing through the night. Though you kept running, something loosened in your chest the closer it came to the hands of your leader.

So focussed on the gun as you were, you almost missed it. Just as the Razer landed firmly in Namjoon’s grip, something glinted in Bolt’s hand, inches ahead of you.

A sizzle of blue. Another shuriken sliced through the air. Namjoon dodged to one side, the blade sailing past him, a spark of blue losing itself in the darkness of the city.

But another blade followed.

Namjoon clearly decided not to hang around. The low whirring began again, piercing your senses straight away as if it was a chainsaw roaring. White light pounced against the glass containing it. Close as you were to Bolt, you couldn’t help the jolt of nerves fizzling in your chest.

Lifting his gaze from the weapon, Namjoon’s eyes widened a fraction. There wasn’t enough time to react. The blue lightning raced straight for his heart.

The image of Yoongi, stricken and fallen, flashed through your mind then. Helplessness burned through every part of you – even as you pushed yourself to sprint, there was no catching it.

Until a shadow leapt in the way. Obscuring your view of Namjoon, they turned in mid-air to face the shuriken.

Jungkook.

Your heart punched into your throat. In a single beat, the blade found its target.

A twitch of pain spasmed across Jungkook’s face. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. Your trembling heart choked you, the world falling silent for a deathly second.

Then his feet thumped onto the roof, the clatter of the thin blade following a beat later. Though he stumbled against the outer wall, he remained standing. Utter, blank shock painted on his face, he brought a hand up to his chest.

There, a thin red line was spreading where he had been cut. Nothing more.

Heart still hanging on a precipice, you were suspended in your shock. Numbly, you glanced down to the still-spinning shuriken lying powerless on the floor. Powerless. No more sparks surrounded it. No hint of blue, no colour at all.

Where a heartbeat ago there had been panic, now came no movement at all. Your lungs ached for air after your short race, but you hardly dared to touch the silence by breathing. Shakily, you drew in cool air, turning, as you all did, towards Bolt.

Standing in front of the shattered entrance to his home, he was equally still.

You expected some kind of joke. For him to laugh in your faces, or lash out again.

Instead, he looked down in horror. His hands steadily rose, tuning over in front of him. A downwards turn tugged at his mouth when he raised his face.

Then it turned into a snarl, and he lunged, flinging a hand straight towards you. Everyone on the rooftop jumped.

To your shame, you almost stepped back. Phantom burning, from months ago as you fell from a skyscraper like this one, rocketed through your mind. But the pain you braced for never came. No flash of blue. You stayed rooted there, disbelieving eyes tracing the air which should have been ablaze, and instead was dead and dark.

And you noticed another thing: the whirring had stopped.

Glancing to one side, you saw Namjoon lowering the Razer, face hard and a grim glint in his eye.

“You!”

Bolt’s voice brought you sharply back to him. His mouth twisted into a snarl, and his voice was sharp.

To your alarm, his rage-filled eyes, though devoid of blue, were fixed right on you.

“Give them back to me! Right now!”

With a sudden start, he marched towards you. You actually stepped back this time, in no hurry to be the target of his new warpath.

“You- I gave you those powers!” He ranted, “My powers! You can give them back to me the same way. Do it now!”

Disgusted, you could only shake your head.

Another step and he was right in front of you, reaching for you. That same face which hadn’t looked at you twice when he sent you hurtling to your intended death. The man that had since become the face of your elusive fear, sending others to attack you, never getting his hands dirty unless for a media-worthy cause.

His hand on your arm made your skin crawl.

“I made you what you were,” he pleaded – you saw it now for what it was – “you were nothing before I gave them to you-”

“Get off me!” you snapped, yanking your arm roughly from his grip. When he made to reach for you again, you barely kept control of your powers. You were sure to let just enough slip through that your eyes would light up blue with a reminder.

It clearly found its mark. He stilled, stunned. He had never been in this position before, unable to fight, and he would do well to remember it.

“I was someone before you,” you spoke, low and level.

Bolt seemed robbed of words.

Then his glare flicked to the side. Jungkook stalked up to stand beside you, drawing himself up to his full height. There was a special venom in his eyes, reserved only for the man who had ruined his life.

“Don’t touch her,” he spat.

Something in Bolt snapped. Closing his mouth, his feet scrambled beneath him. He hurried in the opposite direction, staggering a few desperate steps backwards before wheeling around, racing to get inside.

You didn’t move. Any one of you could easily kill him from where you stood – in any case, it wasn’t needed.

Someone was waiting for him.

Stepping from the dark hallway, broken glass crunching underfoot, Jin emerged into the dim light of the rooftop.

He reared back a fist, and brought it down in a blur to collide with Bolt’s face. The moment the fallen hero hit the ground, Jungkook strode forwards. Bolt’s usually vivid mask was finally dislodged, lying dull against the tiles where Jungkook’s boot crushed it against the floor.

Calmly lifting a hand, he fired gold, but not right at Bolt. Instead, you watched the molten light latch around a large shard of glass. The burning ring made dappled gold ripple in the glass, a golden dagger, the brightest thing on this dark rooftop.

Unsteadily, Bolt was getting his hands beneath him again. His ragged panting almost stirred pity in your chest. Almost.

Jungkook pushed his palm forwards, his power moving with him. The dagger struck Bolt’s back. You did not smile, but watched as it plunged ruthlessly into him, making his back arch and drawing a pitiful cry from his mouth.

No one was around to hear it, or to care. Tonight was as desolate as the night you had woken, alone and afraid, in a dark alley, left to die.

It wasn’t painless, but it was quick. Looking to Jungkook as Bolt fell silent, you found his hardened face awash with gold, like it was made of the metal itself. Only the twitch of his jaw as he yanked the glass from its victim belied the impression.

A thump as the body slumped among a soft chorus of grating glass.

The gold faded from Jungkook’s eyes. They turned to you, and you took his hand.

Thank you for reading this far into the series and sticking with it!!💜💜

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[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hello!

🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

HELLO!

15 for 🧜‍♀️:

Tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

He stares at the ocean for a moment, wondering if he’s crazy. He sort of feels crazy. His friend is undergoing a massive surgery. He’s being operated on by some of the best surgeons in the state. And Eddie thinks a pickle jar full of seawater will be more effective. That’s insane, right? 

Maybe it is. But he has to try. 

Sighing, Eddie walks to the edge of the water, and bends to let a wave fill the jar. When it’s half full, he pulls it away. There’s some sand and grit in the water, but Eddie doesn’t think that matters. It’ll either work or it won’t. 

He waits in the hospital until Buck is out of surgery. Pepa agreed to take Chris for the night. She understood that it was serious. 

---

15 for 🌲:

---

They spend what feels like a lazy, blissful day together. Fooling around. Kissing. Getting to know new, exciting things about each other. What they like. What they really like. They have nothing to think about today but each other. 

Outside of more intimate activities, they just sort of take it easy. Buck needs to spend time getting used to his new hearing aids. Adjusting the volume on the TV and figuring out what’s comfortable. Listening to different things around the house; the washing machine, the kettle, Eddie talking from another room. Just to see how it sounds. 

Eddie doesn’t bring up his own predicament once. He seems pretty determined to let today be about Buck. Or, Buck and him and Buck.

---

15 for ⚖️:

---

Buck shrugs. “I don’t know! What they did to you in May was kind of evil.”

Eddie frowns. “It was… I mean, I don’t know about evil. But it wasn’t right.” 

“It was manipulative,” Buck adds. “Manipulative and, honestly? Probably not in Christopher’s best interest in the long run.”

Eddie sighs. “Yeah, probably not. But he called them. Not the other way around. That’s my fault.”

---

30 for ⚡️:

---

But she really is perfect. A head of dark, soft hair. Dark eyes that seem big on her little face. Her little lips are scrunched into a sort of heart shape, puckered like she’s been disturbed. Eddie doesn’t blame her. Being born must kind of suck. 

“Eddie, she’s perfect,” Buck says, awed, while he holds her.

“Completely perfect,” Eddie agrees, wiping his tears on his sleeve. 

“I love her so much already. Is that crazy?”

“No,” Eddie answers. “I think that’s a pretty good sign.”

After all, Eddie feels the exact same way. 

🗲🗲🗲

Bobby and Athena come to the hospital as soon as visiting hours open. Everyone else will meet the baby at home. She’s being discharged soon. But Buck and Eddie need for Bobby to meet her first. It’s kind of critical actually. 

They come bearing a little firefighter teddy bear. And Buck is so tired and deliriously happy that the sight nearly makes him cry. She’s going to have that forever. They’ll keep it safe and she’ll always know that was her first gift. From her grandfather. 

He hands Bobby the baby as soon as he walks in the room. 

“Here she is,” he says shakily, gently exchanging his sleeping child for a stuffed animal.

“Oh my goodness,” Athena coos, looking over Bobby’s shoulder. 

“She’s beautiful,” Bobby agrees. “Completely perfect.”

Buck grins. “I think so, too.”

[chroniclesofkate]

13 MAY 2023 🗲 The Princess of Wales has taken part in the opening for the Grand Final of Eurovision, playing an instrumental piano piece by Joe Price/Kojo Samuel. It was recorded in the Crimson Drawing Room of Windsor Castle earlier this month.