#My Life Would Be So Much Less Complicated And Painful If My Parents Hadn’t. Just Hadn’t.

[altschmerzes]

starting off my day with an emergency dentist’s appointment and a crying breakdown in the parking lot about having to impose and ask a friend to drive me to and from a sedation appointment next week because i Have No Choice given im obviously not allowed to drive myself home. not a banner beginning to my thursday.

[sparksinger]

rise of the beasts ficcage incoming

i finally finished my little oneshot based on 'rise of the beasts'. as usual it's angst, comfort and a whole load of fluff featuring optimus prime and elena. :3

give it a read if you fancy!

title: remember who you are

trigger warnings: implied/referenced homophobia, mention of the death of a parent

rating: mature

word count: 6.1k

summary: Rise Of The Beasts one-shot fic. Optimus Prime and Elena have a movie night which evokes powerful emotions in both of them. Catharsis and heartfelt conversations follow. (Nothing to do with my 'Love Just Is' series.)

beware of minor spoilers if you haven't seen the movie yet? it's not really spoilerific but there are some minor ones in there.

here it is on ao3

and here it is on ff.net

or you can read it below the cut if you can't be bothered to go to different sites. :3

Three years.

Three years to the day.  The passage of time had not made the emotional or metaphorical scars any easier for Elena to bear.  It was like the first time when she saw the back of a large man, a man, who with his easy-going and confident swagger, could have been her father.

For every time she inhaled the smell of freshly brewed coffee or the smell of a freshly printed New York Times. 

Every time a cab zipped past her in the busy metropolis.

Time, she decided, did not heal all wounds.  In fact, it did not heal wounds period. 

It seemed to Elena that pain and time worked in seamless symbiosis, creating a sick plethora of ­healing, heartache, regret and a whole other load of complicated emotions that she knew she wasn’t in the slightest bit ready to attempt to unravel or understand.

Her mother had become increasingly distant since the death of her father, not even phoning Elena to congratulate her on the recognition of her discovery in Peru.  Ever since Elena had bolstered the courage to tell her parents the painful truth that she had been hiding for so many years, Elena’s mother had made her disapproval of Elena’s orientation clear without ever needing to utter a single word.

Benjamin Wallace’s reaction however, had been one of an entirely different calibre.

He had unfolded himself from his favourite armchair, discarding his crossword puzzle in the Times without a second thought.

Elena remembered watching with anxious trepidation, her breath bated as she watched her father uncurl himself to his full 6’3” height.  She remembered how the cold, uneasy trepidation had fallen away as he opened his arms to her, his ochre-brown eyes softening as he drank in her appearance, as if he was a blind man seeing her for the first time.

She remembered the feel of her hand in his, the way he had reached out to bridge the gap between them, encompassing her hand in his bigger one, wrapping her in the safety and security of his unconditional and eternal love.

“Baby girl, I just want you to be happy.  That is all I have ever wanted for you.  There is nothing you could do that would make me not love you.  You are my single greatest accomplishment in this life, and I am honoured to call myself your father.” 

Elena closed her eyes against the memory, inhaling it greedily, immersing herself in every sensory aspect of it.

The feeling of her father’s strong arms at her back.

The coffee scent that seemed to cling to his very skin.

The overwhelming sense of safety and love that permeated everything that he touched.

The feeling of her father’s strong arms at her back.

Elena shook her head, attempting to dislodge the memories and push them back to somewhere that would be significantly less painful.  She did not need to be dealing with errant thoughts and emotions when she had plenty of menial things to keep her occupied for the time being.

She placed her hands on her hips and observed the space before her.

The abandoned warehouse-turned-Autobot-base hadn’t changed much in the three and a half months since she had Noah had met the Autobots. 

In the back-left corner of the expansive open space was a crude ‘R&R’ station.  Elena smiled to herself when she remembered asking Mirage what ‘R&R’ stood for.  The incredulous look he had given her would have been offensive if he wasn’t so damned endearing with it at the same time.

“What do you think it stands for, Chica?  ‘Rest and repairs’!”  He’d said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire universe.

The berth that had been assembled by Arcee and Optimus was an impressive size.  It was thirty feet in length and a good fifteen feet from the ground.  A little big for the other Autobots, but necessary if Optimus was ever knocked out of commission.

Elena’s thoughts turned to the task at hand as the image of the Autobot leader came across her mind’s eye.

She knew she had about an hour before he got back from his patrol. 

An hour was all she needed.

Over the past few days, Noah had helped her to bring all the necessary equipment to the abandoned warehouse, storing it under a discreet pile of black tarpaulin and strategically placed spare parts. 

The largest piece of equipment that she needed had been placed on the overhead catwalk for her by a helpful Bumblebee only the day before.

“’Talk to me…oh, what’s going on?’”  Elena had laughed as Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On sounded from Bumblebee’s speakers.

“A surprise Bee!  You’ll be able to see it once Optimus has.”

The friendly yellow Autobot scout had helped her to secure and mount the equipment to the catwalk platform, chirping curiously and playing various sound bites through his radio throughout the duration of the installation process.

Elena took her backpack off and retrieved the film reel within it.  She affixed it carefully to the projector, making sure that the machine was calibrated properly and making sure that the angle would line up correctly with the screen.

Once she was satisfied with the set-up of the film projector, she replaced the cover and made her way over to the ladder that would grant her access to the catwalk platform. 

She left her backpack on the floor and made sure to grip the ladder firmly with both hands before placing one of her Doc Marten clad feet on the lowermost rung.

Elena had never been the biggest fan of heights, and her recent experience with giant extra-terrestrial robots had not exactly warmed her to the concept.

Pushing the annoying thoughts to the back of her mind, she determinedly ascended the ladder, laughing at herself in a dark corner of her mind.  She had survived a battle for her planet’s survival and yet she was scared of climbing a ladder that was roughly twelve feet high?

Pathetic. ­­

It did not feel so pathetic however, when she heard a low groaning sound, a sound like the creak of fatigued metal giving way under her weight.

She scrambled quickly up the rest of the ladder and tucked her legs over the edge of the catwalk platform just as the offending object clattered to the ground with an earth-resounding crash.  The noise was temporarily deafening and for a split second, she was back on the bridge in Peru, listening to the deafening clash of metal against metal as titan fought titan.

“Elena, shut it down!”  Optimus Prime’s command as he charged to jump the gap between the key console and the bridge. 

She remembered how his heavy footfalls had reverberated in her chest, making her very ribs feel like they were vibrating.

She sighed, leaning over the edge of the catwalk to see if the ladder situation was at all salvageable.

It was not.

The ladder had fallen completely flat onto the concrete floor below and there was no way on earth that she could reach it without actually leaving the catwalk platform itself, which in turn defeated the object of her needing the ladder in the first place.

She shrugged to herself and made her way over to the mounts holding the projector screen in place.  She undid one side first and then the other, untwisting the mounts that were secured like screw nails.  The projector screen unravelled with a satisfying sound, not dissimilar to the sound a boat’s sail made when it was released.

She was pleased with the overall size of the screen.  It covered a good part of the catwalk railing that it was suspended from, and its generously large size ensured that it would be seen by large and small individuals alike.  All in all, she was satisfied with the set-up of the space that was available to her.  There weren’t many options available in the abandoned warehouse, but she felt that she had utilised the space available to her to the best of her ability. 

All she had to do now was wait for Optimus to get back from his patrol.

She sat down on the edge of the catwalk, allowing her legs to dangle over the side while she wrapped her arms around the lowermost railing.

The corrugated iron floor of the catwalk still retained some of the day’s heat, a heat that she felt on the backs of her thighs as she lowered herself to the floor.  The weather lady that very morning on WABC-TV had declared the late heatwave an ‘Indian’ summer. 

Before she had left her apartment that morning, Elena had elected for a plain white camisole paired with a battered, pinafore-style faded blue denim romper suit.  Her father had bought it for her four birthdays ago and it was nearing the end of its public life.  Sooner rather than later it would be no good except when she cleaned her apartment, but the thought of parting with it made her heart accelerated to a panicked and frantic rhythm.

A strategically tied bandana adorned her head, keeping her natural curls close to her scalp in an attempt to combat the year’s late, oppressive heat. 

The temperature had hovered around the low eighties and, a fact not helped by the minimal amount of rainfall that New York City had had so far for the month of September.

Elena swung her legs slowly to and fro, her dark brown eyes tracking the movement of her Doc Marten boots.  Doc Marten boots that were scuffed, paint-damaged and at least eight years old.

A nostalgic smile kissed her lips as a sudden memory played in the forefront of her mind, like her own personal picture show.

“Elena, when are you gonna polish those god-damned boots?!  I ain’t havin’ nobody thinkin’ your father and I raised you in some poorhouse girl!” 

Her mother’s shrill insistence that everything had to look and be perfect all the time.

“Easy Gloria!  The girl ain’t gonna lose out on anything in life if she’s got some scuffed boots!” 

The gentle cadence of her father’s calm and deep voice. 

Equally as powerful, she remembered her mother’s disappointment and anger when she learnt of her daughter’s chosen career path.  She had been most horrified at the fact that her daughter was not aspiring to become the devoted and loving wife of a high-flying, Manhattan based defence attorney. 

Elena pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind, not wanting to deal with them right at that particular moment.  She was prone to ruminating and then spiralling into a deep, introspective pit of her own making.  It was seldom a happy place to be, and she already devoted enough of her mental energy spending time there.

Energy that she was determined on claiming back for herself.

Elena was pulled from her self-imposed reverie by the low growl of a Freightliner’s engine. 

She lifted her head in time just to see Optimus roll to a complete stop, his airbrakes hissing lightly with the motion.  She watched with ill-disguised awe and amazement as the vehicle parts shifted and reconfigured themselves until they had arranged into the body of the Autobot leader.

He ducked as he came in through the large doorway, his heavy footfalls reverberating in Elena’s chest.  His blue optics widened when he saw her, clearly not expecting anybody to be at the warehouse when he returned from his patrol. 

In her hurry to stand, she smashed her head against the top bar of the railing on the catwalk.  Pain shot through her cranium and into her forehead, making her see stars for a few seconds.

She heard, rather than saw Optimus hurrying towards her, his blue lower legs filling the majority of her field of vision.  Hydraulics hissed as he raised a hesitant servo. 

“Elena!  Are you alright?  Are you at all injured?”  His deep baritone was laced with concern. 

“Argh god-dammit!” she muttered, more to herself than to him.   She lifted her eyes to meet his earnest blue gaze.  Hilariously, he was slightly bending his knees so as to bring himself more to her level.  It was kind of endearing to see the massive, twenty-foot tall Autobot leader trying to get to her perspective.

“Elena, are you injured?”  his tone was a little more pressing this time, his optics worriedly fixed on her. 

“No, just my pride.”  She groaned, rubbing a tentative hand over the top of her head.

Ouch.

There was definitely going to be a lump there in the morning.

Optimus straightened, visibly satisfied with her answer. 

“Why did you do that?  If you are going to strike things with your head, would it not be pertinent to don protective headwear first?  It is my understanding that human bones, and therefore human craniums are very fragile.” 

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”  she uttered, a little defensively. 

He held both hands up defensively.  “Duly noted.  I will not make such an assumption again.”  He eyed her thoughtfully before speaking again.  “You are stressed.  Your cortisol levels are currently elevated to eighteen micrograms per decilitre; a significant amount higher than the average of ten micrograms per decilitre for your species.” 

Elena worked hard to smooth her face into some semblance of what she hoped was a polite smile.  “Did you just scan me?”

A brisk nod was her answer.

She sighed.  “Optimus, we’ve spoken about this before.  You can’t just go around scanning people.  It’s personal information.” 

The Autobot leader remained undeterred.  “I see no adverse consequences if the information revealed to me in my scan helps me to alleviate some pain, physical or otherwise.” 

That stopped her in her tracks.  She stared blankly at him for a few seconds.  His face was an inscrutable mask of polite interest, his ‘brows’ sitting in two perfectly neutral lines above his cerulean optics. 

In the end, she opted for a diversion tactic. 

“What do you think of the set-up?” she asked, nodding towards the screen. 

Optimus took the bait, casting his gaze downwards. 

His ‘eyebrows’ (could she even call them that?) rose and disappeared slightly behind his helm as he examined the screen.  He reached out a gentle hand and poked it lightly with one finger, seemingly surprised by how easily it gave way underneath his touch.

“What is it?” he rumbled, lifting his optics back up so that they rested on Elena once more. 

Elena took a deep breath.

“I thought that you and I could have a movie night, if you want?  I know Arcee and Wheeljack are busy in South America with Primal looking on how to harvest that raw energon and Mirage and Bumblebee are holed up outside Noah’s apartment.  They are having a gaming tournament on Kris’ Sega Drive.” 

Optimus did not speak for a moment, seemingly struck speechless. 

“You wish to…have a movie night with me?”  he spoke quietly, his voice almost vulnerable. 

Elena laughed.  “You don’t have to sound so scared!  I just thought it might be nice for you to have some downtime.  Don’t think about work for a while.  Lose yourself in a world of make-believe, even if it’s just for one hour.” 

Optimus smiled gently at her.  Even though it was only small, it transformed his entire face.  The metallic mosaic that made up his facial plating shifted and allowed her a glimpse of someone who had not yet been touched by the horrific burdens and responsibilities that came with trying to co-ordinate a war from an alien planet.

“You should do that more often.”  She watched in amusement as his eyebrows shot upwards into his helm again.

“I am afraid I am not following your meaning, Elena.  What should I do more often?”

“Smile!  You have a nice smile.”  Once again it appeared that she had rendered the Autobot leader totally and utterly speechless. 

This time, it was he who opted for the diversion tactic. 

“Why are you on the catwalk?  You will need to set up the movie, I am not familiar with how to operate human technology, and I fear my hands are too large to work such technology without causing irreparable damage.” 

Elena smiled warmly at him.  “I can help you with that last part, but you might need to help me get down from here.  The ladder fell as I was climbing up it.” 

His optics widened in alarm.  “Were you injured?”  His voice resumed the earlier tones of his concern. 

“Nah.  I got up here in time.  I’ve just been stuck up here for the last hour or so.  No big deal.” 

“It is a ‘big deal’ Elena.  You could have been harmed.  Where is this ladder now?” 

He followed her point to where the ladder had fallen earlier. 

Walking over, he bent from the waist and picked the ladder up easily in both of his large hands, turning it over and examining it.  Blue rays of light shot out from his optics as he continued his thorough inspection.

“What are you doing?”  Elena asked, making her way over to the edge of the platform where the ladder had previously been mounted. 

“Determining where the structural weakness is.”  Optimus replied, focusing on the top of the ladder.  He gave it a light tap with the index and middle fingers of his left hand.  A deafening clang resounded throughout the room, made all the more impressive by the warehouse’s acoustics.  The ladder had broken clean in half, one piece clasped in Optimus’ right hand and the other laying in a cloud of dust on the concrete floor.

“Hmm.  This is not salvageable.”  He retrieved the other piece from the floor and walked over to the wide doors of the warehouse, the ones he had entered through earlier and easily lobbed the pieces of the ladder outside as if they weighed nothing at all. 

He made his way back over to Elena then, the fingers of his left hand gently uncurling as he held it out in front of her. 

“May I?”  He offered her another gentle smile, his optics softening by a tiny degree.

Elena hesitated.  It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but he was so huge.

Humming The Sign under her breath, Elena walked towards Optimus’ outstretched hand.  She watched in awe as his fingers gently wrapped themselves easily around her midsection, lifting her with alarming ease. 

Involuntarily, her knees came up and she grabbed onto Optimus’ thumb so tightly she felt like her knuckles might tear through her skin.  She scrunched her eyes tightly shut as the sensation of leaving her stomach behind on the catwalk overtook her senses. 

A low chuckle rumbled somewhere from above her.  “Easy Elena.  I’ve got you.  I promise I won’t drop you.”  Optimus’ voice was a gentle, sonorous baritone that curled around her, caressing her senses like the forgotten embrace of a dear friend.

She didn’t respond but kept her koala-like grip tight on Optimus’ thumb, not trusting her reaction if she opened her eyes and saw how high she was suspended in midair. 

Another amused chuckle echoed deep in her chest.  “Elena, you can put your feet down.  You will find solid ground.” 

Cautiously, Elena lowered one leg, toeing the open air with her Doc Marten boot.  She was surprised to find the ground a lot sooner than she had anticipated.  Not quite trusting that, she very slowly creaked one eye open and saw that Optimus was right.  She looked up at him sheepishly and almost burst out laughing at the position he was in. 

He was crouched right down, almost on his haunches.  His right hand was splayed palm-down on the concrete floor, a counter-balance for his immense weight.  The fingers of his left hand were still wrapped firmly but gently around  her middle, patiently waiting for her to regain a steady, vertical base before he withdrew. 

She placed both feet firmly on the ground, simultaneously loosening her grip on Optimus’ thumb before letting go of it completely.  She offered him a sheepish smile, her fingers interlocking themselves together in her embarrassment.  “Thanks Optimus, ‘preciate it.” 

He inclined his helm graciously at her, pulling his hand back and resting it atop one of his bent knees.  “You are most welcome.  I am pleased to have been of assistance.  I will see about getting that ladder replaced as soon as possible.” 

He remained in the crouched position, his optics carefully trained on Elena.  “And in answer to your earlier query…I would be honoured to join you for a…movie night.  May I ask what move we are going to be watching?” 

Elena grinned up at him, all her earlier trepidation forgotten.  “Well, it’s technically a new one.  It isn’t out on VHS yet, but I don’t think there’s a drive-in theatre in the city that would accommodate your vehicle mode.  So Noah got a copy of the movie from his friend Reek.” 

Optimus raised an incredulous brow.  “Is this the gentleman who pirates cable television?” 

Elena stared at him dumbfounded.  “How on earth do you know that?!” 

Optimus had the grace to offer her a wry smile.  “Mirage is not the best at keeping certain information confidential.  However, in the grand scheme of things…I do not think a pirated movie is going to turn you into a hardened criminal Elena.”  He winked playfully at her before drawing his index finger across his lip plates in a ‘zipping’ motion. 

Elena was momentarily lost for words.

Since their return from South America and near death, Optimus’ stoic and stern demeanour had softened a lot.  He was more talkative and seemed to take genuine interest and enjoyment from interacting with both Noah and Elena. 

He would inquire after Kris’ health from Noah, asking if his little brother had had any bad flare ups recently or if at long last, he had managed to defeat the Bowser level on his ‘handheld video game device.’ 

He would spend long hours talking with Elena about her work and where her interest in ancient artifacts had started.  He had been one of the first to warmly congratulate her on the recognition of her discovery in Peru and her initiative in decoding the code to the panel that would have allowed them to deactivate the Transwarp key. 

She decided she liked this friendly, slightly goofy side of Optimus Prime.

She shook her head, realising a few seconds had passed and Optimus was still patiently waiting for an answer.

“It’s a film called The Lion King.  It is a kid’s film, but it has one of my dad’s favourite actors in it.  He’s doing one of the voices.  I know my dad would have wanted to see it.” 

Optimus’ optics softened at the mention of her father. 

“Then I would be honoured to watch The Lion King with you Elena.” 

“Awesome!  Take a seat then, it’ll take be two seconds to get the projector running.” 

His joints creaked and his hydraulics hissed as he rose to his full height, casting a long shadow over Elena.  He moved to sit against the wall directly opposite the screen, in the same position he had assumed when he had been a passenger in Stratosphere’s alt-mode; one leg stretched out in front of him with the other brought up to his chest, one arm resting easily on top of his bent knee.

She hurried over to the projector, double checking that everything was calibrated correctly and in the correct place before she set it to run.  Satisfied that everything was as it should be, she started the film reel and half-ran to where Optimus was sitting.

It suddenly dawned on her that he was sitting on the floor. 

“Aww man!”  She exclaimed, feeling foolish at the fact that she had overlooked such a massive detail. 

Optimus’ hydraulics hissed slightly as he turned his head to gaze down at her.  “What it is the matter?” 

“You’re sitting on the floor!  I should’ve thought of something for you to sit on.” 

He surprised her by uttering a barking laugh.  “Worry not Elena.  Any flat surface is more than suitable for me to recline on.  I do not require comfort in the same way that you humans do.”  He eyed the surrounding area, looking first to his left and then his right.  “However, where are you going to sit?” 

Elena laughed at her own forgetfulness.  “It’s okay Optimus.  I don’t mind sitting on the floor.  It’s no biggie.” 

Both of their attention was momentarily commandeered by the screen turning black as the film projector rolled. 

“If you would not be averse to it, would you like to sit on my shoulder?  It would be marginally more comfortable than the floor and I will be able to keep you warm.  The temperature drops quite quickly once the evening closes in.” 

Elena surprised herself when she agreed to his proposition with no hesitation at all.

His large hand descended towards her once more, fingers open and waiting for her to bridge the gap between them. 

She stepped forward into his grasp and was lifted gently and tenderly to his massive right shoulder.  His hand hovered behind her until she had lowered herself into a seated position, her legs dangling over the edge of his chest. 

“Umm, thank you Optimus.  Is this okay?”  She gestured to her legs, trying hard not to swing them to and fro as was her habit. 

He nodded the affirmative, his expression unreadable. 

“Cool.”  She settled back, leaning against the corrugated metal wall of the warehouse.  A sudden thought made her jerk upright again.  “Wait a minute, you’re not ticklish or anything, are you?” 

Optimus chuckled lightly.  “No Elena, I am not ticklish.  Assume whatever posture in which you are comfortable.” 

Satisfied, Elena assumed her earlier position, bringing one leg up to almost mirror Optimus. 

A comfortable silence fell between them as the opening notes of a dramatic voice sounded over the speakers Noah had hardwired into the warehouse within days of their return from Peru.

Elena watched, enraptured as beautiful scenes of the African plains rolled across the screen.  She was spell-bound by the colours and the emotion that the accompanying music stirred within her, piquing a curiosity for what was yet to come. 

She sneaked a sideways glance at Optimus, whose optics where trained on the screen.  He seemed to be as every part drawn in by the movie as she was. 

She felt the fine, baby-like hairs on the back of her neck rise along with the reflexive goosebumps across her arms and legs when she heard the deep, resonant tones of James Earl Jones’ voice coming from the character Mufasa.

She noticed, with interest, Optimus’ visible bristling when the main antagonist, Scar, was introduced into the cast.  He ground his lip plates subtly together, tightening the fingers of his left hand into a clenched fist at the same time. 

She watched, her throat thick with emotion as Mufasa gently reprimanded Simba after his reckless actions in the Elephant Graveyard, her eyes filming up with nostalgic tears as she watched them play rough and tumble. 

She could not however, stop the sharp intake of breath as she watched Scar cruelly throw Mufasa to his death, her own expression mirroring the one of hurt and horror on little Simba’s face. 

Tears fell freely and silently down her face, painting the pain and loss that had ached for so long to be released from her broken heart.  She worked hard to control her breathing, not wanting Optimus to see the vulnerability that was plastered across her face.

Optimus, ever tactful, shifted his helm slightly so that it was inclined towards her.  She leaned gratefully against it, silently accepting the comfort and support that he so freely offered.

She did not stop weeping for the rest of the movie but did find it within herself to laugh when Timon and Pumba attempted to distract the villainous hyenas with their ‘drag in hula’ skit.  Fresh tears assaulted her eyes as she watched Simba ascend Pride Rock for the first time since his acceptance of his role as king. 

She let herself feel the gentle flutter of her own heartbeat when Simba and Nala proudly introduced their newborn cub to the other residents of the plain, the circle of life completing once more. 

As the credits rolled across the black backdrop of the screen, Optimus turned fully to regard her.  His round optics were kind and gentle, appraising her with an unspoken sense of concern. 

“Are you alright Elena?” 

That one simple question seemed to unlock the floodgates within her. 

Her tears fell without pause now, creating a constant stream of moving liquid down her face.  Optimus’ large visage went watery in her vision, obscured as it was by the relentless tears falling from her eyes. 

With a gentleness that belied his enormous size, Optimus gently wrapped his fingers around Elena’s mid-section once more and lifted her, carefully setting her down on his right forearm.  He kept the arm she was on tucked close to his chest and leaned down closer to her, keeping his left hand cupped securely around her back.

Without even really thinking about what she was doing, Elena raised her arms and wrapped them as much as she could around the Autobot leader’s neck.  She felt him stiffen lightly in surprise before relaxing and leaning down into her embrace. 

She felt his hand tighten slightly around her back and shoulders, his metallic thumb brushing against her arm in a comforting gesture.  She buried her face into the space between his neck and chin, aching to feel the close affection of a parent.

An embrace that she had not felt for three years. 

Elena felt the smooth rocking sensation as Optimus gently moved first forwards and then backwards.  His thumb continued stroking her arm gently while his arms held her together as she fell apart.

“Shh.  It’s okay Elena.  You can let go.  I’ve got you.”  His gentle, affectionate cadence was all that she needed to be pushed off the edge and into emotional free-fall. 

Her sobs came slowly at first, creeping up upon her as the incoming tide creeps up on the beach.  They exited out of her slowly and quietly, a slow bleed of pain that she had denied herself from feeling since her father’s death three years previously. 

Then something inside her kicked up a gear. 

Anger and resentment.

Anger that her mother would not accept her for who she was.

Resentment for the fact that her mother had driven her first love away without remorse.

Anger that her father would never get to see her achievements.

The ever reaching, devastating power of the sadness that seeped from every pore in her body at the realisation that she would never again see her father, hear his voice or smell the coffee-stained newspapers in his cab. 

She cried like a wounded animal, the intensity of her pain drawing cruel lacerations up one side of her heart and down the other.  Her breaths came in short, sharp cries, like she had just taken part in a triathlon. 

She screamed out, rageful cries of someone who had taken all the pain they could bear. 

In a moment of pure vulnerability, the sound of Elena’s pain ripped up through her throat.  Her pain was echoed in her screams, reverberating with a fierce and desperate longing.  With each cry, her sobs became a little less intense as she came down from her abrupt adrenaline rush.  Each shaky exhalation was a cathartic purge of the sorrow and grief that had haunted her for years. 

Hydraulics hissed as Optimus gently withdrew from their embrace, looking at Elena with a profound sense of sadness present in his astute optics. 

“Elena, are you alright?”  He repeated his earlier question, holding her in the intensity of his soul-reaching gaze.  

She lowered her eyes from his, dropping her chin to her chest as a sudden feeling of overwhelming mortification creeped up her neck and into her face. 

Servos whirred as a gentle finger was placed under her chin, lifting her face to meet his optics once more. 

“Elena?” 

“I am…okay.  I’m really sorry about that Optimus.  I shouldn’t have allowed that to happen.”  She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, all too aware of their red and swollen appearance.  

“Do not ever be sorry for your feelings Elena.”  Optimus said, brushing a last few stray tears from her face with his thumb.  “I am profoundly sorry for your loss, and though I never had the pleasure of meeting your father, I believe he would be immeasurably proud of the woman that you are today.” 

Elena regarded him with a raised brow. 

“I say this because although I have only known you for a short amount of time, you have always conducted yourself with honour and dignity.  Even when my own behaviour was…less than courteous to you and your kind. 

“You had no reason to help us, yet you did, asking nothing in return.  In short, we could not have found the Transwarp key without your assistance.  And I wish to say, ‘thank you.’  Your valiant effort for my kind and I, as well as our planet, means more to me than I can articulate.  I am in your debt Elena.”

Elena, who had never been comfortable with receiving praise, squirmed awkwardly in Optimus’ grasp. 

“Noah did most of the hard work.  He took on Scourge and those weird spider-bot things.  He came to get the key for you from the museum.  I just stowed away really.” 

Optimus gave her a knowing look.  “Who worked out that the other half of the key was in Peru?  Who worked out the access code to the panel on the bridge?  Who,” he spoke more softly, his sonorous voice barely above a whisper, “who opposed vehemently to the destruction of the remaining half of the key once it was located?” 

Elena felt her blood run cold in her veins.  “You…you knew about that?”  Her own voice was barely audible to her ears.

Optimus surprised her by uttering a low chuckle.  “We Autobots possess extremely sensitive hearing Elena.  I do not blame Noah for his original intentions.  However, your…passionate opposition of destroying the remaining half of the key resounded deeply with me.  I could not understand why a mere human” he offered her an apologetic wink, “would want to help our kind.  I am beyond grateful that you did however.”

Elena half-smiled, refastening her bandana where it had become a little loose.  “We ain’t all bad y’know.  Sure, there are some evil bastards out there, more than there should be, but there are good ones too.  You just have to find ‘em.” 

Optimus hummed thoughtfully, seeming to agree with her. 

“Like Charlie.  Bee told me about her, when he first landed on Earth?” 

Optimus nodded.  “Indeed.  He speaks most highly of her.  I know he misses her terribly.” 

“You know, my dad always used to say, ‘if you keep your eyes and your ears open, life will show you everything you need to know.’” 

“A wise and accurate sentiment.  Your father sounded like a very wise and intelligent man.”  Optimus mused, bathing Elena in a pool of gentle blue light from his optics. 

“He was, he really was.”  Elena’s voice carried a sad tone of nostalgia, one that was tinged with the happiness of memories passed but burdened with the weight of absent love. 

Optimus seemed to hesitate before he spoke again.  “On my world, we believe that the ones who have passed on are in the AllSpark, reunited with our fallen brethren and wise mentors from the Golden Age.  In this, we are safe in the knowledge that we are never truly alone. 

“What I am trying to say Elena, is this; you are your father’s daughter.  Part of him, if you will excuse my borrowing of the sentiment from the movie we have just watched, lives on in you.  You are his legacy; you are his hope.  Remember that, and you cannot go far wrong.  Remember who you are, and I know his memory and spirit will walk proudly in step beside you.”

Elena hugged Optimus again, feeling the soft vibrations of his systems against her soft skin. 

“Thank you, Optimus.  Till all are one, right?”  She asked, holding out a closed fist to him. 

A gentle, warm smile transformed his face as he raised his massive left fist to lightly touch against hers.

“Indeed Elena.  Till all are one.”

[fruitcoops]

Hey Eve how are you doing I hope you're having a good day. Could you possibly if you want to make a fic like after the disownment fic and there's an interview with Sirius, Remus or (or the lions) on how they felt and there reactions and stuff only if you want to ofc I hope you are having a good day

This isn't a social media fic, but it does include include this prompt and was combined with an ask for Sirius having a hard time in the wake of a breakdown because he was doing so well before. Please pay attention to the TWs and let me know if I missed any. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW child abuse (past), angst, past trauma, mentions of going to therapy, and feeling overwhelmed

The studio cameras hadn’t seemed scary in a long, long time. Sirius stared at the white floor, toying with his ring and trying not to run screaming from the building; this is for them, he reminded himself. For everyone like me who never had someone speak up for them. The metal folding chair was cold under him.

“Sirius?” There was no hint of teasing in Marlene’s voice. “Are you ready?”

He had already saved himself and Regulus. Now it was time for the rest of them. “Oui.”

“Rolling in three, two, one…”

“My name is Sirius Black,” he said, channeling all the strength and control he could manage into his voice as he straightened up. “I’m 27 years old, the center and captain for the Gryffindor Lions hockey team, and a Stanley Cup champion.” He took a breath. “And I grew up in an abusive home. Last week, my biological parents officially disowned me for refusing to go back into the closet and under their control. It wasn’t dramatic. There was no media present. There was a lot of paperwork.

“But I’m not here to talk about that.” He swallowed, and felt some of his confidence return. Behind the camera, Marlene gave him an encouraging look with a shine in her eyes. “I’m here to talk to everyone else in my situation and let you know that you’re not alone. You can get out of there, and you can be the freest version of yourself. For the next month, 1/12 of all proceeds from Lions tickets will go to charities supporting abuse survivors and those currently living in abusive situations. My story is not the only one. We can make a difference.”

----------------

Sirius laid on his back on the lobby couch, letting “Radio Gaga” thump in his ears and drown out the tremors in his body. He had never said it publicly before—as far as the rest of the hockey world knew, his family was only rumored to be strict. He had been hesitant to do the video at first despite the tsunami of questions flooding their social media, and it wasn’t until Marlene suggested the charity aspect that he agreed.

Sirius didn’t like press. He liked it even less when it was poking around in his past, and when he had to support it.

The song ended and he paused the music, listening to his own breathing and steady pulse. You’re okay. You’re done. You made it through. He didn’t feel okay.

“—proud of him,” someone was saying inside the studio. Remus. “It was a complicated and painful thing to work through, but he never wavered from what he wanted and what was best for him.”

Six of his other teammates would speak, supporting the charity with a quick mention of their own feelings in case any assholes on the internet got bright ideas about speaking for them and their feelings on Sirius’ disownment. It was insane what people thought they found by digging through interviews.

“Hey, baby.” Sirius opened his eyes; above him, Remus was leaning over the armrest of the couch with a tired smile. He kissed Sirius’ forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “Ready to go home?”

“Don’t we have to stay until the end?”

“Marlene said she had everything she needed from us.”

Sirius blew out a slow breath and stood, wrapping his arms around Remus on instinct. “This feels like it’s going to go badly.”

“I don’t think it will,” Remus said quietly, rubbing up and down his spine. “I think it’s going to help a lot of people, and I hope it means we stop getting nosy comments now that you’ve answered the big questions and made it clear that’s the end.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They walked to the car in relative silence, hand-in-hand; Remus took the keys without a word, and relief washed over Sirius in a cool breeze. He didn’t feel grounded enough to drive safely. At the moment, he wasn’t sure he ever would. The whole world was hazy outside the passenger window, blurring the city he loved so much into smudges of colors—Remus was a presence next to him, but what Sirius wanted more than anything was some hot chocolate and a long, long nap.

“I don’t feel good,” he said, hardly above a whisper.

Remus glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he drove. “Do I need to pull over?”

“No, I just…” He sighed. “I thought I would feel better after getting this off my chest and helping people. I feel bad.”

“Can you eat?” He nodded. “I’ll make some soup when we get home if you want to lay down for a bit.”

Sirius’ eyes burned. “Sounds good.”

“Hey, baby, it’s okay,” Remus soothed, reaching one hand down to close around the one Sirius kept on his thigh as Sirius sniffled and shook with the effort of keeping in his tears. “It’s okay. You can call Marlene and ask her not to publish the video. That’s in your rights, you don’t have to—”

“No,” Sirius choked out, wiping his tears away with the back of his wrist. “It has to happen. People have to know that they can help. I—I just—I don’t know how to feel and so everything is happening at once.”

Nobody had taught Sirius how to handle Feelings-with-a-capital-f until Dumo; suddenly, he felt like all that hard work was being undone in one fell swoop. He kept ahold of Remus’ hand and let the tears slide down his cheeks as he breathed through it, keeping both feet firmly planted in some semblance of control. Remus parked the car and turned to him without unbuckling his seatbelt. “Do you want to go inside, or should we drive for a bit?”

“I really want to go to bed.”

“How can I help?” Remus laced their fingers together again and Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. “You really don’t seem alright, love.”

“I’m not, and I don’t know how to fix it.” The words were broken glass in his throat. “I was doing so good. I don’t know how to go back.”

“Oh, baby,” Remus murmured, taking his seatbelt off to kiss Sirius’ temple. “Let’s go inside, yeah? You’ll be more comfortable there.”

Sirius nodded mutely, still pressing his lips together to stifle any sounds that tried to come out. It always seemed like when he started to cry, he couldn’t stop—whether that was a function of never crying for the majority of his life, he didn’t know, but it always felt horrible. No mistakes, his mother had told him. The video felt like a mistake. Still, he knew he couldn’t ask them to take it down. There were people that needed help, and he couldn’t let his childhood hide in the shadows anymore.

Remus turned as if to hug him when the door closed behind them, but Sirius slipped past and headed straight for the stairs. Sweatpants, hoodie, soup, blanket, talk. Talk, talk, talk until you can’t stop. Then sleep. He heard Remus moving around in the kitchen as he stripped down and dug his softest sweatpants out of the drawer, followed by Remus’ most worn-down and oversized Wisconsin hoodie that he always wore when he didn’t feel well. Sirius buried his nose in the neckline and inhaled deeply; the familiar scent soothed the rush of blood in his ears.

He didn’t bother with socks and made a beeline for the couch, wrapping himself in the afghan blanket one of Hope’s friends had crocheted for their wedding. Hope had kept it in the Lupin house so she wouldn’t forget to bring it with her, and it smelled like them, too. It smelled like safety and a happy house and healthy childhoods.

Another tear slipped out when Remus set down some water and the soup—Campbell’s chicken noodle, can’t go wrong—and Sirius curled up against the armrest to make room. “I need to talk to you,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

The cushions dipped as Remus sat next to him and crossed his legs. “About what?”

“Everything.” His voice broke. “The way I grew up, everything about it. I—Re, I never lied to you, I promise. I just didn’t talk about it because I didn’t want to scare you, but I have to be honest with you.”

“…alright.”

Sirius took a shaky breath; his mouth was dry, and salty at the edges. “My parents—my parents hit me when I wasn’t good enough, and nothing was ever good enough unless I could do it again, and again, and again—”

“Sirius—”

“—and I thought everyone on my team didn’t get dinner if they didn’t get a goal and—”

“Stop—”

“—and Regulus and I, it was like we couldn’t breathe in that house with them scripting every move—”

“Sirius.” Remus’ hand covered his mouth and Sirius closed his eyes as a sob ripped free, but didn’t fight it. “Sirius, stop, please.”

“I have to tell you,” he said hoarsely, trembling from head to toe. “I have to be honest with you.”

“I love you, and I’m glad you can talk to me, but I’m not the person you have to tell.” Remus’ voice was thick with tears. “Being honest with me doesn’t mean telling me every detail, please, please don’t do that.”

“I couldn’t make mistakes,” he blubbered, leaning into Remus. “What kind of fucking freak tells a child they can’t make mistakes?”

Remus shushed him softly, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck as he went boneless into Remus’ chest. He could feel the hitching breaths under his face and regret reared up, but he felt so empty. There was so much more he could tell Remus and nothing he could say. “I love you,” Remus began, sniffling slightly. “I love you so much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I love you, I’m going to tell you that I am not the person you need to tell all this to right now. You should talk to someone who knows how to help, like Heather.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered.

“No, I understand.” A kiss pressed against the top of his head. “And I’m not upset at you. Both our emotions are running really high. I just—this isn’t blaming you or to make you feel bad, but it hurts to hear all the horrible things that happened to you. I already wish I could have stopped it before it happened, but hearing you say it is a lot worse than thinking about it and I wasn’t ready to hear everything.”

“That’s not everything.”

“I know.” Remus’ voice cracked. “I know, and that’s the worst part. This video was a bad idea, I should call—”

“No, no, don’t do that.” Sirius caught his wrist as he reached for the phone. “The video isn’t the problem. It will help people. It’s just hard for me to talk about it without getting overwhelmed.”

Remus hesitated, but left the phone alone and hugged Sirius close again. “I’m here.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not gonna leave.” His chest rose and fell. “But—but if you need to tell me things, not just today, please give me fair warning first.”

“I will,” Sirius promised. They sat quietly for a moment before he sat up and pulled the soup bowl into his lap, letting the steam roll over his face. “Mon dieu, I was doing so good before this. It’s been the best two years and now…”

“Now it’s going to be better,” Remus filled in when he trailed off. A slender hand tucked his hair behind his ear. “It’s going to be better, Sirius. For you, and for lots of other people that you’re helping. But this is the hard part.”

“This is the really, really hard part,” he agreed, taking a sip of broth. It was the perfect temperature. “Thank you.”

“It’s just soup.”

“No, for everything. Everything you’ve done for me.” he rested his head on Remus’ shoulder, then left a lingering kiss on his cheek. “I love you more than I can say.”

A wry smile tilted the side of Remus’ mouth up. “In English or French?”

“Both,” Sirius half-laughed. “Both, I promise. I’m going to finish this, and then can we take a nap?”

“That sounds perfect. Make sure to drink your water, too.”

It would not be an easy evening, or an easy night, or an easy anything when the video came out. But he would work through it, and he would remember what he had learned from his family and his friends to move past the roadblocks his childhood always created. He would call Regulus, they would cry together, and they would be okay. He would be okay.

[andreafmn]

I'm Not Afraid - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,325

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father's sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin's, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others' storyline.

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Description: (Y/N) finally arrives at Beacon Hills for the funeral of her aunt and meets a certain wolf to which she feels a special connection.

A/N: Second fandom I'm writing for. I love Teen Wolf so much and the trope of hard Derek but only soft for you makes my heart sing. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Next ->

Chapter 1

I hugged the black coat to my body as hard as I could whilst pushing through the sea of press. Our family's last name became quite known after the reports about my aunt, whose burial we were attending. She had allegedly burned down a house with people in it.  She killed them in cold blood. I hugged my grieving uncle and his less grieving wife, then my cousin who had a painful look on her face. I hugged her the longest. She let herself crumble on my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Even though she was a horrible person she was still our aunt, family.

I took my seat behind Allison when my father, my mother, uncle Chris, and aunt Victoria stood up. Allison didn't lift her head and neither did I. I just tried to comfort her.

"It's been such a long time I don't expect you to call me grandpa." We both looked up to see a white-haired man who resembled the Argent features. "Don't worry about it, just call me Gerard." He hugged both of us, an overpowering aura emanating from his being. When we were engulfed, I looked to the side and saw two boys squatting behind a gravestone. If they were hiding, they were doing a horrible job at it.

"But I prefer Grandpa," Gerard said walking to his seat. I sat back down and drifted off during the whole ceremony. Once it was over, I joined my parents and we drove to our new house. I have a feeling that life here will be very interesting.

That weekend I decided that I had been putting working out off for too long. I changed into comfortable workout clothes and gave food to my dog, Brody. I headed out the door, put my earbuds on, and started to jog. I really didn't know where I was going since it was a new place for me, all I know is that I kept running until I reached the woods. The bad thing about this, I had no idea how to get back home. Even though I knew of this sidetrack and I knew I would be late to get back home, I kept running, needing a release from the mundane feeling of being new in town and having to reunite from our estranged family in a funeral.

I had gained a lot of momentum. God knows how fast I was running at this point that is until I hit something, it almost felt like a wall. When I looked up, I saw a very handsome guy. Spiked hair, green eyes, and slight stubble. If it weren't for the fact that I was already sweaty I would have started to sweat showers of how nervous I was. That is until he opened his mouth.

"Watch where you're going." He growled at me.

"How about you fucking move and not be a prick?" He looked at me with big eyes, probably in surprise, but quickly changed to his menacing look. Who was he trying to fool?

"Well, this is private property, which means that you're trespassing, meaning you should pay more attention to your surroundings."

"I'm sorry but a burnt-down house with almost no walls or roof is barely a property. So, how about you stop being an idiot and I can be on my way." I started to jog once again but he gained my attention once more.

"You're new here, aren't you?" I turned around to face him.

"What's it to you?" He raised his eyebrow.

"I'll take that as a yes." The cockiness oozed out of his pores.

"And why the hell should that matter?"

"Because no one would dare talk to me that way."

"Who would be afraid of a little sour wolf?" He tensed up. "Dude, chill. I'm just kidding. But I doubt anyone would be afraid of Mr...."

"Hale. Derek Hale." He said extending his hand to me. Gee, after screaming at me he wants us to be acquaintances. I thought about not shaking his hand, but I didn't want to be rude. Well, more than I have been already.

"(Y/N). Argent." I shook his hand. Strong grip. Suddenly I felt a rush of déjà vu; I had met him the day before. "Wait, aren't you that guy I accidentally hit with my grocery cart yesterday?"

"Yeah, that really hurt. You hit my ankle. You could've had me limping."

"But you're not, so be grateful I didn't break your ankle." He laughed. "Damn, if I had known how cocky you really were, I would've hit you harder."

"So, you admit that you hit me?"

"Oh yeah, of course, I hit you. Accidentally that is."

"Yeah, yeah."

I looked around trying to find where the hell I had come from but there wasn't even the slightest trail as to where I was to go.

"So, miss (Y/N). Do you even know your way home?"

"No, but I'm sure I can find my way back." Then, he took keys out of his pocket and pointed to his car.

"Come on, I'll drive you around and you just tell me when something seems familiar."

"And why should I go with the guy that almost ripped out my throat for bumping into him? For all I know you could be driving me to my death." I crossed my arms over my chest, and he let out a loud sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping. But I'm trying to be nice. That doesn't happen very often."

"Alright, Mr. Hale. I'll let you take me home just because you are being nice now, after being a prick, and I'm exhausted."

"See, no one can resist me." I rolled my eyes at his cockiness. Seriously does he buy cans of it on eBay?

"Don't get cocky with me. I can punch the living daylights out of you." He chuckled and started to drive.

We drove for about 20 minutes until I finally recognized the curb that led to my house. Upon arriving at my driveway, I got out of the car and walked to the driver’s side.

"Give me your hand” For some reason, I felt compelled to do so. He took a pen and wrote down a number. "Call me if you ever need a tour of the town."

Three weeks later, I walked inside the school to meet up with Allison. I moved here with my family since dad had some business taking float. Being the new kid in town is never fun. I would know. I switch schools almost every year. The pro and con about this would be not being attached to anyone. Usually, I'm the one who doesn't talk to anyone and is called a freak. A derogatory term given to people who are way too different from others, but a title I wore proudly.

"Oh my gosh, (Y/N)! How have you been?" Allison wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. It was as if she hadn't seen me just three weeks ago.

"Hi, Allison. I've been good, getting acclimated to the new town. You?" You would think that because we were cousins, I would be more affectionate towards her but honestly, I wouldn't see her again for like three more years, so what's the point?

"I'm good. A little rocky at the start of coming here but good." Then, a boy with a buzz cut and one with great brown hair walked by and smiled at Alli. "Ooh, you should come meet my friends. Stiles, Scott!! Come here." The boys turned around with goofy grins on their faces.

"Hey, Allison. Who's this?" Buzzcut kid said.

"This is my cousin, (Y/N). She just moved here from Virginia."

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Scott." The one with the great hair said.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Stiles." I shook their hands and smiled.

"Nice to meet you, too, buzzcut." Allison and Scott laughed but Stiles only ran his hand through his hair, suddenly becoming hyperaware of his lack of locks.

"Allison. Who might this sexy lady be?" I rolled my eyes. The last thing I need is a narcissist with a god-complex trying to get close.

"Oh, Jackson, this is my cousin, (Y/N)."

"Hi." He extended his hand and looked me up and down.

"Hi." I smiled sarcastically, and when I didn't extend my hand, he dropped his.

Finally, after standing awkwardly behind Allison whilst her friends talked, the bell rang. Talk about saved by the bell.

"Hey, (Y/N), what's your first class?" I checked my schedule.

"Um, chemistry."

"Oh, good, then you're coming with us to Mr. Harris' class," Scott said pointing towards him and Stiles. I smiled and walked behind them.

Once we got to the classroom everyone turned to me, the ever-present sign of being new in the class evident in the stare of my classmates.

"Um, hi, my name is (Y/N) Argent and I'm new." The teacher, whom I guess is Mr. Harris, turned around to face me.

"Oh, yes, Miss Argent. Welcome. You will be sitting next to Isaac Lahey. Lahey, raise your hand." Once Isaac raised his hand, I noticed he was sat near Stiles and Scott. Two people I was trying to avoid. As I walked past, I accidentally pushed Stiles' book on his lap, startling him, resulting in an awkward descent from his lab stool onto the floor.

"Hi, again. I guess we are gonna see a lot of each other for the rest of the school year." I nodded and he scratched the back of his neck. "So, um, what school did you come from?"

"Lancaster High," I responded whilst writing down what Mr. Harris was writing on the board. Stiles kept trying to talk to me, but I would only give him short, cold answers or just ignore him. That is until Mr. Harris called our attention, that's when he finally got the memo to shut up.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to introduce myself since we're gonna be seated next to each other all year. I'm Isaac."

"I figured." I tried giving him my best smile. The vibe he was giving off seemed like he needed it. "I'm (Y/N)."

"Well, nice to meet you, (Y/N). Now I'll leave you to the class because if I don't I know I'll be failing even more than I am."

"Oh, well, maybe I can tutor you some time. I'm actually really good at science. My mom was a chemist professor once upon a time so I'm bound to understand all this."

"Really?!" His puppy eyes seemed to light up and I nodded. "That would actually be amazing."

"Sure thing. Now let's get back to class."

After Chemistry finished, I put everything in my bag as quickly as possible and sped to my next class, Math. Thankfully, none of Allison's friends shared this class with me but I did share it with Isaac.  I didn't consider him much a friend but more an acquaintance in desperate need of help.

As the day progressed, I noticed the rest of my classes were shared with one or more of Allison's friends. They all tried to strike up a conversation but were quickly discouraged when met with my one-worded or vague answers. Especially, Stiles. He tried especially hard to get answers out of me, only being met with the occasional laugh or stare at his comical occurrences. He seemed like the kind of person you could just open up to. The same could be said about Scott. His shy nature was alluring, and he portrayed himself as a very trustworthy and loyal being.

But I would not allow myself to let them in. My whole being yearned for a real friendship, someone to share nothing and everything; never again.

At lunch, I sat outside and ate my food quietly, a book in front of my face to shield my eyes from the sun the prevalent stares of my peers. After some minutes of appreciated loneliness, the empty table was filled with conversating teenage bodies. I smiled politely but, in my mind, I was cursing them out.

"So, (Y/N), how's your day been?" Allison asked whilst munching on an apple. I swallowed what was left of my bite and answered.

"Fine, thank you." This time no one pressed on after my short answers, finally getting the hint of my disinterest. In the corner of my eye, I saw Isaac sitting under a tree munching on half a sandwich. I excused myself and went to join him, heavily enjoying his tranquil aura.

"Oh, hi, (Y/N)." He smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, Isaac. Is that all you're eating?"

"Yeah. I'm not very hungry." He looked down as if he were ashamed.

"Nonsense! Here," I gave him the other half of my burger and another bag of chips I had in my bag. "You can't tell me you're not hungry. You're a boy in peak development."

"Thanks." He smiled as he continued munching on his food. I put on some music and we continued eating in silence. No conversation required.

The day went on smoother than it started. Classes flew by fairly quickly and the incessant chit-chat seemed to diminish. During last period I was like every other student, anxiously waiting for the bell to signal the end of the school day. When my pleads were answered, I packed the necessary book into my bag and left the rest in my locker, expertly avoiding any more social encounters. Quickly, I made my way to the waiting open car door of my father's car, ignoring Allison's beckoning me t.wards the small group of friends.

"How was your first day, darling?" My father spoke up breaking my attention from the scenery.

"Like any other first day I've had." I smiled. "The towns might change but school is always the same."

Finally at home, we were greeted with the sight of my mother cooking; people were coming over.

"(Y/N), honey, Chris, Victoria, and Allison are coming over tonight. So, go do a quick workout and come back to get ready." I nodded and ran to my room to change into workout clothes.

My routine would normally consist of waking up, working out, go to school for a dreading eight hours, come back home, workout again, do my homework, eat, and go to sleep. I lead a very monotonous life and it had been this way since I could remember. One of my earliest memories was of my father teaching me archery alongside Allison, a great distraction to our always disrupted home life. As I got older, my father started training me in boxing and knife maneuvering. How would these skills help me in life were still a mystery but I felt safe knowing them.

I got changed and decided to take Brody out with me on a quick jog through the woods. "Hey, boy, ready to go?"

He jumped on me which I took as a yes and started for the woods. We ran down the same trail I had been going on for the past three weeks. Mostly, I went down this track in hopes that Derek would make an appearance, and today was not the exception. As the ruins of his house came to view so did his tall figure.

"Trespassing again?"

"It doesn't count if I know the owner." During our greeting, Brody's leash slipped out of my hand and he ran to jump on Derek, leaving slobbering licks on his cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He chuckled and helped me bring him down.

"I guess he likes you, even though he doesn't like anyone but me. Guess you're special."

"Maybe." He grinned.

Out of nowhere, I hit him in the shoulder. "What was that for?!"

"For trying to run me over with your shopping cart two days ago. It was uncalled for."

"No, it was revenge. You hit ME first. In the ankle."

"You're still on with that. Come on, sour wolf. That happened three weeks ago, and it was an accident."

"Whatever. Come on, I'll give you a ride home. It's getting kind of dark." This had also become part of my routine. After "bumping" into Derek he would offer to drop me off at my house, claiming it was for security.

"Okay, we're here. By the way, the offer to show you around town is still up. Just call me whenever." He said as he stopped the car in front of my house.

"Alright, will do, and thanks for the ride, Derek. I'd invite you in, but my family is coming over."

"No worries, maybe another time."

"It's a date. Anyways, thanks again. See you when I see you."

"Okay, goodnight."

"Night." He waited until I entered the house and drove away.

"Munchkin, is that you?" My father screamed from the kitchen.

"Yeah!" I screamed back.

"Okay, well, go take a shower and get ready your uncle will get here soon."

I hurried up the stairs and hopped in the shower letting the hot water stream down my body calming any aching muscle that was palpitating. In my room, I searched through my closet for an acceptable family dinner outfit, deciding a grey sweater and black jeans would be enough. I braided my hair out of my face and went downstairs to help my mother set the table.

After we put the last plate the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" I ran to the door and was greeted by my uncle. "Uncle Chris!" I jumped and he hugged me. There was no doubt that he was my favorite family member, his presence was always welcoming. His wife on the other hand was as cold as the winters we spent in New York. She was nice but absolutely scary. "Hi, Aunt Victoria."

"Hello, (Y/N)." I hugged her and said hi to Allison.

"Come in, guys." They walked in and I closed the door behind them.

"So, (Y/N), how have you been?" Uncle Chris asked while stuffing his mouth with mom's famous lasagna.

"I've been good. I mean, moving all the time takes a toll on you at first, but I got used to it. It's easy now to pack it all up once the school year ends."

"Oh, honey, that must be so hard on you," Victoria said. I could not read her tone, her words spoke in sympathetic notes with an underlying melody of sarcasm.  Not knowing what to answer, I bit my lip and nodded.

The whole evening was spent on us catching up and eating, laughing, playing games, but the good times came to an end when the clock hit 9:00 pm. It was stupid to set a curfew, but my mom usually had everyone in bed at this time, 10:30 as of late.

"You better come around the house more often." Uncle Chris demanded and hugged me.

"Yes, sir." I raised my hand to my eyebrow and saluted, as did he.

"Let's go, Chris. And thank you for the lovely dinner, Rebecca," Victoria said linking arms with my uncle and smiling at mom.

"No problem. Come by any time." They talked for a bit more and after they left, I went upstairs to change for bed.

"Momma, I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Okay, honey. Goodnight." I went upstairs, brushed my teeth, and put my hair in a ponytail.

Before bed, I made sure everything I would need for the next day was packed into my bag and made sure my alarm was set. I pulled all the throw pillows from my bed and set them aside, then making my way to the window to draw the curtains. Something caught my attention in the backyard, though. My eyes squinted trying to make out the figure in front of me. Blinking the confusion away, I made a double-take and looked back at an empty yard. I laughed to myself as I crept into bed. Why would Derek be in my backyard?

Next ->

[dameronology]

to all the pilots i've loved before {poe dameron} - 3/4

part three: better half of a whole

summary: you’re in love with poe dameron. it’s both the most complicated and most simple thing in the galaxy - and it’s all shoved into a shoe-box under your bed, in the form of a thousand love letters. here’s to hoping he never finds them. (series masterlist)

warnings: language, mentions of injury

i'm so sorry this took me so long to write!! i got writer's block and then i was horribly busy with a thousand others things and sadly, i cannot prioritise fan fiction over real life duties. and i would know, because i've tried

enjoy!!

- jazz

Poe didn't sleep for...well, it was probably days. Felt like years.

Dear trouble,

Every time he closed his eyes, your face would flash into his mind. The sound of your laugh echoing amongst the cries of war; the feel of your soft hands tracing the remains of battle scars and wounds. What if the hug you gave him before you left was the last? What if your slightly pained laughter at the shitty joke he'd made in the jungle the night before was all he had left? He cherished every memory he had of you but he loved you more.

I know you hate when I call you that, but it feels pretty accurate - because you do cause trouble, normally with me but more recently FOR me. Anyways, I never considered myself to be much of a letter writer, but then I saw yours and...fuck.

Love. What a funny fucking word, right? Said so easily, but meant so much. Something that felt so hard to find, but even more difficult to hold onto. His parents had found it and they'd kept it for so long, and he'd always wanted the same - nothing less, nothing more. Just the kind of unwavering, undying love that can survive a war and be happy with the domesticity that followed. The only difference between Poe and his parents was that they'd been fearless with every aspect of their lives, not withholding their ability to express feelings. Perhaps that's where he fell short. Shara had taught him a lot of things but she'd been lost before he taught her how to pull his head out his ass and just...say things how they were.

What am I even supposed to say? I love you too would be a start, because I obviously I do. I've always wanted to say it but I never wanted to risk what we had in case you secretly hated me, and now I'm going to live out the rest of my days regretting it.

The first that Poe managed to finally get some rest was four days after Leia had broken the news of your disappearance. He'd fallen asleep in his quarters, curled up into Finn's side and clutching a t-shirt of his that he'd left in your room - you'd borrowed it a few months ago, and it still smelt of you. It was a mixture of your everyday body fragrance and a little of engine oil. BB-8 was snoozing quietly in the corner and for the first time in days, Poe's jaw and shoulders weren't tense and clenched.

The little robot did stir, however, when he got a comms system message from Leia. He was awake immediately, cruising across the room and crashing straight into the nearest human he could find - and it was at that point that Finn regretted leaving his leg dangling off the side of the bed. He jumped awake, brown eyes finding the droid peering up at him.

You're not just my best friend. You're my partner in crime, my soulmate and you know that twin flame bullshit that Rey always go on about? You're probably that too because we're both flaming hot. You're the better half of this whole. You and me.

"Poe is sleeping, buddy," he quietly said.

"There's a message from the general," BB-8 beeped back.

Poe suddenly woke up at that - it could have been any message, and certainly not one about you, but something in his gut told him otherwise. If it hadn't have been, Leia would have left it til morning, or not even bothered him at all in his current state.

"What?" the pilot asked. "What is it?"

"They're back, in the med-"

Poe didn't give him a chance to say anything else, because he was already up and out the door - jacket unzipped, boots half unlaced, hair sticking up in a thousand different directions.

And even though he hadn't slept for days, he was running for his dear fucking life. The medical bay was right on the other side of the base and he didn't care. You were there - in what state, he didn't know - and that was all that mattered. He was just wanted to be with you, beside you, and he never planned on leaving.

If I see you again, I'm not gonna hide it anymore. I love you and you deserve to know that. I'm gonna give you the fucking world, I promise.

Poe skidded around the corner, stopping his tracks when he saw you across the room. You looked tired - far past it, in fact - and his entire body tensed when he saw the bruises on your arm and up your neck. Still, he took comfort in the fact that he knew you put up a good fight. You'd sparred together enough times and given him enough bruises to last a life time.

There was a slight oof as someone crashed into the back of Poe (Finn's subtle way of announcing his arrival). He placed a hand on his shoulder, shoving him forward slightly. It was clear that Poe was in a state of shock - at your loss, at your declaration, and even more at your return - because the last few days had changed everything.

Everything he'd ever wanted was about to come to fruition. No pressure.

"Go to them," Finn murmured.

With that, Poe took a few steps forward - you met him half away across the room, chests colliding with enough force to knock down an ATAT. He wound his arms you, pulling you towards him with one hand tangled in your hair and the other holding your back. He clung to you, tears in his eyes and entire body shaking, almost as though he was using the feeling of you to act as a reminder that this wasn't a dream. You were here. You were back. Perhaps a little worst for wear, but alive and standing all the same.

I don't know how I'll say it. Am I meant to just blurt it out? I've never said it to anyone before, so...what the fuck am I meant to do? Normally, I'd come to you for advice on this sort of this but that feels a bit counter intuitive.

"Hey, Poe," you gently murmured.

"Hey, trouble," he let out a shaky laugh, pulling back from the hug to clutch your face in his hands. "You're alive. You're here-"

"- yeah, I'm here," you grinned.

"What happened?" he pushed. "If I ever find those First Order bastards, I swear it's on site."

"They were trying to shoot us out the sky, so we had to lay low on a random moon for a few days, but the residents of said moon were not very friendly and - you know what? It doesn't matter," you leant into his touch, relishing the feeling of his hands against your skin. "I'm here and that's what's important."

"I was so scared," Poe admitted. "And they had me search your room for back up plans and-"

You froze.

"You...you searched my room?" you stuttered. "What did you find?"

The main thing is, I AM gonna tell you. I promise. Just...please come back.

Love, Poe

Poe's eyes widened - maybe now wasn't the best time to break the news. You were bleeding from your head and hadn't slept for days. To spring it on you before you were even cleaned up felt a bit unfair. His worst fears had been avoided, so he didn't mind waiting just a little longer.

"Nothing," he forced a smile. "C'mon, I'll clean you up."

Taking your hand in his, Poe lead you towards one of the beds. He was hardly a medical expert, but he'd been through enough cuts and scrapes to have a basic understanding of stitches. And luckily, your injuries didn't look too bad. It was more just the fact you had them in the first place that hurt him.

What if he'd gone on the mission with you? Or convinced you to stay? Fuck, he would have gone in your place if he knew what was going to happen. The last few days had been the worst of his life and he almost felt responsible for what had happened to you. Your pain was his pain, and he felt it in every fibre of his being.

But, of all things, at least he knew what love was now - and if you had never have gone MIA, he never would have gone looking in your room, and he never would have found those letters. It felt like a bit of a dick move to call them a blessing in disguise but his mother had always taught him the value of looking for silver linings. The last week had been one giant thunderstorm. There had been no breaks in the rain, or sun peaking through the clouds. It had just been darkness and thunder, but it was all beginning to clear now.

What was it that Shara had said when Poe was a kid? Things have a funny way of working out. This was all a testament to that, and also to the fact that she always seemed to be right.

Poe's hands moved gently as he stitched up the cut on your forehead. They were still steady as they moved, brown eyes occasionally moving down to meet yours. He always smiled when they did.

"There we go," he said. "That shouldn't scar, but if it does, it would make you look like a bad-ass, so..."

You chuckled slightly. "Thanks, Dameron."

"You don't have to thank me," he quietly murmured, running a thumb over your cheek. "I'm just glad you're back."

"Right," you grinned. "What did you do whilst I was gone?"

Cried. Read those letters. Cried some more. Wrote a letter myself, then cried on that too.

"I just...I caught up some on some reading," he forced a smile. "C'mon, let's go to my quarters. I have some bactaspray there for those bruises."

Poe took your hand in his again and helped you up off of the bed - you seemed okay to walk, but he didn't let go. He needed to feel you, to know that you were there. He was worried you might float away into the galaxy and disappear all over again if he didn't cling onto you.

And for you, the feeling of his warm hands against yours was a welcome relief after a long few days. You were trying to push the pain and the incoming nightmares to the back of your head, and it was much easier when Poe was beside you. You already knew that he was going to make you sleep beside him that night. Being on the same wavelength so often was a great feeling.

Poe hadn't thought about tidying his room - why would he? He'd been so preoccupied with you, and finding you, that he'd barely considered the idea. Besides, it wasn't like you were going to care about the shoes by his door, or the letters on his desk, or the unfolded laund-

- fuck.

The letters.

Your box of letters, which was sat on his desk, which was right by the door.

By the time he'd even registered that they were there, you were already half way into the room. In a somewhat half-arsed attempt to shove them back in the box and toss them to the side, Poe dove forward and knocked them into an open draw, slamming it shut.

When he turned around and saw your wide eyes, it was clear he was a little too late. You'd already seen them.

taglist: tags: @neverlandlibrarian @asphyzzz @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ubri812 @taina-eny @dessinemoiunehistoire @fangirl-316 @princessxkenobi @brandyllyn

[trashforhockeyguys]

Don’t Hold Me -20- Carter Hart

A/N: So umm the whole thing takes place in a hospital. Mentions of serious injuries, and all that goes with that. Other than that though, nothing too triggering? I don’t think? As always all previous parts are linked in my master list.

Travis scanned over all of the articles that came out as soon as it became public knowledge who was involved. The media team was doing everything they could to keep it quiet and control the coverage, but news crews were already set up outside of the hospital. They didn’t know who did it. Carter didn’t know the guy, nor could he give an accurate description. It was too dark, it all happened too fast. All anyone knew was that you nearly died. Hell, you still could. 

Travis locked his phone and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He’d never seen you look so pale, even all those years ago. You looked twenty times worse now. They were told that you lost a significant amount of blood before anyone could get to you. Travis couldn’t even think about Carter trying to keep you from bleeding out in the street. 

Carter, of course, wouldn’t talk about it. He refused to leave, just like Ethan. But Kora eventually convinced both of them that they needed showers and food. But Carter also had to go to the rink. The media team thought it would be best if they held a press conference. Especially since the media was reporting that Carter had been hurt as well. But physically, he was fine. Mentally though? Travis knew this wasn't something he’d get over easily. None of them would.

Your parents were stuck at home, they couldn’t get on a flight out here, nor could they take the time off from work. They tried everything they could think of, but they just couldn’t. So when Ethan wasn’t here, Travis was in charge of sending them as many updates as he could. Nolan would stop by from time to time to bring Travis something, or just sit with him so he wouldn’t be alone while Kora and Ethan were gone. 

“She looks better today,” Nolan said, sliding into the chair on the other side of your bed. 

“She looks like shit,” Travis mumbled, “They said the biggest concern now is going to be infection.”

Nolan reached over and carefully grabbed one of your hands, “She’s still cold.”

Travis nodded slowly, “They did another blood transfusion like an hour ago. Apparently her body is still trying to regulate.”

Nolan reached for his phone, he scrolled through a couple of notifications, “They’re going to announce that they’ve postponed the game tomorrow. Other teams are reaching out with support. And Carter is about to go live, do you want me to turn it on?”

He shook his head, “No. I don’t want her to hear it.”

Nolan, for the life of him, couldn’t imagine exactly what Travis was feeling. He loved you, sure. But he didn’t love you anywhere near how Travis did. You were Travis’ little sister, the sister he never had. He’d never seen Travis act so protective over anything before he saw him with you. 

He was with Travis when he got the call. Ethan and Kora had just fallen asleep. Carter couldn’t get ahold of anyone else, so he called the first person he knew would be there. Nolan spent the entire drive to the hospital trying to calm down everyone, not just Travis, but Ethan and Kora too. Even Nolan wasn’t sure how he was able to stay so calm. 

“She’ll pull through,” Nolan assured his teammate. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t.”

Meanwhile, across town, Carter was in a cold sweat. He hated the media to begin with, much less in a situation like this. He had to practically be dragged from the hospital by Kora and Ethan. He’d refused to leave your side. Everything was a blur at this point, but he knew that he didn’t let go of your hand once until you were being wheeled into an operating room. 

He couldn’t remember all of the terms that the doctors rattled off after you came out. Kora was the one who had enough presence of mind to ask them to use simple terms so everyone knew what was happening. But all Carter could hear was that you lost too much blood before you were brought in, that you’d flatlined several times. That it could still be touch and go. 

“Carter? They’re ready for you.”

His hands shook as he followed everyone into the room and towards his seat behind the table. Cameras started flashing automatically. When the Flyers said that a statement was being made, no one thought Carter would be the one to make it. The media was reporting that he’d been hospitalized too. He wished it was him, and not you. 

He blindly answered the questions that were thrown at him. The media team coached him on what needed to be said, less was more. Especially given that they didn’t even have any leads on who did this. 

Everytime he closed his eyes he saw you in his arms, growing paler by the second, as he screamed for someone to help. He wasn’t sure that he would ever get that image out of his head. How could he?

Kora was waiting outside the arena. Her hair was wet like she’d just showered. She was in oversized sweatpants with an old faded sweatshirt to match. She held her arms out, offering Carter a much needed hug. For a second he wondered if he wouldn’t just fall apart right there in the parking lot. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you back to Travis’ place, it’s closer to the hospital,” She told him, “You need to sleep.”

“No, I need to go back to the hospital,” He replied quickly. 

“Carter, you’ve been up for over twenty four hours,” Kora explained, “You won’t do her much good if you’re sleep deprived.”

But when he looked at her, with eyes filled with so much pain, she knew she couldn’t keep him away from you. So, Kora just held Carter as tightly as she could before promising to take him back to the hospital after he at least ate some food. 

The scene at the hospital hadn’t changed though. The rest of the boys were still crowded around you. Nolan came out to meet Kora as Carter rushed in to join Travis and Ethan. But Kora couldn't bring herself to walk in, not yet at least. She didn’t want to see you like that, not up close. 

So instead she handed Nolan a coffee cup and leaned against the wall, “How’s Travis?”

“A fucking wreck,” Nolan breathed out, rubbing his face with his free hand, “Did you get Carter to eat?”

Kora nodded, “Barely.”

Nolan looked behind him, studying his friends gathered in your little room, “The doctor stopped by about half an hour ago, they want to try to back off her sedatives this afternoon. Her vitals have held long enough apparently.”

It seemed that there was a little light to the day. If Kora understood Nolan well enough, you were out of the woods now. Save for the potential recovery complications, but enough that they were willing to try to wake you up.

She took a deep breath, feeling like her chest was going to cave in from the weight that settled on it the moment they got the first call, “You should go home Nol. I can take care of them.”

He forced a small smile, “Yeah but who’s gonna take care of you?”

She shrugged, eyes focused on the three boys huddled around your bed. Kora wondered what would’ve happened had none of you gone out. If you’d all gone right home, rather than staying late at a club. Maybe none of you would be here right now. 

“I’m going to go grab some food across the street,” Nolan said quietly, “Call me if something changes.”

He had to fight himself from looking back at you in the bed. You looked so different from the girl he’d come to love like a sister. Definitely not to the same level as Travis. But he found it to be impossible to be around you for very long without feeling protective over you, just like he was with his own sisters. Nolan never really thought that he’d have to imagine a world where you wouldn’t be around. But now he had, and he didn’t like it. 

You just seemed to make the world better. He wanted that back sooner rather than later.  

It was several hours later when you felt yourself being pulled from the dark. Reality started coming back to you, and that’s when the panic set in. Your heart started to race as you felt the pain, at first what felt like a dull ache felt like a white hot iron being plunged into you. You wanted to scream out, but you couldn’t. You could barely move. 

“Y/N? It’s okay, you’re safe.”

You knew that voice. The same calming voice you’d heard all your life. Ethan shouldn’t be here. You were in a dark part of town, alone on the sidewalk. No...not alone. Carter. Carter was with you. 

“Y/N, I need you to relax, okay? Please,” Ethan seemed to beg.

Your eyes finally opened to stark white lights. You could hear the rapid beeping of a machine next to you, it sounded like a warning. You tried to move, to speak, to do anything, but the pain only worsened. Even breathing hurt. 

“Hey, there you are,” Ethan let out a broken laugh that seemed to almost border a sob. 

You couldn’t think straight, but you knew none of this seemed right. This wasn’t where you were supposed to be. Your head felt like it would split open before you could even get a word out. Your body didn’t feel right. None of it felt right.

“Hurts,” You forced out, the effort of the one word made everything worse. 

“Okay, okay. Hold on, I’ll get a nurse,” Ethan reached over and pushed some sort of button and a few seconds later a nurse came strolling in. 

Everything felt cloudy to you. Like you couldn’t quite wake up all the way. The nurse said a few words to you before moving to your IV port. Pain medication, that’s what she was doing. Maybe without the searing pain you could think. Why did it hurt so much?

“There you go sweetheart,” The nurse said gently, “That should help. You just call us if you need anything else.”

Ethan said a quick thank you, not taking his eyes off of you. You wondered just how bad you must’ve looked. Your whole body felt stiff and heavy. The pain dulled just enough. Almost like the sun breaking through a thick layer of clouds. 

“Carter? Where-”

“He’s fine,” Ethan said quickly, “Kora made him and Travis leave so they could sleep.”

You felt your body relax just a little. He was okay. Zachary didn’t touch him. He was safe. You could take all the pain, as long as you were the only one who had to deal with it. 

“How bad?” You questioned, voice straining. 

You could tell just by the way that Ethan’s face changed that it wasn’t good. Hell, just by the way your body felt it wasn’t good. You could remember little bits and pieces of what happened. But it was like things kept going in and out of focus. 

“Pretty bad. Don’t ever do that to me again,” He begged, “I swear to god. I thought we’d lost you.”

You held his hand, tightening your grip on it. It seemed you hadn’t really come all that far from where you were in high school. There was a time when you were in this exact same situation. You hated that he had to go through this again. Once again, Zachary proved that he would do anything, he simply didn’t care. He never had. 

Some silly part of you still had hope that deep down he cared. Maybe if for just a second. You thought he wouldn’t be capable of something like this. Despite everything, despite all you knew and all he’d put you through, you still had a sliver of hope.

“You look like shit,” You tried to joke. 

“And you look like hell,” He replied flatly, “But you almost died, several times, so I’m allowed to look like shit.”

You nodded, knowing he’d been through enough. Not just in the last few days, but ever since Zachary came into your life. You once hoped that coming to Philly would mean a fresh start for you, but once again he proved that nothing changed. She was still the same little girl, so afraid of her own shadow. 

“I’m going to go call mom and dad,” Ethan said softly, “You just get some rest. I’ll be back in a bit.”

You nodded, trying to relax back into the bed. Every little movement hurt. You knew if you looked under the thin hospital gown that your midsection would be bandaged up. You didn’t want to know the details yet. Part of you still thought you could wake up from this nightmare. Maybe if you didn’t know you could act like it wasn’t that bad. 

But then the thought of what you told Carter before it all happened….You couldn’t go to Canada now. You couldn’t do that to him. Zachary could easily follow you there. It obviously wouldn’t be the first time that he tracked you down hundreds of miles from home. You felt sick. This really wouldn’t end. He would always be there in some way or another. You’d always carry these scars around. 

You would never really be free, and Carter would never really be safe.

[shewhotellsstories]

Would you agree that Katara falls into the stereotype of young brown and black girls being adultified because of how when her older brother key word OLDER sees his YOUNGER sister’s face when he pictures their mother? I mean Katara pretty much was the one who was forced grow up and take the role of a motherly figure and she was like 7 at the time. It doesn’t sit well with me but at the time I understand it’s the culture she grew up in. I hope I am making sense.

Yes and no. Studies show that adults do unfortunately see girls of color as less innocent and less in need of support than their white peers but Katara is complicated. Her storyline (I’m sticking to atla for this ask) wasn’t the typical sidekick/mammy one where the narrative said that she truly wanted nothing but to be a caretaker. Her being so motherly came from a place of pain, she did it because she felt it was her responsibility because her mother died. Sokka’s “in Katara I trust” speech to Toph remains one of my favorite moments on the show, but I wish more characters had told her when they knew she was listening that they appreciated her and knew how important she was to the gaang. A poet I follow has this line “who would I be without the bruises across my soul.” In a world where Kya hadn’t died and Katara hadn’t felt responsible, maybe she wouldn’t have been so motherly.

I would say that Katara’s a deviation in many ways from the toxicity the “brown girl is everyone’s mother” trope can take on because she’s allowed to want more. She’s allowed to want to fight and challenges sexism many times throughout the series. She’s allowed to grieve loudly and and sometimes angrily. And although I think Katara’s an inherently compassionate person, “momtara” isn’t inherently who she is, it’s who the war kind of forced her to be.

Now, I tend to see the Water Tribe siblings as taking care of each other in different ways. That being said, it's telling that when Sokka tries remembering his mother he sees his little sister. He could be repressing some things due to his own grief but I’ve seen it said that Katara’s an example that you can be the youngest but still fall victim to eldest daughter syndrome.

Story time. I was talking about the eldest daughter thing a week ago with a friend. Like me she’s Black and the middle child but the oldest daughter. Since her family structure is very similar to mine (an older brother and a younger sibling) we were discussing the double standards we experienced growing up. We were both always expected to be more responsible than our older brothers. And of course, since we were girls it was just such a given that we’d want to be on-call babysitters for younger siblings. I remember listening to my mom’s friends tell her how lucky she was to have a girl to help out. Nothing similar was ever said about my brother. But when I’d complain my mother would talk about how she “practically raised” my aunt and uncle so I don’t have to guess where her “older sisters are spare parents” attitude came from. It was done to her and she’s not alone.

Anyway, I don’t think it’s unusual that a kid might feel they need to fill their dead parent’s shoes. You could make the argument that Sokka’s got the “I’m the man of the house,” worldview, yet no matter how much he loves Katara I don’t think when she tried to think about their father she’d ever see his face.

“When our mom died, that was the hardest time in my life. Our family was a mess, but Katara? She had so much strength. She stepped up and took on so much responsibility. She helped fill the void that was left by our mom.”

Yes Katara is amazing, but Jesus, an 8-year-old “stepping up” and helping to “fill the void” is just putting way too much on a kid who was grieving too. When Kya died she lost her mother and her childhood in one one fell swoop.

So TL;DR in some ways yes, in other ways no because of the context of Katara's circumstances. But I don't think it's a coincidence so many Black and brown women and girls who are fans relate to her [insert obligatory disclaimer about monoliths here]. I rambled a lot, so I hope I answered your question.

[wh6res]

taeyong — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. when your soulmate gets a wound or cut, flowers bloom on the same spot in your body.

synopsis. you’re desperate to meet your soulmate. maybe you can put a stop to the flowers stubbornly blooming on your wrists.

warnings. tread cautiously. mentions of mental illness (depression, attempted suicide), swearing, manipulation, implied self-harm, dubious content, forced relationship, unconsensual touching near the end, ty pulling the sadboi agenda

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life.

by the time you’re graduating high school, you’re used to the sorry glances people sent your way. 

for someone so young, you have more flowers blooming on your skin than any adult. a few small pieces of it blooming in the corner of your cheek, near the jawline. a few of them on your thighs. 

but the most concerning piece is the one on your wrists that are fully covered by the flowers, your skin nowhere to be seen with all the lilies of the valley tainting your skin. 

yet the worse has got to be the summer before senior year. you had been halfway done with the college entrance examination for a local university. your parents said the pain you felt the first time will turn into a mild itch whenever the flowers form on your skin. 

it started small, absentmindedly scratching at something on your neck. initially, you thought it was the heat, your sweat, and the fabric of your clothes irritating the sensitive skin. but when you walked up to the proctor to turn in your exam, you knew that apologetic stare like nothing else—but his eyes had flickered down to your neck. 

when your friends blew up your phone, asking where you are to celebrate, you lied and headed straight back home, head ducked, collars upturned, hiding the lilies of the valley wrapped around your throat like some insignia. 

a year later, you end up studying soulmate theory in university. they say it’s a useless course as there can be no scientific explanation to soulmates. you like thinking you chose the course because of sheer interest but really, you’re just finding an explanation, some external reason that probably bore no results but you trudged forward anyway. 

you’re restless in the pursuit of finding him—or her, you couldn’t care less. the hurt you feel weighs heavy in your heart each time you feel them blooming on your wrist, mind plagued with worry. 

your roommate interrupts your deep thinking as she practically throws herself onto your bed. “i have an idea!” she cheers, determined. “why not part-time in the school clinic? that way if people come in, you can compare their cuts to your flowers.”

“now, you just might be onto something there.”

the hunt for your soulmate still wasn’t easy despite working in the university’s clinic and it only got worse each day. your schedule is killing you, you’re slightly getting behind in some subjects, and you practically live in the library. 

contrary to popular opinions, soulmate theory can be a fucking bitch to study about. what with learning psychology, astrology, and botany all together. it was interesting how all these things can be factors in how people are paired to become soulmates. interesting, but rather complicated in a sense, too. 

they say psychology and astrology dealt with two people’s compatibility. while botany, the meanings of the flowers themselves, was theorized to predict how the soulmate connection will affect their relationship—ultimately, roses were a really, really good sign. 

you have been busy messing up your hair, utterly frustrated and irate—astronomy’s messing with your head and you can’t go a minute without scratching your wrists as the flowers bloomed after the other. 

then something unexpected happened. 

a lanky guy dressed in an all-black ensemble walked into the clinic. well, it was more of a being carried between two guys by the arms rather than walked in. everything about his clothes looked way too big to fit his delicate frame and it hardly looked like it was for fashion style purposes. his skin hugged his body to the bone, eyes sunken, and he looked so frail that a tiny shove would’ve sent him sprawled on the floor. 

his name was taeyong and he lied on the bed unconscious, with handkerchiefs wrapped around his wrists like bandages—courtesy of his friends, who looked deathly worried for the fate of their poor friend. if he had lost any more blood, he would’ve died. you had never seen the clinic in such chaos, people running around, anxious. your leg muscles were sore from going back and forth from the nurse’s side to the cabinets storing all the medical supplies she needed. 

it had been a whirlwind, and after your superior had patched and properly bandaged his cuts, you were left to look after him in the meantime as nurse jung tried contacting his guardian. 

his friends—who you learned were named yuta and jaehyun, were snoozing outside on the bench across the hall, parallel with the clinic’s double-glass door, as they waited for their friend to wake up. 

depression. suicidal. taeyong has been like that for his whole life, jaehyun stated earlier. you can only shoot a sorry look at the unconscious boy lying on the hospital bed. 

it had already been dark outside when you came in to switch out his bandages for new ones—only to realize that his cut is exactly where you had been scratching earlier before he showed up. 

you retracted, unbelieving of what that possibly entails. along the way, you’ve pieced together that your soulmate is probably struggling through something heavy, something that weighed him down so much that it made him believe hurting himself is the only solution, what with all the flowers on your skin. 

“it’s him…” you mumble, wide eyed as you eyed the faded scars around his wrists, eerily aligned to the flowers blooming on your own. 

you didn’t want to overwhelm him, that much was sure. you didn’t want to chase him away if he gets uncomfortable. so for weeks you started leaving anonymous notes in his locker. not the sappy love letter types, just little words of encouragement that could make his day better. 

when their friend breaks out into the tiniest of smiles, yuta and jaehyun’s thankful eyes would scour around the halls. sneakily looking for you behind taeyong’s back. they understood where you’re coming from and hadn’t spoken a word of disagreement when you told them you didn’t plan to make yourself known as his soulmate yet. 

and as if the notes were not enough, you start giving him his favorite starbucks drink every now and then—on days the flowers didn’t bloom as much as it normally would. you turn up half an hour early before lectures so you can place it on the table where he usually sits with his two best friends. even if his class is on the other side of campus, you’d still go. 

but it only took three weeks of creeping around until you’re caught by your soulmate himself. 

“do you want something from me?”

you didn’t know what to say, cat got your tongue as you stood before him holding the drink. you couldn’t weasel your way out and say the drink’s yours, not when he caught you standing before his usual seat, not when you were already leaning forward to place it on his desk.

“uhm… i…” you stutter pathetically, not being able to meet the intensity of his eyes. 

“jaehyun and yuta aren’t exactly the most lowkey, especially with how much their eyes wander when i open my locker. so, do you want something from me? what are you playing at, stalker?”

the name he called you stung like a bitch but you can’t blame him for it. you knew him, he doesn’t know you. you’re giving him gifts anonymously. even if they were all from the goodness of your heart, from an outsider’s view, your actions still appeared sketchy.

“soulmate,” you correct him. 

you watch his features twist into confusion, only for it to morph into shock once he’s digested what you just said. eventually, he schools his expression back to indifference. his stoic face is so intimidating, you thought, biting your bottom lip and fidgeting on your toes. 

“what?”

“i’m your—i’m your soulmate.”

his eyes flicker downwards to peak a glance at the bouquet of flowers painted on your skin. colors as beautiful and vibrant as the day you got them, the stems of the bell-shaped flowers intricately woven into each other. for a split second, you even twist your arms a little, showing him the rock hard proof of your claim. 

ever since you found him, you’ve always contemplated for the better part of your limited free time about what his reaction will be when he finds out you two are soulmates. will he accept you? or worse case scenario, pretend you didn’t exist? the possibilities are unknown especially with someone who seems to be going through so much that the last thing they wanted is this person who thinks they’re entitled to be part of their lives because the universe made it be that way. 

not that you feel entitled… taeyong can reject you all he wants and you’ll give him the space he needs—

he’s crying. 

and not the simple, small tears slowly streaming down his face one by one type of crying, no, his tears were an onslaught. full-on sobbing as he threw himself onto you, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders as he buried his face into your neck, words heavily muffled by your coat. 

“is it—” he hiccups. “true?”

you blink, from all the reactions you’ve gone through in your head, crying was the very last thing you expected from him—crying and hugging you like you’re the last person on earth and he’s been touch-starved until he found you. 

maybe that was the case. 

you wonder what jaehyun and yuta felt whenever taeyong ditched them to spend time with you—and that was pretty much all the time since he’s found you. he’s like a puppy, following you around wherever you go (unless he has classes) and had been neglecting his friends. whether it was intentional or not, whether his two friends were cool with it or not, you don’t know. 

you try your best to smile every time he runs up to you on the other end of the hall, spotting you coming out of your own respective classroom after lectures are done. 

he’s beaming like a child, inviting you to this cafe he wants to take you to—and pathetic ‘lil ‘ol you just can’t seem to say no to those huge expecting eyes.

but you’re not blind to the slight scowl on yuta’s face nor the razor sharp smile on jaehyun’s features. they want to hang out together, just boys, but now there’s this soulmate who’s suddenly more important than them—what happened to bros before hoes?

but they knew taeyong needed you. heck, he never once smiled like the way he did before he met you. it was like he’s become this whole new person with a child-like innocence reflecting his eyes. 

“so?” your soulmate prompts just as his two friends came over, flanking him. 

taeyong deflates the moment he sees the hesitance in your eyes. “uhm… i actually have a shift in the clinic, and nurse jung said the clinic isn’t some hang out place, so you can’t, uhh…” you trail, not wanting to finish the sentence. 

a little white lie can’t hurt anyone, right? 

taeyong shouldn’t depend on you all the time, not when he also has friends who care about his well-being and mental health just as much as you do. being soulmates didn’t mean he has to spend every waking moment with you and the faster he realizes, the better. 

when you dashed away before he could even mutter out a reply, you miss the frown on his face, his eyes never once leaving your frame until you turned the corner. 

people often favor the underdog. they have this gnawing urge in their gut to sympathize and unknowingly root for their own plot twist or happy ending. 

people look at you and your soulmate and think you have poor, suicidal and depressed and sad taeyong eating at the palm of your hand, following you around like a lonely duckling—the undeniable underdog in a coming-of-age movie, the person shoved around until some bigger, more capable person comes to their rescue (in this case you, unfortunately).

but appearances have always been deceiving. 

your little 3-week head start with getting to know your soulmate had only been on surface-level. you just wanted to help him but taeyong’s obvious attraction—can you even call it that? you’d like to think it’s more of infatuation—is off-putting for you. from standing way too close to putting an arm around you, from walking you to your lectures to walking you home, from the light headpats to having the guts to kiss your cheeks. 

it’s too much and it wasn’t as if you basked in the public display of affection. whenever you tried telling him off in the most gentlest of ways, taeyong would frown and curl in on himself, eyes glossy, darting around, and looking like a kicked puppy. 

you couldn’t leave him like that just because of some harmless skinship, right? he’s just excited and happy he’s found you. weren’t you also the first one to initiate? with all those notes and gifts you’ve given him? and now you’re backing away just because of a few touches?

“you know,” your roommate plops herself on the couch next to you, netflix movie playing as background. “you’re not obligated to fix him. you’re his soulmate, not his psychiatrist.”

you sigh, head diving into the couch pillows. “i’m not trying to fix him, i’m just…”

she raises a prodding eyebrow. 

“…i’m just trying to be there for him.”

taeyong likes to think that he wasn’t doing it on purpose. but the sense of rush and sick pleasure running up and down his spine whenever you force a smile and give in to his wishes proves otherwise. 

all his life he’s been pushed around. tasked to buy his old man beer and cigarettes and an assortment of drugs. if he turns up empty handed, guess who becomes a punching bag? and he has always been alienated throughout his school life. immature elementary kids aren’t exactly the kindest and would’ve picked on every single thing to appear cool to their friend groups. and poor little scrawny taeyong who didn’t speak and didn’t defend himself was just too easy of a target. 

“uhm… you don’t—don’t need to walk me home all the time.” do you think so low of him that you believe he doesn’t sense your fake little giggle?

“but i like walking you home,” he pouts, jutting his lips just a wee bit more for extra measure. he makes sure his eyes are as round and glossy as can be, he noticed those puppy eyes are what gets to you the most. 

he can tell by your tense shoulders, the clear hesitance in your face, that smile that looked too sweet to be real, and your averting eyes. you needn’t say anything for taeyong to figure you out. he isn’t blind to the lack of comfort you’ve developed by being with him. 

he has to think of something or else you’ll be slipping through the gaps of his fingers.

he asked you out on valentine’s day. it wasn’t the simple, forgettable act of popping out the “hey, do you want to go out on a date with me?” question while holding a bouquet of flowers. taeyong made sure you’ll never forget this certain day that he had laid his claim on you—not that it needed to be vocalized, it was his wounds that made flowers bloom on your skin. the soulmate connection should be enough.

but taeyong wanted to go the extra mile.

with the help of his friends (yuta’s popular and jaehyun can be very persuasive), he’s got people handing you lilies of the valley every ten feet until you reach the auditorium in the main building. despite it blooming on your skin you’ve never really seen them in the flesh. they’re like dew drops, bell-like flowers growing in an elegant dip from it’s main stem and appearing no bigger than your thumb.

you were awed, but skeptical.

you meet taeyong by the end of your little journey, standing on a decorated stage with a bouquet of the flowers nestled delicately in his hands. the natural sunlight bleeding through the open windows giving him such a beautiful glow that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. he had smiled and timidly gave you the flowers while asking.

“will you be my girlfriend?” 

if only you’d look close enough, that sugar coated smile contrasted greatly to the sly flickers in his eyes. he knows how your actions are dictated by the reputation you’ve built. taeyong knows you'll say yes, because if you didn't, how could you have rejected your own soulmate who has made you the light of his life? he’s been nothing but kind to you and you’ve only pushed him away! you’re a monster! you should’ve saved him!

if him alone can’t make you say yes, maybe the pressure-induced stare of the whole student body can.

and as you shivered amidst taeyong’s suffocating hug, feeling the triumphant smirk against your head and his prodding nose as he sniffed your hair, you now understood why your body bloomed this specific woodland flower. 

lilies of the valley are beautiful.

but lilies of the valley are poisonous, too.

the flowers remind you of taeyong. 

making things official has only made things worse. taeyong has promised you that after being together he won’t try hurting himself anymore and that he’s a big boy and he can attend his therapy sessions alone. but the itching in your skin is as constant as ever and you just got off the phone with the receptionist of the clinic he goes to. 

“are things alright? i haven’t seen taeyong since three weeks ago.”

if there’s one thing you absolutely hate doing with your soulmate, it’s confrontations. for the three months you’ve been together, taeyong has always, always spiraled out whenever you confront him about something. be it the mildest or the most superficial thing, what started out small will turn into a complete whirlwind and he’d be in a fit of tears by the end of it.

every single time. 

you prefer happy taeyong than sad taeyong—if you can avoid it for as long as you can, you will. but you’re at your breaking point. him lying to you about his therapy sessions is the pin that popped the little balloon of security you’ve been protecting. 

when you arrive home, he’s already there, crouched and sifting through your bookshelf. it wasn’t a surprise or anything out of the ordinary, he possesses the key to invite himself into your apartment any time. “hey, you’re home!” he immediately stands, barreling towards you. 

he encircles his arms around you protectively as he pulls you flush against his body. you feel the tip of his nose prodding against your neck, hearing him inhaling your scent like cannabis. 

you learned to ignore it, this habit of his—but just because you do doesn’t make you any less uncomfortable than the first time he did it.

you don’t bother hugging him back. 

you were too pissed off to keep up with pretenses. 

“the clinic called, said you weren’t attending your sessions. why were you lying to me?” 

when pushed into a corner, you were never one to beat around the bush.

“i don’t like going alone, i told you that, remember?” he quickly replied, shoving you away. “i wouldn’t have to lie to you if you would just come with me for my sessions, don’t you think? you’re blowing this out of proportion when it’s all your fault.”

you wanted to pull at your hair. scratch that, you wanted to pull at his hair—no, not in that kind of way. 

“how the fuck—” you stop. taeyong hates it when you curse. cursing will do you more harm than good. you inhale through your nostrils, willing yourself to calm down. “how is this my fault? i told you i have to run errands for professor kim!”

“then quit working there! they’re not even paying you, it’s just for extra credit! which you wouldn’t even fucking need if you weren’t flunking astronomy so bad.” taeyong must’ve seen your features twisting into that of betrayal. he was there when you were crying your eyes out because you failed the exam. he knew the subject was taking such a big toll on you. 

how could he…

“don’t fucking look at me like that, kitten. you know it’s the truth.”

what is the point of this, some form of payback he’s subjecting you to? just because you didn’t come with him to his sessions? six months in this relationship and you already feel so drained, how would the universe expect you to keep up for a whole fucking lifetime together with him?

“why…” you choke, the tears building up in your eyes as your voice breaks. “so what do you want me to do, then?” you ask, because you genuinely don’t know. 

does he want you to choose? is that it? you didn’t want to lose the credits, but you didn’t want to lose this relationship either, no matter how much you’re drowning in the toxicity of it all. 

because this is your soulmate. 

certainly, the universe wouldn’t destine you to each other if it would only bring forth chaos, right? taeyong has mentioned time and time again that this is his first relationship. of course, he’s depending on you to show him the ropes. 

but it seems he isn’t really a big fan of how you do things. 

“quit.”

you shake your head defeatedly. “you know i can’t. i’d have to take the whole subject again next semester and—”

“i said quit, dollface.” the finality in his tone renders you speechless. “then fucking take the subject again next semester! i don’t care. that’s your consequence for neglecting your major. why the fuck do i have to suffer, too, if my soulmate is such a failure?”

his words cut deep, deeper than flesh, cutting through bone as your knees the urge to buckle and collapse before him. “taeyong, please—”

“honestly, i don’t even know what you’re doing with that professor. you always brush it off whenever i ask you!” the glare he sends could kill. “is this… is this why you’re so adamant about not quitting? then again… what kind of professor is willing to pass his students just by interning for him? i can’t believe i’m only realizing this now!”

this is bad. this is very, very bad. 

“whatever you’re thinking about is not true! trust me—”

but as if he can’t hear you, he dawdles on, trying to connect the dots when there is absolutely nothing to connect. 

“you suck dick for grades? how could you do this to me? how can you do that to yourself?” 

you don’t understand exactly why he’s crying again so you don’t say anything. not because his fierce accusations were right but because even if you try hard to convince him that nothing is going on with your astronomy professor, he’d still cry and whine and paint you to be the bad guy. 

“what… what use do i have in this world if my soulmate thinks i’m not enough? and i lost you to some guy who smelled like prunes of all people!” you would have laughed if the situation had been different, but taeyong was dead serious. “i’m useless. i’ve been useless with my family, my friends, and now you. i can never do anything right, can i? i can never make anyone stay. i can’t even make you stay!”

and like a switch that has been flicked off, your conflicted emotions vanish in thin air. gone are every trickle of anger, confusion, and irritation you felt as he makes a beeline to the coffee table, smashing the little ornamental fish bowl and pointing a shard against his dainty wrists. 

“no!” you tackle him to the ground, groaning when you feel the shard dig into your side yet you made no effort to get off of him. blindly, you reach, twisting his wrist to drop the piece of glass. “you promised!” you wail, clutching the collars of his shirt as you pull him close to you. “stop, stop hurting yourself.”

you feel him shaking his head, his own onslaught of tears staining your shirt as the negativity he’s been bottling pours over like a tsunami, dragging you under the currents with him. “no, no, no…” you splutter, snot running disgustingly down your nostrils. “it’s not true, none of that is true. you’re my love, my moonlight, i’d never betray you for anyone or anything!”

“but—but your professor, the internship—”

“i’ll quit. i’ll take the subject again next semester, it’s not a big deal, okay? don’t worry, i’m here. i’m so sorry!”

it was all too easy.

the thing with noble people like you is the foolish sense of responsibility lying underneath your skin, it’s gravitational pull so strong that you don’t bother to think before you speak, to think before you act, to think before you make promises, because what’s important isn’t yourself, it’s the person lying meek and helpless before you. 

quit, you say? taeyong wants something more.

the evil lying inside pandora’s box can never remain dormant, not when meddlesome people like you who think with a one-track mind pull the lid off its hinges, preaching how every evil can have their own redemption.

a hand finds purchase around your waist as an eerie blissful smile stretches on his lips, eyes clouded over. “really? i’m your moonlight?”

“yes—”

“would you prove it to me?”

he doesn’t make room for your hesitance to settle, he lunges, hands wrapping around your face to pull you into a kiss. it wasn’t like all the other kisses you’ve shared with him, no, this one had a dark, underlying purpose. his hands digging into your open wound to make it bleed, tongue sliding into your mouth the moment you gasped in pain.

your hands press on his chest, trying to push him away but taeyong’s thoughts are running wild. you blush in sheer humiliation when he lets out an almost pornographic moan. with a sinking realization, you’ve become hyper aware of something poking at your abdomen.

no, not yet. you weren’t ready yet!

“taeyong, wait—i’m not—”

“you said you love me, didn’t you?”

[malleux]

little one. | k.a

-> Pairing: Kaeya Alberich x Parent!Fem!Reader

-> Genre: Fluff, More platonic than romantic idk reader has feelings they’re not too acted upon

-> Requested: Yes

-> “ooooh! can i have a single parent!au for whoever you choose in genshin?? thank you!”

-> Summary: Kaeya accidentally meets your daughter

-> A/N: this is the cutest ask ever, and if you know me from my other writing accounts, you’d know that i’m a sucker for au’s! i did take some personal liberties ofc because the request wasn’t really specific. thank you anon! this fic really didn’t turn out the way i had wanted, but i didn’t know how to incorporate all of my ideas, so maybe i’ll do a part two who knows :)

Being an adventurer was a difficult job. Being a mother was also quite difficult. Being both was even worse.

Completing quests and going on daring missions was one of your favorite things to do, but protecting Ella was your priority.

Your five-year-old was your pride and joy, the best thing to ever happen to you, despite you having her at a young age. You and your daughter lived a happy life that you kept completely separate from your adventurer work. Nobody except for Jean and Lisa even knew about Ella, as you preferred to leave her with a babysitter on the days you were around town.

Ella was with the babysitter now, as you were sitting at a desk in the library, researching more on Abyss Mages before taking on a commission that included them. Your mind wandered, though, imagining how Ella would make you play dolls with her when you got home. She’d then play by herself for a bit while you cooked dinner, only to bathe and fall asleep very quickly after that. Goodness, you really missed her-

“Y/N! Just the girl I was looking for.”

You peeked up from your book, quirking an eyebrow. “You were looking for me?”

“I just wanted to remind you about tonight.” Kaeya chuckled, laying his hand on the top of the sword attached to his hip. “You promised me you’d get a drink with me this evening, remember?”

Ah, shit. You did remember.

You’d lost a bet yesterday with Kaeya, and his reward was you stopping by Diluc’s tavern with him for a few drinks. You hadn’t drank since you became pregnant. Kaeya didn’t know this, of course. You’d only moved to Mondstadt a few months ago, but you’d become close friends with the Calvary Captain and the other knights.

Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell everybody about your daughter. Especially those who you may be slightly... romantically interested in. You’d had men in your life before who knew of Ella. They’d ultimately left, leaving both you and your daughter heartbroken. You kept her a secret from then on, unable to put your daughter through that again.

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.”

“You better. I’ll pick you up from your place this evening.” Kaeya winked at you- or blinked, you really couldn’t tell with that god-awful eyepatch- and walked back to his own office. You blushed at the thought of being alone with him.

Was it like a date? Just two friends getting drinks after work? What? You slightly hoped for the former.

There was no denying that Kaeya was an extremely attractive individual. He was everything you wanted in a man, plus some. You often daydreamed about what it would be like to be with the Cryo user- how happy Ella would be around him and how well he may be with children. You imagined your family to be happy. But alas, that was just a daydream.

One that you had to quit imagining. You were getting too hopeful.

You shook your head and closed the book, deciding to head out of Mondstadt to complete the commission.

꧁꧂

“Mommy!”

A grin appeared on your face as you scooped your daughter into your arms, spinning her around in a hug. Ella’s babysitter stood in the doorway with a smile on her face, watching your toddler tell you about her day.

You walked over to the older lady, smiling back apologetically. “I’m sorry to ask this, but I completely forgot that I had promised a co-worker to go out with them tonight. Would it be any hassle for you to keep her a little longer?”

“Of course not.” The sitter waved her hand and you set down Ella, who skipped to her room to play.

“Thank you so much,” You sighed, “I promise you’ll be compensated.”

She only laughed and turned to go into your daughter’s room, leaving you to head to yours.

You began getting ready, but you had to pause, feeling anxiety sink into your chest. It had been a while since you'd had feelings for someone and while this evening may be a casual, platonic outing to Kaeya, it was nothing less than nerve-wracking for you.

Was it platonic, though? Kaeya was always quite the flirter with you- but he was like that with others, too, wasn’t he? Was this a simple co-worker get-together, or was he picking you up from your house for a potential date?

Wait, picking you up from your house?

Kaeya was coming over to get you. To walk with you to the tavern.

You internally panicked. Ella always cried before you left and today was probably no exception. You weren’t ready for him to know about your daughter yet. That was something for when you were 100% sure he wouldn’t be weirded out. He wouldn’t, you were sure, but your nerves definitely told you otherwise.

“Miss Y/N? There’s someone at the door.”

You froze in your spot for a second, but thanked the babysitter and rushed to the front door.

“Hello little one.”

“My mommy’s in her room getting ready!”

“Oh, is she now? She’s getting all prettied up?”

“Mommy’s already pretty!”

“Aha, yes she is.”

You couldn’t help but wince at the sound of Ella and Kaeya’s voices. All secrets were out the window now, you supposed. You came to the doorway and scooped Ella into your arms, giving Kaeya a weary smile.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, I’m ready when you are.”

Kaeya chuckled, “Let’s go, then. I do believe that we have a lot to talk about now.”

You sighed and put your daughter down, giving her a kiss on the forehead before following Kaeya to the tavern. The walk was silent, but your mind wasn’t. You were dreading whatever “talk” Kaeya had mentioned, already fearing the worst. He’s a rather liberated man- there’s no way he’d be interested in a girl with a kid, right? That would tie him down too much.

Your panic attack was cut short as Kaeya entered the tavern and loudly greeted the people inside, leading you to a seat in the corner of the room. You sat silently, fiddling with your fingers and avoiding Kaeya’s gaze.

“So, when were you gonna tell anyone?” His voice made you look up.

“I mean, Jean and Lisa know...”

“And I didn’t? I thought we were close, Y/N.” There was an obvious joking tone to his voice, but you still felt a sharp pain in your heart. You felt guilty.

“I just don’t want a lot of people knowing of Ella. It gets complicated, especially being an adventurer with some enemies. Friendships can get complicated, too.” And relationships, you refrained from saying. “Please don’t see me any differently-“

“See you any differently? Why would I do that?” Kaeya furrowed his eyebrows. “I already adore having one of you around, so it’s even better that you’ve got a cute little mini-me running around too. I understand it gets hard, but you’ve got Jean and Lisa, and now me, to help you out. I’ve only met her once, but I love her already.”

Your chest warmed at his words and you gave him a small smile. Kaeya returned it and looked down at the table, reaching towards your hand and giving it a tight squeeze. “There are no ill feelings towards you just because of that. Some people aren’t too supportive of single parents, but that’s not who I am. Anything you need, you can count on Kaeya to help.”

“Thank you...”

You squeezed his hand back and he beckoned a waiter over. The evening was spent drinking and laughing, never once releasing hands.

[theseshipsshallsail]

Chapter 1

The revelry from the bookstore leaves a heady buzz of la libertà flowing through their veins, and as the crescent moon climbs higher in a pin-pricked sky, Rome’s labyrinthine streets bear witness to the loss of their remaining inhibitions. Drunken kisses give way to drunken dancing - and unfortunate drunken vomiting - but the ancient cobbles are their compass on this ferragosto evening, steering them back to the complicit safety of their hotel. 

The stale scent of sex still lingers in the room, yet tempted as they are to add to it, the prospect of their imminent separation is a sobering force. Elio’s body is heavy with exhaustion. The oppressive tightness in his chest magnified by all that he’s trying to ignore. Their time is borrowed. Soon, all of this will be naught but memory. The man beside him nothing but a ghost. Haunting his every step with visions of a life denied. A future obfuscated by what-ifs and maybes.   

He refuses to sleep, however. Refuses to sacrifice a single minute to unconsciousness in spite of the grappa’s siren call. Absurd though it is, a part of him dreads waking up alone. That Oliver will disappear like a thief in the night - taking what’s left of his shattered heart with him. His guards are down - all his pretences stripped away - but here they are, stretched out on a too-small bed, solemn fingers caressing familiar skin. Worshipping each other by words, if not by the flesh. 

And it isn’t easy. Of course it isn’t. Elio’s an individuo reservato. A trait he’s uncomfortably aware of. But he can’t let that stop him from spilling his innermost thoughts. From divulging the things he wishes he’d done differently. Or not at all. In some aspects, he’s sure he’s repeating himself, but there’s just so much he needs Oliver to hear. Things he never dared tell him previously - never deemed vital - when the end of their summer idyll was a nebulous concept.  

Like how he’d leave the adjoining door open at night, hoping beyond hope that Oliver would walk through it. Or that afternoon at the tennis courts, when he’d recoiled from his massage for fear of leaning into the frisson of excitement. Needs him to understand his visceral reaction the morning after they first slept together. The crippling anxiety that twisted his intentions, necessitating a hasty - if short-lived - retreat. Wants to beg him not to forget. To remember everything. So that when next he tastes the salt-tang of the ocean upon his lips, the sweetness of apricot juice beneath a cloudless yonder, a piece of Elio - nevermind how fleeting - will slip into that parallel life, too.

All his secrets. 

All his worries. 

All he’s put off for later. 

A futile notion, admittedly, now that there is no later. 

No more chance for postponement. 

Thankfully, he isn’t the only one speaking, and Oliver lays his own regrets out like a hand of cards whenever he stumbles into a tongue-tied silence. His forearm is slung around his waist, their legs tangled at the knees, and Elio drowns in his eyes as he recalls the steely glares that once pierced him to the core, but which he now appreciates were a means of self-defence. An attempt to stave off the unavoidable.

“Did you mean it?” he whispers, twisting Oliver’s Star of David between his fingertips as he burrows into the sticky warmth of his neck. “When you said you’d been happy here?”

“How can you even ask me that?” 

“How can I not?” Elio replies, failing to control the tremor in his voice. “You tried to keep your distance when you arrived. It was me who sought you out. If I hadn’t pushed so hard -”

“I’d have probably spent ten more days kicking myself for my cowardice,” Oliver tells him, dropping kisses to his knuckles as though they’re something to be cherished. “Wearing holes in my espadrilles… trying to hide a semi each time you passed by in those swim trunks...”

Elio snorts. “The feeling’s mutual, mon ami.”

“So we’re both idiots, then?”

“Well… one of us was being purposefully difficult...”

“Goose,” Oliver growls, and Elio giggles despite himself when he’s tickled without mercy. “I’ll show you purposefully difficult.”

It soon devolves into a childish wrestling match, Elio’s wrists pinned above him as Oliver scrabbles along his sides, leaving him bow-taut and winded. “Tutto apposto! Enough!”

“You give?”

“I give,” he says, lungs heaving in his chest. “Dio… I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Nonsense.” Oliver rolls to the side, tipping his chin up to better meet his eyes. ”This is new to us both. It’s only natural to have doubts.”

Elio huffs. “Doubt is the father of inventions.”

“And may I ask what you’re inventing?”

An awkward shrug. “Nothing,” Elio says, afraid his misgivings will lead them down a destructive path. “And everything. You know how my brain works.”

“I do, yes.” Oliver brushes a thumb over his bottom lip. “Though for my sins, I’ve yet to find cause for complaint.”

“Déviant.” 

“Takes one to know one.”

Elio nips at the tormenting digit, not quite ready to let the subject go. “I want to hear it,” he murmurs, teeth scraping the nail. “I think I need to hear it.”

“Elio…”

“Just tell me,” he insists, and sighing, Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” 

Impatience flares at the return of his evasiveness, and the remorse in Oliver’s gaze is immediate. “We never talked much about my family, did we?” he asks, and Elio shakes his head, shuffling closer as Oliver draws a shuddering breath. “My parents, they’re.... well. To describe them as traditional would be a kindness,” he continues. “Our relationship has been strained for years, but they have certain... expectations, I suppose. For my future, specifically. You know how it is.”

“Do I?” Elio asks, stiffening as I'm sure I'll pay for it somehow echoed from the not so distant past. 

The implication is clear, and maybe there are razor blades in his expression, because Oliver’s own turns instantly apologetic. “I guess not,” he says, sliding a conciliatory hand to his hip. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

Elio frowns. “In what way?”

“With your folks,” Oliver explains. “My father would cart me off to a correctional facility.” A beat. “He still might.” 

“Only if he finds out,” his traitorous mouth blurts before his alleged genius can catch up, and Elio’s heart sinks. “But he won’t, will he?”

It’s less a question, more a statement, and Oliver’s jaw clenches as he stares at him in silent concession. “I wish things could be different.”

“I know,” Elio says, the words braver than the sentiment behind them. “Me too.”  

But the universe isn’t that lenient. Like Icarus, they’ve flown too near to the sun, and the consequences of such defiance will see their wings clipped once they crash back down to earth. He’d cautioned himself on the journey south to prepare for the blow. Peered out the grimy window of the direttissimo, knowing that when he next stands on the platform he’ll be alone. That he’ll hate it. Those rehearsals, it seems, have done little to dull the pain of what’s to come, and latent superstition has left him fumbling in the dark, regardless.

“E’ la vita,” Elio says, resorting to self-preservation as he dredges up a smile - the over-bright, false one he’s perfected through years of dinner drudgery. “Why risk it all for a bit of fun, right?”

“Don’t do that.” Apparently Elio’s not the only one who can see through a facade. “You mean more to me than some fling, and you know it.”

“But -” 

“No. Hear me out.” Earnest, Oliver smooths the hair from Elio’s temple. “These past six weeks… I don’t know how to describe how important they were to me. The freedom. The acceptance.” His throat bobs in the grey strokes of dawn. “You.”

“Me?” 

“Us.” Oliver fidgets with a loose thread on Elio’s shirt. “I meant it,” he mutters at last, winding an errant curl around the index finger of his other hand. “I have been happy here. I’ve been happy with you.” He hesitates. A quick flash of indecision. “I’m not sure I was ever really happy before you.” 

“Please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Per carità! That only makes it worse,” Elio says, whirling away to hide in Oliver’s collar. The sour musk of sweat is soaked into the material, and he inhales deeply, hoarding every piece of him while he still can. “You are the very best parts of me,” he confesses, lifting his head. “I don’t know what I’ll do when -”

“Hey…” Oliver’s grip tightens. “Didn’t we go over this? You’ll be -”

“Fine. You said.”

“Clearly it bears repeating.” 

Elio touches his face. Watches the ripples of emotion spread out like a pebble cast into the lake. “And you?” he returns, recollecting that night on the rock. His naivety in presuming Oliver’s ghost wouldn’t always be staring out at the horizon. Rodin’s Thinker clad in billowy cotton. “You’ll be okay?”

A breath. “I’ll be okay.”

Elio’s not sure which of them he’s trying to convince, so he kisses him gently in lieu of examining it further, his stomach flipping when Oliver pulls back with an air of exquisite softness. “What time do we need to be at the airport?” he asks, seeking sanctuary in distraction. “You have your passport, sì?”

“I do,” Oliver says, studying him carefully. “The plane leaves at noon. But don’t feel you have to -” He stops. Swallows. Tries again. “You don’t have to see me off. Not if you don’t want -”

“I want.”

“Elio -”

“Non essere ridicolo. I’m coming,” he tells him, fighting a shiver as the cool breeze from the window brings goosebumps to his skin. “Of course I’m coming.” 

The relentless tick of the clock rings loud in the sudden silence, and Elio raises up on his elbow, only for Oliver to cup his cheek before he can turn towards the wall. 

“Don’t look,” he whispers, sounding choked as he double checks the time on his watch. “It’s ten minutes fast at any rate.”

“Ten minutes?” Elio laughs. Slightly unhinged. “What difference does that make? Ten? Twenty? You still have to leave.”

He detests the unspoken word that hovers between them. The entire phrase a sullen admission of weakness: you still have to leave me.

“Don’t think of it like that,” Oliver murmurs, one hand stroking the base of his spine. ”We have a few hours yet.” 

Elio sniffs. “Not like they’ll matter tomorrow.”

“Maybe not. But they matter right now.” Oliver nudges their foreheads together. “Every second, Elio.” 

“Every second, Elio,” he echoes numbly, if only to call him by his name one last time.

He’s shaking, he realises, though in all honesty he doesn’t care that his vulnerabilities are on display. That Oliver can see how lost in him he really is. That the situation is gutting him, and he’s unable to stop the bleeding. His chest feels concave. The space below his ribs too small to contain the sheer need and protectiveness that washes through him. He wants to shelter Oliver from the storm that lies ahead. To house him beneath his breast where the burdens of this world cannot touch him. Encapsulate everything Oliver is within the confines of himself, meagre as those confines might be.

But what can he do? Implore him to stay? Ask him to give up his doctorate? His career? His responsibilities? And for what? A life in the shadows? Always looking over their shoulders. Always that sense of shame.

He thinks of the pink and yellow lilies that bloom in the giardino back in B. The delicate petals that unfurl for such a brief period of time. There’s something recherché, he knows, in such transitory beauty, yet Elio’s never lacked for stubbornness. Oliver may believe his story is already written - that their destiny is forged in stone - but no one’s ever survived a freefall by continuing to spiral. 

For something so tragically temporary, their bond has left a permanent mark. And Elio? He wants to beat his fists against this odious ending until they’re bloodied and raw.

[angelasscribbles]

Complicated Part 4: Pain and Desire

Series: Complicated

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Liam x Riley, Drake x Riley

Rating: M

Warnings: Language, adult themes

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley had several hours on the ride to Applewood to contemplate things. If Maxwell hadn’t knocked on her door, she and Drake would have consummated this thing between them…whatever it was. Maybe it was for the best. She was confused about her own feelings. She still loved Liam and the thought of him suffused her with guilt.

Riley knew that she came across as self-confident and even a little arrogant at times. Maybe she was both of those things, but only when it came to certain aspects of her life. She felt far less confident when it came to the most important things.

Shortly after puberty she had noticed the effect she had on boys. That, combined with the raging teenage hormones had been a heady combination. She liked the power it gave her. She liked being able to get whatever she wanted from them; she liked the attention. Then she fell in love for the first time.

Bobby Taylor was older than her, popular, good looking and athletic. She had lost her virginity to him one night in the backseat of his vintage Ford Mustang convertible. He had gone off to college with promises to write, summer vacation together and a future. Then he had completely ghosted her. She had been shattered.

Her friend Trina had told her that there’s always one person in a relationship that loves more, and the trick was to not be that person. To always leave first. She had taken that advice and ran with it. Her fractured heart had slowly started to heal, and she had decided that life was too short for that kind of pain. She would, instead, have fun. And have fun she did. Her college roommate had referred to her as the queen of one-night stands. It was satisfying when they tried to get more out of her, but she rarely gave it. When she did, it was always on her terms and her terms alone. There was no compromising, no meeting halfway. Just my way or the highway. And she had chugged along like that quite happily for a while until she realized it was empty.

One day she was talking to guy that had been trying to hook up with her for weeks. She was entertaining the idea of meeting up with him at a party when he informed her that, “every guy I know wants you.” She had been startled by her own reaction. Months, even weeks prior she would have taken that as a high compliment and been proud of it. Instead, she found herself annoyed.

“Oh?” She asked him, “What do they want? What they see? Because they don’t know a damn thing about me.” And just like that, her perspective shifted. She wanted more. The problem was, she had no idea how to go about getting it and was terrified she never would. Maybe her looks and sexual desirability were all there was to her, maybe those things were all that anyone would ever value her for. She wanted more, but she was afraid to admit it to anyone. So she continued to pretend that sex was all she wanted in order to save face when it was all she got.

She knew her fear of abandonment went back to Bobby and to her parents’ deaths before that. She even suspected that her fear of never being good enough stemmed from the how well she did academically and all the attention and accolades she got for it. Far from making her feel proud, she became terrified of failure. What happened if she didn’t bring home straight A’s? What if everyone found out she wasn’t as smart as they thought she was? It became a real problem, culminating in her dropping out of everything when she should have been picking a master’s degree program.

Waitressing was easy and she didn’t have to think about much. That’s why she liked it. When she was some anonymous waitress in a dive bar in New York, no one expected much of anything from her. Then Liam showed up and stirred feelings inside her she hadn’t felt since she was 16 years old. He was so sweet, and he seemed to enjoy her company for that alone, he didn’t try to sleep with her. He didn’t even try to kiss her; she had initiated that. When Maxwell offered her the opportunity to go to Cordonia and see if there was something between her and Liam, she had thought maybe he was her chance to have that something more.

She sighed as she shifted in her seat in the limo. She still wanted something more but now she wasn’t sure if it existed at all.

When they finally arrived at Applewood, she dropped into her bed in exhaustion and drifted off to sleep wondering if she was a fool to think that either Liam or Drake could give her the unconditional love that she so desperately desired.

She was awoken the next morning by a knock too timid to be Maxwell. She opened the door to find Callie standing there. “Callie! I had no idea you were here!”

Callie beamed at her, “Yes, and this job is so much better than the one I had before! My supervisor is strict but fair and really sweet. This job comes with paid time off and everything!”

Riley smiled and opened the door, “Well I’m happy for you, come on in!”

Callie looked around as if worried someone would see her, then stepped into the room and closed the door, “I know I can never repay you for what you did-“

“It was nothing.” Riley interrupted her.

“But….I have some information that might be useful to you.”

“Really?”

Callie nodded.

“Like what?”

“I know I’ve only been here a day, but all the girls are very friendly and pretty chatty. I heard that one of the chamber maids, Sara, was given a month’s pay in cash by some noble woman for helping set you up.”

“What? Who was it? Do you know?”

Callie shook her head sadly, “I don’t and neither does she, the woman wore a big hat and dark sunglasses and well, most of these noble women look pretty much the same.”

“So, what did she have to do, exactly?”

“She had to tell Duke Lambros that you liked him, and also tell him that his room assignment had been changed and…”

“And?”

“And make sure there was no lock on your door.” Callie looked horrified as she relayed the information.

“Wow, that’s-“

“In her defense,” she rushed on, “She was told that you two liked each other and she would be helping two people that were too shy to initiate anything on their own. She really isn’t a bad person, but she has four children, and you have no idea how much that money helped her! She felt terrible when she saw the news and realized what had really happened!”

“It’s ok, Callie, slow down! I do understand that. This information is helpful. I’ll make sure your friend doesn’t get in any trouble. I appreciate it more than you can imagine!”

“Thank you, Lady Riley! I’ll keep my eyes and ears open and let you know if I learn anything else.”

“That would be amazing! And please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“You’ve already done it! I have to get to work now but thank you again for everything!”

Callie slipped out of the room discreetly and Riley got dressed for the barn raising. What felt like an eternity later, she eased her aching muscles into a hot tub and sighed as the churning water melted away the pain. She and Hana had decided to crash the boy’s side of the spa and they had all discovered Max’s hippo tattoo. Riley had assured him that it was adorable because it was.

Liam sank into the soothing water next to her and turned to her with that smile that still made her heart do flip flops. She had been nervous about coming to the spa with both Liam and Drake, but both had been perfect gentlemen. Drake had been keeping his distance, emotionally at least. They had worked together during the barn raising and she could have sworn he caught her staring at him shirtless at least twice. She flushed at that thought and pushed it away. Glancing over she saw Drake and Maxwell taking turns doing canon balls into the pool.

She looked back at Liam to find him staring at her.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Just taking you in.” He sighed as he reached out and brushed her cheek with his hand.

She leaned into him, “Liam”. Then he was kissing her.

Riley closed her eyes and let the sensation wash over her as he drew in her closer, wrapping his arms around her. She sighed when he pulled away.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, “I could get carried away.”

“I kinda wish you would.”

“Riley, I-“

“Hey, look everyone!” Max yelled out as he did a double back flip into the deep end.

“Maxwell that was great!” Riley yelled, clapping. She caught Drake watching her and she flushed wondering if he had seen the kiss. She felt guilt then anger slide through her in rapid succession. What did she have to feel guilty about? Last night’s make out session notwithstanding, he had made it clear that he was putting the brakes on whatever was between them before it even began. He was the one that kept pushing her towards Liam, so damned if he got to be jealous about it.

She still felt a bit awkward and shifted away from Liam a little. If he noticed, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he took her hand in his and looked earnestly into her eyes, “Riley. Thank you for coming here with me. I know we still need to talk; I haven’t forgotten. I want to explain things…I mean, better than I did before……I……..” He sighed and looked down, “I’m sorry, I’m messing this up, aren’t I? I don’t seem to know the right thing to say to you. I just….I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and I’m terrified of messing it up.”

Her heart beat faster. He was saying all the right things, all the things she wanted to hear. So had Bobby. How could she be sure this was real? She felt a thrill of electricity from his touch. She wanted to surrender to it so much.

“Liam-“ she was going to ask him why he didn’t invite her into his room that night, but before she could, Hana slipped into the hot tub with them, followed by Maxwell and Drake. She sighed as he dropped her hand and scooted away. Surely he knew he could trust their friends? No way Hana, Max or Drake were going to tell anyone that he was holding her hand. She pushed it away and turned to the others with a smile, “So are we having dinner at Applewood or should we go out?”

Maxwell and Hana started debating the merits of various local restaurants while Drake studied her face. He had noticed the flash of pain in her eyes when Liam had moved away from her. He could tell her smile wasn’t real, knew she didn’t care where they ate. His eyes flicked over to Liam. Why did he move away? Drake glanced around the spa, there was no one else around to see. He looked back to find Liam gazing at her with pain and desire written all over his face. He recognized it because he was painfully familiar with it himself. The irony, he thought, both of them in love with the same woman, and neither one of them able to do a damn thing about it.

[brockadoodles]

evermore - b. boeser

AN: Uh, UH, guess it’s been too long since I’ve hit you all with my true brand, angst about my fave blonde boy. So here you go. This is my evermore album fic. Please feel free to yell at me after. 

Word Count: 2206

Warnings: Angst. 

You sat idly in the front seat of your car, parked outside of an unfamiliar building in the most familiar city. Coming back to Vancouver had opened a wound in your chest that you had spent more time than you cared to admit to patch. Each thread you pulled through your heart, hoping to somehow tie it back together just enough to stop thinking about your own biggest regret. 

Regret was a feeling you spent your entire life trying to escape from. You often told people as you grew up that you didn’t have regrets, instead, each decision would lead you down a path. One path would be the right one, and others would be a lesson that you had to learn, no matter how painful it was. It was ignorant of you to miscalculate the meaning of the word because when you dropped Brock’s had and subsequently his heart, it took approximately an hour for the feeling to sink into your chest and build a home there. 

You sighed deeply as you worked up the energy to get out of your car. You knew that you were back in Vancouver to stay, you knew that it was long past time to return back home where you belonged. But stepping out of your car and unloading the bags into your new place cemented it as reality. It meant you had to face everything you ran away from. It meant you had to live in the same city as Brock again and the thought was like a hand on your shoulder that was holding you underneath the water, with just enough air to survive but not enough to escape. 

You left Vancouver, the place that you had spent your entire life because you thought the opportunity was better. It wasn’t until you came back to the same hometown that you left, a broken heart stitched onto the sleeve of your sweater that you realized. You were ready to tell him you were wrong, that you realized home would never be home again without him, even if his presence was still all over the city. His face quite literally littered the city and you could pick out his apartment building every time you looked at the skyline. But you never felt further from him than you did now because in that apartment was where he started a new life, where he was building a home with someone else.

You spent the next week settling in. You took your time because all of it felt overwhelming. Each day you woke up with an attempt to tell yourself that it would get better but each night as you fell asleep, your mind was invaded with dreams of him. Dreams of life that your heart was telling you that you should have had. 

The dreams were supposed to go away, they weren’t supposed to invade your soul as you watched the broken relationship fade further and further away. It had been too long to hold onto this feeling of hope that maybe, somewhere deep down he was still who you were supposed to be with. It felt like you were trapped above the trees and watching as he built an entire life without you. Brock moved on, and you were still there trying to grasp onto willow trees whose leaves slipped out of your grasp each time your fingers touched them. 

It was the dictionary definition of torture, having every dream riddled with Brock. Every time you dropped your head to a pillow and your eyes fluttered shut you saw the entire scene where it all fell apart. Only in this version, when he got down on one knee you didn’t grab his arm and stop him. You didn’t start crying because you had to say no, without the explanation that he deserved. In the dreams, your champagne problems didn’t blow up the only love you had ever known. But the dreams weren’t real, and each time you woke up with that painful reminder that the ring was now on someone else’s hand, because you had left instead of fighting the mess of your own mind for him. 

It took less than two weeks to run into him again. You had assumed it would happen at some point. For a city that had almost 2.6 million people living there, it was small when you knew your way around. Life had a way of fucking you just hard enough that it wasn’t even unexpected you would run into him in the most mundane of places, a park. You knew Brock had dogs and you knew that the very place you were walking through was in fact, a dog park. You also knew he still lived in the same apartment, the one that you once spent your days in. You had to swallow hard to stop yourself from thinking about the person that now occupied that space with him because part of you selfishly thought maybe everything you had heard from mutual friends wasn’t true, maybe he hadn’t moved on. 

Brock walked up to you slowly and sat down on the bench next to you. The mere feet of space between you felt taunting. He was right there. His hair was a bit longer than it was the last time you saw him, and the scruff on his face made him look older. He was a shadow of the Brock you knew yet he still felt as familiar as someone could. You made no move to speak, instead, you thought about how if the strangers passing by could sense that you once spent nights tangled together only to have the two feet between you feel like the distance between the sun and the stars. 

“I heard you were back,” Brock mumbled. He turned slightly to look at you, a half-smile adorning his features as you blinked back the onslaught of tears you could feel behind your eyes. 

“Yeah, two weeks ago about.” You replied. Brock just nodded in response and took a sip of the coffee he had in his hands. Likely the same order he always had, a medium drip with just a splash of cream. You hated that you remembered. Brock fumbled in his coat pocket, pulling out a small envelope and resting it in his hands. Your name was written in handwriting that you didn’t recognize. 

“I actually, uh, knew you were here.” He spoke, handing you the small envelope. You took it from his hand. When you opened it you saw an invitation. An invitation that was for his wedding. You ran your fingers over the words, the embossed lettering was beautiful. The location, the botanical garden, was the exact type of place you would expect Brock to get married. 

“It would mean a lot to me to have you there. Regardless of how we ended, you were one of my best friends, and I don’t blame you for any of it.” Brock’s voice filled the silence as you struggled to find the words. 

“I’ll be there, Brock.” You whispered, a sad expression in your eye that he noticed. There was so much more you wanted to say, there was always more that you wanted to say when it came to him. Each time he came home you hoped that would be the time you’d finally admit it, you’d admit to him that you weren’t over what happened. You weren’t over him. Each time the words were almost there, bottled up in your chest just needing to travel into the air for him to hear. But you never found quite the right thing to say and consequently, you never got to know that for a time, it would have been everything that he wanted to hear. Instead, you were left to the images in your dreams, the ones where you did tell him you loved him and you were sorry, where it all worked out and he wasn’t marrying someone else. 

That wedding invitation haunted you. It sat on your desk, untouched as you carried moved through the next few months. You had started a new job that you were excited about, and each day things were getting easier. The dreams that once felt like they were never going to leave had slowly started vanishing. You were, for the first time in what felt like years, waking up feeling more at ease. It wasn’t until the night before the wedding that the dreams resurfaced, one last hazy cloud that you hoped would dissipate in the morning forevermore. 

It felt like a new beginning with him, new roots in an entirely new world that was only crafted carefully inside your dreams. A dark forest where you ran through it, hand in hand, in the rain, and he kissed you in front of the cottage covered in green ivy. The plant spiraling up the building like your heart spiraled out of control. The kind of love that you feel deep beneath your skin, a steady rhythm that followed the beat of your own heart. The kiss entirely complicated everything, and it felt fucking good to be complicated for once, to be the person who got to experience the love that people only wrote about in sonnets. But the dreamland wasn’t real, it wasn’t crafted by anything other than your own imagination. As the scene fizzled into dust in your hands, you felt your eyes well up with tears, because he wasn’t yours. He would never be yours again.  

The sharpness of her voice shattered the haze that you were looking through. Her hard words echoing in your mind with each breath as you shot up from bed with a hand to your chest.

“I think he did it.” And he did. In your dreams, he did it every time, and her voice breaking as she said it in your dreams made you sick to your stomach at the thought. Because love at the betrayal of another isn’t an honest or true love at all, and you wanted no part in it. Even if it was just your subconscious dreaming about it. 

You did your best to push your thoughts down as you got out of bed. You took your time making your coffee, stopping to take a moment to sit in front of your window. Your small orange cat, Nora, was curled up in your lap, purring steadily as you took the last few moments to relax before what was going to be an emotionally exhausting day. You took your time getting ready, locking the door to your apartment, and arriving at the botanical garden with just enough time to slip in without running into anyone you knew. 

The problem with this being Brock’s wedding was that you knew so many of the people here. His friends that you once shared together, his parents who once thought that this would be you and their son. You didn’t want any of them to realize that you were there. You were there because it meant something to Brock. It was the last thing you could give him to hopefully make up for the hurt you caused him. The same hurt that he had found a way to move on from, leaving you right where you left him, dust in your hair, and the same solemn expression on your face. 

You sat by yourself in the back of the garden, the space around you was decorated in dusty pink peonies and clouded with baby’s breath. It was beautiful, tragically beautiful watching her walk down the aisle. You had seen it so many times in your own dreams, the evermore sense of dread in your heart as this day approached gathering up into your throat, threatening to send tears down your cheeks. In another life that would be you. In a dream world, that would be you. But this wasn’t a dream, and you had to let him go. 

The closure was something you never searched for. To you, Brock was always who you thought you would have it all with. You thought it would be you standing there in front of all of your family and friends, you thought it would be you with the home and the family with him. You were so deep in the own hurt you caused when you left that you told yourself over and over again that it would still happen, he was still your forever because even if right then wasn’t the right time for you, the right time was coming. It wasn’t until you saw him smile at her as she walked down the aisle that you knew, Brock had moved on. He was happy, and that was the closure that you didn’t know you needed. 

You didn’t stay, you couldn’t. So you stood up and smoothed your pale blue dress out, slipping out the back with a soft click of your heels that wasn’t audible over the symphony echoing in between the stained glass windows. It hurt, more than anything you ever thought could hurt, but as you stepped out into the rain and flailed down a cab, you took one last look at the church and let Brock go. You never turned back. 

[ao3komorii]

Tangling with the Boss (Sett/Reader)

Finally, my Sett story! This one is in two parts so I’ll be posting the other part either today or tomorrow. Some little notes for this; Sett’s mother doesn’t have a canonical name as of right now so I made a name for her, and Sett’s full name is Settrigh (canon, I didn’t make that one up lol). Also, there is smut at the end. I hope you enjoy! :)

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Navori, Ionia had not always been your home. You had been a respectable young Demacian citizen, from a good family. You were spoiled, but had never caused any trouble, never created any waves. You had a good education and a supportive family, at least until you woke up on the morning of your twenty-second birthday.

Everyone in Demacia was familiar with the mageseekers. The squad that captured and confined anyone found to have magic powers; magic was a danger, and anyone who possessed any must be removed from society. You had been taught that from an early age, and had seen the mageseekers around in their half-masks, easily accepting their purpose in society. But that day you had woken up in a sweat with a scream, your clothes in tatters from the fire that engulfed your arms and legs. Your parents had burst into the room just as you realized that the fire didn’t hurt.

Your mother gasped and your father stared at you with disgust and hatred in his eyes. They both turned and ran back into the hallway, and you knew the mageseekers would soon be upon you. Everything in your mind had screamed at you to do what was right and wait for the mageseekers to come and take you away forever, but in this moment, you finally realized what a broken system you lived in. If these so-called dangerous mages were anything like you, then they didn’t deserve what had happened to them. And if you stayed, you were looking at life imprisonment at best, and a slow, painful death at worst.

And so you ran. With nothing but a dress hastily grabbed from your closet, you had fled your home and Demacia altogether. Noxus was no friend to Demacia, but the violence that raged there told you that it would not welcome you with open arms. From your years of schooling, you knew that the island of Ionia, across the Noxian waters, would be your only option. Ionia was a place that tolerated magic, which had been a source of disdain for your teacher when it had come to geography lessons. It was just unlucky for you that to get to Ionia, you would have to cross Noxian territory and then find passage on a ship at the Noxian shores that was headed to Ionia.

You had no choice but to cross Noxus, staying on the far borders and attracting as little attention as you could. As someone who had grown up in a wealthy household, it had been a big change for you to suddenly forage for your own food and shelter, your only comfort being your new fire powers keeping you warm in the cold nights. You were slowly growing better at controlling it, but not good enough to avoid a few close calls with suspicious Noxians that you then had to flee from. You were sure that you looked awful, filthy, and tired, but you eventually reached the Noxian coast and managed to sneak onto a small passenger ship as it loaded some barrels.

Getting to Ionia had been a huge culture shock for you; here, magic was everywhere, and people of all kinds roamed the streets. It was such a difference from your old life, but watching families walk the streets reminded you sadly of what you had left behind. You had nothing here but your freedom, which stirred complicated feelings in your heart, but being here alone was much better than rotting in a dungeon or losing your head to the executioner’s block back in Demacia.

You had nowhere to go, and so you had wandered around until your feet hurt and your eyes were tired of being open. You had found an only somewhat grungy alleyway and collapsed in sleep as soon as you had sat down. You had no idea how long you had slept for, but you were awoken by a gentle hand grazing over your hair. Your brain hadn’t fully accepted your fall from Demacian grace, and you opened your eyes expecting to see your mother, but you were instead greeted by a beautiful middle-aged woman with light purple hair and matching soft furred ears atop her head.

You had never seen a Vastayan before, only read about them in books. Your Demacian teachers had only referred to them negatively as barbaric creatures that embraced terrifying magic. But your status as a fugitive mage had you questioning what you had been told, and so you had agreed to the woman’s offer to bring you to her home to patch up the wounds you only now noticed you had, adrenaline keeping the stinging pains at bay until then.

Ciorah had noticed right away that you were not from Ionia, and she had later told you that she saw something of herself in you that day that made her feel that she couldn’t leave you alone to die on the streets. She had taken you to her modest home, insisting on giving you food and some of her spare clothes. She was nothing but nice to you, and in return you had told her how you came to be in Navori. She had listened, and comforted you in a way that was not unlike your own mother. And she had told you about her son, who she had explained was off building a school at the time, and how sweet a boy he was.

You had talked with her for quite a while, as you had nowhere to be in the first place. When it started to get cold as the night rolled in, Ciorah asked you to show her your magic, and you had obliged only after she had reassured you that Vastaya were creatures of magic, and therefore it was harder to injure them with it. She smiled gently as you allowed a small flame to light in your palm, and helped guide your hand to light a simple blue-tinted candle with ease.

You had been surprised with how easily she guided your magic, unsure of how you had the luck to come across her in the first place. She would not let you leave her home that night, insisting that she had a friend that you had to meet the next day. You were ushered to sleep in her son’s childhood bed, Ciorah silencing all of your protests that you didn’t want to trouble her.

The next day, she took you to see a proud Vastayan woman with a stern gaze and a blonde braid laid over her shoulder. You had been invited into her home, where you noticed delicate glass works displayed around the rooms.

The woman, Inora, became your mentor. She had been creating glass works to sell for years, and had once belonged to the same Vastayan community as Ciorah before they had both been expelled. While Inora looked outwardly intimidating, she sympathized with your situation and had readily offered to help you harness your powers in exchange for working as her apprentice and helping her shape glass with your fire.

You had accepted the apprenticeship, and began to train under Inora, your powers slowly becoming easier to manipulate. Ionia had become your home, and eventually it became easier to avoid thinking of where you had come from. You were often sent out to deliver orders, and it made you happy that Inora trusted you with more responsibilities.

You had just finished your deliveries for the day, and had one more stop to make. When you had some extra materials, Inora would let you make little glass trinkets to give to Ciorah. You had made her a small cat out of glass this time, and fished it out of your bag carefully as you knocked on her door.

Ciorah welcomed you in happily, placing the glass cat beside the other animals you had made for her in past. As with every time you visited her, Ciorah had you seated with a cup of handmade tea in front of you.

“I am always happy to see you doing well,” she said softly, taking a small sip of her own cup of tea.

You smiled, knowing better than to tell her the only reason you were okay was because of her. You had told her so many times already that you didn’t want to get on her nerves, so instead you visited her often and brought her new glass pieces whenever you could to show how much you appreciated her kindness.

“How are you doing?” you asked. You had been worried as of late with there being an increased ruffian presence in town, and Ciorah was an ideal target for those with compromised morals looking for an easy mark.

“Everything is fine,” she reassured you, before looking over to the door with her brow furrowed. “I told Settrigh to come by, but I do not think you will get to meet him today.”

You waved her comment off with a smile. “It’s alright, I know his job keeps him busy.”

In the year you had been in Ionia, you still had yet to meet Ciorah’s son despite all the time you had spent in her company. You knew that he worked hard to provide for her, so you could forgive him for never being there when you were. Though it didn’t make you any less curious to meet the kind, hardworking young man. If he was anything like his mother, you were sure that you would get along well with him. You had Ciorah and Inora, but a part of you lamented no longer having any friends of your own age category.

“Be careful on your way back,” Ciorah’s voice broke through your thoughts. “I have heard that some of the brutes from the fighting pits have been causing trouble lately.”

The fighting pits. You had heard of the brawling arena in the Noxian district of Navori. You hadn’t been in that part of Navori, let alone in the pit itself. You had seen loud, tough-looking men around town, and if they were any indication of what their place of employment was like, you weren’t interested.

“I’ll be careful,” you promised her, changing the subject to something lighter. “Inora wanted me to ask if you needed any supplies…”

Talking with Ciorah caused time to go by without you noticing. It came as a surprise to you when you decided to look behind you to a window and discovered how dark it was outside. Ciorah was quick to notice as well, and insisted that you head home before it got potentially dangerous outside.

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” you promised her as she saw you off with a smile.

The streets of Navori were fairly busy, as it was barely evening. Your walk would only take around fifteen minutes, ten if you took the side streets, which you had opted to do this time. It wasn’t late enough for you to get into any trouble, so you felt safe enough to take your usual shortcuts. Maybe you were being naïve, but although you had heard stories, nothing untoward had happened to you in your time in Ionia. Still, you avoided meeting anyone’s gaze as you maneuvered around a mother and child perusing a fruit cart and entered the alleyway just behind them.

The alleyway was darker than normal, so after a cursory look around, you lit a small flame on your palm after seeing nobody else in the area. With the light of the flame as your guide, you walked to the end of the alleyway, turning the corner as usual and stepping over the dip in the stone floor. You had been mentally going over the list of things you had to remember to tell Inora when you got back, so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice a large frame move to block your way. You collided with the man who was right in front of you, stumbling back and into another man who was suddenly behind you. You hurriedly looked between them as they both leered down at you, closing in on you.

“We got a little mage here,” the one in front of you taunted, jerking his head to his buddy, which made his choppy, greasy hair bounce.

You gasped; you hadn’t realized that the flame in your palm was still lit, and quickly extinguished it. You had nowhere to go, and they knew it. You could only shudder as the man behind you brought some of your hair to his nose as he stared you down in an intimidating manner.

He dropped the lock of hair as he noticed you looking back at him in terror. “Too good to talk to us?” he jeered.

“She ain’t too good for the fightin’ pits,” the first man added. “They straighten out bitches with their noses in the air.”

“Even if she dies, we’d get a finder’s fee,” the second man replied.

You tried to dash around the man in front of you, but he caught your arm and threw you to the ground. You were about to scream, but silenced yourself with a whimper as a knife was thrust close to your face. The large, greasy man stared down at you with a predatory grin as his friend moved the knife down to press slightly on your neck.

“Yer gonna earn us enough money to pay all our debts!” he announced as you were grabbed and forced back on your feet.

“Or die tryin’!” the other man joked, both men cackling with laughter.

You were dragged out of the alleyway, the knife at your neck replaced by a too-tight grip on your arm to arouse less suspicion. You looked around with eyes wide in terror, hoping that someone noticed you were out of place and needed help. But no matter how much you tried to catch someone’s eye, nobody spared you even a glance. As you were dragged along further, you suspected that this was the seedy part of town, because it seemed like everyone was ignoring you on purpose as you passed them. Everyone here had their own illegal business to conduct and none of them had any care for one girl in trouble.

The next turn opened up to a densely crowded area, packed with women with sharp eyes and men with muscles bigger than any you had seen before. There was not a friendly face in the crowd as you were jostled by the men dragging you through the throng of people and towards a side entrance that was manned by a heavily muscled man with thick eyebrows and tattoos littering his arms.

“We got a late entry,” the man with the vice grip on you stated.

The assumed-bouncer raised a thick eyebrow. “You think she has any chance?”

“If she do, we want our cut of it!” the skinnier captor cackled.

You looked pleadingly at the bouncer, hoping he could see that you were not willing to be here. “Please, help me, I don’t want to–”

You were cut off as a fist to the back of your head caused you to bite your tongue, the taste of iron filling your mouth at the same time as you felt your skull ring with pain.

“Shut it, bitch,” the larger captor shouted.

You felt tears prick your eyes as you silently cried, blood dripping from your mouth and onto your chin. You risked one more look at the bouncer, who stared at you impassively for a moment before standing aside and opening the door. You would get no sympathy here.

“See Dedric’s till, he’ll check you in,” the bouncer grunted, and you were quickly pushed in the door, the man slamming it shut behind your group.

The two men immediately rounded on you and you were shoved against a wall. The skinnier man leaned in towards your face, his chipped and dirty teeth on full display and way too close when you had no room to move away. “You try anythin’ like that again and we’ll kill ya right here.”

“Ain’t no one in the pits gonna care about one dead bitch,” the larger man chimed in.

They wasted no more time, grabbing you and pulling you through the barren hallway and up to a man with an eye patch and shaggy black hair who sat at a desk with a large chart in front of him and a surplus of coins just behind him in a chest.

“Got one more for the lineup,” the skinny man told the man at the till; Dedric, you had to assume.

Dedric grinned as he stared you down. It was clear to you where on your body he was staring, and it wasn’t your eyes. He looked down at his list for only a moment before looking at your captors. “I s’pose you’ll want a finder’s fee,” he drawled. “Ya can get it now, or double after the fight if she survives.”

The brazen talk of your fate sent a shiver up your spine. You let a few more tears fall as the men discussed details, just wishing that you were back with Ciorah; you’d even take a scolding from Inora over the likely awful death you had coming.

“We’ll do the double,” the large captor sneered.

“Ya might get lucky,” Dedric replied, jotting something down on his list. “We got a lotta amateurs on tonight.”

After he finished writing, Dedric finally looked you in the eyes. “Ya got a stage name?”

How dare he even ask when it was so obvious that you were not here of your own free will? You felt anger overwhelm the fear you felt for a moment. You glared at him, refusing to answer his question. You would have no willing part in this murderous spectacle.

Dedric looked annoyed with you, gesturing dismissively to the side. “Take her to the stage. Lookin’ forward to watchin’ the attitude beat out of her.”

The skinny man held his knife to your neck again as you were then pulled down another hallway and towards the competitor’s area, several men in flashy outfits scattered around, sharpening weapons or talking amongst each other.

“Please,” you tried one last time. “Please don’t do this!”

“Please!” the larger man said in a high-pitched mock imitation of your voice, both men breaking out in obnoxious laughter.

“Looks like yer up first!” the skinny one said as they handed you off to another burly man, who you assumed was overseeing the competitors.

“No!” you protested uselessly.

“Use that firepower and maybe you’ll earn us double!” the large captor taunted as they made their way towards the spectator stands.

Without any say in the matter, you were shoved out into the large arena, rows and rows of people staring down at you as you stumbled and fell onto your hands and knees, palms stinging from the impact. Looking around, you noticed no friendly faces in the crowd, just a large group of intimidating strangers that were all sizing you up.

Just as you were standing up, chatter and applause rang out from all around you, and you looked for the source, since it obviously wasn’t you. You didn’t have to look far as a man strutted out from the pit entrance behind you.

He strutted around the ring, giving you an opportunity to assess him as well. He was a large figure, muscles prominently on display from his lack of a shirt, red paint splashed across his skin like blood. Or maybe it was blood, he was too far away from you at the moment for you to tell. He was clearly Noxian, a large Noxian crest tattoo visible on his back when he turned his back to you in order to face the crowd. He flexed his muscles for the loudly cheering crowd for a few more minutes before he finally acknowledged you, although your attention had been turned away from him to look for any escape routes.

“Too bad we gotta fight,” he remarked offhandedly. “You’d make a real nice ring girl.”

He said it loudly, despite being ten or so feet away from you, obviously intending to impress the crowd with his trash talking. You just rolled your eyes, feeling bitter and angry that you had even gotten in this situation in the first place. You would never see Ciorah or Inora again because two criminals decided to target you, and it wore down any spirit you had left to think that you had made a happy life here just to die in the fighting pits.

The announcer then declared that the fight was to begin from his cushy podium, sending your heart rate skyrocketing. You were very clearly trapped; scaling the twenty foot walls that led up to the stands wasn’t going to be an option. Your opponent walked to the opposite side of the arena that would be his starting point, readying himself by materializing two very sharp daggers out of thin air and sending a bloodthirsty smirk your way.

This practice was barbaric, and you took one last look at the crowd for any hope of someone who would understand that you weren’t here willingly and want to help you, but all you saw in their eyes was their eagerness to watch you die. You felt disappointment radiate from within you as movement caught your eye; a large man entered a relatively barren area of the stands, and you noticed the furred ears atop his head immediately. A Vastayan in the fighting pits? The only Vastayans you knew were the opposite of anyone who would ever come here. You realized that he was looking back at you as your eyes drifted from his ears to his eyes. You weren’t sure what to make of his cold, calculated gaze, but a loud whistle brought you back to your current problem; the fight was on.

Your opponent began to run at you, faster than you thought possible, and you threw yourself to the side just in time to dodge the first swipe of his blades. You had no combat experience at all, all you had was your magic. Magic that you sparingly used and had never used to hurt anyone before. The thought of using your magic like that scared you, but you didn’t have a lot of options at the moment. You scrambled up and were about to make a run for it, but found yourself pinned in place as the Noxian threw both of his daggers, which struck both sides of your loose-fitting shirt and then embedded in the wall behind you, one dagger grazing the flesh of your side as well. You cried out in pain, too scared to form tears as you tried to pry the daggers from the wall to free yourself.

The man sauntered over lazily to screams from the audience for him to finish you off. “We had some fun, sweetheart. But I think it’s time to show you how we say goodbye in Noxus.”

You didn’t understand his reference, but the crowd got noticeably excited as he cracked his knuckles, now only a foot away from you. Even if you escaped the daggers, he was too close for you to get away from him. This brute would take your life to the sounds of thunderous applause unless you did something now. You took your hands off of the daggers and raised them up, palms facing towards the Noxian.

“Please stop…” you begged him. You really didn’t want to hurt him, but you didn’t want to die. You would have to put up a fight.

“Little late to be beggin’ for mercy!” he cackled, and one of the daggers pinning you disappeared and reappeared in his hand. “Time’s up!”

His dagger didn’t have a chance to get closer as you let go and he was blasted with a spray of searing fire.

It was turning out to be a bad night for Sett.

He had been disturbed on the way to his ma’s house by one of his men in a panic, who had informed him that the two competitors for the crowd-drawing fight of the night had gotten in a drunken brawl earlier and had both been arrested by the Ionian authorities. His knuckles twitched as he changed course and made his way to the pit earlier than he had intended to. He knew that his ma would forgive him, but he hated breaking promises that he made to her. Sett had a way he liked doing things, but without a headlining fight, his options were slim; get in the ring himself, or put on an amateur night.

His momma had been worried about the influx of Noxians to the Ionian shores lately, and he knew she would be on high alert for any new injuries on him. The one thing he hated above all was being the cause of her worries, so he gave the orders to scout out competitors for amateur night. Maybe he’d find some new talent to replace the two drunken morons permanently. He wasn’t worried about either of them complaining about being replaced; it was a well-known fact that Sett didn’t give second chances. Not to anyone that messed with his money.

Once a group of men had been dispatched to spread the news that they were recruiting for the night, Sett made sure everyone was aware of the change. Newbie nights always drew in a lot of overconfident braggarts who spent more time showboating than they lasted in the ring, so everything would be timed carefully. The more fights he could pack in one night, the more bets they could take in. Amateur nights almost never had clear winners before the fights began, so the house won more than on nights where the big names came to fight. It sorta made up for the smaller crowds on amateur nights, but some money was better than no money.

Ensuring everything was ready took longer than usual, and by the time Sett had taken his place in the stands, the first fight was about to start. He already had a distaste for the muscle man with the Noxian tattoo. They never seemed to stop reminding him of the father that had abandoned him and his ma. He didn’t feel the need to fight Noxians in general, but he never minded watching them lose in his pit. The Noxian was parading around; not unexpected for a rookie to go heavy on the taunts but light on the punches.

Having had his fill of assessing the Noxian, Sett turned his gaze to the other competitor, only to discover that she had been staring at him already. They met eyes for a few moments, which was enough for Sett to notice how out of place she looked. Last minute nerves happened sometimes, but this girl was on another level. He was across the pit from her, but he suspected that she was crying. What kind of idiot had booked this crybaby for a fight?

“Who did she sign up with?” he asked one of the till masters, Ryo, who had also come to watch the fight.

“I saw her at Dedric’s with two other guys,” was the answer he received.

Dedric… Dedric had been working at the pits since before Sett had taken them over, which was something he knew the man had been unhappy about. Sett didn’t insist that everyone like him, but he expected obedience to his rules. And signing up weaklings for fights that lasted ten seconds was not good for business. If fights were short, the spectators got bored, and his tills got lighter.

“Do you want to stop the fight?” Ryo asked carefully, knowing better than to force any opinion on the pit boss.

“Nah,” Sett replied. “Let it go on. But I want Dedric’s till checked at the end of the night.”

Bets had been taken, and Sett wasn’t going to stop the fight now and lose out on the coin it generated. He would talk to Dedric later; for now, he was interested to see if the cocky Noxian had any skills to back up his mouthing off.

The Noxian brandished two daggers from thin air and charged at the girl. Sett stared her down, waiting for her to do something worthy of interest as she dived to the side to avoid a direct blow. Well, maybe the fight would last twenty seconds instead of ten, he mused.

The Noxian’s next move pinned the girl to the wall with his daggers, and he began to taunt her as she cried and begged for mercy. Sett had thought something was up before, but now he knew. Dedric would have to be out of his mind to book this girl, unless he was counting on fixing some easy matches. Nobody would volunteer for a match to the death that they didn’t think they could win, and Sett smelled a rat. He kept his business away from the Ionian authorities’ grasp, but shit like kidnapping local girls for pit fights would bring attention that he did not want. He wouldn’t stop this fight and draw attention away from the matches, but Dedric was gonna learn very soon why he should’ve played by Sett’s rules.

He flexed his knuckles as he watched the Noxian go for the killing blow; the corpse cart standing by, ready to collect the girl’s body. But the cheers and chants from the crowd died down to a whisper as the Noxian let out a terrified scream. Sett only had a second to duck as a wave of fire shot out from the girl, which travelled all the way across the room and ended at the wall directly behind where he had been standing.

At first he thought it had been an attack meant for him, but as he glanced down to the pit, he saw that the fire had hit its intended mark. The Noxian was unrecognizable, a black human-shaped figure. Sett couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead, but the corpse cart was wheeled over as the girl collapsed on the floor, the remaining dagger in her side disappearing, a clear sign that the Noxian was no longer alive. Her clothes in burnt tatters, the girl curled up on her side and sobbed. It wasn’t a sight he had seen in the pit before, and he was taken aback.

“Guess she ain’t as weak as she looks,” Ryo remarked with a low whistle.

The crowd remembered to breathe again as the body of the Noxian was wheeled away. There was a mix of cheers and boos, the latter likely from those who had bet against the girl. The doors to the pit opened up, an enforcer entering with two men at his heels. The men were out of place, looking more like con artists than pit fighters. Ryo was looking out at the same scene as the two men attempted to haul the girl to her feet as she resisted heavily.

“Those were the guys who brought her in. You think…?” Ryo prompted.

“Yeah.” Ryo didn’t have to finish his sentence for Sett to know that they both suspected the same thing about the situation. “Invite those two to the back office. I want the girl separated from them. I’ll deal with Dedric later.”

Ryo immediately left to oversee the orders, and Sett watched as Ryo appeared in the arena and had the two men and the girl escorted out of the pit so the next competitors could fight it out. He trusted that Ryo could handle the problem for now; any action on his part would have to wait until the crowd had gone home for the night. And with more fights to come, Sett settled back into his chair and kept his focus on the pit.

You were not being dragged away by those creeps again, not after barely surviving the fight at the expense of taking a life. You struggled, hoping the pressure of the crowd would keep them from pulling the knife on you again.

“Get up!” the skinny one screeched at you. “Get your ass up!”

Their tugging on your limbs paused as a man with dark hair in a low ponytail and an overly pleasant smile approached.

“Gentleman, the boss would like to talk some business after the rounds,” he explained smoothly. “We may even triple your finder’s fee.”

Your heart sunk. So nobody here was a decent person? You would get nowhere being on the floor, so you reluctantly stood up, your captors taking an arm each to allow you no chance of escape. You could only do what you could to avoid further violence being inflicted on you. You followed the smooth-talking man down the hallway you had been in before, up until he stopped in front of a door.

“You can wait in here for the boss,” the man announced, but didn’t stand aside for the men to enter. “She’s gotta go in another room. Can’t have the talent present while the men talk business.”

Your captors seemed to accept his logic, stepping into the room, obviously mentally counting their imminent profits from your enslavement. Whereas all you could think about was how you were going to get out of this. You were reluctant to hurt anyone, but maybe if you threatened this man with your powers, he’d let you leave. You followed him to the room next door, readying yourself to throw a fireball and run if necessary. But before you could work up your nerve, the door was shut and you were left alone with a promise that the boss would be paying you a visit soon.

You paced around the room, trying to think of what to do. Inora must be so worried that you hadn’t returned home, but you had no way to contact her from here. And even if you did, you doubted that she could get you out of this viper’s den. You would have to do something. You had lost track of time, stuck in your own thoughts until you heard muffled shouting from the room next door. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the voices sounded angry. You crept closer to the wall to try and hear better, but just as you put your ear to the wall, there was a heavy impact to the other side of the wall, which jolted you backwards, landing on your back and knocking the wind out of you.

You had to get out of here. You had heard the click of a lock earlier when the smooth-talker had left, but maybe you could just burn the door down? You ran a hand along the door; it was unfortunately solid. You had never tested your powers like this before, so you were unsure of if you could accidentally enflame the entire building. You had no idea what had happened in the room next door, which was now eerily quiet, but you weren’t about to be next. Not without trying to get out of here. You placed both palms to the wooden door, ready to burn right through it, when it was opened from the outside, sending you flying forward, eyes shut reflexively for the impact to the floor.

“And here I thought you were done fightin’.”

Your eyes snapped open at the deep male voice and sudden grip on your forearms, only to see the Vastayan man from before. You were eye-level with his very muscular chest, and looked further up to see him looking down at you with an eyebrow raised. Up close, you could make out every little scratch on his ruggedly handsome face, your eyes drawn to one small white scar that ran down one side of his bottom lip and ended just a bit above his chin. You came back to yourself all at once, flushing with embarrassment as you realized that you had been staring at him too long.

You remembered your situation, jerking back and out of his grip, which surprised him. Your need to separate yourself from him resulted in you falling to the floor again, and you began to quickly scramble away from the man.

He brought a hand up to itch at the back of his neck as he casually stepped into the room. “Relax,” he said, moving closer to you. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“Please, please don’t–” You were babbling, and you knew it, but you didn’t know what else to do as you curled into a ball on the floor, keeping your eyes on his approaching figure.

He looked somewhat annoyed, halting where he stood a few feet away from you. “Look, we beat the story outta those scumbags that brought you here. You’re free to go.”

His words swept away your fears of immediate and swift peril, which was quickly replaced by confusion as you slowly sat up. “But…”

“I know what good girls like you think ‘a the pits, but mine ain’t like that,” he explained. “We only take willing fighters.”

“I didn’t…” you trailed off, deciding not to voice your half-hearted protests. You definitely had thought exactly that, so you weren’t sure why you had tried to deny his assertion. “You’re going to let me leave?”

“I would invite ya back, but I don’t think the pit is the right place for a cryin’ city girl,” he replied.

“Thank you!” you exclaimed, ignoring the insult. You weren’t sure what to say, but you didn’t want him to have any reason to reverse his decision. He ran a fighting pit, so clearly he wasn’t all there morally, but you didn’t want to stay here and access him further, not when he was giving you a free pass to get out of here.

You stood up, keeping your eyes on him as you inched towards the door, the man staring back at you with what looked like amusement, keeping his gaze on you as you passed by him and into the hallway. You weren’t sure where to go from here, but you were afraid to seem like you didn’t know what you were doing.

“Wrong way,” he called out when you were halfway down the hallway in your chosen direction. You flinched at his voice, turning around and sheepishly walking back in his direction as he chuckled.

“Down the hall and to the left,” he said as you passed by him.

You walked a little faster at his words, but followed his directions. You were too nervous to look back, and you hurried around the corner, feeling his eyes on you until you fully left his sight. You were grateful that there was one decent person in this place, but you wanted to be out of here as soon as possible.

The air outside the arena was stale, but welcome to your frazzled nerves. You walked among the crowd of exiting patrons, hoping that they wouldn’t take notice of you if you kept your head down. Luckily for you, it was a busy night of betting, and that’s all the crowd around you could talk about. You stuck close to a group of women that were discussing how attractive one of the fighters was until you were back on the main streets again. You were grateful for all the loud people on the streets, because nobody paid any attention to you as you took only well-lit paths back to Inora’s home, eyes flitting around as you kept watch for any more goons in your way. You weren’t sure what the man had meant when he told you that he had dealt with your kidnappers, but if they were out on the streets, then you needed to be off of them as soon as you could be.

Inora was in her favorite chair by the front door as you unlocked the door and came in. She practically leapt from the chair, rushing over to you once she noticed your appearance. You hadn’t had a chance to look in a mirror, but you knew that your clothes were dirty and ripped, a patch of your shirt stained with your blood from the Noxian’s dagger. You must have looked awful, and would likely have bruises all over once you woke up tomorrow.

Inora sat you down and began to fuss over your injuries, washing your cuts and bandaging the worst of them as you told you what had happened to you.

“Those dirty kidnappers,” she growled. “They are a scourge on Navori!”

You didn’t want to make her any more stressed, so you shortened your summary of the fight and skipped to the part where the Vastayan man let you leave. Inora had only calmed down slightly, her protective nature setting in as she made you some dinner, despite your offers to help her. You sat patiently in your chair, hoping that being as calm as you could would keep her from acting on her threats to go down to the arena and give them a piece of her mind.

You had to beg her not to tell Ciorah about what had happened. Ciorah was a sweet lady who already worried too much about the dangers of the streets, and you didn’t want her constantly stressed with worry for you every time you left her home. Inora was reluctant, but understood why you wanted to keep the experience a secret from Ciorah. You were eventually allowed to go to bed after Inora had finished fussing over you, and you were so tired that you passed out almost immediately.

The next day, you were anxious to get out of the house and visit Ciorah. You had woken up in slight pain from bruises all over your body, but otherwise you were feeling better. Unlike you, however, Inora had woken up even more protective than the day before. She hadn’t let you do any glass work, stating that since you had used your powers to the extreme yesterday, using them today would be too much of a strain on you. You had tried to tell her that you felt fine, but no amount of convincing would lessen her worries. She barely let you make your own food, and you were trying to be patient, but felt like you were going a bit crazy with her constant hovering around you.

“…and if you’re still there when it gets dark, stay there and I’ll come get you,” Inora instructed you as you stood by the door, ready to leave for Ciorah’s home. She had been talking at you for several minutes now, and you decided to just let her talk until she got it all out. Only after agreeing to all of her conditions did she let you leave at last, and you took only busy streets to get to Ciorah’s house.

You had tried to wear enough clothing to cover all of your bruises and cuts, but you hadn’t worn a bag over your head, so Ciorah noticed the scrapes on your face and hands immediately. She fretted over you as she ushered you into her home, and you were immediately reminded of Inora, who had done the exact same thing. You gently refuted her worries, sitting down opposite her at her small table.

“I tripped and fell into a thorn bush,” you carefully stated your rehearsed lie. “I’m fine!”

You felt bad at just how easily Ciorah believed your lie, but you knew it had to be done. She didn’t need the extra stress, and you didn’t want to make her even more concerned about the ruffians at the pits. You bit down any urges to tell her the truth, covering up your guilt with a smile just as a knock came at the door.

You felt unease rise up within you as Ciorah excused herself to go to the door. The only person who had ever visited when you were here was Inora, and your mind began to race, trying to think of what to do if Inora was here to tell Ciorah tell truth. It seemed like you couldn’t escape the awkward conversation, and so you stared at the wall that was blocking your view of the entrance and tried to think of any possible way to explain to her why you had lied without damaging her trust in you. You thought you were doing her a favor, but now that your plan was backfiring majorly, you were feeling even worse.

You listened intently as Ciorah opened the door, waiting to hear Inora’s voice that you knew was coming. Instead, you heard a man’s voice, and an excited coo from Ciorah, which derailed your train of thought entirely.

“Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday,” the male voice said. “The boss’s daughter was sick, so I did his share of work too.”

“I am just happy to see you, Settrigh,” Ciorah replied warmly.

As soon as you heard the name, you realized that it was Ciorah’s elusive son at the door. You admittedly could use the help in distracting Ciorah from your injuries, but more than anything you were interested in finally meeting the son that Ciorah often spoke so fondly of. You let a smile light your face in excitement as Ciorah came back into the room, and the large figure just behind her sent your heart racing.

You barely heard Ciorah introduce you to her son as you stared at him, eyes wide and skin feeling cold with dread. Settrigh stared back at you in shock, neither of you breaking your shared gaze until Ciorah asked her son if he would like some tea.

“Yes, ma,” Settrigh answered politely, and the blatant change in his personality from last night shocked you.

The calm didn’t last long, because as soon as Ciorah left the room to prepare the tea, Settrigh quickly crossed the room to get in your face, voice threatening despite being at whisper volume. “Did you tell her?”

“What?” you whispered back.

He glared at you, unamused by your lack of answer. “Did you tell my ma about what I do?”

“No!” you squeaked, backing away in fear. “I didn’t want to worry her… and besides, I didn’t know you were her son!”

“You better not be lyin’,” he threatened, and the implications of his words were clear. You say anything and he would do the same thing to you that he did to your kidnappers last night. You didn’t know what to do to get him to understand that he could trust you.

“Settrigh–” you tried to plead, but his growl shut you up.

“Sett,” he grunted. “Momma’s the only one who calls me Settrigh.”

“I… I’m sorry.” You didn’t know what else to say to abate his sudden anger.

He scoffed. “Relax, I’m not gonna hurt ya. Just remember that my momma don’t need to know what I really do.”

You nodded definitely too many times for it to look casual as Ciorah came back into the room with a tray of three teacups with a soft purple flower pattern dotting the rims. With Ciorah here, you felt a little safer than being left alone with him, and could take the time to examine him more closely. You sat back down at the table and tried to stifle a laugh at the sight of the heavily-muscled man sitting in a chair half as wide as he was and drinking from a dainty little teacup. Sett caught your nearly-silent giggle and frowned at you.

“Settrigh, do not grip the cup so hard!” Ciorah scolded him, and Sett hastened to apologize to his mother, his furry ears drooping down in a way you realized that you found cute. Such a fierce beast in his pit, but a tamed puppy in front of his mom.

As you sipped your tea, Ciorah fetched your newest figure from its position on a small stand and held it out to Sett, who took it to admire politely.

“She brings me these when she has extra materials,” Ciorah said proudly, smiling at you as she addressed her son. “I told you that she helps Aunt Inora?”

Sett stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time. “The Demacian girl…” he muttered to himself.

Ciorah had told him about you? You felt shy as you wondered exactly how much she had told him about your life. Other than Ciorah and Inora, nobody in Ionia knew your shameful history. You really shouldn’t care, but you felt shame at this man who had grown up with a loving mother knowing that you had travelled across a continent because your family didn’t want you. You tried to ration with yourself that you didn’t need his approval, didn’t need him to like you, but you found yourself longing for any connection with someone your own age. But you didn’t want to seem desperate, so you pushed your emotions away for now and chatted casually with Ciorah, too scared to talk directly to Sett and give him any more reasons to dislike you.

Watching him interact with his mother made you feel happy, but also empty and jealous. Eventually, you were content to just let them talk as you nursed your tea, sinking into thoughts you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on in a long time. Thoughts about your family, of how you’d never see them again unless you wanted to give yourself up for death as a Demacian fugitive. That even if you did, they would only ever see you as a black mark on their otherwise-perfect legacy.

You didn’t notice as a tear fell from your face and into your now-cold tea, but both sets of sensitive Vastayan ears perked up at the tiny sound it made. Only when Ciorah called your name did you realize that you were crying.

“Sorry!” you cried out, embarrassed at losing control of your emotions. You stumbled out of your seat, rushing towards the front door, not stopping at the calls of your name from Ciorah as you opened the door and rushed out into the street. You only slowed down when you reached an empty alleyway, wiping your face with your long sleeve as you cursed your own judgment. Less than a day after you had been kidnapped in an alleyway, and here you were being careless yet again.

“Hey!” a shout startled you as your upper arm was gripped firmly, and you looked over to see Sett looking sternly down at you. “What are you doing? You nearly gave ma a heart attack!”

You didn’t have the strength to pull your arm from his grip, and you looked at the ground as you answered. “…it’s nothing.”

“You think I’m stupid?” Sett growled. “Nobody cries without a reason. I understand if you don’t wanna tell me, but I don’t like it when ma worries.”

He wasn’t going to drop it, so you finally looked up at his face, surprised to see that he didn’t look as angry as his voice had sounded. He raised an eyebrow at you, which finally prompted you to talk.

“I don’t know how much Ciorah told you about me, but…” You struggled for words for a moment. “Seeing you two interact just made me miss my family back in Demacia. Which is stupid, because they didn’t want me the second they knew I had magic…”

“Savages,” Sett remarked darkly. “All ma told me ‘bout your past was that you came from Demacia, but after seein’ your magic, I’m not surprised you’re here. Those fools think they’re above lowly magic and then imprison any inconvenient mages that slip through the cracks of their lineage.”

You inhaled sharply, surprised at his words, and he released your arm at last, leaning back against the alley wall. “Besides the pits, ma’s all I got. My pa wanted money more than his family, so he ran off to be a big shot pit fighter in Noxus.”

“Sett…” you whispered, and he turned his sharp gaze to you, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I don’t need your pity, fireball. As long as I have coin for ma, and keep my pit runnin’, I’m not worried about my pa. As long as he doesn’t show his face back in Navori, that is.”

“Sorry for running out,” you said quietly, feeling very embarrassed about your childish behavior.

“You don’t need to say that to me,” he said casually. “But you really worried ma.”

“I don’t know if I can face her now,” you admitted honestly.

Sett laughed. “She won’t be mad, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve gotten on her bad side before and you ain’t even close.”

Sett turned to leave the alleyway and you trailed just behind him. His legs were much longer than yours, but he was obviously slowing his stride to allow you to keep pace with him. You made sure that your eyes were dry when you arrived back at Ciorah’s house, and were embraced by her as soon as she saw you. Somehow, Sett silently standing nearby gave you the confidence to tell her what had upset you. She had held you very tightly, much more than you had thought capable of a woman of her small stature.

By the time she had gotten the full story out of you, the sun had begun to set. Remembering Inora’s warning, you reluctantly admitted that you should head back home.

“Settrigh will escort you home,” Ciorah said sweetly; her tone kind, but firm. You didn’t dare disagree, but you were surprised at how Sett immediately agreed to her request.

He was so clearly a momma’s boy. You felt bad for judging him so harshly upon first meeting him. Though that didn’t excuse him running the violent, thug-infested pits, but you forced yourself to take comfort in the fact that he seemed to only allow willing competitors to fight in matches. You realized that he had never explicitly told you what had been done to your kidnappers, and your fear of running into them on the streets again prompted you to ask him as you departed Ciorah’s home.

“Are they… dead?” you asked quietly, scared of what his answer would be.

Sett shrugged. “I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re asking. They’ve been banned from the pit, and encouraged to leave town.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. You were so sure that he had killed them. It was the pits, people died there all the time and nobody ever questioned it.

“Before you go thinkin’ I’m a saint, I did rough them up a bit,” he added. “Can’t have scumbags thinkin’ they can get around my rules.”

It was somewhat reassuring; you felt bad to be disappointed that they were still alive, but hopefully they wouldn’t be in any shape to try and get revenge. You didn’t want to experience any more violence; it was bad enough that you had killed someone, even though you had no choice. Silence dragged on as you walked alongside Sett until you were almost home.

“Y’know, if you ever get tired of Inora, I’m always lookin' for capable fighters,” he said, startling you out of your thoughts.

You stopped in your tracks, gaping at him as you tried to think of how to answer without offending him. He let out a bark of laughter as he stared back at you. “Sorry, city girl, just wanted to scare ya. You’re strong, but I know the pit fighter life ain’t for ya.”

He just said that to bug you? You had genuinely been worried that he would make you fight again! Fortunately, you didn’t have to wait long for revenge as Sett winced with a yelp as he was smacked in the back of the head by a strong hand.

“Settrigh!” Inora scolded. “You never visit anymore, and when I do see you, you’re out here picking on my apprentice!”

“Aunt Inora…” Sett greeted weakly.

She smacked him again. “I don’t tell your mother about your work and you repay me by allowing innocent girls to be forced to fight? What if she didn’t have powers and died!?”

“I’m sorry!” Sett yelped, before noticing you snickering at him again. “Hey!”

“I’ve ignored your seedy business long enough because you take care of Ciorah! You will apologize to this girl, not me!” she demanded.

Sett looked very defeated, and you were taking a bit too much joy out of watching the intimidating man be taken to task by a woman much older and smaller than him, though you would have to ask her how she knew that he ran the pit. He turned to face you with a grimace; he must have been used to her wrath if he folded so easily. Luckily, nobody was around at the moment to see his suffering but you and Inora.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding at least halfway sincere.

“Settrigh…” Inora warned, but you couldn’t help but jump in on his misery.

“I’ll forgive you if you let me pet your ears!” you teased him.

“What?” he snarled. “I’m not a–”

“Settrigh!” Inora scolded him with a smack to his biceps. “She’s being a lot nicer than your mother would be if she knew what you did to the poor girl!”

Sett growled, his eyes telling you that he would get you back for making him submit to your request. But you were having too much fun with the large half-Vastayan man and reached a hand up as he bent down to allow you to reach his furred ears. To your glee, they were incredibly soft. You ran your hand along the silken fur until a quiet noise from Sett stilled your hand as you looked back down at his face to see a flush to his skin that wasn’t there before. When he noticed you staring at him, he swatted your hand away at last, muttering something to himself and brushing past you to walk in the direction you had come from without another word.

“That boy is so predictable,” Inora mused as you followed her inside.

“You knew he ran the pit?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“It was hard for him when his father left,” Inora answered. “Hard for Ciorah too. People feared his father, so they were accepted, but they were not liked. After his father left, they no longer tolerated Settrigh. He had no choice but to grow up too soon.”

He had mentioned his father had left, but you didn’t realize he had been bullied. You weren’t sure what to say, so you said nothing and let Inora continue to talk.

“He used to get in fights all the time. Kids would say things to him about his mother and it would upset him. He grew up eventually, but I suspected he hadn’t really stopped fighting. I asked around and found out that he had taken over the pit,” she explained.

“And you didn’t tell Ciorah?” you wondered aloud.

She shook her head. “He begged me not to. With his money, she did not have to work gruelling jobs to support them anymore. I hate to admit it, but this way, Ciorah is safe and healthy. She struggled for a long time after we were forced to leave our tribe, and all Settrigh wants is his mother’s happiness.”

“I can see that,” you agreed. “I was really scared of him yesterday, but after seeing him act like an obedient puppy with you and Ciorah…” You couldn’t help but laugh as you recalled him being bossed around by the women.

“He’s a good son,” Inora assented. “I admit that maybe I went a little far with the ear pats.”

She noted your confusion and giggled. “Vastayan ears are more sensitive than human ears, and Settrigh’s even more than average. His mother used to pet his ears to calm him down when other kids would tease him.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to–” you started, but silenced you by waving off your concerns with a smile.

“He hasn’t come by in so long, so he deserved a little teasing as my revenge!” she joked. “He needs a break from being a big scary pit boss occasionally!”

“You’ve been distracted lately,” Ryo told Sett bluntly. Other men in his pit would be too afraid of insulting the pit boss to talk to him like that, but Ryo knew that Sett trusted him, and liked to think of himself as the closest thing the Vastayan brute had to a friend. They did not see each other outside of the pit, but they both spent so much time there that it didn’t matter.

Neither one of the men pulled punches with each other, and Sett’s personality change had not gone unnoticed by Ryo. He knew that it had started sometime around when they had dealt with those woman-nappers, but Ryo hadn’t been able to pinpoint what had changed his friend. Sett was as focussed on the coin as ever, but Ryo had caught him lost in thought much more often over the past month. Sett, however, kept his thoughts stubbornly hidden, no matter how hard Ryo tried to pull the secrets from him.

“Caiyana finally make you an offer you couldn’t refuse?” Ryo teased, knowing that there was no chance that Sett would answer in the affirmative. Caiyana, the deadly assassin-turned-pit fighter had her keen eye on Sett since she found her way to the pits. Sett had been cordial, even friendly to her, but Ryo knew the boss well enough to tell that he maintained a professional distance from the beautiful murderess, as much as a pit boss could be called professional.

Sett scoffed. “That woman ain’t into anythin' but Noxian gold.”

“Then you two have a lot in common,” Ryo replied dryly. Sett was blind if he thought Caiyana wouldn’t give up her booking fee for the night if it meant that she could jump the boss’s bones.

Ryo allowed silence to overtake the room as they double and then triple checked the coin count from the night’s lost bets. Ryo focussed his attention on organizing the coins, until everything was all set in its rightful place and Sett had no business to use as an excuse to not answer his friend, so Ryo tried again.

“I’m not stupid, Sett,” Ryo said smoothly. “If not Caiyana, you’ve got someone on your mind. You’re not smooth enough to hide your schoolboy crush from my eyes.”

“You wanna say that again?” Sett growled, and Ryo was confident that Sett prized the bag of coins in his grip too much to throw it at his head for that comment.

Ryo had always liked to get the last word with his burly friend, so he stood up with his modest cut of the night’s profits, sauntering to the door with confidence. “Bring her around sometime. I want to meet the woman that puts up with a momma’s boy like you.”

Sett noticed that people in the streets gave him a wider berth than usual, and he figured he must look as pissed as he felt. He valued his friend’s honesty and loyalty, but Ryo really loved pushing his buttons. They liked to bug each other often, but Sett hadn’t expected Ryo to bring up his love life, non-existent as it was.

Sett had never had flings with women, even after his rise to popularity within the dregs of Ionian society. When his father was still here, nobody really talked to him out of fear. But after the scumbag had run off on them, all hell had broken loose. No girl would look at the fatherless half-breed bastard with anything but scorn in their eyes. And then he had grown some muscles and taken over the pit and only then women became eager to throw themselves at him. He could see through their flattery as if they were made of glass; he wasn’t egotistical enough to believe these women truly had any interest in any part of him other than his prestige and his wallet. They liked the pretty package, but would balk if they got a look inside his damaged soul. None of these women had any time to waste on a bastard with thinly-veiled daddy issues.

He wasn’t about to tell Ryo, but he did have more than the pit to think about as of late. He had run into you a lot lately when he visited his momma in the daytime. He hadn’t noticed it himself, but he had begun to expect you to be there when he stopped by. The last time he had been by to bring ma some more coin, he found himself looking at your usual chair as he entered the home. Ma had noticed immediately, informing him that you were out making deliveries. Sett couldn’t pretend he wasn’t looking for you, but he bristled at his momma’s next sly comment about you being unattached. It seemed that his pensive mood had followed him into the pit, and it annoyed the hell outta him.

Sett didn’t have a crush. He wasn’t a boy anymore, nor an awkward teenager. He had never bothered with women, not unless it benefitted his pit. He was annoyed with himself for wanting to be around you. But he wasn’t about to trust Ryo with that information and open himself up for his friend’s teasing. The pit would be closed for cleaning the next day; it had been a bloodier week than usual, but Sett would welcome the time off so he could have more time to spend with his momma.

You had been too busy to see Ciorah lately, and by extension Sett as well, since you only ever saw him at his mother’s house. A rich collector had come upon your work, and had been commissioning you and Inora to make him various glassworks, which on top of your usual amount of work made you so busy that you had no time for anything else. The worst part being that the collector was sleazy; he insisted that you deliver the finished pieces, and would then make various excuses to keep you in his home as long as possible. You had wanted to tell Inora, but the man had been paying you well, money you knew would really help Inora at the moment, so you put up with it. You had survived the pit and the journey across the Noxian sea, you could take one so-far harmless creep.

You had just finished delivering another sculpture, following the man around his house until he finally decided where the perfect place for his new glasswork would be. You had hoped that would be the end of it, that he would for once have mercy on you and let you leave, but it was never that easy with this guy. You had been standing outside of his house, trying to excuse yourself for around twenty minutes as he continued to ignore your excuses and talk over you.

“…I do paint sometimes, you know. You should come model for me, you’re beautiful enough. I’ve always wanted to paint a nude model in a field of flowers. You’d be very happy as my model, happier than dirtying yourself with glass dust,” he rambled.

“I… I don’t…” You weren’t sure how to refuse him without losing his business; he had never been this bold with his creepiness before. “I like my work…”

“You can’t possibly think you’ll get anywhere in life working in that tiny shop,” he said, and you bit your lip in frustration at his patronizing tone. You needed to get out of here before you really lost it on him.

“You’ve got such a beautiful body,” he drawled, either oblivious or uncaring as to how hard you were trying to exit this conversation. “Your breasts were made to be painted–”

He was startled out of his speech by a large hand on his shoulder. You gasped in surprise, relief coloring your cheeks with warmth as you saw Sett right behind him. You hadn’t even seen him coming. The creep had an entirely different reaction as he stumbled away from the very angry half-Vastayan. The collector fell backwards in his urgency to get away from Sett, falling onto his butt in shock, but still had the nerve to speak.

“Y-you beast! Beasts like you don’t belong in the presence of civilized folk!” he bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at Sett, who lifted an eyebrow, his gaze still sharp and angry.

“You gonna apologize?” Sett growled lowly.

“Apologize?!” the man screeched. “Why should I apologize when you’re the one harassing civilians?”

“To her,” was Sett’s reply as he stared the man down. “That ain’t how ya talk to women half your age.”

“Excuse me?” the man exclaimed, getting red in the face from all the shouting he had been doing. “Mutts like you need to mind their own business!”

Sett’s eyes flashed dangerously at the insult, and your gaze flickered down to his fingers as he flexed them in what you assumed meant that this was going to get ugly. You quickly grabbed the hand closest to you before Sett could reply, and after a moment’s resistance, he allowed you to drag him away from the flustered man who was still on the floor.

“Thank you for your patronage!” you called out in the sweetest tone you could manage as you turned the corner, leaving the creep to cower and sputter on the ground.

“Sett, what were you…?” you queried him as soon as you got what you hoped was a good distance away from the creepy collector’s home.

“Ma needed more milk,” he answered, holding up a small woven bag that you hadn’t noticed that he had been carrying.

“Oh…” you replied stiffly, feeling awkward as you noticed that you were both still holding hands.

Sett looked down at you sternly, and you weren’t sure if he was aware of your joined hands or not. “You shouldn’t let people treat ya like that. Who knows what that bastard would’ve done if I hadn’t stepped in.”

“I know,” you groaned. “He buys a lot from us and Inora really needed the money to replace a torch I broke by accident…”

“Inora wouldn’t take his money if she knew what he was sayin’ to you,” Sett retorted darkly. “No coin is worth a woman bein’ treated like that.”

For such a big, intimidating guy, he sure was sweet to you lately. Sett took you out of your thoughts, tugging your hand to get you to follow him down a familiar path.

“Ciorah’s house isn’t…” you protested in confusion, but Sett’s steps didn’t falter.

“We’ll get there,” he replied. “But first we’re gonna go explain to Inora why you won’t be goin’ on deliveries to that freak anymore.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to protest; after that escalation in creepy behavior, you didn’t want to be anywhere near that guy ever again. You couldn’t help but feel like you were letting Inora down; the creepy guy was the most profitable client in a long time. But there was not a high likelihood that he would be commissioning you in the future after Sett had nearly beat him up. You followed him back home, finding Inora in the workshop finalizing a piece that would go to a sweet older lady who bought works from you for her grandchildren.

“How was–” Inora greeted you before noticing your companion. “Settrigh?”

“She didn’t wanna tell you, but that old creep has been flirtin’ with her,” Sett explained while you awkwardly fiddled with your fingers just behind him.

“What?” Inora gaped. “I knew he had been ordering a lot of pieces, but I never thought…”

Sett nudged you forward, and you figured you should tell her the truth. “Sorry I didn’t tell you… normally he just rambles stories at me and stands too close, but today, he…”

It was too weird for you to say out loud, but Sett didn’t have the same reservations. “The bastard was tryin’ to convince her to model naked for him.”

“He what!?” Inora snarled. “If I could get my claws on him…”

“I was tryin’ to, but she stopped me,” Sett replied, gesturing to you with a jerk of his head.

“Sett!” you scolded him, but Inora barked out a laugh.

“For once, I approve of your violent streak!” she grinned.

You knew they weren’t biologically related, but you couldn’t help but note how familial their bond was. Inora was more outwardly tough than Ciorah, but both women fit so well into Sett’s life.

“Ma’s waitin’ on me to bring her milk,” Sett changed the subject with a sly smirk. “Gonna take her with me so she doesn’t run back to her boyfriend!”

You gaped at Sett, him and Inora laughing at the disgusted look on your face. “I would never–”

“Relax, princess,” Sett snickered. “I’ll protect ya from him.”

You lost all will to argue, his words flustering you into silence. You couldn’t tell if his tone was flirty or not, but the sudden nickname made you blush. Sett seemed oblivious, but you met eyes with Inora, who smiled knowingly at you, and you quickly looked down at your feet.

“You can take her with you, but you’ve gotta promise me you’ll punch that asshole if you see him again!” Inora joked.

“Can do,” Sett answered affirmatively.

“Don’t be too late!” Inora added, winking at you in a manner that left you no room to doubt what she was really saying. You were relieved that Sett had already turned to the door and had missed her wink altogether.

You still weren’t sure why he was insistent on bringing you along, but it had been a while since you had seen him and you had missed the big brute. You followed Sett out of the front door, waving goodbye to Inora as you emerged back onto the early afternoon streets of Navori.

“…how is the pit?” you asked, wanting to say something but couldn’t think of any interests of his besides his mom and his work in your flustered state.

“’s good,” he answered with a chuckle. “Didn’t think you wanted to hear about the pit.”

What could you even say to that? That you just wanted to talk with him and weren’t sure what else to say?

“I…” you trailed off as you entered the streets that made up the marketplace that led to Ciorah’s home.

“I told you I won’t make ya fight,” Sett laughed. “The pit is a place for degenerates like me, not little mages.”

“You’re not a degenerate,” you refuted softly. “If you hadn’t saved me, I would probably still be with those kidnappers.”

Sett scoffed as you both turned onto the street that Ciorah’s house was on. “With your firepower, they didn’t stand a chance in a fight with you.”

You just stared at him, dumbfounded by his confidence in you. You still weren’t sure how you had beat the Noxian in the pit, but it was a weird feeling to have someone who brawled for a living complimenting you on your combat prowess, however little you felt that you possessed anyways. Maybe you should start having more confidence in yourself; he had certainly given you something to think about. Sett knocked on Ciorah’s door as you stepped onto the landing by his side. You felt a sudden onset of emotion as you reflected further on what a good thing it had been for your life for you to meet Sett.

“Hey… are you cryin’?” Sett said, looking panicked.

Before you could answer, Ciorah opened the door to see you wiping away the small tears that had developed in your eyes. Sett looked infinitely more panicked as his eyes darted from you to his mother, and you watched as her eyes narrowed as she looked at the scene in front of her.

“Settrigh!” she scowled. “What did you say to her?”

Sett’s eyes widened in panic at his mother’s ire, an ear in her grasp before he could think to pull away. You quickly followed them into the house, shutting the door behind you.

“It ain’t like that, ma! She just started cryin’!” Sett protested.

“I raised you to be kind to women, Settrigh,” Ciorah replied sternly.

“He didn’t do anything, I promise!” you corrected Ciorah’s impression the best you could, trying not to laugh as Sett rubbed his sore ear when Ciorah released it upon hearing your words. “I was just thinking about… how nice Sett has been to me and I teared up.”

You were embarrassed to have to be so honest, especially since Sett was now staring at you with a look in his eyes you couldn’t read. Ciorah finally abandoned scolding her son to give you a tight hug, which only served to make you feel more embarrassed. You had never cried this often back in Demacia, but that was hardly unusual for Demacia. There was always a high importance placed on being proper and not embarrassing your family. You had grown up with the notion that it was normal to keep emotions – even happiness – out of the public sphere and away from troubling anyone. Thinking back, you realized that you had never even seen your parents cry. Ever.

The only emotions they displayed often were fear and anger. You knew now that was how they kept Demacians in line. By making them fear mages like you that just wanted to be accepted in their twisted society, by making families turn on their kin because of powers they could not help. Ionia was not free of cruelty, but you would never have the entire island turn against you just for using your powers. All of the people you were close to here openly embraced you, powers and all. You would never go back to Demacia as long as you lived; Navori was your permanent home as far as you were concerned.

Ciorah happily accepted the milk that she had sent her son to buy, insisting that you both stay for dinner. You chopped vegetables with Sett while Ciorah oversaw the stew that was simmering. You were having fun, other than Sett dangling cut onions in your face, which made you tear up yet again, Ciorah smacking his shoulder when he teased you for crying. You hadn’t had so much fun in a long time, just sitting around the table with them and chatting as you ate, which was only made sweeter by the fact that you didn’t have to put up with that creepy customer’s behavior anymore. It definitely felt like too soon when it was time to head back home, and this time Sett offered to walk you home without Ciorah’s prompting.

“I’ll see you again soon,” Ciorah told you warmly, giving you a hug.

You stepped back from her and Sett quickly took your place, giving her a kiss on the cheek as she wrapped her arms as far around his broad back as she could reach.

“Love you, ma,” Sett told her.

“And I love you, Settrigh,” Ciorah replied in kind. “Stay safe.”

“Are you going to the pit now?” you asked him as Ciorah closed the door and you both exited her hearing range.

“No need,” he answered. “I can trust those knuckleheads by themselves for one night.”

“If you say so,” you answered in a singsong tone.

Sett playfully raised an eyebrow. “Ya know the pit ain’t all I ever think about.”

You weren’t sure if you were reading too much into his words, and the glint in his eyes. You were paranoid that you were over-analyzing what wasn’t romantic intentions on his side. But no matter what you did, you couldn’t help but hope that Sett would make a move, because you just didn’t have the confidence.

You decided that it would be worth a try to see if you could fish any more information out of him. “So, what else do you think–”

You would not finish your sentence as your arm was grasped roughly from behind, a hand clamping over your mouth and muffling your surprised cry.

Sett snarled and made to dash over to you, but a long, sharp blade to your neck had him pausing in his tracks, feral anger plain on his face. You still couldn’t see the man who held you captive, as any movement from you had him inch the blade closer to the flesh of your neck, and so you kept painfully still. Your situation fully illuminated on you when men began to trickle out of the shadows, including two ugly faces you remembered in detail, even a month later.

They looked even more rough than the night they had kidnapped you. It seemed like Sett’s lesson hadn’t gotten through to them as they closed in on you alongside a dozen or so men who looked just as intimidating.

“Let her go,” Sett snarled, and the venom in his tone shocked you cold, but unfortunately did not have the same effect on the group of men.

“You won’t protect your bitch this time, half breed,” the taller kidnapper sneered to supportive chuckles and jeers from the rest of the group of men.

“Navori is tired of your iron fist,” the other kidnapper added tauntingly. “So we’re gonna do the pit a favor and make sure you never step foot in it again.”

“You can try!” Sett growled, muscles flexing dangerously.

“Fightin’ fair just ain’t in the cards anymore,” the tall man replied, and before Sett had time to react, one of the men dashed forward and threw a sickly yellow powder in Sett’s face, which had him fall to his knees coughing and breathing heavily before he collapsed on the ground. The hand on your mouth tightened as you screamed and struggled. All your struggles did was draw the attention of the men back to you.

“Poor girl,” one man drawled. “About to watch her boyfriend die.”

Your eyes widened, heart beating overtime as you watched the men begin to crowd around Sett’s unconscious body. What had they thrown on him? Ionia definitely had its own drug trade, but you had no knowledge of what the yellow powder could be. But as you watched the men brandish weapons of all sort, you realized that the drug must have been a means to an end. A knockout drug strong enough to render even the large half-Vastayan unconscious. Sett was defenseless, and showed no signs of waking up despite your mental pleas.

“She’s gonna cry,” one of the men articulated with a cruel laugh.

“With him gone, she’s gonna be real lonely!” another man jeered.

“Not for long,” the tall man sneered. “She’s got a big debt to pay us, so we got first dibs. You all can have what’s left.”

You couldn’t lose Sett. You could barely hear what they were saying around you, eyes locked on the gleaming silver of their weapons as they raised them in unison to strike at the downed man you cared so much for. You didn’t wait a moment, because Sett didn’t have a moment to spare if you were going to save his life. The thugs were gleefully unaware, and even the cry of pain from their buddy that held you captive was too late of a warning to save them from your desperate fury.

Your fire reached an inferno in a split second, and the man who held you captive fell back as every part of him that was in close contact with you broke out in burns so hot that this skin bubbled and peeled right off. His last scream would come too late for his friends as you rushed at them, your hair whipping around your face as you slammed into them with the force of an erupting volcano. Your intense fire melted their flesh as you came close, their cries of agony a chorus you were all too happy to hear.

You knew that your kidnappers had been in the mass of men that stood around Sett, but in your fury, you did not see their faces. You did not watch their expressions as they melted away to nothing; they were dead, and not worth any more of your attention. In seconds, you had wiped out every last one. You stood before the ruined men, chest heaving, as you finally came back to yourself and realized that Sett too had been in the center of your inferno.

Shaking your head to clear yourself of your murderous focus, you dropped to your knees beside Sett, who you immediately realized looked completely fine. He had been in the middle of your fiery wrath, but he had not so much as a burn on him anywhere. The only sign that your powers had affected him at all was the slightest beads of sweat on his forehead. How could he be okay? Your fire never hurt you, but this was all-new territory for you.

“Sett!” you cried, placing your hands on either side of his face, tears dripping down your face and onto his jacket. “Sett, please –”

“’s warm.”

His whisper was almost too quiet for you to hear, but his eyes opening ever so slowly confirmed that you hadn’t been hearing things. Sett slowly sat up, rolling his shoulders. He grunted at the impact as you buried your face in his chest, and he slowly sat back up, placing a hand on your back.

“…should go,” he muttered, and you pulled back to look at his face. He clumsily pushed some hair out of your face as you noticed his pupils looked dilated. “We should… we should go,” he slurred.

“Are you… drunk?” you ventured a guess, and he smirked lazily, leaning in to nibble on your neck, which sent a blush to your face and a shiver down your back.

“Nah,” he answered, and you didn’t believe him for a second.

“Can you stand?” you asked him, and he only answered when you backed away from him until he couldn’t kiss at your neck anymore.

He scoffed, lifting himself up a little too fast, his drugged state putting him off balance. You quickly got up as well, grabbing hold of him before he fell over and slinging his arm over your shoulder. Ciorah’s home was close, but you knew that Sett wouldn’t want her to see him in this state.

“Sett, where do you live?” you asked, hoping he would have the mental facilities to properly answer you.

He stared at you intensely for a few seconds before sighing and beginning to walk, forcing you to keep up with him so neither of you would fall over. You were thankful that he just led you silently; you weren’t sure if you could take any more of his drunken flirting. You let him lead you, surprised when you bypassed the wealthy district entirely; you had just assumed that with all the money he made, Sett would live in the most expensive part of town.

The neighborhood Sett finally led you to was one you hadn’t seen before. It was very quiet, only a few people walking around, none of which even bat an eye at you supporting the large pit boss as you walked by. You wondered what kind of a place this was for the sight of the two of you to not be out of the ordinary.

Sett led you up a stony walkway to a very modest home, and you let him off of your shoulder at last so he could lean on the wall and fish his keys out of his pants’ pocket. When he finally managed to retrieve the small silver key, you took it from him. If the walk here was any indication, his coordination was not the best right now. You unlocked the door with ease, and Sett sauntered in, you quickly following behind him and locking the door.

You had clearly underestimated Sett’s recovery time, because as soon as you turned around after hearing the click of the lock, Sett caged you against the door with his body. You stared wide-eyed at the predatory smirk on his face, giving you nowhere to run. You couldn’t tell if this was his true feelings spilling out or if it was the drug. You knew which one you hoped it was, but you couldn’t take advantage of him in this state, not when he could do something he would regret if he weren’t under the influence of the weird powder.

“Sett, you should rest…” you protested, pressing your shaky palms on his chest, ready to push him away if you needed to.

“Nah,” he purred with a grin. “I think I’m good right here.”

“But I don’t know what they gave you, it could be–”

“Stop talkin',” he grunted, and it was all the warning you got before he crushed his lips into yours.

You gasped in surprise, and he didn’t waste the opportunity, sticking his tongue in your mouth and playing with your own. Your fingers gripped at the fur of his long jacket, breaking away from the kiss with a moan when his hands moved down to your hips, pulling your lower body closer to his, a rapidly hardening part of his anatomy brushing obviously against you with the motion. Sett chased your lips, kissing you breathless several times over as you tried desperately to keep up with the rough pace he had set.

You still couldn’t believe this was happening, but you were starting to feel more comfortable kissing him. You wanted him to be as wrecked as you were, and so you did the only thing you could think of that might fluster him and grabbed one of his ears, rubbing it between your fingers. Sett didn’t stop kissing you, but groaned against your mouth. A few more seconds of you repeating the motion had him finally break away from your mouth, and you stared at his beautiful golden eyes as he opened them at last. You were breathing heavily as you watched his gaze trail down your body. You realized that you had once again singed your clothing with your earlier outburst, your top a lot more low-cut than it had been when you had left Ciorah’s home, the singed edges of the fabric hovering at the tops of your breasts.

“Hold on!” Sett grinned.

You stared at him, confused by the mischief in his eyes. Sett wasted no time, his strong arms going around your back and under your thighs as he lifted you into a princess carry. You squeaked in surprise, holding your hands at your chest, unsure of what to do with them.

“Doubt I’ll get tired of this,” Sett remarked, turning around and heading down the hallway. “Last chance to back out, princess.”

He was really testing your newfound commitment to honesty. Your face burned with embarrassment and shame, so you buried your face in his chest as you murmured your answer. “…I don’t want to back out.”

Sett laughed, the vibrations from his chest against your ear as he pushed open a door with his shoulder. You brought your head back up to look upon a rather modest bedroom. The room was dim with the day’s waning light coming through the window, illuminating the large bed that sat in the center of the room. You weren’t given a further chance to examine his bedroom as you were laid on the bed, staring at Sett as he stood just to the side.

“Hope you’re ready, baby,” Sett purred, unlatching his gauntlets and letting them drop to the floor as he shucked his shoes off. “I don’t do anythin’ half-assed.”

You sat up on the bed, figuring you probably shouldn’t be wearing shoes in his nice bed, reaching down and gently removing them and setting them on the floor as Sett removed his jacket. Sett rolled his shoulders back as he stared down at you, unashamed by his own partial nudity as usual.

You had no time to feel self-conscious as Sett was on you again, hand fisting through your hair to angle your mouth against his better. You kissed him back with everything you had, but his efforts overwhelmed you and it was all you could do to grasp at his neck and thread your tongue with his. You wrapped a leg around his hip, and he happily ground his pelvis into yours. You cried out as the bulge there hit against you in just the right spot to send a spark through your body. Sett pulled back, golden eyes dark as he combed a hand through his hair.

“I want you bad, princess,” he growled.

“Sett, I–” you tried to answer him, but then his thick fingers were slipping beneath the skirt you wore and past your underwear to rub at a spot that had you squirming and moaning as Sett stared down at you proudly.

“Betcha never had this in Demacia,” Sett growled as his fingers moved from your clit to push a finger inside you. “At least those jackasses did something right when they drove you to Navori.”

You couldn’t reply, could only moan his name and weakly grip at his arm as he pushed another finger inside you, the pad of his thumb brushing against your clit as he continued fingering you.

“Sett, please–”

“Can’t wait any longer, baby?” he taunted, and you glared at him to the best of your lust-addled ability.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I can’t deny ya anythin’ when you look at me like that.”

Sett rolled over so that he sat at the edge of the bed, licking his wet fingers clean while staring at you haughtily. Standing up from the bed, he peeled his tight pants off of his legs, and you were flustered anew to discover that he hadn’t been wearing any underwear. You couldn’t help but stare at his cock, which looked rock hard as it jutted out proudly from his pelvis.

Sett easily caught you staring, his eyes raking over your still-clothed body. “You need some help?”

You felt overcome with a burst of shyness at what was about to happen. Sett climbed back onto the bed, and you blushed as his cock brushed against your hip. Sett noticed how stiff you were, leaning in to give you short, soft kisses until he felt you visibly relax.

“C’mon,” he prompted. “’s only fair I get you naked too. Been thinkin’ about this since ya melted those thugs.”

“What?” you replied.

“Came to as you torched ‘em,” Sett answered, nuzzling against your neck, mouth at your ear as his hand crept to the bottom of your shirt. “You have no clue how hot you look when you fight.”

Sett’s fingers gripped the hem of your shirt, and you lifted your arms to help him take it off of you. Your shirt was made of thicker material than you usually wore, so you hadn’t worn a bra underneath. Sett was very appreciative of that fact, palming your breasts with his large hands as he looked down at you with the hunger of a predator.

You were so worked up that you couldn’t wait any longer. You wiggled your hips, trying to shuffle your skirt down because Sett was so close that you couldn’t fit a hand between your lower bodies. Sett took pity on you, taking his hands off of your tits to help you shimmy your skirt and panties down and off. Your underwear was feeling a little too damp, so it was a relief to have them off at last.

“No shame if ya need to claw my back up,” Sett teased as he lined himself up with you. “I know I’m a lot to take.”

You frowned at him; there was no limit to his self-confidence, was there? Your irritation only seemed to further bolster him as he grinned happily. You couldn’t even stay mad at him; he was such an overgrown puppy. You hated that all of his quirks just made you more infatuated with him. You would have to rub his ears again and take him down a peg.

But Sett would make the first move, as always. He grasped his cock, holding your gaze as he began to ease himself into you. You closed your eyes, nails digging into your palms as you adjusted to the feeling. He went slow, inching in further and further until your hips met, his legs on either side of yours.

You felt so full, and for all of his grandstanding, Sett wasn’t doing much better. He let out a low groan, moving his hands to either side of your face to keep himself from crushing you with his well-muscled body.

No more words were exchanged as Sett began to move his hips, dropping his lips from yours to nibble at your neck, his hair tickling your cheek. The position brought his furry ears closer to you, and the temptation proved too much and you reached up and pulled on his ears, and Sett’s hips snapped up to yours harder in surprise, the resulting feeling making you moan.

“Should’ve known you’d go for the ears again,” Sett growled.

“They’re so cute,” you replied, barely able to get the words out when Sett moved back to grab onto your thighs and encourage you to wrap them around his hips. He pushed back in, and it was all you could do to grip at his biceps as he got even more brutal with his pace, leaning down to kiss and bite at your breasts, the sensations only heightening the pleasure you felt.

You shut your eyes tightly as you felt your pleasure climb higher and higher, your unintentional clamping of vaginal muscles earning you a groan from Sett as he reached a hand down to rub at your clit as he chased his own end.

“Sett,” you moaned, opening your eyes to pull his face to yours so you could kiss him again.

You could only hold out a moment longer, the kiss getting slower as you reached your peak, your legs tightening around Sett’s waist and walls clamping down on his cock. Sett growled against your lips, slamming down into you a few more times before he stilled, parting from your lips to rest his forehead on yours, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“I’d say that went pretty well,” Sett declared.

As the haze wore off, you began to wonder exactly what this meant to Sett. You had no knowledge at all of his romantic history, and so you didn’t know what to think.

You tried to sound confident, but your voice came out as a weak whisper. “Sett… what are we?”

He didn’t reply, but leaned down to kiss you. You frowned, dodging so that his lips landed on your cheek. If this was just a fling, he needed to tell you now. You wouldn’t let him avoid the question.

Sett’s eyes opened when he realized that you had moved your face. You gave him a hard look, and he returned it with a toothy grin and a laugh. You felt your heart drop; was he going to laugh at you for wanting more? Was this the last content moment that you would have with him before it all came crashing down?

“Don’t know why you’re even askin’,” Sett said, and you just stared at him, too scared to even breathe. “Ma likes ya… I like ya. You ain’t gettin’ away from me that easy.”

[specsforwoo]

Son of Morpheus | Demigod!Lee Jeno

Parent Deity: Morpheus (God of Dreams and Human Dreamers)

Allegiance: Hypnos

This boy loves to sleep

Like LOVES to sleep

He could be found sleeping anywhere

High key his mom found him sleeping on the kitchen floor one day

And ever since he was little

He was able to remember his dreams with intense detail

His family just thought it was a 4 year old’s imagination running wild

Until the night terrors started

He was tormented with them

They started around the time he was 7

They still happen today, just much less in frequency

But when he was younger

They were really bad

Like he would wake up screaming and crying

And it took ages for him to calm down

It got to the point that his mom was considering taking him to a child psychiatrist

He found a way to calm himself though

He began drawing out scenes from his dreams

No matter what they are

Light and airy or nightmarish

It helped him cope in a way

Life continued on

And he started opening up to his mom about his dreams

He talked about a young man with tan skin and dark curly hair

And wings of a white warblers

He told stories of epic battles

Of courtrooms filled with music and sleeping bodies

Of sleepless nights talking with a man sitting on the moon

Jeno couldn’t tell if he was scared of the man or not

As he entered middle school

He started being able to interpret his dreams

Other’s dreams too

He kept it a secret though

It terrified him

He learned to accept this too

As he did everything else

But then he learned he could predict others dreams

And it scared the shit out of him

He told his best friend, Jaemin first

Jaemin just gave him this knowing look and took him to his mom

His mom sat him down

And for the first time in his 14 years of life

His mother pulled out a photo of his father

And he was shocked

It was the curly haired man that he saw every night in his dreams

Sitting there next to his mother in a cafe in Greece

He was fucking confused

Like really fucking confused

Until it clicked

That was his dad

His dad had wings of a garbler

HIS DAD HAS WINGS OF A GARBLER

Am I going to grow wings too!?!?!?!?!?!?

No, you idiot. Jaemin

I’m not?

No, you have to earn them. Also Jaemin

So that night he was lying in bed

Questioning whether or not he wanted to fall asleep

Knowing he would have to confront his father there

But a cloud with a dreamcatcher with dew drops hanging from the strings shrouded with a calming silver light appeared above his head

And he fell asleep instantaneously

His father was sitting there

Talking with the man who embodied the moon

The man that he didn’t recognize made a comment and vanished after he caught sight of him

His father turned around. It was like he hadn’t aged a day since the photo see saw

Do you know who I am?

Uhhhhh. A dude with white warbler wings??? That haunts my dreams every night. Who also happens to be my father?

He didn’t mean to sound as sarcastic as it came out

Yes, that is all true, though I don’t ‘haunt’ you. But, do you know who I am?

No

He sat him down in the dark pavilion, explaining about the gods and goddess, the war and everything in between, even how he was born.

Do I like…. Have half-siblings??

No, but Jaemin is your cousin. His father smiled

After that, the dream faded off and he was peaceful for the rest of the night

Waking up, Jaemin was passed out on the couch in the living room

Picking up the nearest thing (a remote) he threw it at the boy on the couch, causing him to wake up

WHY IN OLYMPUS DID YOU NEVER TELL ME WE ARE TECHNICALLY COUSINS????

Not my place?

Anyways start packing, Mom said I can take you to camp with me this year :)

Yes, Jaemin calls Jeno’s mom his mom

And so he went to camp with Jaemin that year

It was nothing like what Jaemin described

It was WAY cooler

On the first day people were milling around everywhere

Jaemin led him over to a couple older kids with badges around their necks

Hey Jaemin!

Jaemin introduced them as Johnny and Ten, both sons of wind gods, both camp leaders who were helping all of the new kids get around and find their cabins

They’ll take care of you, I have to go find her.

Jaemin basically dumped Jeno on their shoulders so he could go find his girlfriend smh

Jaemin told us you were Morpheus’ kid, we were thinking about putting you in the Crios cabin? Does that sound okay? We would put you with Jaemin but he said you should get to know other campers your first year here. The shorter one spoke up

The taller one, Jaemin introduced him as Johnny, pulled out a gold coin, flicking it into the air while muttering something, and a wavering rainbow appeared in front of them

Put me through to Taeil and soon the rainbow was showing an older boy as well with a red undercut over some astrology papers

The rainbow??? Was facetime???

Ten obviously saw the shock on poor Jeno’s face, carefully explaining what an Iris message was and how to do it

After that he settled into demigod life pretty quickly

Jaemin introduced him to all of his friends, the Dream team, even some older campers who he was close with

He even liked the Crios cabin so much that he decided to stay there past the first year. The Morpheus cabin was lonely and Jaemin always had his girlfriend over trying to get her to sleep

The night terrors slowly subsided and soon his dreams were more peaceful than anything else

But one time he dreamt about a girl, right around his age, running into camp, a dark aura surrounding her but obvious scared

It wasn’t the dark aura that worried him, Kun and Jaehyun both had a dark aura, both sons of gods related to death

But her aura was different, it was mixed with madness, it was close to driving her insane

Even though it was only a dream, he couldn’t shake it off

He asked everyone that he knew, especially Jaemin, he found out a while ago that he was the one who founded the camp, what the aura could be and no one knew

He also started watching the border of camp everyday

Not stalking it or anything, just glancing over whenever he had a chance

A couple weeks past and Jeno was convinced that it was just a really weird dream

But then you actually showed up

Same way that it happened in the dream

You ran into the borders of camp like you were out of your mind, you were paranoid, no one could even touch you, not even Sicheng

When Jeno had heard what happened, he ran down to the pavilion

There you were, on the ground, covering your ears, eyes wide open, terrified to shut them, and shaking in fear

Once he had pushed his way through the crowd, he placed his hand over your eyes and shortly, you had fallen asleep

After that, Sicheng had moved you to the infirmary with Jeno’s and Johnny’s help

He found that you were severely dehydrated, and even he couldn’t describe the aura around you. It wasn’t that of Kun or Jaehyun’s but it was definitely similar

You were were in and out of consciousness for about 3 days and when everything finally settled down, a raven with a snake in its mouth appeared over your head

It was symbols that no one had seen or heard of, not even Jaemin or Taeyong

The boys spent the next couple of days researching who the symbols could belong to, and eventually they found it: Melinoe

Goddess of ghosts and spiritual passage who brought mortals nightmares that drove them insane

That would explain the way you were when you first came into camp

After that, Jeno stayed by your side every step of your recovery

He also helped you to manage the nightmares and control your powers

He had been there before, dreams were a tricky subject and nightmares made it even more complicated

But slowly you got the hang of it

And slowly Jeno started to have a crush on you, and slowly it turned into more

When he finally asked you out, you were ecstatic, it would be a lie to say that you hadn’t developed feelings for Jeno since coming to camp

And when camp closed for the summer- except for the few that stayed, he found out that you were attending the same university

He had been studying astrology while you were in the art department, soon, everyone in campus and camp knew who the two of you were

Y’all were inseparable

The Dreamies even accepted you into their group

(Jisung is your favorite don’t tell Jeno)

You eventually ended up moving in with Jaehyun

He had become like your older brother at camp

When Jeno wasn’t able to help you learn about your powers, Jaehyun was there to help

He even got his mom to visit personally and talk to you about your own mom and what he role was, and most importantly, that she wasn’t a bad person

Jaehyun knew the pain that you dealt with having a parent being a literal embodiment of death

And soon enough, it was even like Jeno had moved in with Jaehyun with how much he was at the apartment

Jaehyun was okay with it as long as he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night :)

[xenospacebabe]

Broken Wings pt2.

A/N: Ya’ll thanks so much for the positive reaction to my first drabble! A few of you asked me to continue it so I think I’ll make this a little bit of an ongoing thing. Enjoy! Also, I’m doing this all from my phone, so I can’t do page breaks. Apologies to anyone just scrolling by!

Summary: After breaking one of his wings, Hawks breaks into an animal clinic for some help. Little does he know that the doctor there would occupy his mind this much.

For some reason, this had been the longest week in your career. Your techs noticed that you were a little bit distracted in the moments of downtime between patients. But they knew better than to pry into your personal business, history proved that you had a very solid separation between work and real life. You never mixed business with pleasure and it made you a better doctor, in your opinion. It helped you focus more intently on your patients and their care.

That being said, even the most complicated cases couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the winged hero who essentially broke into your clinic for a broken wing. You wondered if he was taking your advice by resting his wings and his body. However given that he was the number 2 hero, you knew that probably wasn’t very likely.

After the last surgery of the day was finished, and the last client was out the door, you and your technicians cleaned up the clinic so they could all go home. First to arrive last to leave, today was no different. But today you showed up early just in case Hawks-...Keigo.. decided to drop by before you opened for a check-up. And when he didn’t, you were frustrated with disappointment you felt. You remained hopeful that he would appear tonight.

By the second hour after closing and no sign of the pro hero, you felt your heart hanging in your stomach. So with a heavy sigh, you started checking hospitalized patients to make sure they had what they needed and turning off lights. Though just as you had given up and opened the side door to leave, you were greeted with a full vision of giant wings.

He was there.

“Keigo!” You yelped out in excitement, the smile on your face illuminated the space between you.

“Hey Doc.” His voice drawled, smirking. He liked how happy you looked to see him. It made his heart flutter in a funny way. “Miss me?”

“Maybe. Come inside, we’ll get you checked out.” You retreated back into the clinic and he brushed past you. The discouragement you felt earlier faded away with every passing second and was replaced with pure joy.

Keigo followed you into exam and leaned onto the counter, sharp eyes trained on you with a bright intensity. You weren’t able to put your finger on how it made you feel when his gaze was headstrong on you. Nervous? Excited?

“So, how are you feeling? Any pain or numbness?” Right to business. He admired that about you. Instead of fawning over him and tripping over your words, you were calm and composed. At least, that’s what you wanted him to think. Inside, you were in chaos.

“Ehh...not really. It’s sore but that’s about it.” The wing in mention shifted slightly. You noticed that the splint you had placed was in really good condition. Save for a few rubbed spots where you assumed he was trying to scratch. That meant he was resting, taking your advice in stride.

“You know, there’s no secret cameras or microphones here. You don’t have to pretend.” He froze in place, his expression stilled with shock. Keigo hadn’t realized he was being that transparent. But honestly, it was easy to see. The bags under his eyes indicated he wasn’t sleeping well. Or at all. You waited for a response. This wasn’t uncommon. Pet parents lied all the time to make it seem like they weren’t making any mistakes when their animal was sick. But honesty helped you help them. And eventually, they would always relent.

“Damn, it’s that obvious huh?”

“Oh yeah. So, spill it.” Your hands slowly reached for the wing to get a feel of the splint. It needed a few adjustments which could be easily done.

“It uh...aches. And it’s really dull and ongoing. But it goes away. I can handle it.” Nodding along to his explanation you fished into a drawer beside him for scissors, another roll of tape, and a few pads of gauze.

“I can write you a script to fill at a pharmacy for some relief. And don’t think of telling me no. Is the pain ever sharp?” He nodded quietly.

“Is that bad?” You gingerly removed the tape and padding from the existing splint, making sure to not pull on his feathers or apply unnecessary pressure to the break.

“No, so long as it doesn’t keep up and you don’t have any fevers or anything like that. If you don’t care, I want to get another xray to see where we’re at as far as healing goes.”

The hero grinned, looking so smug and you didn’t know why. He leaned in close, his nose only a few inches away from yours. From this short distance you could really see how rich the golden color of his eyes were, just like an actual hawk. However, the stare she was getting wasn’t from just any bird. It was from this handsome, charming pro hero who make your insides squirm.

“If you wanted me to take off my shirt all you had to do was ask.” The redness came to your face in a rush and you suddenly felt hot. The sound of his chuckling only made your heart race and palms sweat.

“I-I-...it’s just easier-...we don’t have to-...”

“Relax, I’m kidding~” You sighed as he removed his jacket followed by the top of his hero uniform. His skin was significantly less bruised, you noticed. The cuts and abrasions were healing very well. However, in taking in the state of his wounds, you didn’t realize that you were staring.

Keigo’s physique was so clean and cut that you couldn’t help but wonder how his skin felt beneath your palms. What the heat of his body felt like. Eventually, you became aware of your unwavering stare and cleared your throat to break the awkward silence.

Several moments and a few xrays later...

“Okay, so everything is starting to bond the way it should. See the humerus here?” Your finger pointed to the bone with a jagged fusion starting. He nodded to indicate he understood. “It’s still pretty unstable so will need to remain splinted. But that’s normal for a break like this.”

Shouldering his jacket and slipping his arms into the sleeves, he popped the collar back up into place before sighing.

“Right, still grounded.” The tone of his voice seemed sad but you were understanding of why. For someone with as little freedom as Keigo, denying the one thing that made him feel liberated felt like a punishment.

“I’m sorry, Keigo. But you’re doing great so far. I’m really happy with the progress I’m seeing.”

The process of resplinting his wing was painful, but not as bad as it was the week before. You made sure to layer the gauze carefully so the bones would be cushioned and safe. Keigo admired how gentle your hands were, how soft your palms felt against his sensitive feathers. It took a lot of effort to remain composed around you. But as soon as you were done and your hands left him, he was left with a lingering sense of longing.

The hero followed you out and into your office where you sat down in the old chair that had been there almost as long as you’d been alive. He looked around and noticed all the pictures and belongings that decorated the walls and shelves. Honing in on one photo in the middle of the wall of a little girl holding what appeared to be a newborn foal, he looked back at you.

“Is this you?”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. That was the first foal I ever helped my dad deliver when he was working with horses.” Keigo looked impressed and moved down the line of frames. Lots of smiling faces and memories.

“You were a cute kid, y’know?” Hands shifted into his pockets and he leaned against a filing cabinet. You scoffed and waved your hand dismissively. “No really. You grew up into a really beautiful woman. Inside and out.”

“Really?” You looked at him in confusion. Your hair was a mess and you were wearing yesterday’s mascara. Surely he was just teasing you like those boys did in elementary school. Always picking on you because you came to school with horses on your tshirts and nose always buried in books about animals.

“Well yeah. I don’t just let anyone put their hands on my wings and have my feathers, you know.”

“About that. Why did-..”

“I can’t explain it, but I just wanted to make sure you were safe, I guess.” You were thankful for the dim lighting of your small office so he wouldn’t see your cheeks blush. You weren’t used to compliments like that and it showed.

“So uh-...Same time next week, Doc?” He could sense your exhaustion and decided not to keep you here longer than needed. But even so, you visibly pouted at the thought of saying goodbye again. Without thinking, you found a sticky note and quickly scribbled something down before handing it to him. “What’s this?”

“J-just for emergencies. It’s my cell number. If you know...if you feel any pain or need anything while the clinic is closed.” As he looked at the numbers you wrote the prescription you mentioned earlier which he then accepted and slipped into his pocket.

“Heh alright. Maybe I’ll shoot you a text if I get lonely.” The panic on your face made him laugh. You really were cute. Why did he have to say it like that?

“Oh my god, just go!” You shrieked, shoving him out the door while he continued to laugh. However before he relented and disappeared, he turned quickly and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You stood still in stunned silence. Your skin tingled where his lips had been, fingers lifting to touch the spot in disbelief.

“See ya later. I’ll text you.” Keigo backed away down and disappeared into the dark alley. Leaving you standing there wondering if you had dreamed what just happened. Your heart raced, the pulse thundering in your ears

Oh no....

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Conner Kent Week 2021, Day Two: Rarepair

Jason knew jokes about how pale Tim was, about how he was either a vampire or the perfect blue blood, about how he needed to get out and absorb some sun for God’s sake. They were met with glares, scathing retorts, smacks with a bo staff, and on one memorable occasion, a horrified Bruce as Tim barged into the house with visible sunburn all along his arms, shoulder and face. (Bruce hadn’t taken Tim’s accusation of But Jason told me to go get some sun! very well.)

Jason wasn’t joking now. Loosely covered in a hospital gown, Tim’s still body seemed to be more devoid of colour than any of the sheets, machines, and tubes surrounding him and attached to his body, keeping him alive in the most impersonal of ways. 

It was quiet, the sort of quiet that muffled any attempted noise with a soft hush, an invisible reprimand at showing signs of life in a place where there should be none. The beeping of the various machines didn’t register, the hum of the fluorescent lights was ignorable. Even the rhythmic tapping of Jason’s foot on the linoleum, a nervous habit he’d never been able to break, was utterly silent. 

It was quiet. At least until Conner Kent barged into the room, his heavy combat boots thudding on the ground and his breath coming out in pants, the terrified look on his face telling Jason that he thought he hadn’t gotten here fast enough.

“He’s fine,” Jason managed not to cough while speaking, the roughness of his throat a physical ache that was just now flaring up. “Full recovery, they said.”

“Good, good, that’s...” Conner dropped into the remaining hospital chair, right next to Jason. “That’s good.”

Silence blanketed them once again. Jason hadn’t ever been in a regular hospital room. He had supposedly spent a while as a patient in one when he’d risen from the dead and trembled around Gotham like a 21st century zombie, but he couldn’t remember any of it. He didn’t think Tim’s best friend had ever been in one either, given a good majority of Tim’s team was invulnerable or had advanced healing in some way. 

Jason was sure Bruce was itching to take Tim to the cave’s medbay, and honestly, Jason found himself on Bruce’s side in this. As much as he liked to distrust the entire Bat clan, he knew they’d give everything they had to make sure Tim was okay, while the hospital was only giving Tim their best care because of the “Wayne” tacked onto the end of his name. Jason had been about to demand Bruce bring him back to the cave no matter what, but Oracle butted in, telling him that Tim been shot as Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne in broad daylight. Bruce couldn’t take Tim home, not without raising some very complicated questions.

So that led them here. Jason being slammed full-force in the face with how much he’d let himself care about the tiny little toothpick, unable to make himself move for fear that Tim would slip away in the one moment he was gone. (Once he’d come back to life and seen how chummy Dick was with Bruce all of a sudden, he’d always expected Dick to drag him back kicking and screaming. He never thought Tim’s unobtrusive yet steady presence, doing his tech work in exchange for food, would lead to the word brother coming to his lips as easy as a breath.)

Next to him, Conner shuffled, and snapped Jason out of his thoughts. “I thought Nightwing would be here.” A statement, subtly posed as a question.

But, still one Jason had an answer to. “Deep cover. A mission he’d been planning for weeks. He doesn’t know.” And he would probably throw a fit about it too, when he came back. Even Jason had to wince a bit at the horrible sense of déjà vu Dick would end up feeling.

“So they sent you instead,” Conner said, and his tone was simple, but Jason found himself getting heated anyway.

“What, you thought the fill-in for Big Bird would be a little better?”

Jason was just burning for a fight, the helplessness he felt at being able to do nothing but sit in a low-quality plastic chair skating up his body and down his arms, forcing his fingers to curl in a fist. He expected the other boy to rise to the bait, having heard Tim’s complaints on how hot-headed Superboy was. 

But something about their current situation caused Conner to just turn and glare at him flatly instead. “You once put him a hospital bed, too. Don’t act like you care about him now when you would’ve celebrated this a couple years ago.” His tone was dismissive, and that dug under Jason’s skin much more than he expected. 

“Well then, it’s a good thing time travel’s reserved for the speedsters, huh? ‘Cause lucky for you, I’m not the same guy I was a couple years ago,” Jason replied scathingly. The next words were ripped from Jason’s throat, and he could almost see the blood splattered on them. “That’s my brother in the shitty hospital bed right there.”

“Yeah? And how long have you even cared about that ‘brother’ of yours?” There it was. Jason could see red trickling into Conner’s cheeks as he let Jason’s words get to him, and found himself oddly curious about that flush.

Still. Argument to win. “Long enough to know him,” Jason shot back. “Long enough to help piece him together after he almost broke. Where were you during that time? Fucking around with your friends or dead?”

“Trying to hold together the team that Tim helped build,” Conner shifted a bit to face Jason more directly head on. “All you’ve done is tear people apart. News flash: having a sort-of truce with Tim doesn’t automatically mean your family loves you again.”

That one hurt. Years of training to keep his emotions hidden was the only thing that kept him from flinching back visibly, but Jason still felt like he’d been slapped. Because the boy was right; just because Tim liked dropping by one of his safehouses every other week doesn’t mean the rest of the family was anywhere near comfortable with him, not after all the pain he’d caused them. And he couldn’t even fault Conner on it, because it wasn’t like he was wrong and it wasn’t like it wasn’t Jason’s own damn fault.

Still. He couldn’t just let that slide. “At least my family loved me to begin with. What do you have? Megalomaniac scientists who built you from an evil billionaire who thinks of you as an experiment at best and supposedly one of the best men on Earth who still thinks you’re not worth his time.”

Too late, Jason realized his insult came out a little too scathing. Conner’s eyes widened, and Jason saw him blink back pinpricks of tears...fuck. He didn’t know when mutual antagonizing had turned into a caustic competition, but he was pretty sure Tim wouldn’t be very happy with the two of them biting each other’s heads off. And Jason was the one that goaded Conner into this to begin with, to let some of his own helpless anger loose. Conner just wanted to make sure his friend was alright.

So, slightly reluctantly, Jason said, “Sorry. That was a bit too far.”

Conner shot him a grimace. “S’okay. You’re keyed up ‘cause of Tim. I get it. You’re still a jackass, though.” After saying his bit, the other boy turned away, taking up another vigil by Tim’s bedside.

...What the hell. It wasn’t like Jason had lied, anyway. If there was one person that had worse daddy issues than Jason did, it was this poor son of a bitch. Back when he was first catching glimpses of updates on what happened in the larger superhero world while he was letting green overtake his mind, he’d marveled a bit at Superboy, and the way the Justice League seemed to speak about it. How bad do you have to be to be Superman’s own son, (sorta), and still have him hold you at arms length. But after Tim’s stories, and after meeting him now, Jason was pretty sure Superman was in the wrong.

You really couldn’t trust anyone, could you?

“Nah. You’re right,” Jason said. “God knows none of the Bats want anything to do with me, so this stupid sort-of truce with this stupid brother’s all I got.”

Conner glanced over at him, surprised. Jason couldn’t blame him, he was a little taken aback at how easily the confession had spilled out of him too. They both knew how closed off people in their line of work were, but Conner seemed to take Jason’s words as an olive branch.

“You were right too. Found out the fun way that parents aren’t worth shit. So the team’s all I got, and Tim’s a big part of that.”

“The kid fucking hates you,” Jason said, putting some good-natured humor into his words to let Conner know he wasn’t entirely serious. “Loves you to death, but complains about you to me all the time.”

Conner snorted. “Look who’s talking. Every week at Titans Tower, it’s all ‘Jason won’t stop scaring off all my informants’ and ‘Jason spit on my copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.’”

“You can’t blame me for that last one, aight?” 

“No, I agree with you,” Conner said. “That movie was terrible. I don’t know why Tim likes it.”

“Because he’s a goddamn loser,” Jason said. He couldn’t say he was expecting Conner to know who he was, much less from stories Tim had told him. But it felt...good, in a way. Nice to be recognized by his media tastes instead of his bone-chilling reputation. Nice to know that the guy Tim wouldn’t shut up about to him knew who he was.

Silence fell in between them again, but it was comfortable, mutually acknowledged and let rest. Jason didn’t break it when Conner stood up, brushed a kiss to Tim’s hair, and left the hospital much quieter than he came. Jason didn’t break it when he made to leave either, squeezing Tim’s hand and mentally willing him to heal faster. Jason didn’t break it all the way home. 

The next day found Jason in a similar position. The positive side of being a mob boss: he didn’t have much in the way of a day job. He didn’t know why cramming himself into an uncomfortable position to stare, with a tight throat, at a kid in a medically induced coma was what he decided to do with his day.

Maybe because the kid had grown on him, latched onto his heart like a leech and didn’t let go until Jason could ruffle his hair and think of him as a little brother without physically throwing up. 

And maybe because he wanted to see Conner again. He didn’t know why, but their brief talk yesterday had loosened something inside his chest. He was used mulling over his regrets, used to Bruce condemning him and giving up on him as a lost cause, used to Dick trying to brush everything aside and form a bond with him again. He wasn’t used to someone staring his sins in the face, then shrugging and forgiving him. 

Forgiveness was much lighter and much less guilt-ridden than Jason expected, and he wanted more of it. From the way Conner had sunk into the same line of thinking as Jason, he wanted more of it too.

Conner didn’t disappoint him, but Jason wasn’t sure when he’d gotten his hopes up high enough to be disappointed in the first place. Calmer, now that he knew Tim was doing better, Conner leaned against the doorframe of hospital room, staring at their resident comatose with a little frown on his lips.

Jason took the time to study him. A black leather jacket stretched across his shoulders, a little more showy than the practical brown one draped across the back of the chair Jason was sitting on. He supposed it fitted in with Superboy’s theme, because anyone who wore that pinwheel-bright costume with the fucking thigh holster Jason saw pictures of online was more than a little showy. There wasn’t much proof of in his simple t-shirt and jeans, though, and Jason almost would’ve been disappointed if it weren’t for the earring hanging from his left earlobe and the tall black boots with glinting metal lace hooks that stretched up their length. Jason bet he owned the exact pair of fingerless gloves that were wrapped around Conner’s wrists right now.

In all of Tim’s vivid descriptions of the guy, Jason never realized how much he had in common with the guy, at least cosmetically.

“How’s he doing?” Conner asked, and jolted Jason out of his reverie. He didn’t make any indication he caught Jason looking, but Jason eyed him in slight embarrassment just in case.

Realizing that Conner was actually waiting for an answer, Jason cleared his throat and leaned forward a bit from his relaxed sprawl. “They say they’ll bring him out of it tomorrow, then a week here before he can go home. That is, if he doesn’t wake up on his own. The doctors say they’re astounded at how fast he’s recovering.”

Conner snorted, then stepped fully into the room. “Can you build up an immunity to injury? Or, like, have your body develop a mini healing factor or something? Just based on the kind of shit we’ve gone through over the years?”

Jason didn’t miss the way Conner put feather’s touch more emphasis on “we,” or the way his eyes flicked over to Jason. “At this point, I’m sure it’s the only way we’ve stayed alive so long.”

“No you didn’t,” Conner chuckled.

Jason’s head whipped up, staring at the other boy with disbelief threading through his mind. It had taken months for Dick to start making death jokes, and even then, he hesitated a bit, as if making sure Jason was okay with it. But after one meeting, Conner just steamrolled ahead, every bit as confident as he appeared to be. Jason found himself laughing too, with genuine amusement albeit a little punched out.

Crossing the room to seat himself in the remaining plastic chair, Conner sunk down with a sigh. “I just want him to wake up already.”

“Yeah, well. Who doesn’t?” Jason said, feeling unreasonably a little disappointed. Of course Conner wanted to talk about Tim, that was the whole reason he’d come to the hospital in the first place. He’d only known Jason for an hour, and a large part of that was spent trading insults back and forth. Of course he didn’t want to talk about how Jason was doing.

“So,” Conner said, turning away from the hospital bed. “How are you doing?”

Or maybe he did. Jason didn’t know what to call the little bubble of satisfaction that flew up his throat and popped in his mouth. “Not bad. Life as a mob boss is kinda boring, whaddya know. You?”

“Playing den mother for a bunch of hypercompetent yet cluelessly stupid baby superheroes is not how I imagined my life going.”

“Playing den mother?”

Conner wrinkled his nose, in a motion that was in no way cute, honestly kind of gross and flat. Jason found himself staring nonetheless. “Bart used to call me Team Mom back when we founded the team, and it caught on. Now, Cassie leads, but since even she says it, everyone fucking says it. They ask me for granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“And?”

Conner sighed. “I give them granola bars and money to buy movie tickets.”

“There you go,” Jason  said, his voice dripping with smug amusement.

“I swear I’m not usually this lame,” Conner pleaded, and his half-smile was aimed straight towards Jason.

“No, no, I believe you. Tim’s told me stories,” Jason said. “Didn’t you once throw some guy into a police car so hard, the car dented and they had to call in a helicopter so the guy didn’t die on the way to the hospital?”

Conner flushed, and Jason found it just as entrancing as last time. “He tried to touch Cassie,” he explained. “And she can take care of herself more than well, I know. I just got a bit...overprotective.”

Jason just laughed. “Don’t worry. I thought it was badass.”

“Really?” Conner’s lips twisted into a sour smile. “Because the League thought it was proof of my, fuck, what was it? Violent, destructive tendencies mirrored on a smaller scale of the schemes of Lex Luthor. Something along those lines.”

Shaking his head with desideration, Jason scoffed. “Sounds about accurate. Besides, you don’t wanna know what the League thinks of me.”

“What?”

“Aside from, like, Joker and Two-Face and Mad Hatter and shit, Red Hood is one one of Batman’s most powerful and dangerous rogues, and must be stopped at all costs.”

Conner was laughing before Jason even finished talking. “I love that for you,” he said. “You’re just so powerful and dangerous. I’m quaking in my boots.”

Jason shoved him lightly, and felt Conner give way on purpose, ignoring how natural and easy the motion felt. “Whatever you say, Luthor Lite.”

“Well, guess I found my new superhero name,” Conner said, finger held up to his chin in mock-thought as if musing something extremely important.

“It’s perfect,” Jason said. “And here we have Conner Kent, ordinary punk-rock farmer. But he’s hiding a secret! When his ‘violent and destructive tendencies’ come out, he turns into...Luthor Lite!”

The two of them collapsed into muffled laughter, Jason stifling his noise by biting his lip and Conner putting his head in the crook of his arm to hide his red face. Pity, Jason liked that flush.

Straightening up with a sigh, Conner offered Jason a little grin. Crimson was still creeping along his cheekbones and the edge of his jaw, and Jason was suddenly struck by the urge to trace it.

“Kon,” Conner said.

“What?”

“Call me Kon,” Conner said. “Everyone does.”

“Kon, huh? With a K, right?” Jason asked, then nodded thoughtfully when Conner made a noise of affirmation. “Is it Kryptonian or something?”

A rueful expression stole it’s way onto Conner’s face, mischievous lips and daring eyes staring at Jason as if challenging him. “Yeah. Kon-el. Kryptonian for ‘abomination’. It’s what they thought of clones.”

A pause. Then, “Wow.” Jason bust out laughing for the second time. “That’s metal as fuck. Good for you, Kon.”

“Says the guy who took the name of the person who killed him, then twisted it into something so horrifying that now, no one else associates it with anything other than you.”

“Is that judgement I hear?”

“Respect,” Kon said, and his smile was oddly shy, the first time he’d shown that emotion since he’d met Jason. Jason liked the way it looked on him; it suited him oddly well.

They were quiet for a minute, grinning at each other like buffoons, but Jason couldn’t find the heart to stop. Eventually, Kon stood up and rolled out his shoulders to stretch. “I gotta get going. I’m meeting Bart and Cassie, updating them about Tim.”

“They’re waking Tim up in the afternoon,” Jason said. “Bruce is gonna be here, plus Steph. So I’d stay clear.”

“Gotcha, thanks. I’ll come in the morning.”

A proposition, if Jason ever saw one, and there was no way he could have refused. “I’ll be here,” he said, and kept his eyes on Kon until he rounded a corner, away from sight.

Kon was already there when Jason came to visit Tim the next day, and he gave him a friendly, if a tad flirtatious, smile. Jason responded, accidentally putting too much emotion into the greeting than he would have liked, but it made Kon brighten, so Jason didn’t feel too bad. 

Dropping heavily into what had become “his” chair, Jason shrugged off his jacket. He gave himself a mental high-five when he noticed Kon staring at his shoulders, but made no motion to address it.

“If all goes to plan, he’ll be the same annoying little prep boy that’s always annoying the hell out of me by tonight,” Jason said.

“He’ll be fine,” Kon said, and his voice was quiet, but there was an undercurrent of confidence curling around his words. He sounded like he had utter faith in Tim. Jason wished some of that would bleed over.

“He’s a tough little shit,” Jason said, then repeated Kon’s words. “He’ll be fine.”

“How ‘bout you?”

“Hm?” Jason raised an inquiring brow. “Oh, I’m all good It’s not me that’s hurt.”

“Jason,” Kon snorted. “If I have learned anything over the past two days, it is the fact that you are most definitely not ‘all good.’”

“Yeah well,” Jason said. “You’re one to talk.”

Kon made a noncommittal noise, and shrugged as if to say what can you do? “We’ve all got issues. But I get the feeling that you’re not as closed off and angry as you let people believe. Or maybe you are, but you don’t want to.”

Jason bit back the first response that came into his mind, telling Kon that no, he was closed off and angry, just not with him. But that wasn’t the truth, and he definitely didn’t have the courage to say it out loud. So instead, he said, ���Maybe. Not gonna lie, from the way Tim and everyone talks about you, I was expecting more...”

“Cocky little frat boy?” Kon asked, smirking.

“More or less.”

Kon sighed, then looked down to where his hands were fiddling with each other. “Superman doesn’t act like a cocky little frat boy. Neither does Lex Luthor.”

“You’re not either of them,” Jason said, realization pouring into his mind like spilled oil. “You’re not either of them, but no one else seems to get that, so you make it as obvious as possible.”

“A couple people got that eventually,” Conner said, looking up at Tim with a soft smile. “Not many, though. And none as quickly as you.”

Kon leaned back, level with Jason now, turned to face him, something on his face that Jason couldn’t read. The chairs seemed much closer than Jason could remember, but he wasn’t very much banking on his memory right now. 

“Yeah, well,” Jason said, feeling a little lame. “What can I say. Misery likes company, and companies read each other through water.”

“Never heard that one before.”

“I came up with it,” Jason said. 

“I like it,” Kon smiled, then leaned forward with an ease Jason had been determined to build up first.

A little peeved at Kon beating him to it, Jason closed the distance first, the kiss probably a little too rough. But given the way they’d met, Jason felt like the bite he gave Kon was justified, even if the other boy was invulnerable.

Jason had made plenty of bad decisions in his life, and he knew exactly what they felt like. This wasn’t one of them. There was no chance that the way Kon’s hands coming up to cup Jason’s face, dragging his nail down Jason’s jaw, was anything other than good. No chance the way Kon’s soft hair suddenly threaded through his fingers was anything other than soft, no chance the soft noise Kon made in the back of his throat was anything other than delightful.

Yeah, Jason knew bad decisions. And despite the avalanche of bad decisions that seemed to make up every inch of Jason, from his scarred hands to his chipped nails, despite the pile-up of thoughtless ideas that led to this boy being made, despite how intimately familiar Jason was with regrets, he was certain Conner Kent wasn’t one of them.

------------

this was almost 4k what the fuck

also. please imagine tim waking up to see his best friend and older brother aggressively making out in the plastic hospital chairs next to him. 

anway, suddenly i have a new ship.

imma post this on ao3 later, it got a bit long

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