#also did doesn’t always have trauma from what I heard

[fortheloveofpiggy]

Edit: took back some statement read here

TransDID is so offensive actually

What do you mean you want to transition to having dissociative identity disorder. What do you mean you wish you had extreme trauma. What do you mean you wish you dissociated. What do you mean you wish you had amnesia. Did isnt all about being plural. It’s okay to wish you were plural but no you can’t transition to having did just say you’re willogenic please.

[wroteclassicaly]

Summary: A confession leads to unexpected heartbreak.

18+

Warnings: Language, smut, hurt/no comfort, one sided feelings, heartbreak, angst GALORE, self-esteem issues, mentions Steve’s past head trauma, insecurities on both sides, jealous Steve, mentions Nancy, best-friend!Reader w/ best-friend!Steve, and friends to lovers. This one hurts, folks!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Word count: 3,985

A/N: No banner for this! Just some raw writing I did early into the hours of this morning/night, adding on some today. I wanted to try something different, so enjoy!

Note: Also posting this the day after I wrote it. Okay, lmaooooo.

“I love you, Steve.”

The words come easy to you, the courage taking years to build. But once they leave your mouth as you’re cradling his neck’s nape, playing with the chocolate curls that have grown out there, you cannot figure out why you wasted time not saying it. It’s been an ongoing thing between you two — a two year thing, in fact. Never any pushing for labels, no exclusivity. You were patient, he was giving, and you assumed you were both reading on the same page.

In a few minutes, however, you’d find out how very wrong that you were. You wished that your mouth and your legs had stayed closed around your best-friend, Steve Harrington.

It was a typical weekday, no dates planned, acting as if his last date hadn’t upset you, or that you enjoyed the one you forced yourself to go on with some guy, so that your feelings weren’t completely obvious. Sidenote: to mostly everyone but Steve, they kinda were. Steve had called you after your shift at the local Burger King, asking if you wanted to come over and spend the night. Not unusual. You always trade spending nights, rolling around on various surfaces, before enjoying breakfast together.

Intimate, casual, perfect.

Your answer was an automatic yes. A quick shower after work for you, a return phone call, and he’d gotten in his BMW, picked up some takeout, went to your door to get you, held your hand to the car, opened your damned door, and the dessert had been him between your thighs. This night in particular, it was one of pent up frustrations and desperations that had just one satiable cure. You ended up on top of Steve, his back pressed into the headboard, mutual clothes scattered all over his bed.

His shoulders became leverage, his massive palms spread out on either side of your waist, pinching the plush skin into his palming grip. Nose dusting across a defined nose bridge, caught in a cheekbone, with kisses rushed, deep, sloppily trying to stay focussed, but driven to reach that place buried inside one another.

Steve’s thighs provide a platform for you to sit upon, ankles locked around his back. He’s slippery with sweat, places you’d like to lick clean. You pull back from your cove to say it again, unable to stop yourself, going in for a kiss. You don’t think he heard, he’s humble sometimes, disbelieving in others. One hand cups his jaw, the other staying put to card through his hair, moisture pooling between your fingers.

“Hey? You still with me, big guy? I said I love you.” You’re smiling softly, thumbpad caressing his jawline. You feel it twitch, his shoulders tense.

Is he gonna cum? You know the signs. “Steve?” Something in your guts feels a little off. You ignore it.

“I know what you said. I heard you say it the first time.” He interrupts, tries to remain impassive, his hips slowing from your combined movements.

Like salt in the wound, a fresh slap to the face. No way.

“You heard me say that I love you?” You have to try one more time. He’s been hit in the head a lot, maybe he didn’t get it? He couldn’t have, right? Are you really this stupid, this dense?

You attempt to kiss him, to lay it all down through your actions, rather than your words this time, but your mouth doesn’t get the chance to meet him.

His lids flutter closed, he sighs, his face leaving yours, hands lifting off your body to wrap around your wrists, slowly untangling them from his neck. “Stop, alright?”

You feel your heart rate accelerate, your body tensing, your throat is choked with a teary panic, a bulldozer driving across your organs, settling atop you with its weight. Every single wall you still have built, they slowly shake off their cobwebs to rise from the dust, smothering you in the smoke. And he’s suddenly a very tight fit, to the point where you’re wincing, body immediately wanting, trying to push him out. He notices, one hand dropping to the side of your face. “Hey, hey. Hon —“ He stops himself, lets your nickname drop, falling back into your regular name.

He isn’t sure who that action hurts the most.

One look at your vacant expression and Steve feels as if he’s been sucker punched, that he’s the meanest version of himself he’s ever been.

He’s still inside of you, you let him into your body, you told him a sacred set of words. And this is what he’s doing to you? Hurting you to the point where your body starts to get frightened? But he couldn’t just come while you poured your heart out, he couldn’t continue like his world was normal anymore. He reaches down to wrap around his base, face wrinkling, teeth gritting. You’re so fucking tight that it hurts, his cock aches for you when he eases his way outward, dragging combined essences with him. “Let me just…” He starts, deep voice a rocky, rasp, finishing when his length is gone from your body, dripping with you onto his sheets, covering him.

Once he’s out, you’re already passed the point of overwhelming vulnerability. Your legs clamp closed, your hands cover your chest, unwillingly to wrap yourself in his damn sheet that smells like home to you. Steve is unsteady on his feet, halfway hard, but slowly softening at your nearly curled position. You aren’t looking at him, you won’t, you cannot. It’s not safe right now, because if you do, it’ll all come apart and it won’t stop. Steve is on overload in his own head, eyes sparkling, tears matted into his lash-line.

He has to breathe through his nose when he says it. It’s wrong, it’s so fucking wrong. But he’s helpless, he can’t take this environment, he wants to run from you, from your words.

“I’ll, uh. I’ll, uhm… I can take you home if you get dressed.”

He’s blinking away blurry vision as he catches your wounded, tear fogged expression the moment that he’s snatching his boxers and jeans off the bed, and making for the bedroom door. He shuts it and leaves you to re-cloth yourself in silence. It’s honestly deafening, you’re not sure how you manage. Revealing your body to his room, to his scent, pictures on his wall, various trinkets, but not him. You’re shaking as you put on piece by piece of fabric, dreading having to see him.

Your hand hovers over the door, giving several pauses before you open it. You step out onto the deep carpet, plush across your feet, mashed against your toes. He’s nowhere in sight. And you remember that he took his clothing, so he’s probably getting re-dressed.

Fuck this. It’s in your brain on broadway lights, body in flight mode. You’re heading down the staircase and snatching your shoes up by the entryway, forgetting your purse in his room. You don’t care anymore, you have to get out of here, this place closing in on you like a funhouse. You shut the door as quietly as you can, then you’re sprinting down the Harrington’s driveway.

Is it dramatic? Yeah. Oh-fucking-well, you’re running on adrenaline so your body doesn’t feel the disgusting agony that’s slowly eating its way through your insides. You get about halfway and you hear footsteps approaching at high rates, your name being chanted. Steve is at your side in seconds, breathless.

“Shit, you scared me. Why the hell did you leave like that?”

Your eyes widen to give him an incredulous look, and that’s when the tears escape, rolling down your cheeks. Steve sees your disheveled state next. No purse, no shoes. Your blouse is halfway hanging off your shoulder. It’s an automatic instinct, his fingers brushing underneath the fabric, dragging across your skin as he pulls up to secure it.

You want to flinch away, but you don’t. Hurt settles in his brows. He’s fucking incredible with that question. “You aren’t wearing your shoes. You can’t leave my house like this.”

Autopilot flies in to protect you, leveling off everything else that you could say or do. There’s no anger, there’s no sorrow, there’s nothing. And that’s what scares him the most when you say, “I just wanna go home.”

He can’t stand it anymore, his natural urge to protect your safety, has him wrapping you in his arms. You still smell like his bed, like him, like love making left unfinished. Your arms remain clutched to your chest. No reaction.

He says it out loud, unknowing if he means it to you or just to himself. “We should’ve never started having sex.”

A mistake. You’re his mistake. Not his biggest. Not even a real regret.

Steve Harrington has only ever loved one girl. He’s only ever regretted one loss. He even cared more for Robin before he even went to you. Are you even pretty enough, or does he just like you because you’re friends and he’s horny, or searching for something? You’re not it, not even a morsel.

And it doesn’t matter what you say, what you do, how you feel. You’ll be stuck with that, while Steve clings to whatever he truly wants. Now you’ve lost what you’ve built with him, destroyed his safe place by becoming a cliche. He doesn’t deserve your one sided feelings.

The wheels are spinning in your head, but Steve still sees nothing in your responses, nor your reception. So he lifts his keys from his pocket to respect your wishes, his chest on fire with an acidic inferno, his head clouded with pain far worse than anything he’s ever experienced, his skull echoing with what his brain has just endured. You walk to his car without sparing a glance, feet still bare. He swallows and it just feels like piles of broken glass. He can do nothing but do what you asked of him.

He drives you to your house in silence. Steve Harrington has been sure of one thing in two years, and that’s always been you. But as he pulls up to your house, you’re climbing from his car before he can put it in park, your voice hauntingly, desperately hollow. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

And you leave him, the levee going to break once you’re through your front door, pain in between your legs to remind you the next morning before your mind does. His nose crinkles, his fingers pinching, a thin line of snot trailing out. Steve wants to say to you that it’s him who has ruined it all. That he’s so scared of those words, that he doesn’t understand how someone could love him, so he can’t let your words sink in, can’t consciously reciprocate. A coward who won’t let himself feel your declaration.

Steve Harrington’s brain, however, knows the truth.

~*~

Waking up the next morning had been a reality that neither you, nor Steve were prepared to handle. You pretty much cried yourself to sleep, whilst Steve held onto your purse and paced his floor until his feet verged on rug burn, tears blurring his vision. When he finally did lay down, his alarm went off two hours later. He woke to your scent all over his bed, still covering him, lingering even as he showered, especially in his car on the way to the store. The same car that things have happened in, and the very one that he dumped you off like trash last night, after what you’d gone through to tell him the extent of your feelings. He wasn’t functioning on a full level from the second he pulled into the parking lot.

~*~

You could still feel him, your body sore, brain picking up seconds after you opened your eyes, toes hitting the blush rug underneath your bed. Your sclera was bloodshot, burning, clouding over as you passed by pictures of you with Steve, and quite a few you’d taken of him solo, that you had on the corkboard above your desk. You’d deal with taking everything down later, unsure what you would be doing with the items. Forgoing breakfast was a given, your stomach in knots. Showering went painfully fast, leading you right into putting on your work uniform.

You barely made it three hours into your shift, headache, heartache going head to head, and your boss had noticed your discomfort, gently releasing you for the day. Only one person made everything better, but that was no longer an option. Your confession sets you free, backfiring what type of freedom you wanted to occur. It was eleven o’clock when you dock yourself into Family Video’s parking lot, relieved Steve was on his normal lunch hour. Even if you can spend time with Robin, it will help.

You can hurry, you don’t have to see his face.

Fate has other plans.

You’re helping Robin unpack some candy shipments when his car pulls in about half an hour early. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, so that’s why she’d assumed you didn’t want a male presence around. You’re honestly shocked she hasn’t clocked Steve as the mystery man she’s known about the past two years.

“Don’t worry,” she says, upon seeing your soured, slightly fearful expression. “It’s just our doofus. He’s been in a brooding mood today, probably why he’s back early.”

A mood? So you have ruined it all.

You nod, forcing yourself to stay put, immediately gaining on deep breathing. At least you don’t shake when you begin to alphabetize the candy. You can hear her greet Steve before he even gets a word in. She snatches some kind of paper bag, that you assume he brought back for her — away, rifling through its contents as she speaks.

“Dingus, you still have that bottle of Tylenol in your car?”

Steve’s heart is in his throat, wrapping him tighter than Vecna’s hive minds did. He gives a silent yes, head trying to lean around a few shelves. Fuck. Of course that was your car out front, he wasn’t just imagining shit. He’s hopeful, anxious. What are you here for? Who?

“Good. Can you go get it, please? She doesn’t feel good and she’s been helping me all morning.”

Immediate worry doesn’t cover it. You’re here and not at work, and you’re sick? Steve snaps out of what trance he’s in, eyes pinching closed and he nods rapidly. “Shit, yeah. I’ll go get it. Here, Robs. Can you take my water to her?” He hands off his half drank bottle without question, moving back outside to get the medicine.

It’s funny, the look on your face as Robin presents you with his drink. You all share off of one another all the time. She places the food bag beside her, to which you politely decline her offer for some. Doesn’t matter if you haven’t eaten, you can’t.

“I know he has cooties, but I think we’re safe.” She shoulder bumps you, trying to get a smile. When you barely lift your mouth, she goes into her version of mom mode. It dawns on her and it comes from her mouth without tact.

“Wait, is this about that mystery guy who took your virginity? The one you’ve been seeing for two years? Holy shit, did he finally commit?”

If Robin couldn’t tell how you felt about Steve, or see anything from his part, then you guess it’s true.

There’s nothing to see.

You can feel your rib cage gape open, heart falling into your ass, strangled by your intestines.

Luckily, Steve has perfect timing, appearing right in earshot as Robin reveals information you never told him. The room feels small, you feel as if you could melt into the floor, non-existent. Would it matter? You are starting to think love controls everything, after all. You’re fucking doomed.

He lets his Nikes carry him forward, bottle of Tylenol in his massive hand. He’s starting to tremble, betrayal etched into his mouth, giving away what Robin now feels stupid for not knowing. It all clicks when your moods are matched, your mixed reactions combining.

“Oh. Oh, holy fuck. I’m…” She looks at her best-friend, who is halfway seething to near sobbing, and at you, who cannot look her in the eyes. “Shit, I should’ve known. Why didn’t I know? Fuck. I’ll give you two a minute —“

“Steve?” Your voice is tinged with something, one that has him slightly elated that you’re vocal, and even more pissed at you. He waits, his tongue caught in his throat, about to ask you, but you’re adding on. “May I have two Tylenols please?” Standing on your feet right after.

He’s like a fucking statue, on autopilot, unmoving this time. Robin rises, plucks the bottle gently, shaking out two and drops them into your hand, handing the container back to Steve, ultimately giving his water to you. She mouths an apology, but you’re smiling a tacky, forced grin that looks as if it’s pinching your lips. She’s bound to be upset you both neglected to tell her. Keeping your mouth shut should’ve been the reverse way.

“I’ll call you tonight, Robs. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Hey.” She stops you before you can step back to leave, wrapping her arms around you, maroon coated lips by your ear. “I don’t have a foot fetish, but I really should’ve kept the entirety of my own in there to avoid this.”

That gets you laughing softly, and you don’t look at Steve as you depart from her arms and for your car. He’s still frozen.

Robin does, though, stares right through him. She can see how much he’s hurting. She doesn’t want to judge either side, so she simply reaches up to rub along between his shoulder blades. “If you need to —“

“I’ll be right back.” His eyes are trained on your retreating form, handing her the pills as he follows you.

“That works too!” She points a finger in his direction, sighing. Is everyone else onto this, or is she just off her game?

~*~

You’ve just barely downed the pills, tasting Steve’s cinnamon breath spray, combined with his morning coffee all around the lid of his water. You chug it fast, your back still turned to the front door. That’s when the dumbass little bell rings, slapping back against the door, and his voice comes into play.

“You can taste my mouth on that, right?”

You remain non-verbal. This angers him to the point he steps close enough that you can smell his cologne and aftershave. His tone shatters, emotion bleeding through. “Because friends share things with one another.”

“Well, friends sure as hell don’t fuck!” It snaps free of your mouth, shocking the both of you, plastic crinkling in your hands. Your head is hurting, between your thighs is aching, and you’re positive that a piece of your chest has been carved out.

He’ll always have that, whether he wants it or not.

“They don’t lie about being a virgin, either! They don’t say that it’s been a while when they’re in pain and I’m fucking asking what’s wrong the first time that we have sex! If I would have known, then it would’ve been—”

“Wouldn’t have happened, so I didn’t build some little attachment to you, right?”

Steve visibly recoils.

“Is that really what you thought of me? That I was still that big of an asshole? Because we were already pretty attached. I did everything with you, you practically lived at my house.”

“If you didn’t have a date. Maybe it was just sex, me and you. Still doesn’t answer if you found me attractive. Probably just biased because you were my friend.” Word vomit. Too late to stop now.

Steve mulls over the meaning of were. Past tense? Does it apply to current?

His hands go onto his hips, a sidestep, and he turns back to look at you in astonishment, having to swipe aggressively at the wetness in his eyes. He doesn’t even know where to begin with everything you just said. His brain is screaming to tell you that no, he’s always found you fucking beautiful. That he would have preferred you over all of those dates, or any that he’s ever had for that matter. But he’s so confused about letting anything in, his tongue becomes tied, only able to get out one lame question. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

When your gaze flickers up, you see he’s snarling, but there’s tears clouding his vision. You’re a little lighter in how you speak to him, dismantling your armor. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was a loser, I didn’t want our first time to be about that, I didn’t think you would want to… I didn’t mean to — I’m sorry, Steve.”

He marvels. You really thought that? Did he not express his care for you?

“I would’ve made it better for you. Fuck, were you even okay after it happened?”

His moral compass is extraordinary nowadays, and it does make you hesitant, but you let your fingers cup his cheek. “It was the best. You were the best. I wanted it to happen with you. And it’s something that I would never take back.”

Your teeth start to chatter, your own tears forming. You want to console further, to wipe away his. But you start to let your hand slip. Steve catches it, holding your fingers in his palm, wrapping his digits around to lace. His deep voice drags along each syllable, crooked and wet with emotion. “Please let me hold you before you leave?”

And god, do you want to. You’ve never needed anything more. But if you let him… You just refuse to put yourself into that place right now. You shake your head, replacing your hand with his water bottle. His tongue pokes at his cheek, he shakes his head, attempting to argue. He closes his fist around the plastic.

“I meant what I said last night. And I realize that I ruined everything, Steve.” He can’t speak, why isn’t he able to disagree, why is it like he’s drowning, running in slow motion?

“I just don’t know if it can be repaired.” By the time you slide into your car, hand over your face, arm propped to your steering wheel, body heavy into your seat, Steve finds himself worked up to the point that he can’t bear to be around you, he can’t watch this, his figure pivoting, and he returns straight into the store, booking it to the break room.

~*~

After you’ve cried for what feels like forever, embarrassing yourself, light headed with guilt, you don’t end up driving yourself home, unable to do it in this state. You make your way to a pay phone to call Nancy. How fucking ironic. What’s worse, is that she can’t make it, you find out, as Jonathan Byers pulls up in her station wagon, letting you know that she’s sorry, but she got a call back to her job. You assure him it’s fine, grateful another friend is here, at least, joining him.

He doesn’t press you. But he knows. He’s one of them that pegged it from the start, he and Nance both.

“You okay?” Is his gruff question.

“Yeah, I just have to go home.”

He says nothing else. But what neither of you see, is Steve Harrington, as he’s just getting to the doorway, regretting his decision to not go back once he realized you didn’t leave, unable to stand you being that upset and not trying to do something (if he could) — watching the affection Jonathan Byers extends your way, and your rejection of any reluctance to accept it. His amber eyes are smoldering, his fist clenched, every muscle rigid, heart rate firing off rapid shots.

“Steve…” Robin tries, folding in beside him, seeing his dismissal of logic, his brain switching, latching onto primal panic. “You’re at work, remember? Video tapes, acne covered boss?”

But he’s throwing off his vest in response and striding towards his car, ignoring her pleas.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mention of harm words -> 1.3k

abstract -> healing takes time...

y/n’s perspective

“His memories are still all over the place, it could be a trauma response that his brain has blocked him out from,” Doyoung said and I knew at this point this was true. 

“We’ll have checkups every few months but amnesia isn’t always a happy ending,” he said and I nodded as I was led out to the waiting room.

“You really tied your own hands up when you adopted troublesome hybrids' ' I heard and I turned around to see Chenle. I smiled… “I don’t regret getting them, I love them a lot. They also make me happy. '' I said and he chuckled. “I guess that's all that matters' ' he said and I nodded. 

“I remember how upset you were… with the whole break up,” he said and I sighed. 

“Doesn’t matter anymore… it's almost been a year anyway” I said and he chuckled. “You’ve been busy even after starting a book after so long. I heard he got a hybrid, too though? Something about his family taking in the mother of his family’s hybrid?” he said. He didn’t even like hybrids…

“Here she is” I heard and I saw Jaemin with San. “Take care of yourself,” Chenle said and I nodded as I took San. “How was it?” I asked and he looped his arm with mine as we walked down the street. 

“Find… all the memories I don't remember… is it better if I stop wanting to remember them?” he asked while looking down. 

“Why don’t we find somewhere to eat huh?”

san’s perspective

She took me to a cafe I think I heard Wooyoung talk about. It seemed familiar. She ordered us some food and he stared at me for a while before she decided to speak. 

“You know… you always wanted to come here?” she asked and I was shocked. “Really? Why… did I never come?” I asked and she gave me that sad smile she’s been giving me recently. “Look at the door,” she said and I did… What was so special? 

“It has a bell,” she said and I looked at her confused. “You used to not be able to stand the sound of bells… it caused a negative trigger” she explained. “I know you said I was in a hybrid ring where they made hybrids kill each other… Was I a bad guy?” I asked worriedly and she smiled. 

“No… you’re the sweetest hybrid I could ask for '' she said and I was relieved that she said so but something that didn’t stop haunting me suddenly resurfaced. “Then why did I hurt you?” I asked and she sighed.

“Because you hate humans and what they did to you. You thought I'd be the same” she explained, but I shook my head. “I feel comfortable with you though… I love being around you, why would I ever…” I trailed off feeling my vision start to blur. 

“Here’s your food” I heard as the waiter put our food in front of us. An iced tea and chocolate pancakes… “You really liked chocolate I found out… but if you don’t like it I'll–” “Thank you… you seem to know so much about me” I said and she smiled. 

“I like to think I do,” she said with a soft smile and I nodded. “I’m just sad… I don’t remember much about you. I just know how I feel” I confessed and she nodded. “Well, who says you can’t ask me again?” she asked and I couldn’t help but smile. 

“You’re so patient… thank you,” I said and she nodded. “Always”

I know all of the hybrids back home hate humans. Wooyoung was abandoned and called annoying or anything similar all his life besides when with her. He’s known her the longest and we’ve been friends since we met. Yeosang absolutely hates the higher class… but is insanely involved with her. I know the tigers were abused all their lives to perform dangerous stunts. 

Not all humans were the same… she was really kind. I know I could trust her with anything and have never felt unsafe since returning with her. 

I also know I made her my mate… I was her first hybrid. I belonged by her side. 

As we made it to the apartment I decided to ask… 

“So should I just stop trying to remember everything?” I asked and she sighed. “One time you told me… you wish to forget everything that used to make you sad or angry. So… it’s your choice and whatever choice you choose I'll still be here” she said and I nodded. 

“y/nie! Sannie!” I heard Wooyoung as he talked to me in a hug. “Everything is okay Wooyoung. I brought some food” she said. She mentioned that if she was getting food for me she’d have to get it for everyone… She truly cared for everyone. 

I know I hurt her… but that didn’t make her scared of me. I’ve seen how her friends look at me and the orange tigers… but she always seems to reassure me. 

While Wooyoung called for everyone, I decided to pull aside the tiger… “Can we talk?” I asked and his eyes shook but nodded. He avoided me more than everyone else. Even the white tiger made an effort to befriend me.

“Are you alright?” he asked and I nodded. “I don’t remember much but I feel annoyed by you…” I said and he nodded, not surprised. “Can… we get along?” I asked and his eyes widened with his tail suddenly twitching, catching him by surprise.

“Why all of a sudden?” he asked and I sighed. “She… she seemed to forgive me for hurting her and I know she also forgave you. I wanted to try following her example” I said and he sighed. “You don’t have to forgive me. What I did–” “Was just as bad as me apparently… I don’t remember much but I do remember hurting her. We both were wrong about her huh?” I asked and he nodded. 

“I will never forgive myself for what I did,” he said and I chuckled. “Neither will I,” I confessed. 

“Can you make me a promise?” I asked and he nodded eagerly. “I know you try your best to protect so please… When I'm not by her side and I'm often not, I don't like leaving the apartment. Please continue to protect her” I asked and he smiled.

“You didn’t have to ask that,” he said and I smiled. “Thank you, hyung!”

y/n’s perspective 

The panther was more cuddly than usual. He was already asleep, hugging me in his sleep when I heard a knock. 

“Come in,” I said and I saw Hongjoong. “Need anything?” I asked and he laughed. “I don’t think you can offer anything while trapped by San,” he said and I noticed slowly he started calling everyone by their name. Not panther… nor doberman… nor fox. San, Yeosang, and Wooyoung he’s been calling them.

“He seems to be getting better,” Hongjoong said and I nodded. “I’m glad he is… he’s more energetic too,” I said and he chuckled.

“He forgave me,” he said and I felt my eyes widen and even a smile grow on my face. “I know… he’s okay,” he said, letting out a small laugh. “You and Seonghwa are getting along with everyone… I’m glad” I said and he nodded. 

“Thank you… truly for adopting s even though I’m trouble” he said and I offered a smile. “I’m glad… I enjoy the chaos” I said and he smiled. His tail swished back and forth happily. 

“I did have a request though,” he said. “Anything,” I said and he chuckled. 

“Well… now that Wooyoung is in the process of moving into San’s room… could I possibly get my own room?”

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[heartsforhavik]

possession (yandere bi-han/sub-zero x reader)

warnings: mentions of blood and murder, bi-han is possessive

summary: yandere bi-han takes care of your shitty ex boyfriend. reader is gender neutral.

a/n: i haven’t written a yandere character in sooo long. i chose bi-han just bc he’s easy to write as a yandere :3 anyways next one i write will be a yandere smoke x reader so stay tuned

bi-han was always possessive over you. the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew you were his. he carefully pretended to be your friend and then court you like a normal person, hiding his true colors.

he knew he would most likely scare you away if he showed his true colors too soon. he had to wait until he knew you’d never leave him. he had to be patient. but he couldn’t hold back anymore after he saw you crying.

“love.. why are you crying?” bi-han asked, gently holding you in his arms.

“it’s just..” you hesitated to tell him, knowing that he doesn’t know about your ex-boyfriend. you haven’t told him yet.

your boyfriend held you, waiting patiently for your answer, and getting ready to comfort you. if someone said something to make you cry, bi-han would rip out their spine and bring it to you. if it was anything else, he would just hold you for hours and not let go.

“my ex. i can’t stop thinking about all the shit he did to me.” you admitted, wiping your tears.

bi-han’s gaze turned cold. “your ex? who is he? what did he do to you?”

his grip on you tightened. he needed to know who it was. so he can teach the bastard a lesson.

he was also jealous of your ex. he got to hold you first, he got to kiss you first, and he got to call you his. but he fucked up by hurting you. bi-han will not let him live with those sins.

you told him all about your ex and what he did to you. you opened up to bi-han about all the trauma you endured because of your ex. and how he was the reason you were hesitant to get in another relationship.

bi-han struggled to stay calm. how dare he hurt you...

he had the audacity to hurt you? you’re so precious. so delicate, like a flower. you were so lucky to have bi-han as a boyfriend. he can protect you. he can hold you and keep you safe from harm.

“where is he?” bi-han asked, but it sounded more like a demand.

“i don’t know? he’s most likely at his house right now. why?” you questioned.

“give me his home location.” bi-han commanded.

you looked up at him in confusion. “huh?”

“don’t make me repeat myself.” bi-han sneered.

startled by his sudden anger, you blurted out your ex’s location. bi-han immediately got up and left to find the bastard and make him pay for what he did.

you couldn't sleep that night. bi-han left and still hadn't came back yet. did something happen to him?

you were worried sick, until you heard rustling and grunting outside. that had to be him, right? nobody else is awake at this time.

you walked outside, barely being able to see anything, but you saw your boyfriend slowly dragging something behind him.

"bi-han? what is that?" you whispered. your boyfriend stopped in his tracks when he heard your voice.

you took a closer look at what he was dragging. it was a dead body... but it was unrecognizable, almost as if it was beat to death. you assumed it was just some random guy the lin kuei killed, until you noticed the clothes. that dead body had your ex-boyfriend's clothes.

"by the gods.. did you kill-"

"he cannot hurt you anymore. he was a fool to put you through pain. i simply taught him a lesson. and now, you can live in peace. with me." bi-han interrupted, as he dropped the body and held you in his bloody arms.

you looked up at him, and he had a terrifying look in his eyes. this man enjoyed beating your ex to death.

"you know i will do anything for you," bi-han continued. "if i must get my hands dirty in your honor, then so be it. you need me, don’t you? without me, more people will target you and damage you. you're welcome, my flower."

he was trying to convince you not to leave him. how could you leave, when he just demonstrated what he is capable of when he is angry?

"i don't know about this, bi-han..." you whispered.

his eyebrows furrowed. "what do you mean? you know i can protect you, so why can't you trust me? if anything were to happen to you... i would tear the world apart. if you dare defy me, then i must teach you a lesson."

you panicked. you didn't want to end up like your ex. "no! i'm not defying you, love."

"good. it pleases me that you and i can live happily together now. nobody can hurt you while i am around. i will not let that happen." bi-han mumbled.

he meant every word he said. he will keep you safe from harm. he would never hurt you, so you must stay with him.

[literaryavenger]

So I read somewhere that if the word ‘Sputnik’ is said to Bucky it knocks him out. Like it was a way for HYDRA to temporarily incapacitate him until they could control him better if he got out of hand. I’d love to see if you could write about how the reader and the team would deal with this situation. Maybe incorporate the satellite, as we know how much Bucky loves space. 💙✨ Maybe an established relationship? Again don’t need to do this, but I thought you’d appreciate a little help to get out of this writers block :)

Sputnik

Summary: Bucky's fascinacion with Space gives the team an interesting, emotional week.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!BlackWidow!Reader, Platonic!Bucky Barnes x Various!Avengers

Warnings: Language. Established relationship. Mentions of Bucky's past and trauma. So much angst, but tons of fluff too. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 6.4K. This one got away from me, lol.

A/N: Okay, so I heard about this too and did some research and found out it is a thing that the Red Skull uses against Bucky in one of the many universes of the comics, but it can only be used once. What I couldn’t find is how to wake him up, so that part is made up by me lol. Anyway, I hope this satisfies you, Anon, and to everyone that’s sent me requests already, I promise I plan on working on all of them, even if it takes me a little time. But keep ‘em coming! Also, I put a lot of MCU references and lines, so have fun finding them all, lol.

Masterlist

Life isn’t always fair.

That’s something most people can agree on. But it’s especially never been fair for one Bucky Barnes.

Bucky has been an Avenger for years now, and sometimes he still feels like he’s made little to no progress. Other times even he can’t deny how far he’s come.

Like right now, he’s sitting on the couch with you, his girlfriend, sitting next to him with your legs over his as he strokes your thigh absentmindedly while he’s engrossed in a conversation with Peter about astrology.

That’s something that Bucky has always found interesting, and the young genius has been filling Bucky in on everything he’s missed on the subject since the 40s.

Most of the Avengers are away on missions and the rest of the team that’s at the Compound (Tony, Steve, Peter, Wanda, Sam, Natasha, Bucky and you) are all hanging out in the common room, the fading colors of the sundown coming through the window making for a nice setting.

Tony, Steve and Sam are talking about Formula One, Peter and Bucky are in their own little nerd world and you are talking with Natasha and Wanda about the latest tv show you’ve all been binging together.

Your attention is brought on Bucky when he taps on your leg gently to signal you to get them off of him so he can get up, never breaking his conversation with Peter.

“What’s a satellite?” Bucky asks with furrowed eyebrows as he gets up from the couch.

“It’s an artificial body placed in orbit around the earth, or moon or another planet, in order to collect information or for communication.” Peter explains like the cute little geek he is while Bucky goes to the kitchen to get another beer, still concentrating on their conversation.

“You know,” Tony interjects, the whole team’s attention now on their exchange. “The first artificial Earth satellite launched in 1957, it was called Sputnik and it was-”

“Bucky?” You interrupt Tony in the middle of his fun fact when you see your boyfriend freezing as he’s about to sit on the couch where he was a minute ago.

He doesn’t say anything but you can see his eyes rolling back into his head and then he falls to the ground unconscious.

“Bucky!” You yell as you kneel beside him, everyone else rushing to his side, just as worried as you.

You grab him by his shoulders and shake him a little, but the man doesn’t move a muscle. You look around at the team, but everyone is equally as clueless about what’s happening as you are.

“Should we try slapping him?” Sam offers, earning a glare from both you and Steve and a slap on the back of his head by Natasha.

You look back at Bucky, but you can’t think of anything to do to help him, your mind completely blank. You feel a hand on your shoulder but you pay it no mind, your eyes focused on Bucky.

“We could try the book…” Steve’s voice is quiet but to your ears those words feel like a scream and your eyes snap up to his just to find him already looking at you.

You know what book he’s talking about, of course you know. The Winter Soldier’s red book, the one Bucky gave you to keep safe because he trusts you with his life.

You’re the only one that has access to it, but you’ve never even opened it because Bucky trusted you not to unless it was necessary. He chose not to destroy it for this exact reason, in case something inexplicable happened to him. 

He himself has never opened the book, so it stands to reason that there are a lot of things he doesn’t know about the Winter Soldier’s programming.

You promised him you’d keep it safe and that’s what you’ve done so far, but you also promised yourself you’d never open it and see the horrors even Bucky doesn’t know they did to him. You certainly never thought it would be necessary, that’s why you agreed to it.

But right now, as much as you hate to admit it, it’s your best option. 

You leave Bucky in Steve’s care and go to your and Bucky’s room. You go into the closet and remove the hardwood plank in the far corner and reach into it to take out a small safe.

It’s Stark Technology, even Bucky wouldn’t be able to get into it, if he even knew it was there. But he doesn’t, he was very insistent on you being the only person that knew the book’s hiding place.

You scan your thumbprint, then your retina and lastly say the voice command ‘Jamie’ and the light turns green. The safe opens and you reach into it, moving away the files about yourself you recovered from the Red Room after you and Natasha escaped, then the Hydra file Natasha found on Bucky and some other documents you have there before spotting the red leather at the bottom of the safe. You pull it out and hesitate before sighing. 

This is necessary. 

That’s what you keep telling yourself over and over as you open it and start looking through the pages for anything about Bucky passing out.

Thankfully it doesn’t take long for you to find it, and you’re careful to put everything away the way it was before going back to Bucky.

While you were looking for an explanation, Steve and Sam moved Bucky to the medbay where Tony hooked up some machines to him to make sure he was still healthy, even if he’s unconscious.

You enter the room and hesitate before walking up to the bed. You can tell everyone’s worried, most likely because even the shuffle of bringing him here didn’t wake him up.

“Please tell me nobody slapped him.” you say quietly, half joking and half actually worried someone tried to slap him awake. When Steve shakes his head no, you let out a relieved breath and cross your arms in front of your chest. “I think I know what happened.”

“You do? What is it?” Steve asks hopefully, although the tone in your voice doesn’t prompt anything good.

“Apparently, Hydra planted a failsafe in Bucky’s subconscious.” Everyone’s attention is on you, and you look at everything but Bucky. “It was made in case the Winter Soldier rebelled and they needed a quick way to shut him down.”

“I don’t get it, why didn’t Shuri take it out with his trigger words?” Sam asks with a frown.

“She didn’t know about it.” You answer simply. “Bucky didn’t even know about it…”

“If she didn’t know it existed, she didn’t know to look for it…” Tony elaborates and Sam nods.

“Does it say what the word is?” Steve asks you.

“The word is ‘Sputnik’.” You say while looking at Tony with a tight-lipped smile. You know it’s not his fault, he obviously didn’t do it on purpose and you know he understands you don’t blame him, and neither would Bucky. “Good news is, the failsafe can only be used once.” Everyone relaxes a little, at least there’s the bright side that this won’t ever happen again.

“And the bad news is…?” Natasha prompts while raising her eyebrow, making everyone tense again. You sigh, damn her for knowing you so well.

“Since it’s never been used, there’s no saying what will happen to him, how long it’ll last or how to wake him up…” You trail off, looking down at your feet while biting your lip before finishing your sentence. “If he even wakes up.”

You hear Wanda gasp at your words and the room goes silent. You don’t have the courage of looking anybody in the eye at the moment, so you just keep looking down.

“What do you mean, if he even wakes up?” Peter is the one that asks the question, his voice quiet and a little unsteady.

“It’s Hydra we’re talking about, I doubt they cared about the consequences their actions would bring on Bucky’s psyche…” You say bitterly, wishing you had any Hydra agent at hand so you could snap their neck. “That trigger word could’ve done anything to him.”

“T-there has to be something else, maybe you missed something.” Steve mutters and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. You know this is coming from a good place, he’s worried for his best friend, but it’s still annoying that he’s doubting you.

“All it says in the book is that it’s supposed to knock him out long enough to provide an opportunity to move him somewhere where he can’t do any damage or even put him back into Cryo if necessary.” You recall word for word what you read in the book, making it clear that there’s nothing else to be done. “All we can do is wait it out…”

You glance at Bucky and something inside you snaps. You know you can’t look at his still, angelic face any longer or you’ll lose it, so you turn around and walk out of the room, leaving everybody perplexed at the wake of your actions.

“Wait!” Steve says from behind you, but you don’t turn around until you’re at the elevators.

“We can keep watch on him one at a time until he wakes up.” That’s all you say while entering the elevator, giving him no chance to say anything back.

He understands this is a lot for you, so he decides not to push it. Instead he sighs and turns around, walking back to the rest of the team to tell them your, admittedly simple, plan.

Day 1

Steve volunteers to be the first one to watch over Bucky, hoping that he’ll wake up within a day and then everything will go back to normal.

“Hey, Buck.”  He says quietly as he sits down on the chair next to Bucky’s bed. 

“This is weird…” He says more to himself while studying Bucky’s face. “Should I talk to you? What should I even say to you? I don’t know, man…”

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You’ve known me my whole life. My entire, overextended life… Is there really anything you don’t know about me yet? Well, maybe…” 

Steve knows there’s something he hasn’t told Bucky. It’s something he hasn’t told anyone, really. But he needs to get it off his chest, so he takes a deep breath and decides to go for it.

“It’s hard, Buck… This whole hero thing.” He says quietly while looking at his lap. “I got into this life to help people, that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, but… I never thought it’d be this hard.”

Steve plays with his fingers as he talks. He knows Bucky probably can’t hear him, he can’t even see him at the moment, but he still feels guilty about what he’s saying. 

“Remember during the war, how we used to think about going home after it was all over and find a nice gal, settle down, have a family…” Steve can’t help but smile at the memory of all the times they spent in bars between fights with the Howling Commandos, just fantasizing about what their lives would be like after the war was over. “I know what I have with Natasha is real, and I love her, and you got pretty lucky too.” He smirks at Bucky while thinking about his relationship with you. 

“But this isn’t really the life we imagined, is it?” His smile falls. He can’t help but feel like saying these things out loud make him look selfish. But who better to understand him than his best friend, who went through something very similar? So he keeps going.

“This job, man… People depend on us to keep them safe, and that’s a lot of responsibility on its own, but being Captain America…” Steve scoffs, just the title he was given all those years ago now carries a weight he can’t escape. “It’s exhausting.” 

Steve finally looks up at Bucky, half expecting him to be looking at him with an irritated expression, but Bucky’s still unconscious, his face still and peaceful, almost as if he’s merely sleeping.

“I try to be perfect all the time, but, outside this team, no one wants me to be myself… They want me to be the version of myself that they like. The version that serves them better.” Steve leans in, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes focused on Bucky’s face. “But I’ve always known I could be myself with you. ‘That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb to run away from a fight’, right?” 

Steve laughs. That’s how Bucky described him. Even after the serum, that’s how Bucky always saw him.

“That’s me… You’ve always seen me for who I was, not who you needed me to be…” He takes Bucky’s hand in his. “Even when I had nothing, I had you… And I know what you’d tell me if you were awake,” 

Steve chuckles, knowing his stubborn best friend would insist Steve would be fine even without him. “I have the Avengers, I found myself a family, I’ll be okay…” He pauses thinking about the team, but then he gets to you and his smile falls again. “But her.” 

He knows he doesn’t have to say anything more. If Bucky were awake, he would immediately understand Steve’s talking about you. “For her it’s different.” Steve says quietly. Everybody knows how much Bucky means to you. “You’re everything to her, Bucky.”

Day 2

Bucky still hasn’t woken up, but you can’t bring yourself to watch over him and Natasha can see it on your face when Steve suggested you’d be the next one on Bucky watch, so she offers to go instead of you like the good big sister she is.

“Hi, Barnes.” She says when she sits down on the same chair Steve spent the day on yesterday. “I think we both know I’m only here for your little doll.” Natasha teases with a small smirk before she gets more serious.

“She can’t face this yet…” Natasha says quietly, thinking about your face just moments ago. “She doesn’t believe she’s as strong as we both know she is.”

Natasha knows you haven’t slept much, the darkening circles under your eyes give you away.

“But I get it,” she sighs “you mean so much to her.” She’s never seen you as happy as you are since you started dating Bucky, and she knows you’d do anything to protect that. Hell, Natasha herself would do anything to protect something as pure as your relationship with Bucky.

“Our whole lives, all she wanted was what she has with you now.” Natasha smiles sadly at Bucky. “And now that she’s found it, it’s hard for her to face reality and admit to herself that she might lose it…” 

Natasha sighs and shakes her head, thinking about everything organizations like Hydra and the Red Room took from all of them, and how they’re still managing to hurt them even after all these years.

“You know,” She says after a moment of silence “I’ve never been homesick. Because there was no place I belonged to.”

She knows Bucky felt the same way for the longest time, and she wants to give him the same hope she had. “And then I got this, this job… This family. And you’re part of that family too, Bucky.”

She leans in and scans Bucky’s face, looking for any signs that he might be conscious, but she finds nothing. 

“None of us are ready to lose that. To lose you.” She tries to drive home the point by taking his hand. “You have a family again, a family that cares for you.” 

“And you can’t do this to her… You know you can’t.” She adds after another moment of silence. “All our lives, she’s been looking for a home… You are her home, Bucky.”

Day 3

“Hey, man.” Sam sits down on the chair next to Bucky’s bed. 

“I know, I know, I’m probably the last person you want here…” Sam chuckles. “But that’s too damn bad for you, because I’m gonna be here anyway.”

Sam looks at Bucky, it feels kind of weird for him to see him without the scowl that’s usually directed at him. “Oh, how I wish I could know what’s going on in that big cyborg brain of yours…” Sam says with a small grin. 

“If you were awake you’d be glaring at me. Is it weird that I kind of miss it?” He wonders out loud. “Two days without your annoying staring problem is two days too long…” 

Sam chuckles again. He knows Bucky would be threatening his life at this point if he were awake. Not that he’d ever follow through with his threats, though. Sam sighs.

“I know you don’t want me getting all sappy on you, but… I never did tell you why I tease you so much, did I?” Sam says quietly as he sits back on his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’ve asked me repeatedly why, but you don’t really expect an answer when you do…”

A lot of the conversations between them end with Bucky asking Sam why he’s such a pain in his ass while Sam, and anyone else witnessing the exchange for that matter, just laugh. Even you.

“But here I am, giving you one anyway.” Sam says with a grin. At this point he’s almost hoping that if he annoys Bucky enough, he’ll wake up just to kick his ass. 

“You know how they say ‘we accept the love we think we deserve’? Well, I know how little love you truly believe you deserve.” Sam has never said these things out loud, especially not to Bucky because he knows that wouldn’t end up well for anybody. But now he feels like he has to.

“Thing is…” Sam says quietly, taking the rare moment where Bucky is not rolling his eyes or glaring at him to be honest. “You deserve so much more than you care to admit, Bucky.” 

He looks out the window for a moment before looking back at Bucky.

“And I’m gonna mess with you, and make fun of you, and tease you like friends do.” He says defiantly, almost challenging Bucky to stop him. “Because, whether you like it or not, I am your friend.”

Sam grins at Bucky, wishing he was awake just so Sam could see Bucky’s face as he annoys him. “You have people that care about you, Bucky. You have a whole team that does.” 

Sam says sincerely with an easy smile, but then he sighs. He knows, if Bucky could reply, he wouldn’t want to believe what Sam’s saying. Ever the stubborn one, that man.

“Look Bucky, I know you believe you’re hard to love…” Sam says quietly, thinking about his next words carefully with you in mind. “But she loves you like it’s breathing, man.”

Day 4 

“Good morning, Bucky.” Wanda says as she enters Bucky’s room in the medbay. “How are you feeling?”

She sits down and sighs. “Yeah, I know, I could easily just look into your mind and see for myself, like Tony has been bugging me to do since all this started, but…” She pauses and smiles softly at Bucky. “I made you a promise.”

Bucky didn’t trust Wanda when he first met her. He knew she had ties to Hydra, he knew she could control his mind and he had enough of that for a lifetime.

“I’ve never entered one of our friend’s minds on principle, but I know how important it was to you that I willingly promised you outright.” She says softly while remembering the look on his face when she seeked him out to relieve his worries. “It didn’t take a mind reader to see the weight being lifted off your shoulders when I actually said the words…” 

After that Bucky seemed less guarded around her, they even had some conversations about their experiences with Hydra, and Bucky came to understand where Wanda was coming from.

“And I get it, you’ve had no control over your own mind for the longest time, you don’t want anyone else in there.” Wanda says quietly “You trust me not to, and I’d never betray that trust.” 

She’s proud that she was able to gain Bucky’s trust, and she’d never do anything to lose that.

“You and I both know what it’s like to have nothing,” She sits back on her chair, her eyes on the window. “and we both value trust above all else, having had no one to trust for the longest time.” 

“After I got these… These powers…” She looked at the red energy coming out her fingers while they played with it. “I knew people saw me differently. I knew they feared me…”

Her Sokovian accent comes out more as she gets emotional, her eyes leaving her hand as she looks back at Bucky. “And Hydra conditioned you to expect people to fear you, too.” She says sadly. “But we can’t control other people’s fears. Only our own.”

That’s a lesson that took her a while to learn, but it’s an important one for both of them.

“We’re not monsters.” She says with conviction, like she’s trying to convince him more than just remind him, before adding. “We are all born so beautiful… The greatest tragedy is being convinced we’re not.”

Wanda smiles, that’s another lesson that was hard to learn, but luckily for them they had someone to help them believe it.

“You know who taught us that, who helped us really believe it…” Wanda chuckles softly, thinking about how you went above and beyond for both her and Bucky. Even before you started dating him, you wanted to make him see himself the way you saw, and still see him. 

“She believes wholeheartedly that you’re beautiful. I don’t need to use my powers to see the way her eyes, her face, her whole soul lights up when she looks at you…” Wanda feels like he needs to remind Bucky what he has. If he’s fighting, he needs to know what he’s fighting for. “You’re her hope, and her peace… You’re her whole world, Bucky.”

Day 5 

“Hello, Mr. Barnes, sir.” Peter says shyly as he hesitantly sits down on the chair, almost expecting Bucky to look at him and tell him not to do that because Bucky always insists Peter call him by his nickname like everybody, but Peter never does.

“I’m sorry, I know you hate it when I do that.” Peter scratches the back of his neck nervously. “You always say ‘just because I have a few decades on you, it doesn’t mean you have to call me sir’.”

Peter chuckles. “I know that, but I can’t help it… It’s not because you’re older,” Peter quickly reassures him. “It’s because I respect you. I admire you, really…” Peter blushes a little at the admission, but after all Bucky is a war hero and a role model.

“Everything you went through, even before Hydra…” He trails off, glancing at Bucky with a pained expression before continuing. “It made you stronger. You’ve always been able to help people, even without being a supersoldier.” 

Peter remembers the conversations he had with Bucky, after the man got used to the 16-year-old’s enthusiasm and energy, where Peter’s curiosity and genuine interest of what he had to say brought them hours of Bucky recalling what it was like to live in the 40s and through a war.

“You had a duty back then… To protect your country, your family and your friends… It was a responsibility, albeit a terrible one at that.” Peter says admiringly, recalling how shocked he had been when Bucky told him he got drafted and didn’t enlist like it says in his exhibit at the Smithsonian. “But you know what it’s like, to do what you have to do because it’s the right thing…” 

“I know you look at me and see a younger version of Mr. Rogers… Young and small and in need of help…” Peter says after a moment of silence, chuckling at the similarities he felt he shared with the pre-serum version of Steve before Peter got his powers. “And I get it, I spent my whole life like that… And then I got this opportunity.”

Peter looks at his hands, knowing what he can do with them alone is extraordinary. But he didn’t feel like he deserved it when it first happened.

“It was an accident. A fluke, a mistake…” He said quietly, words he’d never said out loud but he’s said to himself countless times. “But it gave me a chance to help people.” He says, now very proud of the opportunity he’s been given.

“When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t… And then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.” He says while smiling at the memory of telling Tony that when he first recruited him. “And I know fighting is the right thing to do, but it’s also a lot for me to take on…” His voice gets quieter.

“And it took me a while to get the hang of it. I still struggle with it sometimes…” He admits sheepishly. 

“But, ‘just because you took longer than others, doesn't mean you failed.’” He says before smiling at Bucky. “Remember that, kid.’” he says imitating Bucky’s deep voice with a chuckle.

“You told me that, sir. And I always remember that.” He says, proud of himself. “I’m doing my best, and that’s what matters…” His smile falters when he then sees you pass Bucky’s medbay room, like you do a few times a day even if you still can’t bring yourself to enter it.

“She’s doing her best too, Mr. Barnes.” Peter says quietly, looking worriedly at you. “To keep herself together, to not break down… To not lose hope.” 

Peter looks back at Bucky and leans in, like he’s telling him a secret. “But I can tell it’s getting harder. She can’t sleep, or eat, she can’t stop thinking about you but she can’t bear to see you like this…” 

Peter almost hoped that telling him this would be enough to make Bucky wake up, but he understands that it’s more complicated than just willpower. Peter sighs and leans back in his chair, his eyebrows furrowed with worry as he looks at Bucky. “You have to come back to her, Bucky.”

Day 6 

You almost shove Tony into Bucky’s room. Everybody else is busy, most of the team being out on missions, and you still can’t bring yourself to see him.

“Hey, Terminator, how’s the coma going?” You groan loudly enough for him to hear while yelling ‘Tony!’ from outside and he chuckles. “Kidding, kidding…” 

Tony reluctantly sits down on the chair next to Bucky’s bed. It’s not like he hates him, they have slowly developed a relationship. It’s not quite enough to call it a true friendship, but it’s enough for them to get along when they’re in a group setting, they just don’t spend any time just the two of them. 

“Fine, let’s level, Barnes.” Tony says with a sigh after several minutes of silence. “I know we’ve had a rocky relationship from the start, but you have to see where I’m coming from.” 

Tony thinks back at what happened in Siberia. He feels guilty about it now, but in the moment he was in the eye of the tornado. He couldn’t see a way out.

“Seeing you do those things on camera… It did something to me. And then that’s all I could see, your hand around my mom’s throat…” He trails off, swallowing hard as the memory comes rushing back. “But that wasn’t your fault.” He concedes after another moment of silence. 

“You know how they say that villains deserve to have their stories told from their own point of view?” He asks rhetorically, knowing Bucky can’t answer. “I never believed that. I thought it was just an excuse for bad people to justify their actions… A ‘you don’t know what drove me here, so you can’t judge my actions, as bad as they may seem to you’ type of thing.”

He glances down before looking back at Bucky with a small smile. “And then I met you. And I tried to kill you…” He chuckles awkwardly, then sighs. “But I’m glad I didn’t succeed. I’d never been able to get to know you, to understand your side of things… You’re a pretty badass dude.”

Tony smiles at Bucky. Even he has to admit that Bucky has made so much progress. He’s opened up more than anyone would’ve expected, he cares about the team, he laughs and jokes around with everybody. He’s not as guarded as he used to be, he’s truly a part of their evergrowing, eccentric family.

“I know I should’ve told you this a long time ago. It’s always been kind of implied, but…” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t blame you for what happened to my parents. Not anymore.” 

He pauses, he’s never actually said the words out loud, but right now he needs to.

“But I will blame you if you leave her like this…” He says playfully before adding more seriously. “She needs you, Bucky. More than you know, maybe even more than you need her.”

He’s never actually called him by his name, but he knows this is important and doesn’t find it in himself to come up with some funny nickname.

“Everybody wants a happy ending, and you’re hers.” He adds after another second. “And I know, part of the journey is the end, but… It’s not time for your end yet. Don’t leave her like this.” 

Day 7 

You can’t put it off any longer.

The team is out on various missions, you’re the only one in the compound along with a still unconscious Bucky. You take a deep, shaky breath and enter his room.

For a moment you stand in the doorway, tempted to run out as far and fast as you can. But you need to do this.

You walk to his bedside and bite your lip as you look at his peaceful face. Steve was right, he looks like he’s just sleeping. But you know better.

“Hi, baby…” You say quietly as you run your fingers through his hair softly. “I know, I’m sorry I haven’t… I haven’t been here.”

You feel guilty that you haven’t been taking care of him like you should. “But seeing you like this… It just hurts so bad.” You know it’s selfish. He’s the one that you should be caring for, but all you can preoccupy yourself with is your own feelings. “I want to be strong for you and I’m sorry I can’t…” 

You sit down on the chair next to his bed, gently taking his flesh hand in yours, and it’s as warm as it’s always been. For a few moments you do nothing more than just look at him, the beeping of the machines becoming background noise. You almost hope he’ll wake up out of sheer willpower, but you know it won’t happen.

“I need you to wake up, Bucky. Please…” You say quietly, almost pleading with him as tears start to come to your eyes, but you try your best to hold them back. “I need to see your smile, and your beautiful blue eyes, even if they are rolling in annoyance at some stupid pun I made.” 

You chuckle at the thought of all those times that he rolled his eyes at you when you made bad puns and dad jokes, only to laugh a second later. 

Not even because he found them funny, but because of the look you’d give him. Like you were doing everything you could not to laugh, because to you those silly jokes were the funniest thing ever, and he loved how much joy they brought you. 

And that was nothing compared to the way your eyes would light up when he’d laugh, like your greatest accomplishment in life was bringing him joy, even when both of you were entirely aware that it’s not the jokes that he enjoys. 

It’s you.

“I need to hear your voice and feel your touch… You’re everything to me, baby… Everything I need, everything I love…” You pause and bite your lip.

Love. That’s a word you two haven’t said yet. You feel it, you show it, you both know it. But you don’t say it.

Is this the best moment to say it for the first time? Probably not, but, with some hesitation, you say it anyway.

“You are love. When I think of love, when I hear it, when I say it… It’s you, just you, filling my head.” You reach out to caress his cheek. “It’s just you. I love you, Bucky. I’m sorry I’m telling you like this, and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner… But I need you to wake up  so I can tell you. I need you to hear it, I… I need you, Bucky.” Your tears start to fall without you even noticing. 

“I can’t lose you… I’m not ready… No one ever is, but I can’t…” Your voice breaks and you try to stifle a sob but fail miserably. “I can’t do this without you, Jamie... Just please wake up...” 

You wrap your arm around Bucky's, your other hand holding onto his like it's the only thing keeping him, and you, alive. Like you almost expect to hear the monitors flatlining if you were to let go. 

So you don't, you lay your head on his arm and allow yourself to break for the first time all week and your voice becomes a whisper. “Please…”

Day 8 

Somehow you managed to fall asleep, the first time you’ve slept in a week, still holding onto Bucky’s arm. 

When you wake up the next morning there’s a few moments where you forget everything that happened. You try to get up from the bed, but feel a weight on your stomach and when you look down you see Bucky’s arm holding onto you. 

Suddenly everything that happened in the past week comes rushing back and, at the same time, you realize you’re no longer in the medbay but instead you’re laying on the bed of yours and Bucky’s shared bedroom.

Confused as to how you ended up here and still a little sleepy, you look up with a frown to see Bucky already looking down at you with a goofy grin.

“Bucky!” You all but yell while throwing yourself at him, pushing him onto his back and straddling him. You hug him tightly as he chuckles at your more than enthusiastic reaction.

You feel his arms wrapping around you as he hugs you back. You want to look at him, but part of you is terrified that if you were to let go he'd disappear. You'd wake up and realize this was just a dream and Bucky is still unconscious.

“Doll,” That simple word, his deep voice was all you needed to confirm this is indeed real and he's awake “you're kind of crushing me here, sweetheart.” Bucky teases you playfully, but he doesn't mean it and you both know it. 

Even though you are clinging to him like a koala bear, it doesn't bother him in the slightest. He just wants you to look at him.

You reluctantly pull away from Bucky’s neck just enough to look into his eyes. He brings his hand up to stroke your cheek softly and you instinctively lean into his touch. 

You close your eyes for a second before they snap open again as you realize there’s something you need to tell him.

“I love you.” You take his face in your hands. “I love you so fucking much. And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I ju-”

Bucky interrupts what he’s sure it’s gonna be a long rant that ends with you unnecessarily apologizing a bunch of times by placing his hands on yours on his face and squeezing them softly, bringing you back to the present.

“I know, doll.” he says simply and you frown a little.

Sure, you’ve both always known you had deep feelings for each other, but he seems pretty sure when you have never actually said the words.

Bucky can see the wheels turning in your head and, chuckling, he decides to solve the mystery for you. “I heard you. I could hear everything while I was unconscious.” 

“You could?” you ask, blushing a little now that you know he heard you breaking down. You’re glad he now knows the depth of your feelings for him, but it’s still a little embarrassing.

“I could,” he says with a smirk. “It's gonna make for a lot of interesting conversations with the team.”

You can’t help but laugh, you’re not sure what the rest of the team talked to him about, but if they were all as emotional as you then Bucky’s gonna have a field day discussing all of that with equally embarrassed Avengers.

Suddenly, Bucky brings your face down to his and kisses you. You make no attempt to resist and actually whine a little when he pulls away, which makes him chuckle at your antics.

“I love you too, baby.” He says softly while stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “You’re everything to me. My best friend, the love of my life, my very reason to live.”

You feel your tears starting to gather again but, even if this time they’re of joy, you still don’t let them fall.

Before you can say anything though, the door of our room slams open and you can barely understand what’s happening before Steve, Wanda, Peter, Natasha, Sam and Tony throw themselves on the bed, crushing you while they all yell at the same time, the chorus of joy being along the lines of ‘Bucky’s alive’.

Bucky’s arms around you tighten while he tries to protect you from the team’s attack as best as he can while the two of you laugh at your friend’s antics.

You may have had the worst week of your life, but it’s over now. And while you’re looking forward to having some time alone with Bucky, right now you’re happy to be squished under a pile of shouting Avengers.

This just feels right. As weird as your life, and your family is, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[impishjesters]

Agents of Cat-astrophe

warning(s): none unless you count Jax note(s): This gave me a good chuckle as someone who's consistently dropping more curse words than regular words, I'd imagine the system to just censor anything and everything that comes out of my mouth at that point. A/N: (In response to the requester) I wish I was taking breaks (I mean I am sorta), I'm fully aware I'm running myself ragged right now. But it's hard for me to stop myself... I'm caffeinated and chaotic and I don't wanna stew in my brain for too long. At least I get up and stretch every now and then. Request: Anyways, I’m requesting a Jax x reader (crushing stage) where the reader is sorta at the same level of meanness as Jax and likes to do pranks with him on the other characters. Also the reader’s digital form is a short cat that at first glance makes them look nice/friendly (obviously not an actual cat but yk what I mean), and they have a sailor’s mouth that is unfortunately censored but that doesn’t stop them (can also purr and does so when they’re content which is usually when there chilling in Jax’s room or with Jax in general). I think it would be fun if the reader surprisingly was sorta nicer to Kinger and has a small soft spot for him and does more playful pranks on him than mean/harmful ones.

When you first showed up, you looked so small and frail, like a literal little kitten completely out of place in this big colourful nightmare world

Ragatha thought you’d be like Pomni, and boy howdy was she wrong

You just ended up being another Jax—who you later met and found out was also an agent of chaos

Similarly to Pomni you cursed up a storm when you first arrived and the endless censorship that came with it

You have a knack for testing Caine’s patience when it comes to your sailor’s mouth, much to Jax’s entertainment. It’s not every day Caine loses his cool like that and you’re just a newbie, needless to say, you caught his interest

That sailor’s mouth also gets used towards the other’s and Jax won’t lie and say it’s not funny because shit’s hilarious.

Sure they all curse from time to time, but you just laid out an entire sentence that was completely and utterly censored. Like the system said “fuck this I’m gonna censor the whole damn sentence”

Unlike Jax who doesn’t show any remorse for who he pranks or how cruel they are, you draw the line at messing with Kinger.

Okay, that’s a lie you still mess with him but it’s not like how you mess with the others. Kinger has this sweet unstable dad/grandpa vibe and it kind of makes the place more homey in a weird way. (plus that man has been through enough trauma, give him a break, and talk about his bug collections or some shit)

The upside is that his mind is so scattered sometimes that using the same pranks on him always results in something hilarious. So you really don’t need to try for any new material. (he also really needs to consider actually using the lock on his door, he makes it too easy)

Jax considered you his little partner in crime the more time passed—not exactly a friend nah, but like a good ol pal that also likes to partake in joining him and his bullshittery

The first time he hears you purring is when the two of you are lazing about in his room, he’d gotten distracted collecting things for a prank on someone and heard the loudest rumbling coming from behind him

“Are you fucking purring?”

It’s a little embarrassing at first, you’ve uh, never done that before..

Jax has the biggest shit-eating grin, if he wasn’t using dumb cat-themed nicknames before he sure as hell is now

“Oh, like you don’t stomp your feet like a petulant child you overgrown rabbit.”

He does not stomp his fuckin feet like a temperamental rabbit, thank you very much (that’s a fuckin lie if I ever heard one)

Jax already had mixed feelings about you before, nothing particularly bad, just feelings he couldn’t place…that was until the prank…

He doesn’t know how you did it, or how he got so wrapped up in it. But you pranked him, and you pranked him good.

Oh, oh okay that feeling is new… butterflies don’t typically belong inside your gut, now whether Jax has ever experienced a crush before or not is probably beyond him. But these little butterflies are a bitch and it takes awhile of placing two and two together to realize he’s… caught feelings to some degree

You, however, probably had a crush on him for a while, perhaps really noticing it after the whole purring fiasco when you learned that it only happened around Jax

[ultimategenshintournament]

Ultimate Genshin Tournament: Round 5

Propaganda below cut

Venti:

calls the Traveler "his warrior" plus he's like our long-time friend??? He basically asked us out during the alchemy event???? You can choose to bring him up during the fight with Signora????? He's the best idc

He. Is. Amazing. So many layers, so interesting...So much trauma and potential...Not to mention look how AWESOME he is generally!!! He's kind and caring towards everybody, and also carefree and mischievous!!! How can you not love him??

he’s TOO GOOD for this world- he’s just a little guy!! Like he cares for his nation and the people of Mondstadt SO MUCH it hurts when people say he doesn’t. Like, my poor trauma-driven little mega-powerful war god who’s actually just a tiny little wind spirit honoring his dead friend!!!! I love him so much

his lore means he gets brought up almost every patch. he convinced a bunch of the most lethal women in Teyvat to have tea instead of screwing him up. he would always rather take the path of least resistance. he’s the three time best bard in Mond. he never seeks glory, only wishes to offer it to others. he was a better father to Diona than her real one five minutes into meeting her. he gives Glory whispers of what the world looks like so she can navigate. when a nun of his own church denied his identity he decided to run a heist to steal back an item that is only holy because it is his. he keeps his misery and loneliness trapped within, and does his best to bring joy to every person he meets. how can you not love him? 

He's Venti. How do you beat that? Answer: you don't. You can't. 

they say that an nation is most like their archon but is the anemo archon a god that took after the people's traits or did the people take their archons traits (the only correct answer is that venti took after old mond's people traits and it's so disgustingly sweet, he's a lil baby who cared so much that he kept old mond's wishes heard and their dream a reality — of freedom (without a god, as much as he could) where humanity leads trust. he left mondstadt because he trusted that humanity would do that right thing always but then he got betrayed by the Lawrence clan but he forgave them???! the anemo archon gave them no punishment , but mondstadt did . venti has me ugly crying

Kaeya:

He's cool, he's mysterious, he wears an eyepatch, he has a super tragic backstory, he's good with kids, he takes care of his friends, what's not to love!!!

despite all the hardships he’s suffered, he’s still such a kind person 

This is the character of the everyman. Everyone should love Kaeya because he's with you no matter what. He has the great mystery of his origins and his damage with his family and his brother, but he is with you til the end. That's what makes him so special to me

Furina:

girl deserves therapy and hugs and the best life in the WORLD because oh boy she went through a lot!!!! wouldn't pretending to be a god for 500 years with no support mess you up? and yet she still kept on going for her people!! she wanted to save her nation from a doomsday prophecy and she DID

After act 5 she deserves the world :(

“If all the people of Fontaine are on one side, and I am on the other…is it not obvious where the scales of suffering should tilt?” NO IT ISNT YOU’RE JUST ABNORMALLY SELFLESS AND INCREDIBLE AND PERSISTENT. Even the Archons praise Furina’s name and say she is a human with strength and capability worthy of an Archon. That’s not even to speak of Focalors. She snapped at Arlecchino only when the Harbinger implied that Furina had done nothing to preserve her people from the flood. Meanwhile every minute she was working to prevent the prophecy. A month after we took her to court and almost got her killed she agreed to help us direct a play, a favor for a favor

[sapphicmsmarvel]

the night courts justice

pairing: platonic!rhysand x reader

summary: rhysand learns your past traumas are more alike than he assumed.

Tw: MASSIVE trigger warning for r*pe being mentioned. Graphic, graphic violence. Feminine rage, unhinged female rage. Unhinged. 

Would like to preface: this is a work of fiction, uh, yeah. 

I know people write more detailed shit than I did however, I just wanted to give the violence disclaimer bc this is the most violent thing i've ever written (i usually just write fluff!)

Happy reading to my unhinged vengeful girlypops <3 

After you turned, you got bad. You had always struggled with depression, however the fae transformation increased that feeling. 

Rhysand noticed first because you were showing the signs that he did after under the mountain.

“You’re taking care of them, so they’ll be okay when you leave.”  He had approached you on the balcony.

You weren’t an idiot. “Sometimes, I do wonder what would happen if I just…” You waved your hands around. “Ceased.” 

“You wouldn’t see Feyre again.” His voice cracked. “She was what was keeping me from…ending it after I got back.” 

“I don’t know the extent of what happened to you.” You began, “but I can fill in the blanks.” 

“How so?” “From one rape victim to another, I can see the signs.” You simply stated.

It was silent and then, “Feyre found me that night.”  Your voice was a whisper in the wind.

He paused, he could feel the sorrow radiating off of you. You swallowed, “she found me abandoned in the woods, that’s where I was taken. At the time, we had no idea who it was, or where he was from. It was close to the wall. Hence how she found me. I had been there since the previous night. Missing for almost a whole day plus a night. She was hunting at night so people wouldn't get greedy when they saw her with prey. She brought me back to the cottage, her dad was asleep, Nesta woke up because I couldn’t get up the steps and she heard a bang.” You sucked in a deep breath, “I couldn’t get up the steps because….he had hurt me too badly.” He put a hand on your shoulder, he wasn’t one for physical affection like this with someone he barely knew, but he knew you needed it.

You didn’t push him away. 

“Fey and Nesta got me up the steps, it was the first time I had seen the two of them work as a team. They got me in the bath, cleaned up the blood that was staining my legs, my…everything.” 

He tried to keep his rage contained, however it was hard, you felt the air turn denser. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Rhysand.” You laughed bitterly. “It’s over and done with.” 

“Do you want revenge?” 

You sighed, “Yes, which makes me terrible-”

“No it does not.” He hissed.

You shrugged, “it doesn’t matter.” 

After a brief silence he asked, “You said, at the time. Who was it?” 

“He was from the Spring Court. Not Tamlin or Lucien. Or the guy that Fey killed. But now that I am here, and I have the heightened senses. I recognize the different courts, it’s the smell. He smelled like the Spring Court.” 

“Can I see what he looked like?” Rhysand asked. 

You nodded and let him into your mind.

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

During the war, it had completely slipped your mind that you had told Rhys about these things. Or rather showed him the face. Feyre had come back and then you were off fighting a war. Not too much time to dwell on things. 

But, one day you were called to “the torture chamber” as you called it, however Azriel disapproved even though he also agreed. He just didn’t like how blunt you were about it. 

“What is this?” You asked. 

That’s when you could smell it. The smell of dandelions and dewy grass. The smell that had haunted your nightmares long before Hybern had. You saw him tied to a chair, beaten and bloody, his mouth had a gag stuffed in it. Azriel was behind him, Rhysand off to the side and Feyre was behind you, she had come with you. But based off the look on her face, she knew all along. 

“You can either kill him or I will.” 

“Doesn’t this look bad, High Lord?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow. “If this gets out…” 

“Oh it can, I don’t particularly care, let them know I don’t tolerate anyone being raped, let alone someone in my court. Let Tamlin come and try to defend this.” 

“He’s an asshole, but he never raped me.” Feyre walked up and put a sword in your hands. “Gut him like a fish.” 

You took the sword, ready. You looked at him as he wept. “Do you remember me?” 

Silence. 

You lifted his head with the tip of the sword, drawing blood that trickled down the metal. 

Gods, nothing has ever looked so fun. 

“I said, do you remember me?” You asked in an innocent voice. 

He shook his head, screaming around the gag. 

You widened your eyes, mockingly, “you know I screamed that night too.” 

HIs eyes widened, you didn’t know if he was recognizing your scent, or if he had done this to multiple people and he’s trying to figure out which one you were. “You went across the wall, found an innocent sixteen year old girl. A child. You took me out there and you raped me. And then at the end, when I was crying into the dirt, begging for the Mother to put me to sleep so I would stop hurting; do you remember what you said?” You asked. 

He didn’t answer, so you shoved the blade in deeper, causing a bigger waterfall the color of revenge to cascade down the blade. “I asked a question.”

He shook his head. 

You let a cruel smile slip. “You said that with the way I was acting, I had it coming.” You laughed and his eyes widened. “And now, you’ll see what you’ve had coming all these years.” 

With that you moved the sword. He let out a breath, but then saw you go to the table and grab pliers. 

“How many people?” You asked starting with his finger, that’s when you saw the wedding ring. You laughed coldly. “What poor person did you trap?” 

He glared, you smiled and took the pliers and pulled off a fingernail. He screamed around his gag and it was music to you. “I ask again, how many?” 

He kept screaming, so you kept pulling. 

Once you started on the other hand, that’s when he stopped screaming and began nodding. “You’ll tell me?” You asked. 

He nodded so you removed the gag. “Nine.” 

You let out a laugh through your nose. Not a genuine one of course, but one that showed you were about to become even more angry. “Do you remember their faces?” 

He nodded and you looked at Rhysand, “if you’d ever be so kind. I want to pay them a visit.” 

To let them know their monster is dead, and he did not die a slow death. 

Rhysand nodded to let you know, he intruded the male's mind and then left the room with Feyre. 

He would show her their faces, she would draw from memory. Then you would find them to give them peace that he was dead. 

Only Azriel was left in the cell.

Then you smiled again, a twisted and evil one, “and now our fun begins.” 

That’s when you smelled the urine. 

And your smile grew bigger. 

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

The male was later found staked to a rock by the wall. An ice pick through his forehead and his hands, pinning him to the old stone. The word “rapist” was carved into his naked chest. All fingers were broken and nine teeth were pulled out of his mouth. 

Then a letter was sent to eight houses, explaining that their monster was dead and if they chose to, they could see what became of him by going to a certain spot. 

All eight showed up. 

Well nine but no one could see her. No one could see her or the High Lord of Night Court watching. 

“You feel better?” 

You sighed, “murder is bad, however I can rest easy knowing he’s dead.” 

“Yeah, you definitely know he is.” 

You snorted, “I may have had a bit of fun.”

“He definitely deserved it, the thing with his penis though was twisted.” 

You laughed outright at that. “That was Azriel’s touch.” 

Rhysand shuddered, “once again the guy deserved it, but Gods, you filet’d that thing.” 

“They’ll find it in the autopsy.” You shrugged, sipping your hot chocolate, that fought off the cold Sunday morning. 

He lifted his cup over for a cheers and you clinked, and both of you took a sip. “We’re fucked in the head aren’t we?” You said. 

He nodded, “Oh we definitely are. At least we’re surrounded by other fucked individuals.” 

“Cheers to that.” 

And once again you clinked mugs. 

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

The next day you were called into the Feyre and Rhysand’s office, part of you wondered if it meant that the mortals had connected the murder of the Night Court and now you’d have to pay for what you’d done. 

But when you walked in, Feyre was smiling genuinely. 

Rhysand gave her a loving look, “could you at least pretend it’s something bad just to mess with her?” He drawled teasingly. 

“She’s my best friend, she’d know I was lying.” Feyre responded as if Rhysand was dumb. 

Could confirm, you would know. 

“I thought I was your best friend.” Rhysand put a hand to his chest as if he was offended but you both could tell he was not. 

You and Feyre shared a look and rolled your eyes in unison. 

“Can I just know what’s going on?” You asked. 

“We want you to be the Night Court’s Justice.” “...Isn’t that what Azriel is for?” 

“Azriel is for collecting information on enemies. You will basically be an assassin for us.” Rhysand explained. “If you so desire.” 

“Who would I go after?” 

“Anybody that poses a threat to my family.” His eyes flashed with anger. “Someone hurts anyone, including you. Then you have our full permission to slit their throats.” He said. “Obviously, we’d give you assignments. When you don’t have assignments you’d be working alongside Azriel.”

You nodded and then went, “fuck it. Okay.” 

“You don’t want to think about it?” Feyre asked. 

“If I’m taking out people that are like the bastard I just killed, then I will do it. Rapists deserve nothing else.” 

Rhysand smirked, “welcome to the court.”

[damianwaynerocks]

back on my batfamily true crime bs

bruce and jason get into a huge argument. a massive one that ends in jason being barred from going on patrol with them. so what does he do? silly revenge.

jason todd starts an anonymous true crime podcast called that’s just called “todd tales.” it’s an investigative podcast about the death of jason todd.

since he’s legally dead & decides to be an anonymous podcaster, he goes full in. talks about his upbringing, saying things like “i spoke to one of jason’s old neighbor’s and this is what she has to say”

and the “neighbor” is stephanie who thinks it’s hilarious and goes along with it. “he and his mom’s boyfriends always got into fights,” she says with a british accent, “and one time i heard him & his dad yelling at each other, and then there was a loud crash. i walked out and his dad was at the bottom of the stairs.”

which leads jason to speculate that jason todd killed him, calling him “a badass motherfucker no wonder bruce wayne was in such awe of him”

and then as the episodes progress he talks about the theory that “jason todd secretly became robin but because he was so smart and cool bruce wayne had no idea that he was fighting with batman”

he has theories that he “investigates.” he goes over the official story- that jason was traveling with bruce, got kidnapped and held for ransom but something went wrong & he was accidentally killed - and then he says “but that’s fucking bullshit *laughs* as thought bruce wayne couldn’t pay a ransom”

his next theory is the truth, that he was robin & got murdered by a villain. he has two guests to prove it.

“im alvin draper, bruce’s former assistant,” tim (who is mad at bruce for making him go on a patrol on bernard’s birthday) says with a voice modular, “and i remember, after jason died, bruce ordered me to call the mortician who did the autopsy and tell him that bruce was offering him $1,000,000 to get out of gotham & sign a non-disclosure form to never speak about jason.”

jason then gets an “autopsy tech” who helped with the autopsy, the tech that bruce supposedly didn’t know was in the room because “bruce wayne is fucking stupid”.

“of course, the truth needs to be out there,” roy says dramatically. “no way he was accidentally shot like the official story says. he had several broken bones, obvious signs of blunt force trauma, and several burn scars, but absolutely no bullet holes.”

he gets hate comments about how he shouldn’t be talking about a dead teenager, but he doesn’t stop. (jason secretly loves it because it makes him feel like he hasn’t been forgotten) (but also he finds it hilarious bc they have no idea)

and bruce is furious. he knows it’s jason. he makes an official statement saying that the podcast is horrible and disrespectful. dick makes one too, saying that he can’t believe someone would do this about his little brother.

bruce, dick & damian hound jason to stop it. bruce yells at him, dick is trying to be nice because “i understand, but-“ and damian is like “i know i’ve given up murder but you’re considered dead anyways so therefore it does not count”

then alfred tells him, sternly, “master jason, please stop.” and jason feels so bad, so small because, like, it’s alfred, and deletes the podcast after the final episode.

but he’s still not allowed back on patrol.

[talia-black]

Nameless! Aventurine Headcanons

I have a million other projects I need to be working on, but this tiny brainworm hasn’t let me go.  :(

TW: Talk of Aventurine’s backstory. Nothing explicit, but his brand is shown and stuff is alluded to. Symptoms of trauma are also explicitly mentioned. Also shirtless Aventurine but nothing sexual. 

Nameless! Aventurine who succeeded in bargaining his freedom from the IPC and became a wanderer. Who always wears a shirt with a high collar to hide his slave tag. Who melted down his sixty tanba and had them made into various accessories for his otherwise nondescript outfit. Who pulled scams and took risks whenever the mood struck him and then skipping out whenever things got dicey for him. Until he runs into the Astral Express.

Nameless! Aventurine who had heard of the Express in passing, and needing a quick passage off-world, offers his help with whatever trouble they’ve managed to get themselves into in return for a ride. Only to be thrown completely out of his element by the attitude of each of its members. None of them are interested in what he can offer them (though it takes him a while to figure that out) and are more than willing to still let him join the Express even when his plan doesn’t pan out the way Aventurine promised. 

Nameless! Aventurine who actually ends up fitting very well into the Astral Express’ dynamic. He is always happy to indulge in March 7th’s antics (You cannot tell me these two wouldn’t have spa days where they do facials, paint each other's nails, and just talk for hours about Robin’s latest album or whatever else is a hot topic for Honkai Star Rail’s version of the internet.) and treats her like a little sister. 

March 7th is also the first to figure out Nameless! Aventurine’s aversion to being touched. He frequently initiates contact, but the first time March came up behind him and touched his arm, the gambler jumped almost a foot in the air. He laughed it off, telling her that she “give a man some warning next time” and pushed the conversation forward. She chalked it up to him being caught off-guard, but then she watched him freeze up when Himeko put a hand on his back, and when Welt patted his shoulder, and whenever March touched him first. 

Nameless! Aventurine who acts like the annoying middle child always pestering the older brother because he secretly admires him. Dan Heng doesn’t warm up to Aventurine nearly as quickly, and is often annoyed when he just waltzes into the room containing the data bank, plops himself in a chair, and talks at him for hours. The first time Dan Heng responded to something he said was actually what got Aventurine to be quiet. Dan Heng turned away from what he was working on to see Aventurine with his mouth slightly agape, not expecting him to actually answer. Dan Heng found it incredibly interesting how the normally smooth talker stumbled over his words for almost a minute before picking up where he had left off. 

Dang Heng is the first to notice how Nameless! Aventurine is always throwing himself in the firing range. Even when there’s absolutely no reason to or nothing to gain from making such a sacrifice. He subtly watched how in every conversation that even verges into dangerous territory, Aventurine pulls all of the attention onto himself with either a comment aimed to provoke, or acting in a way that drastically escalates things. Aventurine had told the Crew about his “luck”, and these instances had certainly liquidated any of Dan Heng’s doubts about that. But if his victory was always certain, why did he smile when he got shot? 

Nameless! Aventurine who Himeko treats like the rest of her kids right out of the gate. Aventurine is the most suspicious of Himeko out of all the Express Crew, but that doesn’t last long. They bond over their love of black coffee and as the two of the only three night owls on the Express (Dan Heng is also one, but he never leaves his room). While he would never say Himeko reminded him of his mother, she gave her own forms of paternal love freely in the way she always made sure he ate at least two meals a day, immediately patched up his various scrapes and scratches herself when he first got on the Express, and offered him his own room without hesitation. He would go to his grave with the knowledge that he had felt his face heat up when she had ruffled his hair after he beat her at chess during one of their 2am coffee drinking sessions. 

Himeko was the first to see Nameless! Aventurine’s hands were in terrible condition. When she checked him over for wounds, she noticed how he was always fidgeting with a coin. Later it would change to a beaten up poker chip, or his bracelet, or whatever odd thing he had picked up. And when she was bandaging his arm, his hands shook with constant tremors. When he was outside the Express, he always stuffed his hands in his pockets, and Himeko frowned late one evening when she saw Aventurine palm’s had scars from where his own nails had dug into them. 

Nameless! Aventurine who loves messing with Welt. Honestly, Aventurine gets along with Welt just as well, if not better than March. Welt is never without something interesting or insightful to say, and combined with Aventurine’s observant and commentative nature, they sometimes end up talking for hours without even realizing time has passed. However, Aventurine cannot live without a little mischief. And Welt’s naivety when it comes to current trends is just too good of an opportunity to pass up. This often manifests in Welt using slang terms in ways they absolutely were not meant to be, and a few interesting videos that have made their way onto the Express’ group chat. Welt has mostly caught on, but he still plays along if only to see the way Aventurine’s eyes light up whenever he successfully “tricks” him. The “kiddo” had gotten more laughs out of the old man than all of the members of the Express combined. 

Welt was the first to notice and tell the others that Nameless! Aventurine was exhibiting signs of severe trauma. During a pit stop, Welt asked Aventurine to go ask around for a certain brand of coffee beans for Himeko before calling the others for a meeting. After sharing what they knew, the group struggled to decide on a course of action. Aventurine was more than entitled to his past, and it would go against everything they stood for to pry for potentially painful details. But it also seemed wrong to let him continue potentially harmful habits without intervention. In the end, they decided to wait until they crossed paths with a specialist who they could ask for advice before taking any particular course of action. 

Nameless! Aventurine who kept making excuses for why he couldn’t get off the Express. He didn’t realize that no one had ever asked him to.

Nameless! Aventurine who upon waking one day to see his name emblazoned on the door of his room refused to come out for an entire day. The rest of the Crew didn’t even know it had happened, and Pom-Pom swore they hadn’t done it. Meanwhile, Aventurine spent most of the morning crying silently into his pillow and the rest of the day deep in the trenches of an existential crisis. He comes out the next day and acts like nothing ever happened, and the new status quo was set in stone. 

Nameless! Aventurine who was with March and Dan Heng when they found the Trailblazer. And immediately became fascinated with them. Especially after they threw themselves in front of March when the Doomsday Beast attacked the space station. He surprised himself with how upset he felt when he saw the Trailblazer was considering staying at Herta’s Space Station as opposed to coming with them. And how happy he was when they ultimately decided to join the Express. 

Nameless! Aventurine and the Trailblazer who get on like a house on fire. Aventurine is persistent and victorious in getting the Trailblazer comfortable with them, and often ends up in a game of tug-a-war with March for their attention. Trailblazer, who at first glance seems like a pretty stoic character, turns out to be quite unhinged, and Aventurine’s lack of self-restraint only enables them once they set foot on Belobog. Aventurine was a man who clung to unpredictability and the mystery of the dice like a starving animal, and the Trailblazer was impulsivity personified. From their out-of-pocket comments at the most inappropriate of moments to their dumpster-diving habits, Aventurine never knew what to expect from them. 

Trailblazer who is the first to discover the truth of Nameless! Aventurine’s past. It wasn’t anything grand; the two had gone out with March and Himeko for a drink and ended up collapsing in the same bed. Trailblazer woke first with an awful headache, a dry mouth, and dots doing pirouettes across their vision. Which is why they thought they were just imagining the brand on Aventurine’s neck. The high-collar shirt that he always wore had been chucked off at some point during the night. Aventurine stirred when a gentle touch carefully traced irritated, scarred skin. 

“You should really be applying some kind of salve to that.”

Reality cut through Aventurine’s hangover faster than a bucket of ice. He leapt out of bed and locked himself in the bathroom. He refused all of the Trailblazer’s attempts to get him to respond, and it was only after they promised they would give him some space and that they wouldn’t tell the others that his heart rate was able to go down. It still took him an hour before he left the bathroom. From there he avoided the Trailblazer like the plague. When the other members of the Crew asked what had happened, the Trailblazer explained it away as “drunken shenanigans” and let the subtext run its course. If only to give Aventurine some initiative to speak to them. This standoff lasted weeks, and probably would have gone on much longer if Aventurine hadn’t taken a dagger to the gut and a crossbow bolt to the knee. And the Trailblazer, out of the generosity of their heart, offered to personally make sure he made a full recovery. And many painful nights later, with the help of a few glasses of whiskey, Aventurine shared a few pieces of his past. He still had enough clarity of mind to keep the less palatable details out of it, but gave more than enough for the Trailblazer to understand what he had been through. Somehow, the bottle was emptied, and the two once again found themselves cuddled up in Aventurine’s bed and drifting off into peaceful slumber. 

Nameless! Aventurine who found a new family, and would continue to protect them with everything he had as he continued his journey starward. 

[yukinarinn]

Childhood bestfriends to lovers Ethan Landry x Reader?? (W smut) 🙏

Feel Something - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

contains: smut, soft!dom!Ethan, sub!reader, p in v, a bit of angst (?), both of you losing virginity

A/N: Hi, I don’t know how good this is and I don’t know why is mostly angst (it’s in fact just a little, but still) I wanted this to be kinky asf but instead I kinda trauma dumped, lmao. I hope it’s still okay tho!

You and your friends were at Sam and Tara’s place, including Ethan who was always either behind you or right next to you. You didn’t mind since you knew each other since childhood and are the closest and form the closest bond. So it’s safe to say this friend group is still new to you both. University just started a few weeks ago and you have a hard time getting used to New York and every new thing.

“So, any ideas of what we should do?” Mindy said as she playfully pinched Sam’s arm while Anika gave her a weird look but ignored it.

“We were thinking of watching a movie tonight, perhaps?” Samantha suggested and all of the looks were fixated on you and Ethan now. They knew he doesn’t really like movie nights and that you just can’t stand still for 2 hours straight.

“Thing is..” you began to speak, taking this a bit personal since you think they’re just messing around or something. “I didn’t want to be here today, but Ethan asked me to come and I couldn’t say no.” you eye-sideying him as you try to avoid eye contact.

“Yeah, me neither. Chad also invited me.” He cleared his throat as Chad just showed him the middle finger. Whispering a “What a bitch”.

It seems like these two get along very well, but in reality, it’s really not like that. They need to fake their friendship and how cool they are just because they’re roommates, which is bullshit. You could’ve been his roommate instead, but due to obvious reasons, it’s not allowed.

“Even so, we don’t have drinks nor popcorns or anything to eat.” Quinn remarked. “Shall one of us go to the supermarket, then.”

You stared at her confused, why going to a supermarket? it’s too far away right now and you don’t even know how long this will take. It’s supposed to be a movie night, not waiting for Chad or one of the girls to go buy shit.

“Supermarket? there’s literally the shop by the corner!” Ethan replied and you nodded, biting your lip as you look at him intensely while it seems like he isn’t aware of you doing it.

Quinn turned and came closer to him. “Listen here, bitch. You may be my brother but I’m doing you a favor right now, don’t be dumb and keep your mouth shut.” She replied back with a more arrogant tone.

Her look dropped on yours suddenly and you clear your throat. Her sister has always took the.. parental role for him since their mother is unknown even to this day. You couldn’t never really get along with her.

“And you too, y/n” Quinn smirked and turned to everyone. “We might not like the snacks one of us will buy, so why don’t we all just go and buy stuff individually?”

Oh, you get it now. It’s not that you would mind, but since when she knows about you having a thing for her brother? Either way, you thank her.

Everyone sighs and heads towards the door, finally. But not before Chad and Tara looked back at you, asking if you’re coming as well.

You shook your head and they raised their eyebrows, well, Tara. You could tell Chad had a slight smile printed on his face.

Once you heard the door closing and eventually locked from the outside. You both let out a loud sigh. You hated the living room so much for some reason, so you go upstairs towards Tara’s room with Ethan right behind you.

“Do they let you just walk around their house like that?” He chuckled and closed the door behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the bedroom. It was perfect for a date. Her tastes are indeed cool.

“Do I look like I care? Come sit beside me, why so nervous?” you asked. But you were kinda nervous as well, you did everything together, everything but not being this close to each other ‘till now.

Ethan nodded and sits next to you, but doesn’t hold eye contact at all. The tension was already here. You didn’t know why it felt so weird being like this.. it’s not the first time you were alone with him, or with a guy in general.

A few seconds pass and you were still not saying or doing anything. You bite your lip and turned to him, but he already was going to break the ice before you did.

“Y/n, I know we don’t talk much about this but I do care about you and I wish you never let any guy hurt you.”

The random words coming from his mouth made your heart race. You never liked talking about this topic and preferred not to talk about other men in front of him. You bite the skin of your lips and look down, scared that he would notice how vulnerable you actually can become if you talk about past relationships.

“I technically came here to have fun.. you know..” You whisper, leaning towards him, smelling his cologne. “I don’t think we should talk about everything I’ve been through with other men.”

He smiled and rubbed your cheek with his long fingers, this is one of the few times he has touched you like this. He never dared to even touch you by accident, but when he did, he would apologise. But to you, there was nothing to apologise for.

“I think we should, now that we’re alone. Talk with your best friend, y/n.” Ethan looked you up and down, slightly biting his bottom lip. You didn’t know why he’s trying to bring this subject up but you felt like talking to someone about your love life. “Vent to me.”

You nodded and sighed. “So what do you wanna know? you already know all of my exes.” You felt ashamed of saying it out loud, ashamed of yourself that you dated so many. But Ethan just stared at you, letting you continue but there’s nothing to continue about.

“I know how you feel right now and trust me, you shouldn’t think of yourself like this. You dated all of them because you felt empty without someone to take care of you, worship you.” He says those words in such a deep and gentle tone. It makes your heart melt and you involuntarily put your head on his shoulder.

“You know me so well,” you whispered. “Do you want some dating advice? is this why you’re so invested in this conversation?”

“No.” He chuckled but went back to a serious tone which only made you feel bad for ‘ruining’ the mood that is supposed to be serious. “You know I’ve never dated anyone and that I would screw things up in my first relationship anyway.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“You screwing up? look at me, I ruined my relationships because I couldn’t feel anything towards them. They left me with a bitter taste of what love truly is.” You start sobbing and squeezed Ethan’s hand. “Maybe I’m just unlovable and.. I can’t love someone, either.”

Ethan looked at you and put one of his fingers under your chin to lift your head up from his shoulder, making you look at him. Eyes filled with tears and your lips were puffy already. You gave in and now he knows how vulnerable you can be at times, another one who knows.

“Don’t cry, you’re not unlovable and you could love someone. You just have to meet the right guy.” He gently grabbed your shoulders, massaging them while you’re trying to break the eye contact.

You were staring at him like you’ve seen a ghost, and you got more surprised as soon as he wiped your tears away with his index finger, his finger slowly moving down to your lips.

“You’re not broken if that’s what you think,” He got extremely closer to you, his lips just a few inches away from yours. “Let yourself feel something with me.”

Before you could say anything, he pressed his lips against yours, your eyes widened. But it didn’t take much longer for you to slowly close them and kiss him back with your hands around him. Pushing your lips more against his.

He wrapped his hands around your waist, squeezing it as he pushes you onto the bed on your back while lips still locked together and he crawled on top of you, biting your lower lip to make you open your mouth and enter his tongue in, desperately searching for yours.

You moan into the kiss as soon as you feel his tongue on yours and his fingers playing with the waistband of your lace underwear. The fact that it was so easy to him to touch your private parts because of you wearing only a tight red dress, was turning him on even more.

He didn’t want to tease you much though, so his fingers found their way to your already wet cunt, massaging your clit slowly through your panties. Making you break the kiss immediately.

“E-Ethan-“ you moaned his name, which only made him get harder and you wetter by how he was stimulating you.

Ethan continues to play with your clit while you involuntarily squeeze your legs, which makes him laugh and use his other hand to spread them again.

"It's obvious you haven't been touched in this area much," he says amusedly as you roll your eyes, unable to form coherent sentences.

He bites his lips and moves your panties to the side, pressing his finger against your now exposed clit. You start gripping the sheets.

"I-It's too much!" You tilt your head back, and Ethan takes advantage, pressing his mouth against your sensitive neck, lightly biting the spot.

"Really? But I haven't even penetrated you yet!" He smiles and licks the now reddened bite mark.

You didn't expect your best friend to take control and do with you everything no other boy has done before. You feel your body burning with pleasure and desire. The feeling is unfamiliar, but you love it.

He takes his finger away from your clit and you moan in frustration, almost wanting to beg him to give you more. He smiles innocently and takes his shirt off, revealing his muscles and abs. You blush slightly at what you’re seeing. Definitely not expecting this.

But your gaze immediately drops when Ethan pulls his belt down along with his pants, throwing them somewhere on the floor. He's hard as a rock, and you have no idea if it will fit. You gulp when his boxers vanish along with his clothes. You see it, and it's big.

"What's wrong, princess? You should know you have to beg if you want it that bad." he teases. "By the way, are there any condoms around here?"

"Y-Yes," you stammer. "On Tara's nightstand. Chad and she are insatiable." You start laughing together.

He opens a pack of condoms and slowly rolls one onto himself, while you undress in front of him and lie back. Eagerly waiting for him to be on top of you again.

"Please..." You spread your legs.

"Please, what?" he chuckles as he teases your wet pussy with his tip.

"Fuck me!" You beg, and he grins, leaning in to passionately kiss you as he enters slowly, groaning while you start to whimper in pain as you feel him stretching you out.

He didn’t move, he’s letting you adjust to his size. Even though it’s confusing because you’re crying and your legs are shaking. He’s about to pull out but you stopped him.

“Are you… a virgin?” He asks you, confused of your look and the way you’re breathing. You nod slightly.

“Just like you.” You replied, a slight shake could be found in your voice. He rolled his eyes, almost annoyed at the fact that he didn’t know you still were.

“Why didn’t you tell me, baby? I could’ve made this more special to you, to both of us.” You groaned at the pet name and smiled, trying to forget the pain as if never existed.

“But this is special, Ethan. I’ve actually wanted you for so long.” You pulled him closer. “Move, I’m going to be fine.”

He nodded, still unsure of what to do and started thrusting it in and out of you, making you roll your eyes in pleasure and instinctively wrap your legs around him.

Ethan groans in your ear as he feels your hand running through his curly hair. You open your eyes wide when his finger quickly rubs your clit.

"Please, don't stop, keep going," you say, your eyes searching for his, and he whispers in your ear in a sensual manner.

"What a good girl," he praises, and your walls tighten around him, making him whimper and bite your neck without any gentleness. You put your hand over your mouth, tears of pleading in your eyes.

"Don't cover that pretty mouth of yours, let me hear you," he moves faster inside you. "I'm close," he whispers.

You moan loudly, struggling to respond. “Me too-" Ethan presses his lips on yours, taking your lower lip between his teeth which made you open your mouth, enough for him to slide his tongue in as he pounds in you faster. And with one final thrust, you cum all over his dick and he catches his own orgasm, releasing into the condom.

He slowly pulls out, sweat visibly on his forehead as he throws the used condom into the trash can next to Tara’s bed. You’ll make sure to throw it somewhere else before she sees it.

“That was amazing!” He tells you, laying on the bed visibly tired but proud that you’re finally his.

You turn to him and smile, searching for his hand. “I’ve wondered what it’s like to touch and feel something, but now I know.” you lean closer and peck his lips.

“Does it mean you’re giving me a chance?” He asked, you could see how the look on his face changed and how his eyes are basically sparkling.

You nodded. “Yes, but we have to put our clothes back on now, the bitches will get home soon.”

[mint-yooxgi]

{13} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU & Dragon AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Jongho)

Words: 5,900

Warnings: Past trauma discussed: torture and imprisonment, scars, death, violence, a lot of angst but with a happy ending. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Wow, it's really been a whole ass month since I've updated this series. Lmaooo whoops! Anyways, I really hope you all enjoy this chapter, I've got a lot more planned coming up as the following parts will really focus on the development of OC's relationships with all of the guys. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I do not do tag lists.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Mini Masterlist

It’s early that same evening when eight dragons sense a somewhat familiar presence getting closer to their own nest. Focussing in, they soon realize that there are actually two.

Stepping out of their home, all of the Halas (minus Jongho who currently sits on the roof), stare up at the two Neos who descend into their yard. Both dragons are blue in colour, though one is quite a lighter shade than the other. The darker of the two is slightly bigger, but the smaller radiates more of an air of intimidation. A moment later, they discover why.

Landing gracefully on the grass, both Jeno and Renjun appear before the eight Halas.

“Sorry to intrude like this,” Renjun begins, dusting off the front of his pants lightly.

“How did you find us?” It’s Yeosang that asks, brow furrowing slightly as he stares at the Neos.

“Is everything okay?” Immediately, Jongho hops down from the roof, worry clear in his eyes.

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry.” Jeno smiles at him faintly, and he watches as the youngest Hala’s shoulders relax. “You would have heard us roar if something had happened.”

“To answer your question,” Renjun shifts his gaze to Yeosang, “It was easy to find you. You guys don’t really hide your scents as well as you think.”

Hongjoong, San, and Mingi all purse their lips slightly at this, a minor furrow to their brows.

“Why are you here?” It’s Seonghwa who says it, but his tone isn’t as sharp as the Neos are used to. Instead, it holds a genuine curiosity as the eldest Hala crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, I was sent here to collect a certain dragon.” Renjun says, before motioning to Jeno with a jerk of his head. “Her cub just wanted to ‘tag along’.”

At this, more than a few eyebrows raise.

“I came to make sure you don’t butcher her offer.” Jeno huffs, a roll to his eyes. “You make it sound like you’re here to bring back one of their heads on a spike.”

“Offer?” This catches Wooyoung’s attention, his entire demeanour perking up instantly.

“Who?” San doesn’t even attempt to hide the eagerness in his voice.

Both Renjun and Jeno spare a glance at one another out of the corner of their eyes before their gazes are shifting onto the youngest Hala standing across from them.

“Him.” Renjun jerks his chin in Jongho’s direction.

The younger male cannot help but stand a little straighter in his spot, heart racing in his chest. You sent for him?

“What about?” Yunho does his best to ask the question casually, but his feigned disinterest only serves to make the slight desperation in his voice all the clearer.

“That’s between him and her.” Renjun replies, a mild shrug to his shoulders as he turns back around. “She’ll be waiting.”

“Wait!” It’s the youngest’s voice that has Renjun halting right in his tracks for the moment. As soon as Jongho sees the Neo spare a glance over his shoulder, he’s continuing, “where can I find her?”

The corner of Renjun’s lips quirks upward before turning back around and taking off into the evening sky.

Jeno lets out a sigh, shaking his head. He meets Jongho’s gaze. “Let the lights guide you home.”

In the blink of an eye, Jeno has shifted and taken off into the air, following closely behind Renjun without another word.

All Halas turn to look at their youngest.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Mingi frowns, arms crossing over his chest.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jongho breathes, blinking after the two retreating dragons as he attempts to wrap his head around this turn of events.

You want to see him? He can still hardly believe it.

Before any more of his brothers can say another word, Jongho is taking off into the evening sky. The faintest hues of pink and orange begin to dust the clouds as the sun begins to set, warming the earth with its final rays. The way his golden scales glint in the fading light is synonymous with the way that his tail eagerly flicks back and forth through the air, cutting through the sky with a newfound purpose as he flies towards you.

It takes Jongho all of three minutes to reach that little special clearing on the edge of the cliff. He sees you just through the thicket of the trees, that small tower of stones resting beside you as you sit on the ground. The way he can feel your eyes on him, tracking his every movement has a pleasant shiver caressing his spine.

He circles lower.

If he’s being honest with himself, Jongho is a little cautious of flying directly into that clearing. You told him the last time he found you here that you only allow people that you have granted permission access to step foot on such a sacred part of your territory. He’d really rather not run smack into that invisible wall again.

Then, as if you’ve read his every thought, you chuckle.

“You may land, you know.” You smile softly as you stand to your feet. “I would not send for you to join me here if I haven’t already granted you permission to set foot inside this circle.”

Jongho’s breath catches in his throat, and he bets more than anything that you’ve heard his reaction loud and clear. So badly does he want to let out a rumble of content, but he feels as if it might be too much for the moment. He simply does not want to read into this more than is necessary. Yet, with everything that you’ve told him so far, he cannot help but do just that.

You called for him. You wanted to see him. 

That alone gives him more hope than you could ever imagine.

Gliding towards that small opening on the side of the cliff, Jongho can still feel your eyes on him. The sensation of having your gaze roam over his true form is unlike any other, and for the first time, he senses that you are taking your time to memorize every detail. He simply hopes that you are as mesmerized by him as he is always mesmerized by you.

With his heart soaring in his chest, Jongho stretches his wings as far as they will go while he comes in for his landing. He purposely puts himself on display, fanning his crown as his tail flicks behind him. The way the light of the setting sun catches on his scales, illuminating the clearing with little iridescent reflections of golden hues has him preening proudly as he shakes out his muzzle.

The feeling of your eyes on him is like no other. That soft smile is still on your features as you stand with your arms gently supporting one another by the elbows. Your cloak rests open over your shoulders and as soon as he shifts back into his human form, you begin to take a few steps towards him. Only, Jongho cannot shake that brief look of longing that crossed your features for a moment.

Why did you just look so sad?

Closing the distance between your two bodies, you come to stand directly before him. Slowly, you take his hands in your own, staring deeply into his eyes.

He swallows thickly, doing whatever he can to keep his body from physically trembling while being held in your touch. “You wanted to see me?”

“I did.” You confirm, a slight nod to your head. “I’m glad you came.”

Jongho nearly hums at your words. “I will always come when you call for me.”

You motion for him to join you near the edge of the cliff, sitting down so that your legs are dangling off of the side. “I desired to speak with you.”

The pleased rumble that escapes him could not have been smothered, even if he tried. “About?”

“I have come to a few realizations over the past day, and there are some things I would like to share with you now.” You say, staring out over the valley as you continue to watch the sun set before you. “If this is to continue between us, then you have a right to know. I want you to know.”

Jongho wishes he could deny the way his breath catches once more in his throat. Slowly, he sits beside you on the edge of the cliff, feeling as if his heart is about to beat right out of his chest.

“I am not promising you anything, Jongho.” You turn to look directly into his eyes as you say this. “I cannot. That does not mean that I am not beginning to trust you. If you are as serious about me, about us as you say you are, then I need you to listen to what I am about to tell you. I need you to understand.”

His expression softens, and he has to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing your hand in his own. Still, he turns towards you, giving you his full and undivided attention.

“I understand.” His voice is low, eyes flitting over your every feature and committing this moment to memory for years to come. The way the sunlight dances across every inch of your figure makes you glow, a warmth flooding his veins the longer he stares at you.

“You continue to prove yourself to me every day that I know you,” you continue, a slight tremble to your voice. “I think it’s only fair you finally get to know some things about me in return.”

“Please, only tell me if you’re comfortable telling me.” He says, a hint of concern in his gaze. “If you’re not ready, don’t force yourself. I can wait.”

“See,” you smile reassuringly, but he’s unsure if it’s more for yourself or for him at the moment, “You just did it again.”

“Did what?” He blinks at you.

“Proved you’re ready to hear what I am about to say.” The corner of your lips twitch upwards, and Jongho notices a few fireflies beginning to float around the area, dancing lightly around your head.

A brief silence settles over the both of you as he waits for you to speak. That is, until you’re letting out a low sigh.

“These are not easy subjects for me to discuss with anyone. Only my closest friends know these specific details about me, so I apologize in advance if it takes me longer to voice certain thoughts over others right now.” You say, shifting your gaze out toward the setting sun. “The chat I had with your brother last night made me realize that it wouldn’t be so bad if you knew some things, too.”

“Take all the time you need,” he gently assures you, his fingers twitching lightly as he rests his palm in the grass between the two of you. “I’m right here.”

He notices you swallow thickly, your hands resting in your lap clinging onto one another as your fingers nervously wring together. This is the most anxious he’s ever seen you, and his heart aches not knowing what he can do to make it better. The urge to pull you into his arms and whisper sweet nothings into your ears is strong, but he holds himself back for now.

Taking a deep breath, your mouth parts, only to close a moment later. Then, you exhale through your nose, shutting your eyes briefly as you steel your nerves.

“I will start with the easier admissions first,” you begin, “But everything I admit to you this evening does not leave this clearing.”

“I would never betray your trust like that.” Jongho replies instantly, nothing but the deepest sincerity shining within his gaze.

A firm nod from you is all the confirmation he needs that you believe him.

Again, you sigh.

“I understand that you and your brothers perceive myself along the likes of the ancients.” You breathe. “You would be correct.”

Jongho blinks in shock.

“Though I am no ancient, I was raised by one.” You tell him. “My father is one of the oldest of the original dragons still alive to this day. Other than my Uncle Ken, of course. He has power unlike anything you could believe, and it has been ingrained in me to be as strong as he is ever since I was small.”

“My mother was a powerful witch.” A slight purse to your lips. “I never met her, for she died during childbirth. My father loved her deeply, and was devastated when he lost her. Every time he looked at me, all he could see was her face, and how he failed her.”

Jongho swallows thickly, already not liking where this seems to be going.

“My Uncle Ken raised me for the first ten years of my life. I thought he was my actual father for a time, for he always treated me better than my biological one.” You huff out a dry laugh. “My father couldn’t bear the grief that came with seeing me, so he gave me away to his best friend. It wasn’t until he learnt I could summon the same powers as my mother that he finally made his presence known in my life.”

The growl Jongho has to suppress nearly chokes him, a deep hatred already blooming in his chest for your father. How could anyone not want you, let alone your own flesh and blood? 

“I thought he wanted nothing to do with me after I found out,” you scoff lightly. “Imagine a twelve year old finally being told the truth.”

He has to keep himself from shaking, but still, he remains quiet.

“My training started after that.” You lean back onto your hands, looking upwards into the darkening sky as those fireflies float lethargically around your head. “I was sent to survive on my own in the wilderness. I nearly died eleven times in the first week, were it not for my Uncle Ken.”

Jongho’s jaw clenches, biting his tongue before he says something he might come to regret.

“I was young, and I didn’t know anything about survival. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a dragon at this point yet. My Uncle wanted me to live as normally as possible for as long as I could before subjecting me to certain types of magic.” You swallow. “I learned everything there was about this earth before I was fifteen, and I knew how to wield every type of weapon by the time I was twenty.”

“You were a child.” He seethes, eyes swirling with a deep golden hue.

“I was a prodigy.” You finally turn to meet Jongho’s gaze. “After all, my father had a reputation to uphold.”

“That’s despicable,” Jongho’s frown is prominent, smoke escaping him with every exhale.

“The past is passed, Young One. I’m not going to change it now.” You sigh.

“That doesn’t mean what you went through is okay.” His chest heaves with every breath. “It doesn’t make it okay.”

“I know it doesn’t.” You nod in agreement. “Remember, I am telling you this so you can understand.”

Again, Jongho bites his tongue.

“My father was adamant on me learning physical defence before ever properly training my magic. He believed that my powers should only be used as a last resort since they could destroy anyone in the blink of an eye.” You go on to say. “I realize now he only trained me the way he did because he was always scared of what I could become.”

“Scared?” Jongho’s brow furrows.

“You see, Jongho,” you chuckle, “because of the anomaly my entire existence centres around, I am potentially even more powerful than my father.”

You swear he stops breathing.

Taking a deep breath, you sit back upright.

“Do you recall what I told you the last time we were both in this clearing?” You ask, not even bothering to spare him a glance out of the corner of your eyes. “About My Cubs?”

A brief memory flashes within his mind as he nods.

“I told you that my father ensured I could never have ones of my own.” You continue. “Do you know why that is?”

He shakes his head.

“Other than the fact that my own children could potentially be more powerful than me, my father has never gotten over my mother’s death. He has blamed me for it every moment of my existence.” You tell him. “However, that did not stop him from developing a twisted sense of love towards me. He took away my ability to have hatchlings of my own to ensure I never incurred the same fate as my mother. I am the last living attachment he has of her, so he will do whatever he can to ensure my safety now. It’s why my training only got harder after what happened with Daisy.”

A moment’s pause before Jongho asks, voice soft and barely above a whisper, “what happened with Daisy?”

The way you instantly curl in on yourself does not go unnoticed by him. Your hands grip at the sides of your cloak, pulling it tighter around your body as you look down for the moment.

“Are you familiar with the S’ber Hunters?” Your voice is much quieter than it was before, blinking blankly at the valley before you.

“The ones that are always hunting for the ancients?” He frowns, attempting to wrap his head around what they have to do with anything. “I’ve heard that they haven’t been seen on this side of the fjord for almost fifty years.”

“There’s a reason for that.” You shift your gaze to him, and he notices tears beginning to gather in the corners.

“What did they do?” His heart pounds, already fearing the worst.

Your lips purse for a good thirty seconds, chin beginning to wobble as you attempt to control your emotions. Only, the second you go to speak a choked sob tears from your throat.

“They took her.” Your voice is no more than a mere whisper, words strained as you take an unsteady breath in. “They killed My Daisy right in front of me.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you cover your mouth with one of your hands. A vicious sob wracks your entire body, and Jongho instantly goes to place a comforting hand onto your back. Only, before he can so much as graze your skin, he stops himself. 

Slowly, he shifts closer, reaching over to grab your free hand in his. 

Any and every comfort he can, he will offer to you. Even through something as small as this, he wants you to know that he is here for you. You are not alone, and he will be with you every step of the way.

“They killed her for loving me.” Your voice is rough as you sniffle, wiping away your tears for the moment. 

Yet, you do not pull your one hand away from his own.

“I had just-“ your breath hitches in your throat, more fireflies coming to float around the two of you as if to offer their silent support. A deep, shaky breath later, you continue, “I am sure you are aware of our marking rituals between imprinted.”

Jongho’s back straightens. “I am.”

“Her mark - my mark - was on full display when she went traversing through the village that day.” You close your eyes, as if the visions are coming back to haunt your memories once again. “They followed her home and ambushed us. I begged her to deny their accusations of loving me. They would have let her go free if she did.” Your eyes blink open, more tears spilling onto your cheeks as you force a strained smile onto your lips. “She didn’t.”

His expression falls, hand squeezing yours tightly as his heart absolutely aches for you.

“My Daisy fought up until the very end. She was so brave, yet I couldn’t save her,” a broken sob tears from your throat as your whole body begins to shake. “I was still so young, and so weak.”

“No-“

“I was.” You cut him off. “I had been neglecting my training, and I couldn’t sense them creeping in around us. They caught me with iron before I could react, and all I could do was watch as the love of my life bled out before me.”

Again, Jongho shifts closer, placing his one hand overtop of your own still held in his other.

“S’ber Hunters are ruthless. They kill anyone who associates with dragons, but they never kill the dragon.” You shake your head slightly. “No. They do something much worse.”

Sliding your hand from his grip, you meticulously roll up your sleeves. Extending your arms to him, you put your scars on full display. The light from the fireflies illuminate the faint lines raised in jagged peaks along your skin, the weight of those iron shackles still ever prominent despite them having long since been broken off.

Jongho’s eyes go wide, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he takes in the sight before him. Furious doesn’t even begin to describe him right now as he sees the scars lining your skin. Though, nothing could prepare him for the anger and guilt that he feels towards himself. How has he never noticed before?

Carefully, Jongho raises his hands to cup your forearms gently in his grip. His thumbs trace lightly over the raised tissue over your wrists, entire body trembling as he attempts to put a leash on his anger for the moment.

“I’ll kill them for touching you.” His voice is low, eyes the darkest you’ve ever seen from him.

You smile, somewhat tensely. “You’re a few hundred years too later.”

His gaze darts up to meet your own, his fingers tightening the slightest bit as he continues to hold your arms gently in his grip.

A moment of silence passes between you as he attempts to keep his whole body from trembling.

“How long?” Jongho cannot keep the fear out of his voice.

You manage to meet his gaze.

“Five hundred and two days.”

The way his eyes shine says it all. You can see the pain, the grief he holds for you. Yet, also the anger, and the concern, along with the growing need to comfort and protect you in every and any way that he can.

“It doesn’t matter what type of dragon you are. To them, we’re all the same.” Your voice is low, and you don’t realize how he grabs your hands back into his own. “To them, we all have connections to the ancients, and we all know where their nests are.”

There’s a part of him that wants to ask, but he’s scared. The thought of you telling him just what type of tortures you had to endure terrifies him because he wasn’t there to protect you. Knowing that you have suffered, and that he could do nothing about it, pains him more than you’ll ever know.

“The S’ber are smart.” You add. “Tell me, Jongho. How do you kill a dragon without taking away their life?”

He shakes his head, a single tear already beginning to trail down the side of his cheek.

“You go for their wings.”

The mere thought of what you had to endure suffocates his very soul. He clings onto you for dear life, squeezing your hands as an unbridled rage festers beneath his skin. This must be why you react so intensely whenever someone touches your back.

“Everyday they asked me where the nest was, and everyday I received a lash for not answering.” Your jaw begins to tremble. “They were smart, too. Keeping me locked up in the dark so I couldn’t tell what day it was, or how much time had passed. The only way I knew was through the lashings. Everyday they would add one to the tally, until they reached one hundred. Then, they would start all over. The scars littering my back still have never fully healed, and it took me years to be able to shift again. I honestly don’t even know what the state of my wings look like now. Not after-”

You cut your words short, lips clamping shut as if admitting to whatever you were about to is far worse than anything you’ve already said. He doesn’t push.

Instead, Jongho’s entire body trembles, golden eyes staring at you with nothing but concern on his features. Right now, comforting you is more important than any rage he feels festering within his soul. No wonder you keep yourself so guarded.

If he ever so much as catches a single whiff of one of these hunters, they’re dead.

“That wasn’t even the worst part, though.” Your eyes are blank as you stare at your hands. The way you can feel him looking at you has a tight smile pulling at your lips. “No, the worst part wasn’t the beatings. It wasn’t being in the dark, or not allowing myself to grieve for Daisy during all of that time. The worst part was knowing that I was alone. My father didn’t once come looking for me when I got captured. He immediately thought I was dead, and would have rather succumbed to his own grief than spare a hope I had survived somehow. It was My Neos who rescued me, but even they had some help.”

“Your own father didn’t even bother to look for you?” Jongho is this close to hunting this bastard down and frying him alive, ancient or not.

“No.” You shake your head. “It was my Uncle Ken that helped the Neos, and destroyed the S’ber hideout. There’s not but ash left. Ash and memory.”

Jongho’s eyes flash, his whole body stilling as realization washes over him. A second later, and each breath he begins to release boarders on a feral snarl.

“My brothers,” his eyes are wide, a crazed gleam shining within, “they compared you to the likes of them. They ruthlessly compared you to the people who hurt you the most without a second thought.”

His fangs elongate, the air spiking with electricity. 

Jongho sees red.

“They didn’t know.” You reply, much calmer than anything he could ever expect. As if you’re used to this type of reaction from people.

“That’s still no fucking excuse for comparing you to those beasts.” He snarls, pulling away from you for a moment as his claws extend.

The last thing he wants is to hurt you, or to scare you away. You’ve already extended more trust to him this evening than he could have ever hoped for. Like hell is he going to damage that, or make you regret telling him all of this.

“You understand why My Neos and I react the way we do now?” You state, meeting his gaze which flashes with the heat of his fury. “Why that promise I made to My Daisy is so important to me? Why I do not allow true hunters into my village anymore?”

Jongho blinks, digging his claws into the dry earth beneath him to ground him for the moment. “I do.”

“Good.” You nod once, wiping at your lingering tears with the back of your hand. “Then, I have one final thing to tell you.”

You go on to tell him the exact same thing about the prophecy as you told Seonghwa last night. The way Jongho remains quiet through it all has you watching him carefully. Every minuscule movement of his brow, every twitch of his jaw, you see, gaze calculating and calm.

“I despise your father.” He spits, rather harshly as a scowl tugs at his features.

This causes you to chuckle. “You, me, and all of My Neos. I’m pretty sure my Uncle Ken has started resenting him a long time ago, too.”

“If I ever meet him, I’m going to kill him for what he put you through.” Jongho turns to meet your eyes, nothing but the deepest form of sincerity shining within his electric gaze.

“I haven’t seen my father in over twenty years, and I’d like to keep it that way.” You say, and you feel the faintest of touches brush over your cheek in comfort. For a moment, you believe it to be Daisy, so you think nothing of it to lean into such a touch. However, at the warmth you feel remaining pressed against your cheek, a thumb tenderly stroking over your skin, you realize that that is not the case.

“I am deeply sorry, My Light, that you have experienced such hardships, and that I have not been there to protect you from them.” His voice is low, cupping your face gently in the palm of his hand. “I swear to you that I will never let anything hurt you again. Not as long as I am here to watch over you. I will never go back on my promise. You mean too much to me.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jongho.” You gently place your hand over his own on your cheek, and he thinks you’re about to pull it away. However, the moment your eyes flutter shut, you leaning even more into his touch, he knows that that’s not the case. “I cannot tell you what happened to me fifty years ago yet, for the wounds are still all too fresh in my heart. I cannot promise you that this will be easy, either.”

A lone firefly lands atop the back of your hand, the subtle glow illuminating the side of your face in the dark of the night.

“I have denied most, if not all dragons who have imprinted on me in that time because I could not bring myself to love again.” You admit, a single tear cascading down your cheek. He’s quick to wipe it away, holding his breath as he waits for you to continue. “However,” that single word has his heart stuttering with hope in his chest, “I am willing to try again.”

Jongho swears that he stops breathing. Your words have filled him with such an unbelievable sense of warmth that radiates outwards from his chest, flooding his veins with every breath he takes, that he cannot help but shed a few tears of his own. Nothing but pure and utter happiness sparks through his soul, his hands beginning to shake as he holds you in his embrace.

He doesn’t even realize that his tail has emerged until he physically draws you in closer to his body. The way your eyes widen the slightest bit, a faint amount of amusement dancing behind your orbs says it all.

He goes to retract his tail, cheeks warming beneath your gaze. “Sorry.”

You smile at him faintly, allowing your thumb to lightly trace over the back of his hand still cupping your cheek gently. “I don’t mind.”

Jongho freezes, your words washing over him. He can feel his heart leaping for joy inside his chest, his eyes searching your face for any hesitancy or uncertainty. When he finds none, he smiles.

His tail, which he had slowly been shifting away from your lower back is instantly around you once more. He pulls you closer to him, your one leg pressed right up against his own as the tip of his tail swishes happily over the skin of your one thigh. There is nothing more intimate to him than this moment, right here, right now, with you, and Jongho is going to revel in this euphoric feeling for as long as he can.

Again, he searches your gaze.

“Thank you,” he breathes, shifting impossibly closer, even if only the slightest bit. “For everything tonight. For trusting me with this. For giving me a chance to prove myself to you. For letting me love you, and continuing to let me love you despite it all.”

You opt to remain quiet for the moment, blinking at him lightly as you observe his every move. You don’t want to acknowledge how quickly your own heart is racing for the moment, but with each passing second, you find yourself melting even more into his touch.

Just what is this dragon doing to you?

“I won’t let you down.” He leans forward, resting his forehead against your own as a pleased rumble escapes his chest.

Jongho doesn’t even attempt to hide the way his hooded eyes continuously flick down to your lips. His tongue even darts out to wet his own, nuzzling the slightest bit against you as he draws you in closer with his tail.

“You are so beautiful,” his voice is a mere whisper, the ghost of his breath trailing against your lips with every word he speaks. A pleased rumble builds in his chest, “And strong.”

It’s almost as if he’s gone into a trance. A trance of which where all he can see is you.

“My Light,” he hums contently, “I do not wish to overstep,” he swallows, his throat bobbing with the movement, “but, please,” his eyes flick down to your lips once more before coming up to stare deeply into your eyes, “please, may I kiss you?”

Your own breath catches in your throat, and you cannot deny the way your heart skips a beat in your chest. It’s been so long since someone has asked you this, and you find that it feels just like the very first time with Daisy.

Softly, you smile. “You may.”

His lips are on yours without another moment of hesitation.

With everything that he is, Jongho pours his entire heart and soul into this kiss. He cups your cheeks gently with both of his hands, tail wrapped securely around your lower waist as he presses you against him. The way he can feel your own hands find purchase on his body has a pleased rumble building within his chest, tingles erupting beneath his skin wherever you touch.

All too soon, he pulls himself away, not wanting to overstep or make you uncomfortable. His eyes remain shut as he leans into you, pressing his forehead gently against your own once more.

“I love you, My Light.” Jongho breathes, golden eyes blinking open to stare deeply into your own.

The subtle pull of your lips upwards is nothing short of sweet, and the way he can hear your own heart racing inside of your chest has a warmth unlike any other spreading throughout his body. 

Jongho is used to the feeling of electricity flowing beneath his skin, but nothing could have prepared him for what your touch, your kiss does to him. Now, he only craves more, but even he knows not to push you any further tonight than you’re willing to go.

“Thank you for waiting,” your own voice is soft, tone gentle as you shift slightly so that your body is leaning against his.

“Always.” He hums, grasping your hand in his once more and intertwining your fingers together.

A small silence settles over the both of you now, comfortable and warm. Fireflies begin to dance around the clearing and over your heads, twinkling like the stars above. Both of you are more than content to bask in the other’s presence for the moment. 

The way you softly rest your head against his shoulder as you lean into him says it all.

[stargirlfics]

B U T T E R F L Y

Joel Miller x Black Latina Reader

Summary: Sometimes the path to healing starts with a reminder of what’s been lost

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, death tw, child death tw, some TLOU spoilers but doesn’t follow canon, post-outbreak!Joel, angst, hurt/comfort, trauma and violence mentions, fluff, slow burn vibe, mutual pining

Word Count: 5.6k

My mind has been stuck on the butterfly imagery connecting Sarah and Joel in the show, and in the game too! I grew up hearing from my abuelita that monarch butterflies are symbols of loved ones who’ve passed and I thought that would fit well here! This fic explores grief and pain but also finding hope through it too 🦋

To be soft-hearted at the world’s violent end, that’s where you’d decided to make a home for your heart with all its fragile beating.

Doomed is what they all said you were, surviving the outbreak this long sooner or later came with a price and they had been right, but still, half out of spite, half out of needing something to hang onto, the tenderness of you remained.

Surviving was a miracle and most could go on just grateful to wake up another day, but you’d seen how void life was lived here in the ruins of a former world, and as doomed as it all appeared, you tried your best to find pockets of light where you could, fighting the urge to shut yourself away. 

Because maybe one day those pockets of light would be abundant where they were once scarce, maybe one day, if you kept yourself open to it, there would be a sign of a changing tide to let you know you were finally safe. 

How strange signs could be, in plain sight but unseen until your brain could catch up with what your soul was feeling, and rarely did they ever come without complexity. 

In your case, that complexity came with a stern scowl that belonged to one Joel Miller. 

The first whispers you’d ever heard about Joel were that he was grumpy, stubborn, and not the kind of man to be messed with. He was the muscle behind trades done in shadowed alleys here in the QZ, illegal substances, weapons, extra ration cards, you name it. 

He was intimidating to most people, even you; having a reputation for being a man of few words and an even shorter fuse would do that but you knew there to be sorrow there too, etched deep in the lines of his face, reflecting like moonlight in his eyes. 

You’d never spoken to him, not in all your time in Boston, always seeming to narrowly avoid crossing paths, but you often saw him from afar. In the town square, catching glimpses of him waiting in line to collect a job’s earnings or in the pit, hauling bodies to the acrid cremation pyres smoldering hot throughout the day. 

If you thought about it, that’s where you saw the sorrow most.

That old, faded bandana he wore over his nose to block out the stench of burning gave you the clearest view of his eyes; sad, angry orbs fixated on the task like it was penance for him. 

All those hushed whispers told you he wasn’t a good man, that he had hurt people to get what he needed, and that wasn’t a surprise, you’d seen it enough to understand the grim nature of the wasteland you were in, how people often turned against each other if they thought it meant they’d live to see another day. 

Maybe that understanding was how it happened that day, the first time you’d meet, something in your soul already well tangled with something in his yet neither of you knew it yet. 

You’d been expecting someone else at your door that evening, a friend of yours with a bag of good soil snuck in from the outside in exchange for a radio of yours that was in decent shape. 

Instead, you were greeted by Joel Miller, bag in hand, a frown already on his face as he explained the switch up, even pointing to a note on the bag in your friend's handwriting to vouch for him. 

His voice had caught you off guard, a low, gruff bass in his careful cadence, Texan accent making the words go down smooth. 

“Okay, no problem, she did tell me she wasn’t sure if she would really make use of it. You can step in if you want, I’ll just be a second.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so trusting. 

That’s how people got robbed, taken advantage of, murdered and you weren’t going to get any sympathy from neighbors or any FEDRA soldiers in the area if something were to happen but despite that, and his reputation, you didn’t feel unsafe. 

Quite the opposite. 

Joel was certainly the grumpy type and you didn’t doubt he was capable of hurting you if he wanted but as you returned with the radio you found him just where you’d left him, his body filling your doorway in a way that reminded you of a guard dog. 

Something had caught his eye in the time it had taken you to walk back, gaze fixed somewhere behind you. 

It took you a second to realize what exactly he was staring at, eyes tracking him and following until they landed on the butterfly figurine hanging from the makeshift curtains of your kitchen sink window. 

Golden hour light warming the window had bathed the glass winged butterfly in its rays, casting fractals of color across the wall and the worn wooden floors. 

You studied his face for a moment then, a familiar kind of sadness reaching his eyes, the darkened circles underneath them a little more noticeable now. 

You wondered when the last time he got any proper sleep was. 

“I made it…” interrupting his thoughts gently you gestured towards the window when he looked at you in question, “La mariposa...took me ages to fit the glass and wire together right but I think it came out ok.”

He grunted in response, finally handing over the bag of soil when you noticed the slightest tremble in his hands. 

Oh…so he’d been caught off guard too. 

Something about your butterfly had shaken him up and you were curious, who could blame you for being tempted to cross what you were sure he would say was a line, but you pretended not to notice, trying to offer him some privacy, a second to collect himself. 

You’d appreciate it if he did the same for you in his place after all. 

The exchange was completed swiftly after, a palpable silence settling between you before he was leaving almost as quickly as he arrived, taking the fading summer sunset with him.

–

Joel barely slept that night, woken by nightmares again, a routine he was familiar with, haunted by the same old ghosts but it was different this time, the barbed wire around his heart digging in just a little extra, memories of her surfacing. 

Sarah. His Sarah.  

He didn’t realize just how long it had been since he was reminded of her this way, of what it felt like to be her father, shutting himself off to that years ago, unable to think about his life with her before because that pain was nearly unbearable. 

There is only after, the after in which she doesn’t exist, where he searches for her in his sleep and wakes knowing he won’t find her. 

Because he watched her slip away, had pleaded and begged to the skies to bring her back, had held her in his arms, hands stained red with her blood, and had to accept that she was gone and he was granted no time to say goodbye. 

Days turned to weeks, months into years and he had learned to operate on a certain level of numbness, just focused on surviving, never getting too attached, acting cold and angry, just a dead man walking. 

Until now, his chest nearly caving in with the truth that he was still breathing even after so long spent closed off. 

He wasn’t even sure why he’d considered your friend’s offer to complete the exchange at all, he knew he shouldn’t have, the radio you traded wasn’t in as great a shape as he would have liked, he knew that upfront and still begrudgingly agreed, not expecting to feel so exposed, so upended by a simple encounter.

That butterfly shining in the sunlight of your kitchen made his heart stop the second he saw it, flashes of memory surfacing, almost like his little girl was pulled to the surface of his skin again, like if he stepped inside he could reach out and she’d be there. 

A dreadful reality had washed that away after a moment, grief swallowing up the hope just as he knew it would, like it always had, but something was undeniably different this time for Joel. A difference that left an ache in his center. 

Because for those few fleeting seconds, he had felt alive again. 

–

The second time you met Joel was intentional, another bag of soil in exchange for some instant coffee this time. 

It was still early morning when he knocked on your door, quiet, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans and a sleepy kind of softness that you hadn’t seen before around the edges of his eyes which made you wish he didn’t look so inviting then. 

It wasn’t so hard to look at him as unapproachable as he made himself seem, he was handsome, the streaks of gray peppered in his hair and along his beard lending to his rugged look. 

“About the coffee, it’s not as strong as it could be but it’s the best I’ve got,” you handed over a jar, watching him open the lid and sniff its contents.

“That’ll do just fine.” 

Relief arrived at his approval, you gathered it’d been a while since he had any and you were glad your stash wasn’t a disappointment. 

You watched as he knelt down to set his backpack on the floor, stowing the jar inside and handing you the bag of fertilizer mix you had inquired about. 

It wasn’t long now before he’d be out the door again, these things were best kept short and simple but as you thanked him for the exchange and moved to store the bag with your other garden supplies, you noticed a moment of reluctance. 

Joel didn’t plan on lingering around now that you both had what you came for but then he was reminded of what he felt the last time he’d been in your space and his mouth was moving with the thoughts that were swimming in his head before he could bite back the words.

“That’s a good amount of soil you have, got some sorta secret garden FEDRA don’t know about?”

Suddenly you felt very silly for wanting to smile at his curiosity but also recognized the significance of him asking. 

“Something like that, yeah. I…actually found a spot of flowers growing through one of the QZ fences and I’ve been tending to it. It's no garden but the flowers are in bloom now, first time I’ve seen real butterflies in years.” 

You watched him perk up at the mention of real butterflies, furrowed brows hiding the flicker of emotion mere seconds later but it was too late, you’d seen it already. 

Up until now, your little patch of greenery had been a private endeavor. 

Something for you to put some love and effort in, and just a quiet, secluded place to be, to clear your head or be alone for a while, away from some of the chaos in the streets, and yet here you were, now, carefully asking him if he’d like to see it too. 

You thought just maybe, bringing him there would do him as much good as it had done you. 

And it’s there, in that moment when he says yes that you see all that hard exterior start to slip just an inch.  

It’s an inch you can work with. 

–

Early morning dew still clings to the soft blades of grass sprouting up near the fence line, the section where you’d been taking care of the vegetation noticeably more vibrant with color and growth. 

Slowly, you’d been replacing the dirt, had saved as many roots and sprouts as possible, taking care in replanting them, and from there, a shabby little makeshift garden bed had formed. 

This would be your third week caring for it and now Joel was trailing behind your steps to see it too.

His body language was tense like he couldn’t quite be sure you weren’t actually taking him to some secluded corner to ambush him, but you get it.

Being wary was smart, but you couldn’t lie that it was satisfying to let him take it in without explaining anything first, the tension in his shoulders easing, sagging when his eyes fell upon the dusky blue flowers and rich green leaves and vines growing up from the ground, searching for the sun’s nourishment. 

Joel couldn’t be certain whether it was the day’s first tendrils of summer heat making him feel warm or the fluttering orange and speckled black wings of a butterfly nestled atop a marigold. 

He glances at his wrist, at the memento that never leaves his side, a broken watch, and there’s a moment of clarity in the silence where Joel can feel it, all the shattered parts of him spilling out, and there isn’t any way he can catch it all, he’s already too late and he knows it. 

Panic works its way into his bloodstream, causing his hands to shake, not used to being so disarmed, so flayed open. 

His fingers curl into a fist, trying to steady himself, needing a moment to catch his breath, to process. 

And there you were, your gentle voice cutting through the noise in his head and that tidal wave of emotion. 

“They’re monarch butterflies, which means they’re special,” you’ve moved a little closer now, watching another one land next to its friend on the flower. 

“What makes' em’ so special?” Joel takes a deep breath and you do too. 

You thought for a second he might shut down and walk away, there wasn’t anything keeping him here after all, he had the coffee he came for and yet still took you up on your offer. That in itself was difficult not to attach yourself to immediately but there was no denying it felt good to know you’d earned maybe an ounce of his trust. 

“In Mexico, my abuela used to say they were a sign of the dead coming to visit the living, loved ones, our ancestors, the monarchs carry their souls to us. I think they’re good luck too.”

The smile working its way onto your lips is fond, sad, one you knew he’d recognize, the silent but shared knowledge of loss was a heavy burden to carry. There was no mistake about it, but being here, amongst your flowers and your butterflies made it easier. 

Orange and gold halos shimmered around the plant life softly swaying with the wind, your own features now warmed with the climbing sun, brown skin shining deeper under the light. 

Joel was looking at you now, following your words. The meaning of what you were both looking upon hitting him square in the chest when that feeling blooms behind his eyes again, that itch of something alive, something beautiful growing again amongst concrete ruins.

And it's there, standing next to you, watching you water the soil while butterflies float around you that he works out what that feeling must be. 

Salvation. 

–

After that morning, trading goods with Joel became a regular occurrence. 

Soil for another stash of coffee or a packet of seeds for a hunting knife in need of experienced hands, neither of you quite sure how it happened but eventually the trades became more like friendly favors to each other than practical transactions. 

Your ‘garden’ also became a frequent place for you both to go, so much so that on any given day you could bet he was there, a quick stop on his way back home, or in the morning before the day started, it became an unspoken shared refuge. 

Joel helped you fix up the makeshift garden beds when it became clear your tender care of the plants called for an upgrade and you were grateful for it, dismissive at first, not wanting him to feel obligated.

You could handle yourself around a hammer and a few nails but he insisted and you relented, the two of you knelt under the setting sun, working on the task together. 

It didn’t matter that it was closing in on curfew time, or that you didn’t really have anything to compensate him for his time because, the moment itself, the small inklings of trust building between you were actually far better. 

That’s when you started to see him nearly every day, sitting against bomb-scarred concrete, always facing those marigolds, the ones the monarch butterflies you’d told him about always flocked to. 

At first you kept your distance, knowing better than to pry. 

It was clear he’d been through a lot, most his age-if you were guessing correctly-had, old enough to have lived a good portion of their lives before the outbreak, the last witnesses of an old world. You wanted to respect that and as long as he was finding some sort of peace here, you were content. 

You didn’t mind his company either, he wasn’t much of a talker, but his presence was comforting and familiar and you felt safe with him near. 

Eventually though, keeping him at a distance became impossible, both of you stumbling through the uncertainty of what to say to each other yet not giving up on trying at the same time. 

And Joel had resisted too, had tried to keep his words short, always residing somewhere in between neutral and aloof but the more he watched you in your element, amongst the seedling sprouts and vines and moss, the more it made him want to talk.

It was easy to find his voice around you. 

You were soft-hearted, he could see that and it wasn’t easy to get used to the way you looked at him, like you cared, like you understood something about his brokenness right away, had let him sit here day after day watching the butterflies because somehow you knew it’s what he needed, but he didn’t mind the learning curve either. 

His usual annoyance and reluctance to speak about feelings couldn’t keep up this time surrounded by reminders of Sarah, coaxing the small part of him that hadn’t died with her out of its state of numbness, softening him again. 

‘You were never gonna do it for yourself’ rings in his ears. 

He’d never been much good at that, doing things for himself, and Sarah was always so clever about calling it out, even now, nudging him awake again after all these years. 

It’s why he decides to tell you when you ask one day, sitting next to him on sun-warmed stone. 

He merely came by to sit for a little while and clear his head and found you already sat in his usual spot, butterfly watching, your eyes telling your secret, that you had been crying before he arrived, his first instinct carrying him forward, to your side. 

He offered you some water, even sliced an apple in half to share with you, pleased with himself when he got a smile out of the gesture but remained as quiet as you were, wanting you to feel like you could just be. 

“Who do they remind you of?” your voice was small, unsure of how he’d react to the question, overexplaining in hopes it would make him recoil less, “It’s okay if you can’t talk about it, I understand. It’s just that…what I told you about the monarch butterflies, I really do believe in it you know, the people I’ve lost…they feel so close to the surface, like they’re watching over me and I think you feel the same.” 

Joel nods after a moment and you’re exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

It takes him a moment but he finds the words. 

“My daughter…her name was Sarah. They were her favorite, actually, since she was bout old enough to talk. I used to call her my little butterfly when she was a baby which, yeah, got real old when she started middle school but I liked to remind her anyways, just to see her roll her eyes at me. Just as long as she knew I loved her, you know, that I never stopped, not since the moment I held her in my hands for the first time.”

It broke your heart to hear. 

And it hurt him too, to speak about her and then remember that he had lost her, that twenty years had passed and he couldn’t remember what she smelled like anymore, and he hated the nightmares but without them, he was afraid of forgetting her face, her eyes, the coils of her hair, the sound of her voice calling out to him. 

It was only now that he was seeing how deep he’d pushed it all down, bottled up tight out of fear, and then somehow you’d entered his life, Molotov aimed straight at his heart, stunning him into remembering her the way she deserved to be. 

“I’m so sorry,” you extend all the comfort you can, knowing there weren’t any words that would ever make it right but you wanted to try anyway. 

“Yeah, me too. But you’re right, she feels close, and I know you’ve put it together by now but it’s why I’ve been sittin here every day, I see those butterflies and I see her, I remember her and it feels...good. I didn’t want it to; don’t really trust things that feel good but it does and I wanna thank you for that, for letting me have that.” 

He worries he’s said too much, or said the wrong thing, wanting to kick himself because he was never much good at words either but the sight of your lips pulling up into a small smile came as a relief. 

“She’s with you, Joel. And there’s no need to thank me, it’s been good for me too, doing all this. I think it helps.” 

He nods again, agreeing before asking you the same question, extending an opportunity to open up too; a big step when keeping personal histories to a minimum was the lay of the land around here. 

And it wasn’t easy, to talk about the things that hurt, baring your grief to Joel, and trusting him with it but you did and he had held it so gently, understanding it for what it was. 

Looking back you think maybe it’s there that things started to change, where your life and his started to merge. 

Sometime after that conversation you gifted him one of those glass winged butterflies like the one in your window, showing it to him one evening in the garden, earning you the first real smile you’d ever seen from him. 

It was after he told you more about himself, about Sarah, his brother Tommy, recounting happy memories; like the time he and Tommy surprised Sarah with her own soccer ball for her birthday one year, how he’d caved almost immediately the time she begged him to get her a polaroid camera, and you shared too, thinking on good times you’d had with the people in your life. 

It meant a lot to Joel that you spent time crafting the ornament, knowing just how deep the symbolism of it went for him. 

You were always doing that, looking out for him, planting tiny seed after tiny seed, slowly working your magic on him, ensnaring him deep, making him want to look out for you too. 

Under the fading sun again you sat with him, watching the marigolds, the calm, slow fluttering of wings, and it’s in that same spot that you find your hand in his for the first time. 

No words needed to be said, this was far better. 

A little while later you saw your gift hanging from the window in his living room, right next to the radio you had first traded him for.

The two of you had found yourselves escaping the heat here after some time tending the garden together, pulling weeds, clearing new soil of rocks and rubble, now sharing his couch, a rusty old fan that still somehow worked cooling the sweat prickling the back of your neck.

Curfew hour was nearing and you knew you would have to start making your way back home but Joel warned that he’d heard from a FEDRA officer he did trades with that they were patrolling the streets early the next few nights.

You knew why, it was hard to forget the hail of gunfire last night, a group of Fireflies going after a group of officers on patrol, a fight that neither one had won. 

Tensions in the QZ had been high all day since then and Joel suggested that you stay here with him for the night, saying he didn’t want you dealing with anything that might be going on out there.

He was being protective, a disapproving frown on that handsome face of his when you told him you didn’t want to intrude on his space but he was right, things had already started looking a little dangerous on your way back from the garden and you appreciated that he was trying to keep you safe. 

So you stayed. 

Curled up on Joel’s old, worn couch with a blanket that smelled like him tucked around you, the white noise of the fan still blowing and the knowledge that he wasn’t far, just in the next room over, carried you off to sleep.

–

One night had turned into two and then three and somewhere in the last couple months of summer that were left, you spent most of your days and nights with Joel. 

No label had been applied to whatever your situation was with him, you knew better than to ask, this all needed time, and you were okay with that, just content on holding onto this good thing with him. 

Because you liked being around, like sharing a space with him and sitting in the garden together, opening up to each other more and more every day. 

It was nice watching Joel come out of that hardened shell of his, watching him find it easier to talk about things, noticing him trying to live life more, not as reluctant to connect. 

Things were good, not to say that there hadn’t been bad days amongst all the progress made, there were plenty of them in fact. 

Days where old patterns became default again, stretches of nights where the nightmares returned, both of you trying to wade through it. 

When the aching of old wounds came knocking and the walls came back up again. 

You hated to fight with Joel when that happened, and you hated not being on the same page but he was so stubborn it wasn’t always easy to bite back your frustration. 

He had told you about his past, about the people he hurt in those early days and it’s something he wrestled with, believing in the goodness you saw inside him when all he could see were the bad things.

It frustrated you sometimes, how he preferred to shut himself off, to you, to Sarah’s memory because he felt like his hands were too dirty, too blood-stained to even try. 

“Que, no entendes?! Please, Joel! Stop trying to be something you aren’t. You think you aren’t a good man but bad people don’t get upset about being bad. Do you think you can just turn it off, the part of you that was always a good man, a good father? Well sorry, but you can’t, that’s who you are to your core, I saw it the first moment I met you and every time since then.” 

 “I’ve killed people,” his tone was mean, and venomous, another attempt at pushing you away. “Goddamnit, it’s not as simple as-”

“I get that! Look I know that you’ve done bad things but you’ve also spent every waking moment punishing yourself for it, do you realize that? All these years you’ve been paying your penance any way you can and I’m trying to tell you it’s okay live well, that you don’t have to torture yourself anymore because we have to try and make something out of all this pain.” 

It wasn’t easy to get him to see what you saw but you didn’t back down, even when it would have been easy to, Joel knew it too, guilt washing over him as you looked at him then, tears brimming in your eyes. 

“You’ve endured enough.” 

It’s those final three words from you that makes him ease up, a reminder you nudged him with often, that he could rest already, could make amends by making a choice to find the light. 

He lets you take some space from him, coming to find you before bed because he doesn’t want to fall asleep without fixing things. 

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair, talkin to you like that. You’re just tryna help my sorry ass and I haven’t thanked you enough. I’m gonna get better at that.” 

It’s the first time you ever hug him, noticing the tremble in his hands as he says the words, feeling the sincerity in his voice, unable to stop yourself from all but barreling into his arms. 

He’s still for only a moment before his arms wrap around you in return, the two of you bathed in moonlight, that butterfly still hanging in his window, pushing you towards each other again just like it had when you first met. 

–

Eventually, the day comes when the monarchs leave, the approaching fall and winter seasons carrying them to warmer places, a solemn change in what had been yours and Joel’s routine. 

The absence of the butterflies that had provided so much hope the last few months was felt, but the world was also a lot more open and wide now too. 

You no longer slept on Joel’s couch, you slept pressed against him now, and woke with your limbs tangled with his, a quiet partnership forming.

It scares both of you, knowing that you had grown to care for each other so quickly, knowing that was dangerous and reckless but also feeling stronger because you were a team. 

You think that’s why you make the decision together, one rainy fall evening when Joel comes home with a message from Tommy. 

They had gone through a rough patch recently, being apart from each other for some time and still not seeing eye to eye on Tommy’s choices but slowly, they’d started talking again and there was news that Tommy and the group he was with had gotten a hydroelectric plant that had once belonged to FEDRA up and running. 

There was electricity and a place to stay if you and Joel were interested, plus Tommy wanted you to meet Maria, said she did him a whole world of good and this was some of that good in action. 

It hadn’t been a hard choice to make even knowing how difficult the journey would be.

This was the chance you’d both been waiting for, and had talked about, a far off dream of running away from all the violence that was inescapable here in Boston, searching for something better out there, and now it was within reach. 

So you’d left your garden in the care of a friend you knew would understand its importance, and you bide your time with Joel, making deals, doing jobs, collecting and saving up supplies, and helping him map the way to Jackson. 

And then the day came when you left the QZ behind for good, watching the city fade away in the rearview mirror.

Making it to Tommy hadn’t been easy, there had been one too many close calls for comfort but the trust you and Joel had in each other didn’t waver, and here you were, finally on the other side. 

Settling in hadn’t been the easiest, especially for Joel, his guard still up but little by little, you both sank into a new way of life. 

You quickly learned how to ride a horse and hunt in the woods surrounding the power plant, even making friends with some of the families in the community. 

Joel had taken to things a little slower, but even he couldn’t hide for long, helping some of the men in the group with repairs on things that needed fixing, even cautiously attempting to make friends with you. 

Small pockets of peace started to open up the longer you stayed and the threat of raiders loomed over that peace at times, keeping everyone on alert for attacks but you all had Joel and Tommy now, always amongst the first to be out there protecting, defending fiercely.

You knew they wouldn’t let anything happen to you here.  

As spring arrived again you found a nice spot for a garden, pointing out sprouting flower buds to Joel one day, almost missing the fond smile forming on his lips, both of you knowing what this meant. 

You were happy here, and happy being with Joel, the two of you building a new garden together this time, until finally, as the chill spring breeze transitioned into summer heat and sunshine you were sat next to him like you had been what seemed like ages ago, watching the butterflies circle the flowers in bloom in what had become Sarah’s Garden. 

Joel made you a promise; to keep going for family, the family you, him, and Tommy were now. And you promised the same, not scared of how much you cared for the man by your side anymore.

It wasn’t perfect, the world was still rotten and the broken parts of you all were still raw, still healing, but this time her light was guiding the way through it and that made it all worth it.

---

A/N: When I saw that butterfly hanging in the window of his place in Boston I just couldn’t resist writing something about how he got it and here we are! This world is so dark and tragic and while this fic doesn’t change those facts, I hope it plants some gentle, hopeful little seeds of healing, because Joel deserves that and so do you as the reader! thank you for reading this, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it! 💌

some tags no pressure! @inklore @allaboardthereadingrailroad @yelenas-lova @ozarkthedog @amethystwonders11 @blkmorticia @moreofem @eupheme @obiknights @tarrenterror25 @superhoeva @buckyhoney @plumbits

[sepublic]

No but the way Pucci being Christian is so intertwined with his motives as a villain... He’s every story I’ve heard of the Christian convert who suffered something horrible and senseless, and after drifting through life lost and without a sense of purpose, found hope by believing in God. He’s so many stories of tragedy I’ve seen where people managed to cope by finding peace in the idea that this is all part of God’s divine, incomprehensible plan; It’s fate, it’s his will, and by accepting it they can move on. It’s for a reason, even if they’ll never understand what they’re looking at.

That’s what Heaven is for Pucci; His core trauma is a series of horrific coincidences with no rhyme or reason, and so he latches onto the idea that it’s all part of “his” plan, God and/or DIO’s. That’s why he finds comfort in knowing the future, knowing it’s all in the hands of Fate and removing his own blame and agency, which is why the narrator asks the viewer to judge for ourselves who did wrong, when we see the backstory of Wes, Enrico, and Perla. Pucci made a decision and it backfired horribly, so he doesn’t want to choose anymore.

It’s the way Pucci’s desire to be the messianic hero screws him over and causes tragedy; He’s so devoted to his position as a priest that rather than sabotaging it in order to just tell Perla the truth to her face (thus breaking the rules of the confessional), Pucci relies on this roundabout method so he can have it both ways, only to cause heartbreak and death. Pucci is so desperate to save humanity to make up for his own guilt and failure that he resets the universe, making him the worst kind of evil in his brother’s eyes; One totally oblivious to its nature. Pucci begs to die a martyr from Weather Report and Emporio, rather than just dying here and now.

Ungalo and Rikiel are prepared to die for Pucci once he gives them a sense of purpose to all of the inexplicable misfortune in their lives; Versus is also emboldened by this realization, but chooses to weaponize it for himself. The sons of DIO are people who all went through misfortune their whole lives, they’re ‘children of God’ who find comfort in devoting themselves to something they can actually believe in, that they believe will take care of them in some way; Like many Christians following the path of God, believing Heaven is waiting for them at the end of the tribulation and that it will all be worth it, that it all meant something and mattered and served a cause, like them. 

Pucci and the sons of DIO can no longer bear the pain and uncertainty of moving forward, so they aspire, Pucci especially, for a world where fate will move things along for them. They don’t have to take the first step, especially not Pucci, when Made in Heaven’s reset will compel him and everyone else to do what’s fated, regardless of what they try. 

Pucci fears and admires the courage of the Joestars who are able to step forward and face fate, engage and grapple with it, rather than just blindly accept and surrender in despair. If Diavolo precedes Pucci as someone too resistant of fate, Pucci is the opposite; Someone too resigned to it. Unlike the Joestars who know their fate but can work with what’s written in stone to change the other details. 

It’s why Pucci admires the first human to try a mushroom despite knowing it could kill them; But rather than put in the effort to get up to their level, Pucci would rather everyone stoop to his own, and claims he’s just sparing people noble yet needless pain (He’s only sparing himself by avoiding the reminder that he could and should be braver than this). He says he pities the human who tried a mushroom, adding that they were probably only motivated by hunger and desperation, and had no choice anyway.

I think Pucci is secretly envious of that courage, and that’s why he always downplays it afterwards by suggesting it’s foolishness rather than bravery. Pride, Envy, Wrath... Sloth given his despair, and a bit of Greed with the $800 dollar pants. Then there’s the BDSM vibes of Whitesnake for Lust, all that’s missing is Gluttony, which I guess the cherries and being devoured by the Green Baby account for...?

In all seriousness, Pucci wants guidance; He surrenders himself to God, follows the instructions led by DIO, and relies on Fate to tell him what to do when Made in Heaven resets the universe. Remember that time Pucci got around his brother’s Heavy Weather by removing his sight, and forcing Anasui to guide him? Yeah.

There’s a reason why Whitesnake obsesses with preserving the past, and I think part of it boils down to Pucci being afraid of its counterpart the Future; Which Made in Heaven, not entirely unlike King Crimson, allows Pucci to speed through and glimpse, to get through the worst of it ASAP and lessen the pain. He doesn’t want to accept that sometimes things just… happen.

[bloodlinesgirly]

Guilty Conscience 1

Roman’s job is to protect people…but not like this, will lilith open the flood gates to her past and possibly destroy her own future? or will roman be the one to keep her from it?.

roman reigns x OC (lilith)

A/N: just something i wrote to get me out of this lil slump ive been in. this is my first AU so please bear with me!! i understand this might be hard to follow but i promise it will straighten out through the next few chapters! banner made by me also

word count: 1.7k

warnings: family trauma, violence, drug usuage, possible smut, restraints(ropes,blind folds), shadows to kidnapping, death

please let me know your thoughts!

“Get away from me!” Liliths screams broke through the silence of the dark home; it’s cold and empty, bare of any sense of love or family.

“You know you can’t stay here. Your father is getting suspicious." The tall man spoke, his grip searing into Lilith's bicep as he pulled her back.

“So let me go home.” She sobbed and thrashed against his grip, wincing at the bruises.

“You know I can’t do that either.” he growled. He pulled the strip of cloth that was once wrapped around his fingers around her eyes; the already dark room was now completely shadowless. This had been Lilith’s life for almost 5 years now. The day she turned 18, she was ripped from her home and her freedom; every couple months she would be met by the masked man who took her from one “hiding place” to another. The man never changed; he never gave out information and never allowed her to see him. She knew her father did things he wasn’t proud of, but he always protected her. So why was she taken from him?

-15 years ago-

“Lilly, you know your mother is a bad woman. She doesn’t care about you like I do, and she never will.” Levi spoke to his daughter softly. He muffled her cries with his shoulder. This has become a nightly occurrence, Lilith asking about her mother and why she was no longer allowed to speak to her.

“I don’t understand, Daddy." The 8-year-old whispered. Her eyes were bloodshot. Levi stroked the back of her head.

“You don’t need to. You just need to know that she's someone you don’t need. You have me; I'm the only one you need.” Lilith smiled a little as Levi hugged her tightly.

“Do you understand that, baby?” he whispered.

“I think so,” Lilith nodded.

“good. Now go to bed; I'll see you in the morning.” He ruffled her hair and left, closing Lilith's bedroom door. As soon as she heard the lock click, she rushed to her dresser. The baby pink drawers were littered with stickers and doodles she had made. The bottom drawer consisted of a letter from her mother filled with words she never got the chance to understand. Why is her dad keeping her mom away from her? Why did her mom tell her she’d always be protecting her if her dad says she’s the one she needs protection from? Liliths eyes filled with tears. She’s overwhelmed and confused. Everything has changed, and nothing feels normal.

-present day-

“Why are you still doing this?” Lilith's small frame was encased by the man’s larger one. His fingers worked diligently at tying her hands behind her back. Her cries sent shivers down his spine. His heart broke for the girl, but this was his job. He knew what he was signing up for when the offer approached him so many years ago. Roman has been a bodyguard for a long time. but never like this. sneaking a poor girl around the country, keeping her from the relationships he knew she needed and the information she cried for. He’s stayed strong for so long; the more time passes, the more guilt he faces and the more his heart shatters. He was protecting her from what was behind the closed doors of her broken family, and he knew that. But the door is cracking; he is cracking; it’s been 5 years of this. How much longer can he keep her from it? How long can he keep his identity sealed?

Roman took a deep breath to steady himself, adjusting the mask that sat upon his face.

“I’m trying to help you.” He spoke quietly.

“That’s what you always say. You’re not trying to help me; you ruined my life. You ruined me! Where’s my dad? He always protected me. What did you do to him?!” lilith screamed. Her voice echoed through the halls, and the hurt in her voice stained Roman’s mind. It’s something he would never be able to forget.

“I’m the one protecting you... whether you know it or not.” Roman never spoke to her much during these transports, afraid of letting her in, revealing too much. Throughout the years, he’s found himself connected to her in a way he never thought possible. Yes, it was his job to keep her safe. Keep her tucked away from the world in areas of his own safekeeping. But it’s more than that now; he’d do anything to keep her out of danger; he’d never forgive himself for putting her through all of this and then allowing the doors to open, exposing her to the tragedy, the lies, and most importantly, the pain that not only infected her past but slowly seeped into her future.

Lilith's mind raced as she felt herself hit the seats of the van. the same van she’s been familiar with for the last 5 years, she could describe every corner, every crack in the leather seats, to every paper that lay scattered on the floorboard. But when it came to the man driving, she knew almost nothing. not his face, his eye color, or even his name. But she knew the sound of his baritone voice, his stern tone, and the way every once in a while he almost sounded sorry. She knew the way he smelled as his arms wrapped around her thrashing body as he restrained her. She could sometimes even recognize his footsteps. Roman secured her to the seat and tightened her blindfold before walking around to the driver's seat. The leather squeaked with his weight. The van always smelt of evergreen; that never changed. Roman’s foot hit the petal, and they were off; the ride was silent. that never changed either.

Transport has become the only constant in Lilith's life. They always went the same; she was taken... She fought, she lost... She got in a car. drove for hours. welcome "home". “Home” only ever lasted for a few months, a small house tucked away, a bed, clothes she never got to enjoy out, and a stocked kitchen. Roman would come every once in a while to restock, but other than that, she was alone, locked in a place that held nothing but fear.

Lilith had lost track of how long they had been driving before the noise started. screeching metal, breaking the hours-long silence along with the rattling of the van. Her eyebrows furrowed and her breath picked up; her chest heaved as the noise grew louder. Lilith's wrists were red and raw from pulling at the rope that tied her; her yanking became frantic.

“stop that.” Roman said shortly. His mask was pulled up on his head now, and he ran his hand down his face, trying to figure out the noise. Finally, the car stalled. Roman pumped the gas and tried turning the key again. To no avail, the van wasn’t going to start.

“dammit!” His voice boomed. Lilith flinched as his fist hit the wheel. She heard the car door open and shut and knew Roman had stepped out. He walked around the truck to the hood, coughing a little due to the smoke that emitted from it. As he fumbled around the parts, Lilith still worked at the rope, rutting her head against the seat in an attempt to remove the blindfold. She had gotten it almost above her ears before she felt a hand steady her wrists and stop her.

“lilith.” Roman growled. He looked closely at her wrist; the rope was blistering. “You’re hurting yourself. stop." he spoke. Lilith didn’t respond; instead, she slumped down in her seat.

“We’re stuck for a while; might as well get comfortable.” Lilith gasped as he loosened the rope; Roman had never allowed her even the littlest bit of freedom on their drives.

“T-thanks,” Lilith spoke for the first time in hours. Her voice was gravelly and strained.

“Someone’s on their way to get us moving again.” While Roman was outside, he had made a call to one of the few people aware of these transports. For safety reasons, Roman was the only one to have contact with Lilith. No one else was allowed access to her whereabouts or even to her identification. Of course, some people were aware of the arrangement, but none of them knew anything more.

“You’ll sit in the trunk when he arrives... until then sit tight.”

The silence was heavy; the only thing that could be heard were the eratic sounds of Lilith's breaths contrasting with Roman’s calm ones.

“What’s your name?” Lilith questioned, her voice almost a whisper.

“I can’t tell you that.” roman sighed. Roman and Lilith had never been together this long before; he would make the drive, drop her off, and go wherever it was he went afterwards. never leaving time for curiosity and questions about himself. Lilith hesitated before responding.

“I hate you,” her voice quivered.

“I understand that.” Roman answered shortly. He was scared she would keep pushing. He knew he could only hold out for so long before he said too much.

“please.” As Lilith spoke, Roman watched a tear roll down her rose-tinted cheek. He stayed silent.

“It’s all I’m asking of you; you’ve taken everything from me, and you can't even give me that.” She raised her voice slightly. She was shaking; Roman could tell she was scared of him, scared of what he might do even though he’s never tried to punish her.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he grumbled. “I didn’t take anything from you. I don’t care what you think, but that wasn’t me.” Roman wished she could believe him... selfishly and unrealistically, he hoped one day she could understand. He could hear a car rumbling its way up the baron road they were stalled on. He began to tighten the ropes once again and move Lilith to the trunk, where she would stay until the car was running again.

“Roman,” he spoke. His breath caught in his throat as soon as the words left him, as if he couldn’t control it. “That’s my name.” he mumbled. All Lilith could do was nod. It’s taken 5 years, but maybe finally, she was slowly cracking through those doors on her own. She was going to free herself from all of this, no matter what it took.

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

An Unwavering Light - Chapter One

Rating: T/Teen for violence (in certain chapters), coarse language, and mature themes, including ones about trauma and depression.

Setting: begins before the confrontation with Aizen and co. in Fake Karakura Town arc, and goes from there to the manga's end.

Music to listen to: Swan Song by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify), Compassion by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify) Recollection I (YT | Spotify), II (YT | Spotify), and III (YT | Spotify) by Shiro Sagisu, Spiritual Bond by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify), Here to Stay by Shiro Saigsu (YT | Spotify), and Ceremony Commences by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify).

Synopsis: During the confrontation against Aizen, the unthinkable happens. For Hitsugaya, a vow is broken, and for Hinamori, her future is unknown. With everything in shambles, how can they piece their lives back together? Or their bond?

AN: And so it begins. This has been years in the making, starting very close to when I first read BLEACH. Thank you to everyone who voted in my last poll, where the story of Toshiro and Momo's reconciliation was the winner.

For those who haven't been following me, this fic is primarily about how Toshiro and Momo reconcile after Aizen's defeat. While this will be a chaptered story, I aim to write most of these chapters as though they could be standalone fics, so if you haven't reach the previous chapter, you hopefully don't feel out of the loop.

This story will be a long one (at this stage, I’ve planned for about 20 chapters, but we’ll see how we go) and is based on this massive list of headcanons I wrote last year. It will include scenes from other fics I’ve written (and were inspired by/based on the headcanon list to an extent) but either from another character’s perspective or changed in some ways.

This first chapter was a hard one to write. I have never really explored what happened to Hinamori in the months leading up the Fake Karakura Town arc, but I knew it would involve coming to terms with her trauma and accepting, in part, that Aizen was not the man she thought. It would also involve her having to find the strength to go confront him on the battlefield. I hope I did her justice in this chapter.

Finally, the figurines Hinamori has in her room are based on these dolls from Usaburo.

With all of that out of the way, let's get started! I hope you all enjoy this!

Disclaimer: BLEACH and it’s character’s belong to Tite Kubo.

Next chapter >>

_____________________________

She was surrounded by darkness. She turned – or at least, thought she’d moved to turn – to search around her. She open her mouth to speak to the void around her, but heard no voice come from her throat. There was nothing to feel, hear, smell or see.

Has she done it right? The instructor had warned her she may not get there until another few attempts.

Then, after a blink, something small and bright sprun to life. Even from the long distance she stood at, she knew it was flames, resembling a campfire. She frowned when she couldn’t see any wood or kindling burning, the fire simply burning on it’s own.

She’d always been wary of fire, especially when it was not one within a firepit or a lantern, but she knew in her gut this one was not like others. When the voice comes form the flames, a whisper that gradually becomes a call, she stepped towards it.

_________________________________________

The curtains flutter in the gentle breeze, brushing over the windowsill in slow, undulating waves. Outside, one the division’s zanjutsu instructors yells commands at those in his class, nearly obscuring the chirping of a nearby bird and the chattering of officers that pass by underneath the window.

Hinamori listens to all of this and watches the shadows of the curtains dance across her quilt. There’s something hypnotic about it, almost meditative.

She wants to stay in this trance, be lost in it for a few moments longer. Her head is heavy, but empty for once. She doesn’t let any particular thought stick or take hold, just lets it be vague and pass by until it fades, like the afterimage of a bright streak of light.

But one thought persists. A memory, too recent and fresh to forget. She let’s it go by, but it keeps coming back, trying to get her attention.

It’s a minute later when a leaf blows in, landing on the quilt, just below her knees. She frowns at it, and her furrow only deepens when another joins it. They’re different shades; one a golden brown, the other flame red. Autumn is here, but it only felt like summer yesterday.

She tries following the curtains’ shadows again, but the leaves broke her concentration, and the memory creeps closer and closer, until it’s all she reflects on.

Hitsugaya’s face comes to mind, eyes wide and lips parted, speechless at first. It had been the first time she’d properly seen him in weeks – not in streaks of color while rushing at him with her sword raised, or at a distance while following him to Central Forty-Six. Ad she's stood before the screen, sorrow and guilt had outweighed the small flutter of gratitude that he didn’t turn his back on her. The way his expression had softened to one of concern, it makes her heart ache just as much now as it did then.

He cared, even after everything she did against him, he cared.

When he’d told her, in his own way, that an apology for her actions wasn’t needed, she’d never felt so relieved in all her life. She wouldn’t blame him for not forgiving her, but she didn’t know what she’d do if he hadn’t. She dreaded the idea of them growing apart and becoming strangers to each other.

She’d never thought of a life without Hitsugaya, as if somehow he would always be there until the very end.

But then, she’d never thought of a life without Aizen either.

And it was this same way of thinking that had led her to asking Hitsugaya to not kill her captain – former captain, she tries to correct. Her request had broken what little peace there’d been between them, and she’d become so lost in trying to justify it to him and to herself she doesn’t remember how Hitsugaya’s face looked, nor did she notice Yamamoto cast hakufuku on her. When she next awoke, it was in her room, with Isane at her side.

With a deep breath in, one that lifts her shoulders and chest, some of that weight in her head shifts, coming forward to make her neck crane forward. She had been granted an opportunity to make things right, and she had wasted it.

Yet, for all of her guilt for her actions against Hitsugaya and others, and for the shame of losing control in front of the Captain Commander, she can’t shake off the belief Aizen never meant for any of this.

Someone had to be controlling him, or something must have overcome him and compelled him to turn his back on all of them. She knew him. She had been by side for most of the time she was his lieutenant. He had told her things some of the other officer never knew – his favorite books, about the house he grew up in, memories of his student years at the Academy, even his favorite stalls in the Junrinan. Surely he would never do something so harsh without a good reason. He’d always said that to fight for something right and good you sometimes had to go against the laws set up others, after all.

But it doesn’t stop it from making it right that he'd left her behind. How could he have left Fifth Division behind? Why had he?

A knock breaks her reverie. Her throat is coarse from heavy breathing, and her hands on verge of cramping from clutching her quilt.

“It’s Funai-kun and I, Lieutenant,” comes Takagaki’s voice from behind her door.

Hinamori shakes her head and clears her throat, trying to take out the nerves out of her tone. Then, she manages to lift her lips into a smile. “Come in.”

Takagaki slides the door open, allowing Funai to walk in with Hinamori's lunch on a tray. Both are Fifteenth seat in the Fifth Division. If they saw any of her previous anxiety, they didn’t betray it with their own polite smiles.

“I hope we didn’t disturb you,” Takagaki says, trailing into the room.

Hinamori shakes her head. “It’s all right, I was getting a little peckish actually.”

“Guess we came just in time,” Funai chuckles. “Takagaki-san here made your meal today.”

Takagaki looks away, a slight flush colouring her cheeks. “I’m not a great cook, not like others in the Division. I hope it tastes okay.”

“I’m sure it’ll taste great,” Hinamori reassures. “You’ve been taking lessons from Hanae-san from Tenth Division, right?”

Both Funai and Takagaki blink at that.

“Y-Yes,” Takagaki eventually answers. “It’s been me and a group of other seated officers. He’s taught us a lot since we started.” Her smile returns, now thoughtful. “Um…thank you for remembering, Lieutenant.”

Hinamori’s lips widen into a grin. She tries to remember small things about her subordinates, and she at least still has that ability with her now.

Takagaki nods to Funai. “I better get back to the kitchens. I’ll leave the rest to you.” Then, she bows to Hinamori. “I hope you enjoy your lunch, Lieutenant Hinamori. Please let me know if there’s anything not to your liking.”

“I doubt that will be the case. Thank you for preparing my meal.”

After Takagaki leaves the room and Funai starts to lower the tray, a stronger gust of wind blows through. It gives him pause; then, he spies the leaves. “Apologies, Lieutenant, I didn’t see them until now.”

“It’s all right. The wind is pretty strong, I suppose,” Momo offers lamely. “I should’ve picked them up before."

Funai only chuckles nervously and puts the tray on top of her set of drawers. He picks up the leaves and throws them back outside, then goes to lean forward and close the windows.

Hinamori raises a hand. “No, allow me. I should’ve done this earlier.” She pulls the quilt aside and angles over to the window. While pushing the curtains aside and closing the windows, she tries to ignore the disquiet stare boring into the back of her head. It’s as though she is a fragile vase, at risk of tipping over.

He’s being kind, she chastises to herself, he cares about you. Everyone here does.

Windows closed, she sits back again and Funai visibly relaxes.

“How is everyone?” Hinamori asks, trying to distract both herself and him. “I could hear one of the instructors out there before. Sounds like he’s working everyone hard.”

Funai retrieves her lunch and lays the tray over her lap. “He certainly is. Everyone is keen to learn, of course.” He shrugs. “Otherwise, it’s business as usual. I’m sure Isawa-san could fill you in on more details.”

Hinamori nods. After giving thanks for the meal, she takes up the chopsticks. “Have you been drawing or painting lately?”

The answering smile is similar to Takagai’s one from earlier. “Ah, no, not recently. I haven’t found much inspiration lately.”

Hinamori frowns while taking up a heap of rice. “I hope it’s not because of work.”

“Oh, no! Of course not!” The nervous edge to his voice says otherwise. “It’s just a dry time for my art, that’s all. I’ll find a bit of inspiration at when I have time, you know how it is.”

It takes everything within Hinamori to not let her mind wonder to the implication he’d unintentionally brought up. Still, her gaze briefly darts to the sketchbooks lining the bottom shelf of her bookcase. Something flickers across Funai's face, akin to a look of horror, but at her unfaltering smile, he manages to hide it with a clearing of his throat and looking off to the side. “A-Anyway, I’ll leave you be. I’m sure you’ll want to eat in peace, and I have to find Hirose-chan.”

Hinamori blinks at the honorific. Had they gotten closer? She has to resist the urge to grin, the previous pang of darkness falling back, while picking up a tamagoyaki. “Her gardening group, I suppose?”

“Yeah, just maintenance this time.” He gestures to the window. “Being autumn and all, not many plants we can put in the ground, I guess. Not that I know much about gardening.”

Hinamori chuckles. “That is for Hirose-san to know.” She bows her head at the same time he does. “Thank you for bringing me lunch. Please tell Takagaki-san it’s delicious.”

“I will.”

“And…”Hinamori raises her head. “I hope you find inspiration soon. Please remember to not strain yourself with work.”

Funai gives a tense nod. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Hinamori watches him leave, not returning to her meal until the door closes. She’s lost her appetite, but doesn’t want to leave the dishes empty. With the window closed, the orders of the zanjutsu instructor are muffled, the wind swooshes against the walls, and save for her chewing and the clinking over chopsticks to bowls and plates, all is silent in her room.

It leaves her with nothing to do by ruminate, and that all too familiar heavy haze sets back into her head.

__________________________________

You do not need pity.

The room is dark save for a thin beam of moonlight cast on the wall. It had been silent until now, and Hinamori can’t remember what she’d been thinking about for the last few hours.

She twists on to her left side, facing Tobiume. Her zanpakuto is propped up against the wall, next to her set of drawers, the hilt shining dully.

 It’s coming from a good place, Hinamori responds. They mean well, and they care.

Even so, pity is not what you need, Tobiume argues. They should see you as the leader now that he’s gone.

A pang runs through Hinamori’s chest. Even the implication of him hurts. I’m not fit to lead.

Because you haven’t done anything to change things! Simmering heat radiates of the blade. We need to do something, or else we’re stuck here!

“I know I should! You don’t have to…” Her eyes burn with the threat of tears. Tobiume has been more temperamental than usual in the last few days. You’re angry with me.

The heat falters, and gradually cools to a warmth like that off a candle. No, I’m not. I want to see you get better.

Hinamori sighs. Pushing her quilt aside, she slides out of bed and kneels before her weapon. She ignores how much effort all of her movements seem to take, as if someone had tied weights to her limbs.

“I’m sorry it’s taking me so long,” she rasps. “I want to get better, but I don’t know how. It’s all so confusing.” She stares down at her knees, her forehead almost touching Tobiume’s scabbard. “You’ve always been there for me, and I take it for granted.”

You’re stronger than you realise, master. Do not doubt your skills.

Hinamori shuts her eyes and remains silent. It feels like everything she had learned and improved on is gone, vanished like Aizen. It's as if he took them with him, and all that is left within her is everything weak.

This is why you do not need pity. You risk stewing in it. If you continue to lie here, your mind and skills will grow dull, but they’ll never vanish. You’re strong, and you can always be stronger, but you are still strong. You need to show them you are not broken.

Hinamori sighs wryly. “It wouldn’t be the truth though. How can I be strong when all I want is for everything to back to what it was before?”

And with that she stands and returns to her bed. Tobiume is silent for the rest of the night.

__________________________________

Aizen is always in her dreams. Sometimes they start with him as the benevolent captain she knew, then he morphs into the cold figure that stood over her while she bled out. Other time, he has morphed into something monstrous, grinning at her and telling her she’ll never leave him, that she’s too devoted to him.

Waking from these nightmares becomes less of a shock with each one.

__________________________________

“The gardens are looking great.”

Genji raises his head from the paperwork he holds. “Hm?”

Hinamori points out the window to the next courtyard over. “I’m guessing that’s Hirose-san and her group’s work. It looks like they removed some plants and trimmed the bushes.”

Genji smirks. “It took quite a bit of effort. I may have been dragged into it too.”

Hinamori chuckles for the first time in weeks. “She has a way of pulling us into it, doesn’t she?”

Setting aside her longing to be with her division members with a sigh, she turns back to Genji. Ever since she began her recovery, he would visit every few days, sometimes bringing her a meal, other times just to check in on her and converse about casual going-ons  happening around the division.

Today, however, she couldn’t help but be hopeful when he entered with the documents in hand. “Did you need me to look over those papers?”

“No,” Genji says, shaking his head with too much vigor. “These are just my notes from today’s Lieutenant’s meeting. I believe you should know what was discussed.”

“Oh…” Again, she has to set aside her disappointment, this time with a forced smile. “Then, please tell me.”

Genji shifts the chair – a new piece of furniture that’d come not long after it was decided she needed to rest and recover in her room -- closer to Hinamori’s bed and tilts the documents for both of them to see. As he speaks, he points to the relevant lines for her to read. “We have been asked to take on more surveillance in our jurisdiction. Given recent…events, the Captain Commander felt it was best to maintain a watchful eye over all areas of the Soul Society and World of the Living to ensure the Arrancars don’t breach any of the recent kido defenses we’ve put up.”

Hinamori frowns. “These numbers…he wants more than half of the Division’s performing these duties.”

Genji only nods.

“But what if they’re needed for…?” The thought of the impending conflict makes her stomach churn.

Genji sighs through his nose. “There hasn’t been any intel from Twelfth Division about when that battle may be. They still predict it will occur in winter.”

Hinamori presses her lips together, and in the silence, tries to banish the memory of her asking Hitsugaya to not kill Aizen. She tries to understand why this strategy bothers her, as though something were missing. No, as though something were being kept away from her. “We have to be prepared by then. The zanjutsu and kido lessons won’t be enough.”

Genji’s shoulder tense a fraction. He doesn’t meet her gaze as she says, “Yes, of course, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, no, I…” She raises a hand, tempted to lay it on Genji’s shoulder, but then thinks better of it. “That wasn’t a critique of how you’re running the Division! You’re doing an exceptional job, especially given the circumstances. I feel much better knowing you’re leading everyone right now. I don’t intend to keep you in such a position for long, though, and I’m sorry this is the way things have turned out. I want to support you, however I can.”

Genji is slow to smile, and his eyes become glassy. Hinamori senses it’s not from sorrow or concern. He bows his head to her. “Thank you, Lieutenant. But please, continue to rest and recover. Everyone is cheering you on.”

Hinamori swallows against the tightness building up in her throat. “Thank you. I’ll keep doing my best.”

__________________________________

The occasional whispers don’t escape her. Whether they’re just outside her door or window, or a simple look exchanged between two of her officers, she knows what they’re not saying to her

“I heard the Lieutenant is still unwell. I hope she gets better soon.”

“I only transferred to the Division a week before Aizen’s betrayal. It’s so sad here.”

“I wish Captain Aizen were here.”

“How can you say that?!”

“Isawa-san seems really tired these days.”

“Did you hear about the new plan? You think they’re trying to distract us from the war?”

“The Lieutenant seems to be in a bad way.”

“Don’t talk so harshly! Lieutenant Hinamori will recover, she’s strong. She'll definitely get better."

“…But what if she doesn’t?”

__________________________________

Why had she become a Shinigami?

It’s a question that floats to the surface of Hinamori’s mind almost every night while she tries to sleep. Every time, she pushes it away, afraid of how the answer will lead to Aizen.

__________________________________

Hinamori dreams of the first time she saw Tobiume. She’d come to her as a fire, small but steady, in middle of a dark space. When she’d walked towards it, Hinamori gradually felt dry grass beneath her feet, and her arms brushed branches and leaves. The air was cold, but warmed as she neared the flames. The strongest smell was of burning wood, but beneath it is the slightest hint of something sweeter and floral.

A voice had wafted from it, a whisper at first, then growing louder as she approached the fire. She couldn’t comprehend what the voice was telling her at the time, but she knew she needed to listen, that whatever it said was important.

When she came to a stop, the flames continued to dance in front of her, memorizing and strangely familiar. Going against every instinct she’d had from childhood, she reached out to the scorching heat. To her surprise – and a disappointment didn’t understand – the fire lurched away from her. She leaned further in, and still it avoided her, diving in and around her hand no matter which way she angled it.

The voice had stopped too, and save for the sizzling and crackling of the flames, there was silence.

When Hinamori wakes from this, she doesn’t feel relieved to have had a dream for once that wasn’t about Aizen. She dwells on the silence until it’s buzzing in her ears.

__________________________________

Though Hinamori rarely does so, she’s allowed to leave her room for brief periods. For her visit from Nanao today, she meets her in the Division's gardens. Sitting on a bench under a Japanese maple, the sun is warm on her face and hands and the breeze, though cool, is gentle. It's not usually this warm in September, but she's glad for it. It’s been a long time since she was outside, and she takes in long breaths of fresh air.

For a moment she wonders why she didn’t step outside more often, but maybe it was the nature of the restrictions put on her. It was meant to ensure her recovery, that she wouldn’t strain herself by going to far and making herself more fatigued than she already is. She can’t help but think it’s for another reason, one she dismisses quickly.

“I think you’ll find this one interesting for it’s plot.”

Hinamori takes the book from Nanao. “Petals on the Wind. It looks…different.”

“It’s from the World of the Living,” Nanao explains. “I got it when I was posted on a mission last time. It has an intriguing mystery that kept me guessing and a slow build up for the relationship between the two main characters. There’s references to events and devices from the World of the Living, however, so you may need to set it aside every now and then to do some research.”

Hinamori places it atop of the latest editions of Seireitei Communication at her side, then gestures to the second book Nanao holds, Another World Through a Flower Pot. “And that one?”

“It’s written by a former officer of the Ninth Division. It’s about the lives of two women, one from our world and the other from another world, who can communicate with each other through a flower pot.” At Hinamori’s raised brows, Nanao chuckles. “I know, it sounds strange, but it was oddly touching. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

“I've always trusted your judgement.” Hinamori takes the other book and puts both of them in her lap. “Thank you for these, I really appreciate it. I’ve run out of books to read in my room.”

“It’s no trouble, I had a feeling that would be the case. You've always been a fast reader.” Nanao adjust her glasses, raising them further up the bridge of her nose. Behind them, her eyes are soft with sympathy. “We miss you at the Women’s Association meetings, and I miss our discussions about books.”

“Well, you’ll have to come by again once I finish these.” She pats the stack of books. “ I miss our discussions too, I don't get to talk about what I read with a lot of people. I’ll be sure to send a message to you when I’m done reading these.”

“Please do.” Nanao's smile slowly falls and she looks to the side, rueful. “I’m sorry, but I have to return to the barracks. Captain Kyoraku and I have to go over some reports, and you know how he can be.”

Hinamori can’t help but sigh. Despite the obvious hesitations from her fellow lieutenant – in her pauses before she spoke and the concern she would catch in her gaze at certain points --  this short time with her had been the closest thing to normal she’d experience in months.

“I understand,” she says while they both rise from the bench.

Nanao pauses mid turn. Pursing her lips, she looks back to Hinamori. “I know I asked before, but…are you really all right?”

Hinamori forces a smile. “I know how it may seem, but I really am much better than before. I’ll be back to my duties before you know it.”

Nanao puts on a forced smile of her own, unable to hide the concern from her eyes. “Of course.”

“I’m afraid I can’t accompany you to the main entrance, I’ve been told I shouldn’t go any further than the main barracks and it’s courtyards.”

“It’s quite all right, I’ll see myself out.” Nanao bows to her. “It was good to see you. I’ll be sure to visit when you've read the books."

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Hinamori watches her leave. As soon as her friend is out of sight, she falls back against the bench. This fatigue isn’t getting any better, but the weight in her mind is floating somewhere far away. She tries to keep it that way as she straightens and slowly returns to her room.

__________________________________

While reading the Seireitei Communication that evening, Hinamori gets stuck on the haiku poem submissions from Izuru. They all speak of nature, but differ in certain ways; one is about change, another about autumn, and another about the unknowable quality forests can have. As always, she enjoys them and can understand why he has a following for his writing.

She sometimes extends her sense to check on his reiatsu. When she can sense it, it’s as she’s always known it: a strange swirl, dark and weighed down, but not unfriendly.

She wonders if he ever contemplates coming to see her. She’d been told he came to visit her a twice while she was unconscious in Fourth Division. She’ll apologise for her actions when she next sees him. Knowing him, he will too.

Maybe they’ll just pick up where they left off, discussing their divisions’ matters and then move on to their hobbies or how they can get Renji to come with them for a dinner. They can reminisce about their Academy days. But given what happened, can they still do that?

No, she knows, it can’t be like that. They’re changed now. She considers him a friend still, and if him visiting her was any indication, he still does too, but there’s no telling what their friendship will look like now.

Maybe, if she’s brave enough and can see it won’t affect him too harshly, she can ask him how he’s coping with Ichimaru’s betrayal. It will be to comfort him as a friend, but selfishly, it’ll also be to see if she can learn anything from him. Did he have nightmares about what happened? Did he still cling to how Ichimaru used to be? Did he wonder why he betrayed them or believe he had a good reason to?

She shakes her head. She won't burden him with such questions. She already does it to herself, and it only makes her head heavy and her mind spiral far away from the present.

__________________________________

She often asks Genji if he’s heard word about how the advance team are doing in the World of the Living. He always shakes his head and says, “Nothing yet, Lieutenant.”

Why had they not received word from them? Were they struggling? Were they communicating with the Soul Society at all? They must be, otherwise there’d be rumblings amongst the captains and lieutenants and a new team would be sent to retrieve them. Was the information they were sharing something only the Captain-Commander is meant to know?

Sighing through her nose, Hinamori takes a sip of the tea Genji had brought her and leans back against her pillow. She watches the rainfall outside and listens to it pattering on the roof. It must be this weather that has her thinking about Hitsugaya.

The last time she saw him arises in her mind again. This time, however, she tries to recall his surroundings. She’d been so focused on him, they’re blurry, but she remembers a window and a floor similar to the ones in the Soul Society. There was a cabinet behind him, with photos on top and other items. Was there a small shrine there too?

Then there as what he wore. It was the first time she saw him wear anything from the World of the Living. If not for the gravity of the situation, she would’ve dwelled more on how strange he looked. She’s grown so accustomed him to seeing him in uniform and with his haori. Without them, he’s closer to looking like the Soul she first met the in Jurinan.

To think he’d once never wanted to be a Shinigami. He’d planned on staying with his Granny, taking care of her and their house. She wasn’t blind to the way he was treated, it dawned on her not long after she was seen with him in public. She never understood why he was ostracized by her friends and the Junrinan's residents, but in more recent years, she began to wonder if his powers had something to do with it.

Bowing her head, she looks at her reflection in the tea. She’s not like the girl from the Junrinan she once was. She seems so far away now, almost forgotten. Where did she go?

__________________________________

That night she again dreams of when Tobiume first came to her. Only this time, Hitsugaya is on the opposite side of the flames. He looks like how he did when they were children, his young face and his green yukata illuminated by the firelight. He looks into the flames, and doesn’t respond when she calls out his name.

He only takes notice of her when she’s at the fire.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks. She blinks at the sound of her voice. She sounds younger and looking down at her arms, they're shorter and her fingers lack callouses. Is she younger too?

 “You told me to come here,” he says, like it should be obvious.

She frowns at him. “I did?”

He slowly walks around the fire to stand at her side. “The others couldn’t make it,” he says, folding his arms. “They’re too busy.”

“Others?”

“Ayumi and Tatsukichi.”

“Oh…Why did I want us to gather here?”

His brow furrows deeper and gives a stuff shrug.

Hinamori looks around, but the firelight only shows the two them. “Did I also ask Kira-kun, Abarai-kun, and Rangiku-san to come?”

 “Who?”

“They’re my friends too.”

“I don’t know them.”

She doesn’t know why she asked. This is clearly a Hitsugaya from the past, but there’s something about him that doesn’t quite fit how she knew him at this age.

He jerks his chin at the fire. “This thing doesn’t like me.”

She blinks. “What do you mean?”

He pulls the sleeve back from his arm and raises it. There are rivulets of water running down his skin. “See?”

She acts on instinct and grabs his wrist to pull him away. She freezes when can sense rather see another presence. She subtly tries to search, but Hitsugaya still sighs. “What’s got you distracted?”

“Don’t move, Hitsugaya-kun.”

“Ha, you finally call me by name.”

“Shh!” Then, quieter. “There’s someone else here.”

Rather than the roll of his eyes and comment about her being paranoid like she expects, his eyes widen and his posture tenses. This alertness reminds her of the Hitsugaya she knows in the present. “Where?”

“I’m not sure, but they’re here.”

She can sense they intend to harm them. Heart racing, she thinks to search for a weapon but can’t see anything. She could feel around for and break off a root or a branch, but she knows it’ll be useless against whatever this is.

The fire, as if picking up on her panic, has become erratic. The flames dance in every direction and grow taller, twisting around as embers fly high into the darkness and fall around them.

Then it comes to her, as if it were the most obvious solution.

“Hitsugaya-kun, we need to get into the fire!”

Hitsuagaya stares at her as if she’s lost her mind. “What?!”

She’s already backing herself into it, and with her grip on his wrist, she’s pulling him along.

“Let go of me, Hinamori!” he yells, struggling to get out of her grasp.

“It’ll be okay, Shiro-chan,” she tries to reassure, even as she feels her hand slicken with the water forming on his arm.

Her back is scorching when she steps into the fire. Just as she knew, it doesn’t burn her. It feels right to be in here. She stops halfway in. “This fire will protect you,” she promises. “It’ll never hurt you.”

“We can’t go in there!” he yells. "You need to get out of there!"

It’s as if she snaps out of a trance. Despite how right it feels to be in these flames, it’s wrong to bring him in here. As a tear falls down her cheek, she releases her grip. Hitsugaya's arm, having struggled to break free, goes flying in an arc. Water drops fly off his limb and evaporate in the hot air.

This fire was ignited by her, but it’s not for her. It’s not Tobiume. The realization comes to her as a flare of pain races up from the soles of her feet up to her head. Then, from the darkness, another hand clasps Hitsugaya’s wrist. With a scream, she tries to reach for Hitsugaya from the flames. Her hand, though whole, feels as if it’s on fire.

“No!” she screams. “Let him go!”

Hitsugaya repeatedly smacks and kicks the attacker behind him, showing none of the combat training he'd learned for decades. It does nothing to loosen the grip they have on him. Then, above his head, there’s a cold smile from the being.

“I’m sorry!” she cries out to Hitsugaya as the being's face comes into the fire light. “I’m sorry!”

Hinamori flings up from her sleep with a strangled sound caught in her throat. Her arms are out in front, as if still reaching for her childhood friend. She stumbles into the bathroom to wash the thin sheen of sweat from her face and shaky arms. After changing into new robes, she lies back down a few minutes later.

She stares at the ceiling, watching it turn from dark grey to pale yellow as the sun rises.

__________________________________

The next day, Hirose, one of the Division’s Twelfth seats, comes by with a bunch of flowers. Hinamori can’t help but grin when receiving them, her mood lifting for an instance at the sight of the bright chrysanthemums and cosmos.

For a moment, there’s a sense of the old normality, but she tries to not let it stray too far into the past as she chats with her subordinate. It becomes harder when Hirose spots a vase on her bookcase and uses it to put the flowers into. It’s one she’d bought many years ago. She had hoped to one day put it on her desk when she became a Lieutenant, but it never left her old or current quarters.

__________________________________

It’s three days later when Hinamori is in the middle of reading one of Nanao’s novel and she remembers Rangiku’s birthday was yesterday. She hasn’t returned from her mission in the World of the Living, that gave Hinamori some time to think about what to give her when she was back. She can’t go out and buy anything, and she doesn’t want to trouble her officers with buying something on her behalf.

Hinamori puts the books aside, then with some effort, rises and slips out of her bed. On unsteady legs she comes to her bookcase. She’d read most of the novels stacked on the shelves, but would Rangiku be interested in any of them? She isn’t much a reader, and what little she does read is often limited to magazines and short novels packed with either melodrama or light-hearted content. None of Hinamori’s books contain either of those things, and the only magazines she had were old copies of the Seireitei Communication – ones that feature articles or creative contributions from her friends.

She glances at the purple vase on the middle shelf, still with Hirose’s flowers in it. A few days on, they’re beginning to lose their vitality, with several petals already drooping and fading in colour, and their sweet scent is developing a sour undercurrent.

Next to it are tiny figurines, a gift from Hitsugaya and Rangiku for her birthday a few years ago. They are of a boy, short-haired and in a blue kimono, and a girl, pig-tailed and in a floral white and red kimono. Their proportions are reduced to two spheres each – smaller ones for their heads and bigger ones for their bodies. They stand next to her each on their tiny platform and beam at her. For a moment, she can’t help but smile back at them. To this day, they still remind her of her and Hitsugaya when they were children. She’d even been tempted to paint the boys hair white not long after receiving them, but was too embarrassed by the idea.

There’s nothing here she wants to part with, and she scolds herself of even thinking of giving Rangiku something she has here rather than give her something new.

Her gaze floats down to and lingers on the sketchbooks on the bottom shelf. Perhaps she can draw her something, but what? Hinamori had always wanted Rangiku to sit for her to draw her portrait. Or maybe a simple letter, apologising for actions and telling her how much her friendship means in times like this. It isn’t much, but it will have to do for now.

Withholding a wince, she bends down and takes out the newest sketchbook. As she straightens, she opens to a blank page. But it’s not. It’s of a drawing, one that gives her pause. Then, sends a wave of nausea through her and a slip of cold rippling her back. Her breath catches in her throat, and she drops the book as if were on fire.

It doesn’t snap shut, falling with the portrait facing up. One of many, she knows. She stumbles back to her bed, almost tripping over her own feet and unable to look away from her drawing of Aizen. He smiles serenely at her, that peaceful expression she always associated with him. She barely hears Tobiume’s cries over her heart racing in her ears. In that moment, the memory of him smiling coldly at her overlays it for a flash.

She collapses on to her bed, then scrambles for the window and throws it open, heaving a lungful of air. She fights against the urge to throw up, covering her mouth.

“Lieutenant!”

Higuchi, her Seventh's seat, and Genji stand in the courtyard below her window, doused in the orange light of the setting sun and in the middle of a conversation until she forced her window open. In her peripheral, officers and new recruits had been trailing into the main barracks, but stopped at Genji’s alarmed cry.

“Hold on, I’ll be there!” Genji calls out as he rushes to the nearest barracks entrance. Higuchi hesitates, then sprints to follow his superior. Most of the officers and recruits move on, but a few linger, exchanging worried and knowing glances.

When Genji and Higuchi reach her room, Higuchi guides her to her bathroom. Still, Hinamori peers over her shoulder at Genji. He stares at the sketchbook on the floor, unmoving and unblinking, wide-eyed. Slowly, he picks it up. Sorrow flickers across his face, but as Higuchi leaves her and shuts the door behind himself -- upon her weak instance to do so -- her Third seat’s face turns to something stony.

She wishes she had Genji’s strength.

The next several minutes pass in a blur. She emerges from the bathroom several minutes later, her stomach emptied and a foul taste lingering in her mouth despite washing it out. While Higuchi helps her settle back in, Genji hurriedly leaves and returns with a glass of water. She has no appetite and requests that noone prepare her dinner. Higuchi, ever paternal, still insists on at least a bowl of chestnut rice, and too fatigued to put up a fight, she agrees to it.

It’s not until her officers reluctantly leave the room she notices the sketchbook has been put back in it’s place. She can’t stand to look at any of them. How foolish she’d been. Had she not been hesitant to look at them weeks ago?

He’s in all of them. And not just there; he’d given her some of the novels lining her shelves, with small messages written on the first page of each.

Tomorrow, she’d ask Genji to move them and the sketchbooks into her closet. She tries to ignore the thought of her cowardice, that she would ask another to this instead of doing it herself. She wants to cry, but can’t find the strength to do so.

At some point, an officer brings her a small bowl of chestnut rise. She doesn't take a mouthful until it’s gone cold and the sky has darkened to night. When another officer comes back, it’s not even half eaten. It sits in her stomach, lying there like she does. Suspended somewhere, heavy and immoveable.

That night Hinamori watches her alarm clock tick over from the last day of September to the first day of October. Another month closer to winter.

__________________________________

Ever since the incident with the sketchbook, she has lain in bed doing little but eat and sleep. She couldn’t even focus on reading or having conversations with officers who came to visit or bring her meals. Genji never brought up the sketchbook, and like others, he became more wary of his words and his gaze ranged from pity to disquiet, more obvious than before.

Isane comes to check on her every few days. They check her physical condition, then she asks her the usual questions designed to her to speak her mind. She's more happy to see her friend than she is divulge how she feels; it should feel as though she were getting things off her chest and letting go of the weights in her mind and limbs. It helps in the moment, but when Isane leaves and Hinamori is left alone, it returns quickly.

She’s never been so tired in her life, nor so heavy in the mind. It becomes worse at night, especially when everyone but her is asleep.

Now, two weeks from the incident, it's no different. She stares out at the gap between the curtains, searching for the stars between the gaps in the clouds.

She faintly recalls star gazing with Hitsugaya when they were children, and even more recently. It's had been last year on her birthday, with her and her other friends. They'd all gone out to dinner, but Hitsugaya only joined them for the stargazing. To see everyone there, happy to be with each other, knowing they could turn to each other when needed, it made the moment one of the happiest memories she has.

It stands in stark contrast to now. Can they go back to days like that? No, not go back. Can days like that happen again in the future?

The thought does not bring the usual self-pity and hopelessness. It sparks something at the back her mind. It's enough to make her want to move.

With what little strength she has, she slides to the edge of her bed and reaches for Tobiume. In the silence, her zanpakuto’s reiatsu becomes a small fire, warm and comforting. The fact she does this, after barely speaking a word to her master, makes a lump form in Hinamori’s throat.

Taking her weapon, she scoots away from the edge, rolls on to her opposite side and lays her zanpakuto over her comforter. Keeping a hand on the scabbard, she shuts her eyes. Tears fall from them not long after.

Hours later, she sleeps without dreams. She wonders if Tobiume somehow blocked them from her, or maybe, she’d reached a state where she’s too afraid to dream but too exhausted to force herself away from rest.

Regardless, she sleeps through the whole night for the first time in months.

__________________________________

It’s a surprisingly warm day, with a gentle breeze blowing through her room and not a cloud in the sky.

Rather than watch the shadows of the dancing curtains, Hinamori closes her eyes and enjoys the warmth. It penetrates through her skin, touching her bones. A glimmer of peace briefly sparks in her heart. It’s like rediscovering a lost but fond memory, or coming back to an old friend.

She at once clings to that ember of peacefulness, but also allows the lump her throat to form and the tears to quietly course down her face. They are not the same as ones she’d shed last night or in the last few weeks when she was alone. They are not of guilt or sadness or hopeless or denial.

Something freeing, something that felt like the unlocking of a door, but not yet the opening of it.

__________________________________

“They’ve really improved with their kido. Even so, I know they miss you’re training lessons.”

Hinamori smiles out at the field of recruits practicing their kido on targets against the far wall. It's most natural smile she's given in a while.

“I miss giving demonstrations,” she admits to Genji. “They’ve all come a long way, the instructor has been teaching them well.”

He grins. “I’ll be sure to pass that feedback on to him.”

They stand above the training grounds on one of the balconies. Even though her mood had been low, Hinamori decided that morning she needed to leave her room. Genji had been hesitant at first, but she brought him around when she reminded him of Isane's recommendation that she get fresh air whenever she felt up to walking around.

Even so, he'd given her a blanket to wrap around her shoulders against the cold winds. It ruffles in the wind now, and she’d rather throw it off, but she knows the officer would worry if she did.

She and Genji continue to watch the recruits in silence. She makes notes for each one, from their postures while casting spells to the resulting beams that strike the targets. She’s heartened to hear the cheers and claps when someone hits a target, and mostly sympathetic encouragement when someone doesn’t. There’s still a sense of comradery, much more so than when she’d been advised to rest months ago.

Still, she doesn’t fail to notice two recruits sitting on the sidelines. They’re waiting their turn, but one of them bows her head. Her friend puts a hand on her shoulder, and it’s as if something in her breaks. She folds into herself and her frame shakes.

Another recruit comes over and kneels before her. He asks her what happened, and Hinamori can catch pieces of what she says. “It’s…I haven’t been able to…Aizen.”

However, her other friend nods sympathetically. “I’ve also been finding it hard.”

“We all have,” says the other. “We…and Fifth Division…stand strong.”

“Oh no,” Genji says under his breath.

“Do you know that recruit?” Hinamori asks without looking away from the scene.

“No, she's new, but…” He can’t finish his sentence. He turns towards the entrance they’d come out of. “I’ll go and see what’s happened.”

Hinamori remembers the whispers, had caught glimpses of low moral from outside her window as officers came and went in the courtyards. She's certain Genji has had to deal with situations like this on an almost daily basis since Aizen left them behind. Something about this moment is different, however, and she can’t stand by and watch anymore.

“No,” she says firmly. “I’ll go.”

Genji frowns at her. “Are you sure? I can handle this.”

She shakes her head and offers a small smile. “How about we both go, then.”

By the time they get to training grounds, the three recruits have been joined by a few more. The concern they show warms Hinamori’s heart, and she’s slow to approach them.

One notices her, then another, and soon, everyone’s eyes are on her. They speak her rank and name, most bowing, other’s too surprised to do so. Seeing them all, up close for the first time in over a month, something shifts in her. The warmth in her chest dims, and in it’s place is something contracting.

She’s seen gazes like this before, on battlefields and in scenes of destruction. Shinigami looking to her for orders, Souls looking for answers. They’re shocked by her unannounced appearance, but just as quickly, they’re seeking from her. It’s the same gazes they gave to Aizen, looking to him, up to him. Knowing he would lead them to right place, to sooth their hearts and deal punishment to Hollows who threatened their world.

He would go against the laws if meant championing a greater good. She keeps staring at her subordinates, and for the first time in far too long, anger simmers in the pit of her stomach.

What good reason would he have to leave us behind?

“L-Lieutenant Hinamori.”

She snaps out of her reverie. The crying recruit, still supported by her friend at her side, bows her head. “I-I…F-Forgive me, I-I’m not…”

Hinamori breathes, her shoulders rising a fraction before lowers. Then she bows her to. “It’s all right. I didn’t mean to draw attention.” Then, straightening up and addressing everyone. “I was watching your progress with Isawa-san. I didn’t want to interrupt your training, forgive me.” When no one speaks, she thinks to fill the silence. “I know I haven’t been present for the last month, but I can see you’ve all greatly improved. When I’m in better health, I hope return to giving demonstrations and assist you in becoming even better.”

She’s emboldened by the smiles and nods from some around her. “I know these three months have been hard on everyone,” she says, loud enough that her voice echoes around the training grounds. “It hasn't escaped me, and I am deeply sorry that I have not been there to lead you all. I am getting better...but Fifth Division is nothing without it's officers. Without your all of support and strength, we would not be where we are today. So, please, keep going, and we can continue to make Fifth Division a great place to be!"

The speech doesn't draw an enthusiastic response, but most are smiling and nodding and few even cheer. If she'd been more prepared, she's certain she could've come up with better words.

While Genji directs everyone else back to the kido training, Hinamori turns her back to the weeping recruit. "What's your name?"

"Tanaka Mai, Lieutenent," the recruit responds.

"How long have you been with the Fifth Division, Tanaka-san?"

"Three months."

"I see...I'm sorry it's been like this for you."

"Ah, no, please Lieutenant, y-you don't need to apologise." She glances at her supporting friend, and then at the other who had knelt before her. Fresh tears well up in her eyes. "I looked up to him, Lieutenant. I wanted to be like him."

It hits Hinamori's heart, and she can feel the cracks web through her whole body. For a flicker, she sees younger self in this recruit. And not just her, in her friends too, who have similar crestfallen expressions as her.

She can't be here. She doesn't know what to say without also breaking into tears.

She bows, her hair falling and obscuring her face. "I understand." Then, abruptly rising, she turns in her heel and marches to Genji. "Isawa-san!"

Genji's concern makes her wince inwardly, but she quickly instructs him assist and apologize to Tanaka and her friends on her behalf. She departs in an instant, needing more space and air. She ends up in the courtyard outside of her room. She wipes the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks as she paces around the maple tree and bench. A few officers pass by the courtyard, and she offers a weak greeting to them, and then in turn bow and are quick to move along, sensing it wasn't the best time to speak with their lieutenant.

After several minutes she comes to a stop and ends up looking at her bedroom window. She'd sat behind it for months, rarely coming outside. Rarely thinking of anything beyond what had happened.

She sense Genji approaching before she sees him.

"Lieutenant," he says softly as he approaches. "Are you all right?"

She doesn't turn to him. "I'm sorry for how I reacted back there. If I had prepared myself better, I would have been able to handle it."

"No, it's understandable, you don't have to apologize. Please, don't think about it."

"I have to, as their Lieutenant."

He doesn't argue, because on some level, he must know she's right. On some level, he may even resent having to step up to higher duties, and she wouldn't blame him.

For a minute in the silence between them, she shuts her eyes. They burn, and her mind whirls with the threat of panic and having too many heavy thoughts tumbling around. She breahtes, takes in the fresh air, just as Isane said she should.

There's no going back now.

“Isawa-kun.” She turns back to her Third seat. “Captain Aizen…he really betrayed us.”

She’d wanted to end it as a question – he really betrayed us, didn’t he? –but she needs it to be a statement, as much to herself as to show Genji her acceptance.

He tenses, and when his gaze darts away, it strikes her that maybe his hesitancy this whole time had not just been out of concern to her. He had shown determination when looking at her portrait of Aizen, but maybe, like her false smile, it was his way of facing this. She was not blind to her Division’s suffering, to the effect his betrayal had on all of them, but had she somehow underestimated how deeply it ran?

“Yes, he did.” There’s the slightest waver in Genji's voice. It’s enough to make Hinamori bow her head to him.

“I’m sorry for leaving you with so much work. I said before I would get better, and it’s taken me so long To tell you the truth, I don’t know how I can lead us out of this.”

Genji stumbles for words, but when she raises her head, he’s rendered speechless. She hopes her expression convey her will to right the wrongs Aizen left behind. “But I won’t give up. I am still the Lieutenant of the Fifth Division, and I want to continue to be. I will need you and other seated officers’ advice once I recover. Together, we can bring the Fifth Division back and help everyone.”

Genji's eyes brighten. He ducks his head, and again his voice catches. “Of course, Lieutenant Hinamori.”

__________________________________

Why had you become a Shinigami?

The question emerged six days ago, and for the first time in weeks. Today, it comes to Hinamori while she eats breakfast and causes her to stop chewing. Rather than push it away, she clings to it. It’s the only thought that isn’t of her past actions, the pity of those around her, or of Aizen. The question is a glimmer in this darkness, a tiny speck of light that promised something more than the ruminations swirling around constantly day and night. If she’s going to get better, this seems like the best place to start.

When she reflected on it in the last week, the thought ended up leading to her former captain just as she'd feared, but she is quick to divert him away.

Now, setting her breakfast aside, she crosses her legs and places Tobiume in front of them, making her zanpakuto a focal point to concentrate on. It’s almost like jinzen, but without the full connection to her zanpakuto to enter her inner world.

A meditative trance comes over her, causing her to let out a long, deep breath. There had been a reason before Aizen, before she even got accepted into the Academy. It was more vaguely defined, tinged with childish optimism and naivety, and somehow it persisted well into her first days in the Fifth Division, even after the horrific things she’d been on battlefields. Even after realising the gap between the wealthy families and those who came for the lower districts. Even when faced with realities that came with being a Shinigami, that she could not save every life or help every Soul.

You wanted to be a light.

Her zanpakuto’s interruption doesn’t startle her. She’d felt her presence in the back of her mind, mediating with her on the question.

“I wanted to help others,” she rasps. “I thought the Shinigami who brought me here was one of the kindest people I met…” She sniffs, throat tightening on the verge of a sob. “I don’t even remember what they look like now.”

It’s natural for a Soul to forget their time in the World of the Living and how they arrived at the Soul Society.

“It was considered strange that I kept my memories for as long as I did.”

She senses Tobiume nod. You wanted to find that Shinigami who led you here.

“I never did.”

It stopped bothering you at some point. Not long after you met your friends.

The faces of Izuru, Renji, and Rukia come to mind briefly. It feels like more decades ago than it was when they first met. They weren't the first Souls she met with the same potential as her, but with Renji and Izuru in particular, she knew not long after meeting them she would still be friends with them for many decades to come. Maybe it had been the few personal interests that had intersected, or that they were just the first fellow students they really spoke to in the Academy.

Truthfully, she thinks it's because of the fight they put up against the Hollows in the training mission that had gone wrong. She had run into the fray against the Huge Hollows, and they'd followed. Somewhere in that back her mind in that moment, she knew she would fight back to back with either of them. If they were willing to follow her into a battle like this, even when she made a sudden decision as that, or to protect someone none of them has really known, she wanted them to stay in her life.

But after that battle, when Aizen and Ichimaru had come to save them, it all changed. She resists the urge to stop thinking there, to keep pushing through and see this train of thought to it's end.

Yes, her and Izuru in particular had changed. It had been a gradual thing, taking place over a month or so, with all three of them unable to forget what happened, but with Hinamori and Izuru learning more about the two Shinigami who saved them. Izuru's motivation shift slightly, going from becoming a Shimigami to appease his family's wishes, to wanting to serve under the men who had saved them.

For Hinamori, it was almost a seismic shift; her goal changed to wanting to serve under Aizen, and maybe even become his lietuenant. It was almost a trenous thought at the time, hoping with Ichimaru would step down as his lieutenant. She'd never forget the burst of hope that filled her when he announced that he was moving on to become Third Division's captain; she'd been a Fourth seat then.

Looking back now, it's strange her first thoughts after a life-treatenign situation were of Aizen and Ichimaru, and not of Hisagi ro thanking either of her freinds for coming to assist. She had been younger the, but even so, she would've hoped she had the capacity to at least think of thanking them. Renji had known better, would rarely talk about either man afterwards and would wonder how Hisagi was doing or how either her or Izuru could become so awestruck by Aizen or Ichimaru.

"I changed after that day," she reiterates, shaking her head to herself. "That's all it took."

You were younger then, Tobiume offers, and inexperienced. You flew in to save someone in need. Doesn't that align with your original intentions?

Back then, she had gone to help Hisagi without a second thought and despite her fear. She didn't know him, but he was injured and out-numbered. She couldn't leave him. It went against everything she stood for.

She thought Aizen had stood for those same things. It's one of the reason she had admired him so deeply. She saw who she thought was the embodiment of everything she wanted to be, but believed she could only ever become a pale imitation of him. He had been too good, too perfect in many ways.

But even as she served under him, had she not still wanted to help others? Had it always been because she wanted to impress him or try to be like him? A lot of those instances had been without his presence or knowledge. The back of her eyes burn.

"I never lost it," she realises, voice becoming raspy. "Even now, I still want to..." I want to help others. I want to help my friends.

He had become her reason to reach the level she had, but he hadn't taken away her original goal. If he hadn't taken that away, maybe she he hadn't taken other things with him.

With a sob, she bends over Tobiume. A tear lands on her scabbard, and another on her quilt. She rubs her eyes and Tobiume soothes her in the back of her mind.

I told you, she says, you're stronger than you know. You still have these skills, master. They never left you.

After several minutes, Hinamori calms her sobs. She brings up Tobiume and presses her forehead to her hilt. "I'm so sorry, Tobiume. Thank you, thank you..."

A zanpakuto, she recalls from one of her instructors, is a reflection of their wielder. When you communicate with your weapon, you are communicating with yourself.

How had she not realised it sooner? She had been so focused on him, she didn't see what was still within her and in front of her. She still had her friends, her subordinates, and in time, she would strengthen herself again. She didn't know how for the latter, but she had been working the other two, albeit in a fumbling and unsure manner.

That sensation, of the unlocked but still closed door returned. Now, the handle turns, and she doesn't know what lies on the otherwise, but she will face it.

He had his reasons for betraying them, whatever they were, but he had not taken her own reasons to stay on as lieutenant of the Fifth Division.

__________________________________

It’s two days later when the zanjutsu instructor is back in the dojo, yelling just as loud as the last time.

There is no breeze today, or birds chirping in a nearby tree, and most of the leaves have fallen from the trees. It’s all she can hear.

On unsteady legs, she rises from bed and manages to bend over and grab Tobiume’s hilt.

Master? Her zanpakuto questions.

Hinamori slowly comes to the middle of her room, barely managing to stand straight. “Let’s practice.”

Are you sure?

“You told me I do not need pity.”

Something flared through Tobiume; it felt like a hope and a determined smirk. Good!

Hinamori assumes the stance the officers in to dojo below have. She positions her feet, steady on the ground, and holds Tobiume with both hands, the sheathed blade’s tip pointing towards the ceiling. She breaths in and out deeply, trying to dispel the weight in her mind and tremors running through her limbs.

She listens to the instructor and the officers responding cries. Not wanting to draw attention for the fear of an officer rushing in thinking something’s wrong, she keeps her mouth closed and follows the movements they would.

On her first swing, she loses her balance and topples to the side, landing on her bed. She ignores Tobiume's concerned cries and gets back up. "I'm fine," she tries to reassure. "I just have to keep going. Believe in me, Tobiume."

She definitely rusty, continually losing her footing in the first volley of practice strikes, but she does not let it deter her. She keeps raising her sword and bringing it down, falling back, then stepping forward doing it again and again.

It becomes a rhythm; then, at some point, muscle memory. She forgets about the weight in her limbs and mind, and she’s more free than she’s ever been.

_________________________________

Hinamori wakes an hour before the sun rises. Not feeling the urge to shut her eyes again, she gets out of bed and takes up Tobiume. She sneaks to a training ground -- one away from the barracks that house her subordinate -- and performs her zanjutsu training.

The extra space allows her to arc her zanpakuto higher and her foot work to go further around.

She’s never felt so free. The thought makes her stop. She lowers Tobiume to her side.

She’s been doing this for almost two weeks in secret. Why did she have to hide this? Wouldn’t it be encouraging for her subordinates to see her up like this?

The thought of her turning up to training gives her an unexpected anxiety. It comes with thoughts of unsure gazes and the dread that she would not be able to show them she was getting better. What if she slipped in her foot work? What if fatigue made her movements sluggish?

I can’t risk them knowing about this, she thinks. I’ll keep training, but…

One step at a time, master.

__________________________________

It's four days later when she makes way down to the Fifth Divison's library. It's the late hours of the night, when everyone is asleep. She takes a lantern with her and uses it to browse the shelves. There's no new books in the ficision section, but that hadn't been why she'd come down here.

She rounds the corner and ends up with the instructions and guides. She grabs the tomb she needs, then rushes back to her room. It of the kido spells, most of which she already knows. Still she studies the guide as if she were back in the Academy.

In the coming days, after she hones her zanjutsu skills in the early hours of the morning, she practices the hands movements and chants the incantations in her mind before breakfast. When she's certain she has memorized enough spells, she begins to study how they can be combined. She'd come up with combinations in the past, but she'll need stronger ones for the upcoming war.

She's caught out of bed practicing her hand movements and mouthing a chant by Isane almost a week later. An awkward silence passes between the two, and all Hinamori can do is sheepishly look at the tray Isane holds with her breakfast on it. Eventually, her fellow lieutenant smiles and says "You seem to be in good spirits, Hinamori-san."

After a bout of surprised laughter, Hinamori replies, "I, uh...I wanted to get back into the basics, I suppose. I'm not actually casting them of course!"

They go on to have a rather lively conversation about kido. Perhaps it's not as big a deal as Hinamori thought. If anything, it might show the Fourth Division's lieutenant that she's on the mend. Soon, she might be able to face her subordinates in one of their training sessions.

__________________________________

Doing all of this practice isn't enough to make her completely forget what happened, nor does it draw away the heaviness completely.

Even so, she feels stronger. No longer are her footsteps shaky and she can sleep through most nights. She's getting better, and it's a revelation she can't fully believe some days.

Her subordinates notice something is different about her. They visit more often, telling her about what's been happening in their personal lives, and she steps outside more often, even sitting in on one of Hirose's gardening groups.

Today, she watches them come and go in the courtyard, and she can tell the mood in the Division is shifting. The only strange thing is Genji seems to be attending more meetings in the afternoon.

She can't stop, she reaffirms to herself. She has to keep going. It's nearly the end of October; the war will be on the horizon soon.

__________________________________

“Good morning, Lieutenant.”

Hinamori can’t help but frown when her Tenth seat enters carrying her breakfast. “Imai-san.”

“Apologies, Isawa-san usually brings your meals on Friday morning, doesn’t he?”

Hinamori nods. “It’s not a problem. Is he unwell?”

Imai shakes her head and lays the tray across Hinamori’s lap. She notes two of her subordinate's red-painted nails are chipped. “He had to attend an emergency meeting.”

Hinamori’s eyes widen. “Has something happened?”

“No. He didn’t say much, but he mention that the advance team have returned.”

“Thank you, Imai-san.” Then, remembering. “And please thank whoever made this for me.”

“Of course, Lieutenant. Please enjoy.” After her Fourth seat leaves, Hinamori can barely eat with the butterflies in her stomach. Hitsugaya and the others have returned.

She casts out her senses, and sure enough, Hitsugaya’s reiatsu is there. Slightly more faint, shes sense Rangiku’s and Renji’s near him. If she had to guess, they’re all in First Division meeting hall.

Would they come visit?

Why would they?

Her shoulders deflate. After what happened, she wouldn’t blame Hitsugaya for being hesitant. Why has she even thought he would?

More importantly, why had they returned? Was their mission over? What had they discovered about the enemy? About these Arrancars? She’d only heard snippets and rumors spreading amongst her officers in their whispers and conversations they have while passing her room or below her window.

She munches on her breakfast, unable to cast the thoughts aside.

Later, Imai comes to collect her tray. She’s disappointed again when it’s Higuchi rather than Genji who serves her lunch to her. The day turns to sunset, and when there’s a knock, she can’t help but eagerly call out, “Come in!”

Sure enough, Genji has her dinner. “Good evening, Lieutenant Hinamori.”

“It’s good to see you Isawa-kun.”

He comes to the stand at her bedside, but doesn’t lay the tray down. “Sorry about this morning, I had to attend an emergency captain and lieutenant’s meeting.”

“Yes, Imai-san told me.”

Genji lowers the tray to her lap, and rather than make small talk or excuse himself to leave, he lingers at her bedside.

Hinamori isn't surprised by the awkward pause. Still, she had hoped she wouldn't need to prompt Genji. Had the Captain-Commander instructed Genji to not tell her what was discussed? Or was Genji simply concerned about the effect debriefing her would have?

Knowing him, it's the latter.

"Isawa-kun, whatever happened at the meeting, I want to know," she says, gently. "I am still a Lieutenant of the Gotei Thirteen, and if it concerns the Fifth Division, I wish to know. If you're not allowed to speak about it, however, I understand and I will consult with Lieutenant Sasakibe if I need to."

Genji frowns at the floor. After letting out a long, silent breath, his gaze reaches hers. "The Advance Team returned from the World of the Living. Captain Hitsugaya gave a full report on their battles in the World of the Living. These Arrancar, Lieutenant...they are strong."

Hinamori lips part at the news, unsure how to respond, but she nods for him to continue.

"They returned in light of a human, Inoue Orihime, is believed to have sided with the Arrancars."

"W-What?" Hinamori stammers out. Then, she recognises the name. "She was one of the Ryoka that tried to save Kuchiki-san. How do they know she has betrayed us?"

"She was training in the Soul Society only yesterday with Captain Ukitake and Kuchiki-san. Captain Ukitake was the last to see her before she vanished. However, she made it back to the World of Living, evidenced by her healing one of Kurosaki Ichigo's wounds while he was asleep."

Hinamori can only shake her head. This conflict had inspired acts of betrayal from all sides. Why would she do this?

Noticing Genji's hesitation, she decides to put the matter aside for now. “Go on, Isawa-kun. Is there something else?"

He nods, but doesn't continue right away. He loosk out her window, at the gatherings of officers in the courtyard, having either come back from missions or outings to the Rukongai. “We know who will be required to attend the battle against Captain Aizen and the Arrancars.”

Hinamori's hand flies to her throat when it involuntarily clamps up.

“It will only be captains and lieutenants. All ranks Third seat and below will remain in the Soul Society while the captains and lieutenants wait in the fake Karakura Town.”

“I-I see.” A thought occurs to her in horror. “That doesn’t mean you will have to be on the battlefield in my place, does it?”

“Ah, no! The Captain-Commander assured me that no one from Fifth Division is expected to be there.”

No one from Fifth Division should go with them, is what he really means she suspects. They could compromise the battle, serve only as a weakness to the Gotei Thirteen’s forces. She tries to ignore the tiny furl of bitterness in the pit of her stomach. Surely this order came from a place caring, too. “That’s a relief.”

Genji nods.

“And what did you mean by ‘fake Karakura Town’?”

“The Captain Commander wants all officers to fight at their full capacity. To avoid human causalities and any destruction to Karakura Town, Twelfth Division used Tenkai Kecchu to create a copy. The real Karakura Town will be transported to the edge of the Rukongai when the enemy is expected to make their move.”

She’s never heard of the technique. She’s about to ask what it is when Genji raises his hand.

“Please, Lieutenant, you should eat.” She wants to insist on knowing, but when his gaze falls to the ground, she notices how slumped his shoulders are. He’s weary, and likely feels guilty for having told her about the upcoming battle. “I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have burdened you with all of this, especially this late.”

Hinamori watches her Third seat for a moment longer, then takes up the chopsticks. “Thank you Isawa-kun. I appreciate that you told me this, and that you brought me dinner.”

Genji manages a faint smile before he bows and leaves without another word. Hinamori lets the chopsticks fall back to the tray and stares into space for so long her food gets cold by the time she remembers to eat it.

__________________________________

Hinamori can't get the plan out of her mind. It follows her in her training and even as she eats her meals. Did it mean the Captain-Commander foresaw the conflict happening sooner than expected? Or is he simply planning ahead to catch the enemy offguard?

She had brought it up with Isane on her latest visit, but her fellow Lieutenant couldn't offer much more than Genji had. Hinamori took some comfort in seeing she too was worried the conflict might be coming to them sooner than they'd hoped.

At night, Hinamori can't help but imagine the scenario before she shuts her eyes to try and sleep. The captains and lieutnenants facing Aizen, Ichimaru, Tosen, and the Arrancars. It meant her friends would be there. Izuru and Hisagi would have to stand on the same battlefield as the captains who they'd once served. No one from Fifth would be there to confront Aizen.

It's a relief none of her subordinates had to be involved, but that bitterness from her conversation with Genji always finds a way to influence her thoughts. Everyone on that battlefield will be expecting her to stay here, recovering from everything that's happened. They think she's at her weakest physically and mentally.

I've done little to show them otherwise, she thinks pitifully while practicing the hand movements for a kido net spell.

You still can, master, Tobiume tries to encourage.

How do you mean?

When Tobiume doesn't answer immediately, Hinamori halts her practice and waits. Her zanpakuto spirit's answer makes her frown.

You've been thinking about it, whether you've realised it or not.

__________________________________

It's two days later when Hinamori dreams of the fire. She’s alone with it again, and it's calmer than before. There is no threat, but still she steps into the flames.

She goes in facing it, letting it wash over her face first, then her torso, then her arms and legs. This time, she knows for certain these flames are hers and hers alone. Tobiume's voice echoes around her, saying too many things at once, but somehow Hinamori can understand it all.

This is where she should wake up, for a presence enters her space again. It's same one as last time, and she's terrified to turn and face him.

He won't leave unless I face him, she realises.

She looks to the flames around her, brushing over her limbs and whipping through her hair. She tries to take strength from them as she turns.

He stands on the other side, smiling. He reaches for her, but she steps back. The flames grow in intensity, whipping against the intruders hand. he doesn't flinch away, however. His hand remains hovering in the fire, and she can only watch as it starts to burn his flesh. He still smiles at her.

Not long after Hinamori opens her eyes, she cringes and grabs hold of Tobiume before marching towards the training grounds. Tobiume rages with her, the heat of her flames coursing through Hinamori's veins. Her slashes through the sky and attacks on a training dummy are harsh and brittle.

She's certain before she awoke her heart had been pulled in a violent tug of war between letting him burn or pushing his hand out of the flames to safety.

_________________________________

She returns to her room as the sun begins to rise. Tobiume is silent, but Hinamori can sense her presence in the back of her mind. It's as if she's waiting on something from her.

What is it, Tobiume? she asks.

Her zanpakuto's spirit says nothing still. She's usually quick to speak her mind, prompted or not.

Hearing an officer from down the hallway, she decides to leave it and quickly returns back to bed. Had they seen her just now?

She frowns when she dtects the officer's reiatsu and notices his footsteps are hurried. Genji runs past her door and down the stairs. She parts the curtains in time to see him rushing across the courtyard towards the Division's main entrance. A Hellbutterly follows in his wake.

Something has happened.

_________________________________

For the next hour, Hinamori alternates between pacing around her room and sitting and waiting for Genji to return. Anxious jitters thrum through her, threaten to break limbs out into quivers and shakes. She casts her senses out, but he's still in the First Division.

The sun has risen and most officers make their way to the mess hall for breakfast. No one is alarmed that Genji is not there, likely thinking he's either out running errands or getting breakfast elsehwhere.

They don't anticipate the news she already knows.

The war is here. She can sense it in the air, as though a lock had been snapped open, unable to hold back what it tried to contain. It’s in the way the reiatsu she can sense at First Division all waver, heightening and decreasing in intensity. It’s the only explanation she can think of.

 With a shaky breath, she stops in the middle of her room. How will she react with Genji gives her the news? How will her Division react? No doubt some will want to go out to the battlefield, but most, she thinks, will be tense. The outcome of this battle didn’t just determine the fate of the Worlds they protect. It was a battle against the captain they once followed, the man that betrayed them and left them shattered in their wake. A being powerful enough to fool everyone and leave the Soul Society unscathed.

She again replays the battlefield scenario in her mind. Her friends, zanpakuto drawn, staring down Aizen and his accomplices. They’ll get hurt, may not even come out of this alive. It’s an inevitability she faces every time any of them go to battle. It’s as much a part of her life as eating or breathing.

She returns to sitting on the edge of her bed. Her fingers dig in and clutch the fabric of her robes, white-knuckled. She’s expected to stay here while the fate of the Soul Society and her friends is decided. Her division is expected to stay out of the way, when their former captain is one leading an attack on them.

She thinks back to that day Nanao came to visit, when she had briefly wondered by she didn’t step outside of her room more often. She hadn’t wanted to give the thought any credence, but it had stuck itself to the back of her mind. On some level she sees the restrictions as an imposition,  as an attempt to keep her under watch. She had played along with it, remaining where she needed to be and doing as she was instructed. It was why the training she did in secret was so liberating.

She shakes her head. It was this sort of thinking that got her into the situation she was in now. She has no one to blame but herself for her past actions, and perhaps they were right to enact these restrictions for that reason.

But they are her actions.

He won't leave unless I face him.

She turns her head to her weapon, laying on to of her quilt. Tobiume, she beckons.

Her zanpakuto’s spirit makes her presence known in Hinamori’s mind, but says nothing.

“Is this what you meant?” she says. “That I have been thinking about ignoring everything to go and confront Captain Aizen?”

Tobiume again says nothing, but a flare of reiatsu comes from her blade. It’s as good as saying ‘yes’.

Hinamori lets out a long breath, as though finally getting something she had on her chest for months. It'd be reckless, no better than when she blindly followed Aizen's wishes when she thought him dead. How can she confront him?

With a grunt she forces the thought away. Her stomach roils and her heart thumps against her chest. She can’t stay here, waiting and hoping. She has to go to the fight. Had she not been training for this very moment?

There will be consequences, perhaps dire enough to ensure she is never a Shinigami ever again, but she can’t sit idly by. She has to face him. She doesn't want the pity of the captains and other lieutenants; she somehow has to show them she is strong enough to stand with them. That she too would do anything to protect her home.

She casts her gaze back to her subordinates. coming and going from the mess hall. Most seem content, but there's still grave expression and an air of somberness around them.

What good reason would he have to leave us behind?

"Tobiume," she says, and despite the steeliness of her voice, her heart flutters with uncertainty. "What I want to do is reckless."

It is.

"I don't know what will face me when I go there, or what will face me when I return, but I cannot stand by and let Captain Aizen hurt my friends and threaten the Soul Society." She bows her head to her zanpakuto. "I know I have put you through much these last two months, but please...will you fight with me now?"

Her zanpakuto's reaitsu flares, becoming a raging fire for a few seconds, as though she were giving a roar. Without question! I will aways fight alongside you.

_________________________________

She received her orders from a Hell butterfly before Genji returns. She is to stay in the Fifth Division and will be protected by her Fourth and Fifth seated officers. There's a wartime exception, allowing Shinigami to carry their zanpakuto, and to be alert for any unusual activity in the Seireitei.

Genji returns with similar orders hlf an hour later, and it sends the division into a frenzy. Officer race back to their barracks and spread the word to those bewildered by the sudden change.

Eventually, Genji arrives at her room, with their Fourth and Fifth seated officers in tow.

"There has been rapid developments after Kurosaki Ichigo invaded Hueco Mundo," he informs her, kneeling at her doorway with his head bowed. “The Captain-Commander has reason to believe that Cap – that Aizen will invade the World of the Living today at midday.”

The air is swept from Hinamori’s lungs in a gasp. How can it be so soon? She had thought it would be a day or more. She didn’t have much time to prepare.

Genji mistakes her apprehension for worry. “You’ll be safe here, Lieutenant. I’ll be coordinating everyone from here. We will be following the Captain-Commanders orders for our officers to be posted in the Rukongai in case the Arrancar somehow make it here. If they come into contact with Aizen, they are to not engage in battle with him.” He struggles to get the next sentences out. “Given that we were under the influence of his shikai, it means we are susceptible to fall…under an illusion. If he uses that on us…”

“Understood,” she says, not wanting to hear the rest. “Thank you, Isawa-kun. I'll stay here.”

After Genji leaves and she thanks her Fifth and Fourth seats, Hinamori shuts her door. She swallows back the bile that rose from lying to Genji and her officers. She’s slow to move to the centre of her room. Despite the shock of it, she is not deterred by the information Genji provided; this is only a setback she needs to overcome.

She only has three hours to come up with a plan. Her only exit is either her window or her balcony. Most of her subordinates would be dispatched to the Rukongai within the hour, and there would be just under a hundred still in the barracks based on what Genji showed her last month.

She wont be able to convince the officers posted at her door to let her go outside, and refuses to use hakufuku on anyone. If she escape and uses a concealment kido, she could bypass most officers and find an isolated area to create a senkaimon. Where would be isolated in a time like this? What concealment spell would work best and not leave a trance until she's long gone? Who are the biggest threats to her plan? She winces at how much this mindset reminds her of when she planned to escape the cell and confront Hitsugaya months ago.

Without realising, she turns her head to the figurines on her shelf. The boy and the girl continue to smile at her, but she cannot return it. Hitsugaya will be at the battle. What will he think? He'll lecture her after the battle, obviously; perhaps tell her how foolish her actions are ad not speak to her for some days. But maybe, he'd understand. Like her, he too is dedicated to his occupation and the protection of Soul Society and it's residents. Despite his perchant for following code of conduct and laws of the Soul Society, she could imagine him doing something similar to her if he were in her place. Hadn't he done so only a few months ago?

You came to help me, she thinks. Even when I wouldn't listen to you and didn't want to believe what you were saying, you came to help me. Perhaps now, I can come to help you. Other Shinigami come to mind, friends and subordinates. I want to help all of you too, as you have done for me.

Joining the simmering anger is a determination strong enough to rid her of the anxious jitters and hone her focus on forming a coherant plan.

________________________________

She stares at her reflection, having just finish tying her ribbon over her hair cloth. She has looked like this in months, it’s as if she’s staring at a ghost. The bags under her eyes are gone at least, and despite appearance, she is not the same Soul who once wore the same clothes and accessories. When she returns from this battle, she’ll have changed again. Hopefully for the

Stepping out the bathroom, she glances at her lieutenant’s badge lying on her chest of drawers. When she picks it up, there a weight to it that hadn’t previously been there. She ties it around her arm with reverence. Despite what she’s about to do, she vows she will honour this position on the battlefield.

Strapping Tobiume to her hip, she then summons for a Hellbutterfly. While waiting for the creature, casts her senses out. In line with Genji’s information, the captains and lieutenants gather at fifteen minutes to midday together at the central Senkaimon. Their reiatsu gradually vanish one by one as they pass through the gateway.

I’ll be seeing you soon. Despite the anxiety and steely determination running through her, she can’t help but smile at the thought.

The Hell butterfly flies through her open window. The curtains flutter around it and behind the branches of the trees in the courtyard sway too and fro. The Hell butterfly lands on her shoulder, and she leans forward closes the window.

After the last captains goes through the Senkaimon, she waits. In that time, she stares at the books Aizen gave her, at the sketchbooks will with drawings of him, and at her reflection in the window.

I will face you, she vows, schooling her expression to one of stern resolve. You are a traitor to the Soul Society, an enemy to all the Worlds.

After fifteen minutes, she takes in a long breath, and at the exhale, she raises her hands. This is it.

 I will show you that you do not affect me or the Fifth Division anymore.

She’ll only have a minute at most before her Fourth and Fifth seat realise she’s not in her room. She whispers the incantation for a high-level concealment kido. Before she even utters the last word, she walks to the door to her balcony. Her limbs thrum with anticipation and nerves as she slides it aside quietly.

Then, she leaps up to the railing and bolts off, flying through the air, her gaze on the sky high above. Before her feet touch the ground, Tobiume's flames heat her blood, ready for battle, and her heart soars with a determination that surpasses any shame she has for escaping like this.

But then, the memory of Hitsugaya in the World of the Living comes to mind. She’d ask him not to kill Aizen. Sorrow briefly pricks at her heart. Forgive me, Hitsugaya-kun she thinks, feet only a few meters from the dirt..

As soon as she lands, she sprints in the directions of a training ground in the woods. Everything passes her in a blur.

I’ll show you and everyone else I’m better now.

_____________________________

Next chapter >>