#and not making my answer 'well there's a reason our parents raised us in the church! ☺️'

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

My mom just sent a message to the family group chat suggesting that my siblings download the 'For the Strength of Youth' magazine on their Gospel Library app and talked about how much the youth magazines helped her testimony growing up and like, cool. Fine. Don't know why the 'sending random spiritual thoughts in the gc' thing started out of nowhere when it hadn't been a thing for a decade but this is just another one of those, and you're ofc allowed to talk about things that are significant in your life.

I don't think sending the 'What I Did When Someone Close to Me Challenged My Faith' article right afterwards was strictly necessary though 🙃

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Maybe a Jack or Robby x reader who is raising her sibling(s)? The kid/teen is taken to the Pitt for whatever reason and some comforting is needed from one of our favorite new doctors? 😊😊😊

Rating: M

Warnings: Angst—a lot; Reader's half-sister has cancer; some fluff; Reader is a former medical student at the Pitt; implied age gap; mention of the death of a parent

Summary: There was nothing different, nothing new. You used to know the feeling of Robby beside you. You used to crave his attention, his approval. You felt the heat of him against your side now, as steady as it had been just a year ago.

When your mother died, the responsibility to care for your six-year-old half sister had closed in so fast. Her cancer diagnosis had hit as furiously as your mother's death, and you'd had no choice but to drop out of med school, to leave the program that you'd entered in at the Pitt.

"Hey."

"Hi—What? Why are you whispering?" Dana frowned, shaking her head as Robby beckoned her closer.

"Am I having a stroke, or seeing things, or—?" Robby nodded toward central, and Dana didn't have to turn her head to know what he was referring to.

"Her sister is in surgery. Came in half an hour ago." She broke it to him gently, and it was hardly a second before understanding washed Robby's features, his hands flexing and unflexing in the fabric of his hoodie over his arms. He took in a deep breath, raised his hand, pinched the bridge of his nose—

"Any news?"

"No. But it's early."

"She can't be back there. She doesn't work here anymore."

"No, but she knows what it's like." Dana leaned a little closer, nudged her hip against Robby's thigh. "She needs something to do. Keep her mind off of what's happening upstairs."

Robby hesitated before he nodded, raising his hand to scrub at his brow before he slid it back to his neck.

"Okay," He conceded. "Okay."

"Dr. Robby, you're needed in south fifteen."

"Yeah. On my way," He answered Perlah without a thought, glancing back toward the sound of her voice, but his eyes stayed glued to the woman at central.

"...Go on," Dana urged, "I'll keep an eye on her. She's not making decisions without input."

"Okay." He answered again, unthinking. He needed to go. There were patients that needed him—but he wondered if she needed him a little bit, too.

--

"We've got a patient coding in north two!"

You glanced back toward the yell, glanced over as the man near you scrambled out of his chair, leaving something behind.

"Take the pad!" You called back, nodding toward the desk.

He hurried back to his spot, snatching it up—and holding there.

"I, uh—Thanks."

You glanced toward him, brow furrowing.

"Sure."

"I'm Dennis Whitaker."

"Hi, Whitaker." You nodded over your shoulder. "You got somewhere to be?"

"Shit—Yes! Yeah, uh—Yes!"

You glanced after him, straightening up from the computer you'd been leaning over, folding your arms across your chest as you huffed out a laugh, watching him scurry after a few nurses and residents. You heard Dana chuckling behind you, and you couldn't help but shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Where the fuck did you find Bambi?" You asked, nodding after the medical student.

"Nebraska."

"Huh," You nodded, turning back to the board. "Tracks."

"Thoughts, feelings, opinions?"

"So sweet of you to ask like I know better."

"I don't mind a fresh set'a eyes every now and again."

"You don't need it."

"Maybe I do."

"Please," You scoffed, "You'll outlive us all."

It was a mistake to say, and your eyes darted to your phone screen where it was sitting on the desk. You shook your head, trying to shake yourself from the focus. You knew that you didn't cover well when Dana reached out, rubbing your arm gently.

"Why don't you get some air?" She offered softly. And sure, you knew that it would be for the best, but—

"The uh—" You cleared your throat. "The patient in south three should be sent up to psych."

It took a moment before Dana answered, "We called. We're waiting to hear back."

"How long has he been down here?"

'"'Bout a day and a half hours."

"Jesus," You hissed. "The fuck?"

"I know you've been away from the ED for a while. It's gotten worse." A hand between your shoulder blades, and a soft, "We need ya back."

"I can't afford it."

Your time, your money, your focus, your care—there was no part of returning to the Pitt that you could afford. Being able to return to school would mean losing your sister, and losing your sister would mean—

You turned and braced your hands on the desk in front of you, fighting to settle your churning stomach.

"...Go find somewhere quiet," Dana urged. "We've got it here."

"I really don't think I should be anywhere quiet right now."

"Could do more good than harm."

"Dana—"

"There probably isn't anyone in the chapel this time'a day. Go on."

--

It was the right suggestion to make, and you'd known it the second she'd made it. You eyed the altar with dispassionate numbness, heart thudding in your ears, eyes unfocused as you tried to take in deep breaths and steady yourself. Your phone stayed clutched in your hands, waiting—damn near praying for a vibration, a text, news.

"This seat taken?"

His voice had no right to make your heart leap into your throat, your fingers tighten further around your phone.

"Ten other pews in the place and you've gotta sit here?" You asked. You didn't turn to look, didn't nod approvingly. But that didn't stop him from stepping in and lowering to sit down beside you.

There was nothing different, nothing new. You used to know the feeling of Robby beside you. You used to crave his attention, his approval. You felt the heat of him against your side now, as steady as it had been just a year ago.

When your mother died, the responsibility to care for your six-year-old half sister had closed in so fast. Her cancer diagnosis had hit as furiously as your mother's death, and you'd had no choice but to drop out of med school, to leave the program that you'd entered in at the Pitt.

"Surprised to find you in here," He added. You shrugged a little.

"Dana's idea," You admitted. Then, before you could stop yourself, "It's where mom would be."

Robby didn't answer for a moment. You felt him shift beside you, his thigh brushing against yours, then away again.

"...You think your mom is in here now?" He asked softly. And you knew what he meant, what he was driving toward, but—

"Pretty sure we buried her in a cemetery, Robby."

"Okay—"

"Unless someone moved her and they didn't tell me—Should we check under the pews? You take left, I'll take right."

"What is it with you and sincerity, huh?"

"I'm allergic."

"What happens?"

"Oh, I swell up. Anaphylactic shock."

"Good thing you're already at the hospital."

You couldn't help but smile a bit, shaking your head.

"Were you this bad when you worked here?" He pried.

"You know, I think I was. Something about the Pitt just brings it out in me."

"...How long has she been up there?"

What about the last few things that he'd asked made him think that you wanted to answer that question? But facts were facts. And—

"An hour."

"Not bad."

"Sure," You shrugged, nodding before you couldn't help but shake your head. "You know, I never thought knowing what I know could make all'a this worse?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean—I mean when I was younger and my grandpa was in the hospital...I remember being there with him. The doctor was saying a bunch'a shit that I just didn't understand. It's one of the reasons I wanted to become a doctor, you know, to decipher what he was saying. Like learning to read hieroglyphs. But now..." You shook your head, eyes prickling with tears. "Watching Langdon and everyone work on Ellie, hearing what they were saying, reading the screens—It was worse. How could it be worse, understanding?" You slouched against the pew. "I've never wanted to be willfully ignorant before, ya know. Hearing what they were doing, just—" You tried to draw in a deep breath, failed, "Just confirmed just how fucking—" You tried to draw in another deep breath, but it caught in your throat, "How fucking bad it is." You fought to draw in another deep breath as your chest pounded, your eyes welling with tears.

Robby's arm curled around you as you folded forward, pressing the heels of your hands pressing against your eyes to stem your upset.

"She's going to be alright," He insisted, "Garcia's got her."

"Oh, good. That's good," You mumbled. "She'll hold the fact that she saved Ellie over my head forever."

"She might not."

"Oh, please. Have you met Garcia?"

Robby huffed a soft laugh, raising his hand to gently cup the back of your neck, his thumb sweeping across your nape. You let the movement soothe you the way he intended, leaning up into it.

"...Did you tell Dana to kick me out from behind central?"

"No. Why?"

"I saw you talking to her."

"You think it was about you? Self-centered much?" He knocked his knee against yours. "Maybe you should've been a doctor."

"Don't. Don't," Your huffed laugh came with a plea as you squeezed your eyes shut. Robby smoothed his hand across your shoulders, drawing you into his side. And where you would've shied from the touch a year ago, you welcomed it now, leaning heavily against him. You felt him nuzzle against your hair, rest his head against yours, draw in a deep breath. You let yourself hone in on him for a few moments—his warmth, his steadiness where you've so badly missed it, wanted it.

You drew in a deep breath, held it, sighed through your nose.

"You should get back in there," You mumbled.

"The others've got it."

"They need you."

A moment of quiet, another nuzzle against your head.

"What do you need?" He murmured. And you were tempted to fib, to tell him that you didn't need anything. But it had been so long since you'd been asked what you needed, and even longer since you were willing to be honest about your answer.

"...I don't fucking know, dude," You mumbled.

"Is that the truth?"

You startled when you felt your phone buzz in your hand, and you sat up before you could stop yourself, bringing the phone up to eye the screen and scanning the text. You opened your mouth, drawing in a deep breath for the first time in a few hours.

"What is it?"

"She's in the recovery room," You relayed. "She's in—She's in the fucking recovery room—I shouldn't be swearing in a chapel but oh my god—Oh my fucking god," You breathed, folding in on yourself.

Robby didn't let you get far as you shook, just waited, and held as the news settled.

You leaned up slowly, propping your elbows on your thighs and pressing your face into your hands.

"How long 'til you can see her?"

"Half an hour."

"Okay," He murmured, rubbing his hand over your back. "Go get some coffee in the staff room."

"Staff room is for, uh—Staff? Which I have not been for a long time."

"Cafeteria coffee isn't as good."

"I should get the full Pitt experience."

Robby chuckled softly. "You'll do better with ours."

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

You grunted, leaning back against the pew.

"You should get back," You urged again. "I'll be fine."

"...Okay," He murmured. "Keep me updated?"

"Sure." It was another moment before he stood, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze before letting go. You twisted as his footsteps faded, unable to help yourself. "Robby?"

He stopped in the doorway, and you almost crumbled as he caught your eye. You hesitated before you nodded.

"I did feel her here—Mom, I mean."

Robby gave a small smile before he nodded, too, taking a step and turning away.

You waited until he was fully out of the chapel before you let yourself crumble.

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

 ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ;  @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[7s3ven]

THE IDEA OF US. theodore nott

( master list )

IN WHICH… the saddest thing in a relationship is knowing you met the wrong person at the wrong time yet you still can’t let them go.

“She’ll be the best you ever had if you let her. I know it’s for the better.”

A/N : This took me at least a week to right, omg

Warnings : toxic relationship, swearing, ed (eating d1sorder) mentioned, mental illness, mentions of sex, dirty jokes, making out, y/n and theo are both bitches, vulgar language, angst

—

Y/N L/N and Theodore Nott had been good friends for years. And their families had known each other for much longer. Since childhood, the two had been attached at the hip and nothing changed when they were accepted into Hogwarts.

“Y/N.” Theo called out, jogging to catch up with the girl. She turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you can’t copy my answers, Theo. I told you to do the homework yourself.”

Theo sheepishly smiled. The day he was supposed to be studying, he was at a party. Y/N was there too, though she had already completed all her assignments and could drink without a care. Y/N had always been the better at academics out of the two.

“Change of topic, are you going to the Malfoy ball?” Theo asked. Y/N almost scoffed. She had no choice and neither did he. If their parents were going, they had to as well.

“Duh. What’s the color of your suit?”

“Dark blue. Apparently I look better in navy according to my mother.”

“Debatable.” Y/N hummed.

“Your dress?”

“Also dark blue. Matching. Again.” Y/N sarcastically smiled.

They seemed to coincidentally match for every important event; this was the fifth time. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was accidental anymore considering their mothers always chose their clothes for these events.

Theo chuckled, “I think our parents are up to something.”

“You just noticed?”

“Well, sorry I don’t pay that much attention to people like you.”

“Yeah, you’re too busy undressing girls with your eyes to notice.”

“The only girl I’m undressing is you and I don’t need my eyes for it. My hands can do that for me.” Theo smugly smirked while Y/N’s face scrunched up in disgust. She pushed him, causing the brunette to crash into a nearby stone wall. He winced, which amused Y/N.

“Think twice before you try and get me in bed, Nott.”

Theodore Nott was a handsome fellow with his slightly curled hair, messy tie, and the smell of cigarettes blending in with his strong cologne. As embarrassing as it was to admit, Y/N wasn’t opposed to the idea of kissing him. He was attractive after all but still her best friend. It was never a good idea to date someone you saw every day because once you broke up, it became too awkward to bear.

That wasn’t the only reason. The main reason were Theo’s eyes. His gaze was constantly bored and dead, even when he was around beautiful girls. He never showed emotion apart from the smug smirk Y/N liked to wipe off his face. If she dated him, would he still he bored? Showing appreciation was never his strong point.

Theo slung his arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “I was thinking that since you don’t like potions and I don’t either, we could take a little detour. Sneak in a cig or two. Maybe even some forbidden romance.”

For two years, Theo had been playfully flirting with Y/N. Nobody batted an eye, already assuming that the pair had something going on. Y/N could still remember the first terrible pickup line Theo had used on her after the Christmas break.

Y/N was walking down the steps that led to the girls’ dorms. She adjusted her tie so it wasn’t choking her to death. Her blouse and skirt were a size too small because she, or rather her parents, had forgotten to order a new uniform.

She spotted her usual friend group consisting of the highest-ranking Slytherins all perched upon the couches next to the fireplace. As she waltzed towards them, Theo lifted his head and for a moment, Y/N swore there was a flash of emotion before it disappeared.

“Matt, have you seen Pansy? She wasn’t in the dorm when I woke up.” Y/N placed a hand on Matteo’s shoulder like she always did. He turned to look at her, startled.

“Y/N, I didn’t even recognise you.”

“Seriously, Matt?”

“What? You’ve changed a lot!”

“My boobs just got bigger.”

Matteo’s eyes flickered down before he nodded. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Theo leaned over to smack Matteo’s head. “Stop staring at her chest, you idiot.” As always, he came to Y/N’s rescue, even when she didn’t exactly need it.

“Matteo was right, though.” Theo piped up as he walked Y/N to class. “You have changed.” He heard her laugh. “I’m serious. It’s the way you carry yourself, not just your face.”

Theo was her best friend but he had never been so… gentle with her. He fanned his face with his hand, loudly exhaling. “Is it hot in here or is it just you?”

It took Y/N a moment to realise what he was implying. She stared at him, unamused. “Never talk to me again.”

“I’ll take you up on that cigarette offer.” Y/N uttered, “But not the romance. Stay six meters away from me.”

That’s how Y/N and Theo ended up in the latter’s room, sharing one of Matteo’s cigarettes and laughing.

“Okay, but seriously. How many cloaks do you think Snape has in his wardrobe.” Y/N asked as she took the thin blunt from Theo.

He blew out a cloud of smoke. “He changes? I thought he lived in one.” An amused grin spread across the Slytherin’s face. “How many students do you think have accidentally patted Mcgonagall thinking she was a normal cat?”

“Plenty, I’m sure.” Y/N turned her head, almost jolting when her nose brushed Theo’s. “Ew, why are you so close?” She said it teasingly, grinning at her friend who was strangely silent.

“Sorry.” He whispered.

In all honesty, Theo wasn’t having much luck containing the thought of kissing Y/N either. The first few years of school were purely platonic but once everybody started to grow up, Theo found himself in an unusual predicament; he had feelings for his best friend.

“If you want to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.” It was another playful jab at Theo but with all the smoke rushing to his head, he took it literally. Y/N didn’t expect him to grab her by the chin, forcefully pushing his lips against hers like he had been starved of kissing, which she knew wasn’t true. She had seen Theo kissing a brunette girl at a party weeks ago. Yet he hadn’t kissed her with such passion.

Theo was the first to pull away, his chest heaving up and down. Y/N remained still. She parted her lips to say something but no word rolled off her tongue.

“Theo.” She finally said. “What was that?”

“I thought you were being serious.” He was still unbearably close, his strong cologne washing over Y/N and clouding her senses. “We don’t have to talk about it… but I needed it. Let me have this, Y/N.”

She had never heard Theo beg. It sparked a fire of warmth in her chest. “Ask nicely.” She muttered. Theo paused for a short moment before he thickly swallowed.

“Please.”

The moment the word slipped past his lips in such a delicate way, Y/N leaned forward. Theo tilted his head back as their lips met once more, hands clumsily trailing over each other’s bodies and holding their breaths to make the kiss last longer.

Theo felt ashamed that he was kissing his friend but in the moment, that was the last thing on his mind. All he could focus on was Y/N. She was practically on top of him, easily taking control while he was reduced to putty.

Y/N with her perfect hair and untainted uniform.

Y/N with her chuckles of amusement at Theo’s reactions.

She was all that occupied his mind. He repeated her name in his head like a mantra, never stopping until they were wrapped and tangled in his bed sheets.

They never spoke of that particular day but a new spark had been born; one that consumed both their lives. Everybody noticed the not-so-secretive looks Theo sent Y/N and the small shared smiles in between classes. Like old times, Theo never left Y/N’s side. He paid no attention to other girls, not when his arm was wrapped around Y/N as she laughed with Pansy and made fun of Matteo. And despite the pair silently vowing the incident where they ended up in Theo’s bed together would not occur a second time, it always happened again.

The holidays finally arrived and the pinochle event of the wizarding world was finally drawing in; the Malfoy ball.

“Where’s Y/N?” Pansy was the last of the group to arrive at the manor, holding a bag that contained her dress and her extensive collection of makeup.

“Coming later.” Theo said, running a hand through his hair.

The whole group had decided to meet at the Malfoy Manor to get ready. Everybody but Y/N. This wasn’t unusual behaviour for her; she always stated how she worked better alone. Theo almost laughed at the memory of how she’d always refuse to do group work.

“How do you know that?” Draco piped up.

Theo casually shrugged as if he hadn’t spent two hours with Y/N. “I saw her on my way. She’ll probably arrive when the event starts.”

Pansy pouted. “I wanted her to help me with my dress.”

“I’ll help.” Draco said a little too quickly. Matteo and Lorenzo snickered together, playing kicking kissing faces at the platinum blond.

“Oh, shut up you morons.” Draco hissed as he followed Pansy to the bathroom to help her. As soon as he was gone, Lorenzo and Matteo chose Theo as their new victim.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice a little romance thing going on between you and a certain H/C-nette.” Matteo coolly uttered, resting an arm on Theo’s shoulder.

Lorenzo subtly rolled his eyes. “Who hasn’t noticed? It’s quite obvious.”

“There’s nothing going on between us.” Theo muttered, adjusting his tie.

“Yeah. That bracelet on your arm says otherwise.” Matteo fired back. Theo almost started cursing at him. He had forgotten how he jokingly slid on one of Y/N’s bracelets. To make matters worse, not only were her initials carved into the silver but so was her full name.

“Coincidence.” Theo grumbled, quickly pocketing the bracelet.

“What about you two always sneaking off? You love staying at parties until the end but lately, you’ve been disappearing. Into rooms. With you-know-who.” Lorenzo was ganging up on Theo as well, much to his annoyance.

“I’m not fucking Matteo’s dad.” Theo retorted.

“When I said you-know-who, I meant Y/N!”

“I know! It was a joke, Enzo!” Theo huffed, his gaze darting back to the large mirror in front of him.

“We hear you, by the way.” Matteo whispered. “The walls are thin and we have to hang out in Blaise’s dorm when the door is closed because we know what’s happening.”

“Oh, please. Please. Yes, right there.” Lorenzo mocked, copying the noises he had heard mere days ago. Theo’s cheeks flushed red.

“That’s not me.” He was already losing to Matteo and Lorenzo’s little game but he stood firm.

“Hm. Right.” Matteo didn’t believe his friend’s words for one second. “Well, I better get dressed. Guests will be arriving soon. Can’t wait to see your little principessa or whatever you call her in bed.” He walked off, cackling like a hyena. Only Lorenzo was left.

“Just confess to her, dude. She probably feels the same way.” Lorenzo matted Theo’s back before he followed after Matteo, needing to get dressed as well.

Theo found himself alone in the glittering ballroom, still waiting for his late companions. He swirled the champagne around in his glass in boredom, almost wanting to spill it on someone to watch their reaction.

“All by yourself, Nott?”

Theo didn’t waste any time in spinning around. “Y/N.” He stated. She was staring up at him, focused on his eyes like she always was. Sometimes Theo wondered if he could see the slight joy in his gaze whenever she was around.

“Where are the others?” She questioned.

“I’m not sure. Right now, it’s just me.”

Y/N smiled. “That’s good because I was looking forward to spending more time with you.” As if they didn’t spend enough time together as they were.

“Isn’t it funny how our mothers dressed us up in not only the same color, but the same shade, as well?” Theo grinned. “Same fabric too. Are they trying to tell us something?”

“What? That we should date?”

Theo deeply hummed. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” He placed his glass on a nearby table, his attention focused solely on Y/N. “The party’s just started so let’s find a way to pass the time.”

Y/N grasped his tie, pulling him forward. “You’re on, Nott.”

They found themselves in a dark and crowded room filled with old antiques. Theo harshly kissed Y/N, tightly gripping her waist. In the midst of the heated moment, three words that Y/N dreaded accidentally slipped past her lips.

“I love you.” She froze, realising what she had said out of impulse.

“That’s too bad.” Theo joked but his words still made her heart sink and she felt numb in the actions that followed their kisses.

Nobody was shocked when they returned to Hogwarts to find that Y/N, who never liked anyone, and Theo, who only engaged in casual relationships, were dating. It was expected because they hardly spent any time apart, which made room for romantic feelings.

Theo knocked on Y/N’s dorm door. Somehow, he had found a way past the charm placed on the stairs. “Hey, the Ravenclaws are having a party. Wanna go? The whole gang is going.” He stepped into her room that she shared with Pansy and two other Slytherin girls.

Y/N was sitting on a desk pushed into the corner next to a window, overlooking the scenery. “Don’t feel like it.” She muttered, busy writing an essay for who knows what. Theo faltered.

“Are you sure? Otherwise I’ll go with Mel.”

Y/N paused and she slowly glanced over her shoulder. “Mel?” She raised her eyebrows in a condescending way. “Who’s that?”

“One of Pansy’s friends but she’s cool. She’s the one who invited us anyway.”

“Okay.” Y/N turned back to her work without uttering another word, leaving Theo frustrated.

“Why are you mad?” He questioned, taking a step forward.

“I’m not.” The monotone sound of Y/N’s voice made it clear that she was. “You can go to the party, I don’t care.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

“And I wasn’t asking you to bring up another girl.”

Theo clenched his jaw. Y/N had been in a jealous state for over a week. Every time Theo simply accidentally glanced at another girl, she grew mad.

He spun Y/N’s chair around, firmly placing his hands on her shoulders so she couldn’t shove him away. He could smell her expensive body lotion and perfume as it washed over him. “What the fuck is going on with you?” He seethed, “You’ve been like this all week. I don’t fucking know what you want, Y/N.”

“I want you to stop paying attention to other girls. Easy.” She shrugged.

“Maybe I wouldn’t need to look at other girls if you were more laid-back.” The biting words rolled off Theo’s tongue before he could stop them. Annoyance clouded his brain but he knew he’d come to regret it when he saw that glint of anger in Y/N’s eyes.

“I’m asking for the bare minimum, Theo.”

He didn’t even know what she was asking at this point.

Y/N clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes like she always did. “Go to the party, see if I care. Maybe Mel is more laidback than me.”

With a strong push, Y/N shoved Theo back. She walked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Theo stood in the same spot for a moment, trying to register what had happened. He heard the faint sound of the bath water running; Y/N always had relaxing baths when she was stressed.

“Come to the party if you change your mind.” Theo called out in a futile attempt to make amends. All he got in reply was a loud hum.

Theo wasn’t too sure when their relationship went downhill. It was great for a while in the honeymoon phase until the arguments started.

Theo would scream at Y/N for not eating so she could use that time to study until her nose bled and she passed out from exhaustion.

Y/N would accuse Theo of cheating because he spent about as much time with other girls as he did with Y/N and his friends. It wasn’t his fault he was a heartthrob.

After every fight, they made peace and promised not to let their mistakes happen again. But they always did because history repeats itself until you learn from it. Perhaps Theo and Y/N were like two puzzle pieces that didn’t exactly match but you forced them to anyway.

“Theo.” Mel’s hand brushed his shoulder as she handed him a dark bottle of beer. “What’s on your mind?”

Mel smelled like roses and sweet strawberries while Y/N’s perfume was always addictive and deep. They were complete opposites but Theo had always preferred Y/N’s.

“Y/N.” Theo grumbled, taking a gulp from the bottle.

“She’s always causing problems.” It was not Mel’s place to say such a thing but she wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t know. She’s been so paranoid and it’s just rubbing me the wrong way. She gets mad at me every five minutes, even for shit I don’t do. She’ll blame Matteo’s tricks on me.”

Mel shifted closer to Theo, their hands accidentally brushing. She smiled. “You’ve told me about all this before. Why don’t you just break up?”

Theo almost wanted to laugh. Him? Break up with Y/N? She was a L/N, a prestigious family that stood above everybody else. He’d need to have a death wish to leave her. The only way he could get out unscathed was if Y/N broke up with him or if it was mutual.

Mel’s finger trailed up his thigh and despite Theo giving her a look to stop, he didn’t grasp her wrist.

His stomach sank in dread as someone behind him cleared their throat. “Is “one of Pansy’s friends” now code for a new fuck buddy?” Y/N leaned over, her warm breath hitting Theo’s neck. He could feel the anger radiating off her. “Nice one, Nott. You almost had me convinced you’d settled down.”

Theo was up in a heartbeat, practically pushing Mel away from him. He raced after Y/N, who had already exited the Ravenclaw common room. She was now quickly pacing through the dimly lit corridors, no particular location in mind.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Theo shouted, his voice echoing. He was expecting Y/N to speed up but instead, she spun around and grabbed him by the collar.

“What were you doing with her, huh?” Y/N hissed, “Just because you’ve finally tied me down doesn’t mean you can go and not put effort into this relationship!”

“I was only talking to her!”

“Well, it didn’t look purely platonic! Her hand was on your thigh and you didn’t even stop her!”

“That’s just the way girls are with me! What am I supposed to do, huh? You can’t ban me from talking to other people!”

Y/N shoved Theo, “You are so frustrating! You never take anything seriously!”

“And you take everything too literally. I was just talking to her! Nothing else!”

“She looked like she wanted to fucking kiss you! And she was probably going to!”

“Everybody wants to kiss me! Where’s the problem in that, huh?! You kiss me!”

“The problem is you have a fucking girlfriend!”

“You’re the one always talking to other guys like some…” Theo spluttered, tripping over his own words in search of a retort. “Some sort of slut!” As always, he immediately regretted his words. Y/N’s face morphed into a look of fury.

“I have been loyal from day one!” She screeched, “The thought of cheating has never crossed my mind so don’t you dare call me a slut when you know the only person here willing to cheat would be you!”

Y/N and Theo stared at each other, panting heavily. “Fuck you.” Theo whispered.

“Why don’t you go back to the party and fuck Mel instead, huh?” Y/N wittily snapped back. The last of Theo’s calmness finally broke and he grabbed Y/N by the shoulder, shoving her into an empty classroom and locking the door behind him.

“Mel is only a friend. She’s not my girlfriend, you are. I have never thought of cheating either and the fact you accuse me of it is preposterous.”

“Using big words now, are you?” Even in a locked room with someone who could easily throw her out the window, Y/N was making annoyingly smart remarks.

Theo spoke again, only it wasn’t in English. He angrily spoke in full Italian, yelling at her. Y/N had learnt a few words for his sake but she found it hard to keep up.

The fast words slipped past Theo’s lips and he paused, waiting for Y/N to answer as if she actually understood him. She awkwardly smiled. “Uh… Sì?”

“At least you know that word. Mel doesn’t know any Italian so who’s the better one between you two, huh? I’ll give you a hint. I like girls who attempt to learn my language.”

“So get Mel to learn it.”

“I love you, not her.” Theo insisted.

“It’s too late for that.”

Theo let out a quiet sigh as Y/N unlocked the door. She paused, waiting for him to call out for her again. He didn’t.

“Have fun.” She grumbled.

Theo ran his tongue over his teeth before he grabbed Y/N’s shoulder. “Every time we argue, we don’t try to resolve it. So we’re going to work it out right here, right now.”

“Don’t you have a girl to get back to?” Y/N sneered.

“See, that’s your problem. You’re insecure.”

Y/N scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. She wasn’t insecure; she was far from it. She was the most confident girl in the year.

“You get paranoid every time I talk to a girl. You’re controlling and you’re always accusing me of shit I would never do.”

“You cheated on your first girlfriend.” Y/N piped up, making Theo freeze. “What? You didn’t think I’d find out? Once a cheater, always a cheater, Nott.”

“So why’d you date me, huh?”

“You aren’t even going to defend yourself? I thought you were different because you were my friend. I thought you finally grew up but I don’t think you have. My problem is paranoia, yours is cheating. And don’t get me fucking started on the drinking and smoking.”

Theo clenched his jaw. “You wanna play that game, prissy princess? Okay. You have more than one problem. In fact, you have too many to count. You’re fucked in the head, narcissistic, you can’t fucking eat properly, and you think everybody likes you when in reality, we’re all waiting for your downfall. You aren’t as popular as you think. And the damn studying. You study so much that you get sick! Physically and mentally sick! You’re just setting yourself up for failure!”

“I warned you.” Y/N whispered, harshly poking Theo’s chest. “I warned you about me! I warned you about the mental issues, the eating disorders, the problems that will start showing! And like everybody else, you said “it’s fine, I’ll be able to handle it”. Then like everybody else, you want to back away the moment I show negative signs! Do you think I like being like this? Depressed, anxious, paranoid, starving, and barely able to eat?! Do you think I fucking like going to therapy?!”

“You may as well go to more sessions because you aren’t getting any better.”

“You’re an ass, Nott.”

“And you’re a bitch.”

“Did we resolve the issue like you wanted? Because if so, I’d like to return to my dorm so I can watch a movie with a love interest who isn’t a complete jerk and only thinks with his dick.” As always, Y/N was the first to storm off.

“You love my dick!” Theo shouted after her.

“Fuck you!” She pointed the middle finger at him without turning out.

Theo shoved his hands into his deep pockets, clicking his tongue. “Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, hoping it would fix his pounding headache. “I need a cigarette.”

Theo didn’t attend his classes the next day. And, by the looks of it and the remarks from Pansy, neither did Y/N. He stumbled across her in the astronomy tower, smoking one of her reserved cigarettes.

“You beat me to my spot.” Theo grunted, cautiously taking a seat beside Y/N. She didn’t shove him away. She only slowly blinked and nodded.

“You should go to potions.” She muttered, smoke seeping past her teeth.

They were both numb from their previous argument, too tired to fight again. Theo had stayed up all night, replaying Y/N’s words in his head and scolding himself. Y/N wasn’t any better. Pansy slipped her some vodka from the party and the events that followed after were hazed history.

“How’s Mel?” Y/N couldn’t stop herself from being snarky. She heard Theo scoff.

“Fuck, you can’t stop bringing her up for even five minutes?”

There were no apologies in their relationship. Perhaps they learn it from their parents who, every time they’d argue, would gift them with lavish gifts instead of saying sorry.

“Why should I? You can’t stop calling me a slut.”

“It was one time.”

An awkward silence settled between the pair before Theo drew in a heavy breath.

“I love you…” He muttered. Y/N thickly swallowed, blowing out another mouthful of smoke.

“If you loved me, we wouldn’t be doing this. We wouldn’t be going back and forth, continuously fighting and trying to one up each other. We wouldn’t be trying so hard to make this work when we know it’s going to fail.”

A pit settled in Theo’s stomach. “Are you… breaking up with me?” The sadness in Y/N’s eyes made it apparent.

“Face it, Theo, we aren’t a good match. The only other reason we got this far is because of our parents. Our parents wanted us to never friends, our parents wanted us to date, our parents want us to get married. What about what we want? What happens if we do get married? It’ll crash and burn. We don’t work. No matter how hard we try, we will never work.”

“But… I love you.”

Y/N shook her head, “That’s not enough this time.”

The sudden realisation that Theo was losing Y/N caused him to cup her face, pressing his forehead against his.

“There’s a difference between loving the idea of someone and actually loving them.” Y/N mumbled, “Us? We love the idea of each other. We are constantly stuck on the “what ifs” of our relationship? The possibilities. We are so obsessed with this relationship because we created a different version of each other in our heads when in reality, those version of us will never be true.”

Theo rested his head on Y/N’s shoulder. He knew she was only telling the truth but it still hurt. Maybe Y/N was the right person for him or maybe she wasn’t; all he knew was that they met at the wrong time.

“I love you too, Theo, but we have a problem even saying those simple words.”

Their breakup was inevitable once the arguments started. It was only a matter of time before the fighting became too frequent to ignore.

“So… this is it?” Theo muttered. “We’re finally breaking up?”

“We had a good run, Theo.” Y/N uttered, fiddling with her cigarette. She handed it to Theo, slightly smiling. “See you around… I guess.”

“You’re just… walking away?” Theo himself was cold sometimes but he didn’t expect it from Y/N. It was finally clear why she had been placed in Slytherin instead of Ravenclaw; she was as heartless as her friends.

“If I don’t walk away, Nott, then I’ll keep holding on when I know I need to let go.”

Nott. Y/N always called him that when she was angry or teasing him. She didn’t look angry this time, only sad. They’d see each other at meals for sure but it would never be the same because they’d no longer be holding hands under the table.

“See you at dinner.” Y/N said, her voice a hushed mutter. She feared that if she spoke any louder, Theo would hear her voice break and notice her glassy eyes.

“Yeah… see you.” Theo watched as Y/N walked off with no intention of chasing after her. He wanted to and it took all his power to fight the urges to hold her back. This was for the best. Theo knew he’d have to let go of Y/N eventually so that both of them could pursue a healthier relationship in the far future.

He’d always be thinking of her, though, day and night. He knew it’d be the same for Y/N because despite everything that had happened between them, they were still each other’s first loves.

Theo glanced down at the cigarette he held in his hand. He could see Y/N’s lipstick stain imprinted on it, the last reminder of the kisses they shared before it all burned down.

HP TAG LIST (comment to be added) : @jetblackpayne @rafeslittleangel @opheliamalfoy236

[bernardsbendystraws]

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𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒛𝒐𝒏𝒆

⚠︎  mdni, smut, alcohol abuse, parental neglect, overall mature themes, and more [ this is made for all parts ]

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!!

with love and big tits, Rose Toy

©bernardsbendystraws

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Chapter 6: Your Favorite.

I had woken up to birds chirping and the sun streaking through the blinds. My body felt wonderful. My stomach didn’t ache, I wasn’t shivering, and his arms around me felt heavenly. It was Saturday–the day I was supposed to watch Mrs. Evans' kid, Hailey. 

I had yet to meet Hailey. She was only a toddler. Mrs. Evans had always wanted a family, but from my knowledge–her body didn’t make it easy for her to do so. Sometimes I wondered if she had ever resented my mother when I was a child. She spent countless hours playing with me, taking care of me how my mother just couldn’t. I barely remembered any of it, it made me feel guilty. 

Matt and I had decided to take Trevor for a walk, still in our pajamas. He had thrown a winter coat, gloves, and a beanie on my head. It was excessive, but the man would not let me walk outside without ‘reasonable’ layers. Ironically, he didn’t even have gloves or a hat on.

“What are your plans for today?” He asks. I let out a sigh, mentally running through my list of things to do. 

“Well,” I start. “--I have to go home before I babysit. That’s pretty much it.” I answer. My hands are sweating inside of the gloves. I pull them off, zipping them inside of the coat pocket. I look over, watching Matt give me a warning glare. “I’m sweating! See?” I say. 

I reach out my hand, placing it on his. He takes it, intertwining both of our hands together. “Okay, fine.” He remarks. He rolls his eyes, sighing in defeat as we continue down the cement path. “--but if you get sick, I told you so.” He huffs. 

I shake my head, laughing. Trevor trots on Matt’s opposite side, heavy pants being heard. We walk up to his front door as he swings it open. He bends down, unhooking the leash. Trevour immediately darts to the couch, sprawling on the sofa as if he was dead. I laugh at the sight in front of me, shedding off the multitude of layers. 

I slip out of my worn shoes, placing them neatly on the patterned mat. I begin shrugging off the large puffer coat, feeling Matt take it off my shoulders for me, placing it on the coat hook. “Thank you.” I mumble shyly. He gives me a curt nod. 

“I know mom wanted to show you her garden today, she’s starting her spring stuff in her greenhouse as we speak. Wanna go check it out?” He notices my eyes squinting down at him. “--I won’t make you put a bunch of layers back on, I promise.” He says. 

I raise my chin, questioning him. He shakes his head, laughing. He grabs my hand, dragging me until we reach the back door of the house. He slides open the door, the cool breeze feeling like air conditioning in the heat of summer. The green fabric feels slightly heavier on my back, a thin layer of sweat coating down my shoulders. 

“Come on, she’s probably in the greenhouse.” I follow Matt down the dirt path, into the woods behind his house. The path diverted into two separate ways, the right one to the lake he had taken me to previously. He turns left, holding my hand as he tows me along with him. 

I see a small greenhouse come into view. The shed has rustic wood for walls with a multitude of windows, all covered in dead stems, withered by the cold. I follow Matt as he walks through the propped-open door, seeing Marylou dumping a bag of soil into a pot. 

She looks up, noticing us. Her soft, melodic hums stop as a cheery smile spreads across her face. “Hey, kids! I was hoping to show you my greenhouse! Would you like to plant with me? I’m putting down some soil into these pots,” She motions towards the array of ceramic plant pots. “--I could definitely use some help.” She points out. 

I ecstatically nod my head, Matt scratching the back of his neck and looking back at me for confirmation. “Sure, mom. What do you want us to do?” He asks, guiding me to the table with the materials. 

“I need,” She points to a high shelf in the shed, one far beyond her reach or my own. “--that.” She says. Matt reaches up, grabbing down a wooden box filled with various seed packets. He sets it down on the table, dusting off his hands. 

“Now what?” He asks. Marylou pats his back, pushing him. He walks with her hands guiding him to the door.

“That’s all we need you for, bye! Love ya!” She says. Matt turns around on the other side of the doorway, holding up his hands questioningly. He opens his mouth, a slight syllable escaping his lips before the door shuts in his face. 

“Love ya to, ma!” He shouts sarcastically from the other side. Marylou turns back to me, a mischievous smile spread on her face. She walks back over, handing me a bag of soil and moving a pot in front of me. 

“Just put it in there, darlin’.” She directs. I roll up the sleeves of the expensive hoodie, standing hunched-over to protect the vibrant fabric. I cannot get this dirty. I take the cut-open bag, dumping it in the pot like she directs. 

“Ya know,” I look up, seeing her wandering around, gathering various tools. “--I really like you, you seem like a very sweet girl.” She mentions. I feel my cheeks heat up as I avert my eyes back to the task at-hand. 

“Thanks.” I mumble. I hear her shuffling around, her hands coming in my peripheral vision. I watch as her hand grazes my arm, her pointing finger landing on my forearm. 

My eyes widen in fear. The cigarette scar lays right beside her finger. “What’s this from? It almost looks like a burn–any crazy story?” She asks. 

I shake my head furiously, panic overtaking through my veins. “I…um…no–I don’t even remember how I got it, to be honest.” My voice comes out shaky, slightly higher pitched. I wince at the horrid attempt of lying, not able to bring my eyes up to meet hers. 

“Oh…” She trails off. “--the boys have a ton of crazy scars and stories–especially Matt.” She explains. I sigh in relief. Thank god she didn’t push. I bring my dirt-ridden hand up to the edge of the sleeve, pulling it down with the tips of my nails. I cover the scar with the sleeve, bringing my hands back  down to the pot. 

I hear a knock at the door, grabbing my attention. I watch as the creaky door shutters open, Matt pouting from the otherside. “Can I have her back yet?” He asks. 

I laugh at his innocent tone, looking over to see Marylou rolling her eyes. “Kids, am I right?” She jokes, shaking her head disappointedly at me. She huffs heavily. “Fine, I guess. I want her back when I plant my tulips though, Matthew Bernard.” She warns. 

My lips part as I choke back a laugh. “Mom!” Matt whines, burying his face in his hands with embarrassment. Bernard. He stomps over, grabbing my hand and tugging me behind him. I whip around, waving to Marylou as she stands, shaking her head with a smile. 

Matt guides us down the path, turning on the dirt path that leads us to the lake. “What are we doing?” I ask. He nods to the right, a tree coming into a view. A large willow, green leaves sprouting, barely peeking out from the branches. 

“It’s starting to bloom, look.” He points. 

My eyes stare at the tree, admiring the rarity. I hadn’t been to many places, I had never even been outside of Massechusets. I never had much time to explore, either. 

I loved seeing nature, large tree trunks accompanied by bushy leaves at the park by my old house in the less scenic town over. I had never seen a tree with so much personality, the branches dancing with the wind. 

“I’ve never actually seen one of these in person.” I breathe out. Matt raises his eyebrows at me, dragging me closer to the colossal wood. He stops right in front of the branches, parting them carefully with his hands. He nods his head, gesturing for me to walk. 

I weave under the dry branches, stopping as I stand in the empty space between the branches and the trunk of the tree. It had felt like a shield, mimicking the way my hair would often hang like curtains around my face. 

I hear the rustle of branches, watching as Matt steps through. His hand squeezes back into mine. I hesitantly reach out, letting my fingertips graze the rough bark lightly. “I’m deathly afraid of getting splinters, but this,” I shake my head in disbelief. “--this is just mesmerizing.” I remark. 

“Deathly afraid of splinters?” He laughs. I whip around, meeting his eyes as I squint at him. 

“Elevators?” I banter. He holds his hand up defensively, making me laugh. 

“What else are you scared of?” He whispers. I feel his chest press against my back, his hand squeezing my own as his other rubs along the side of my arm. 

I laugh nervously. “Spiders, needles, any insect really…um…” I trail off, feeling his chuckles vibrate against my back. “Shut up.” I mutter. I feel his laugh grow more intensely, his lips breaking as the sounds reach my ears. 

“Why are you deathly scared of splinters? I don’t understand.” He laughs. I shrug my shoulders, a sadness washing over me as I feel myself detach. His laughs die down, his head peeking over my shoulder. His face is sympathetic. “I’m kidding–I mean, I’m scared of elevators.” He jokes. 

I let the smile crawl back up on my face. “Well, that’s rational–you could fall and plummet to your–sorry.” I say, watching his eyes widen with horror. I made it worse. I sigh, looking at the splintered bark in front of me with heavy shoulders. 

I feel his hand squeeze my own, bringing my attention back up to him. His eyes gleam down at me with sorrow written in his face. “Ya know,” He brushes the hair behind my neck, making my body tingle from his breath. “--I’ve always wanted to carve a heart into a tree with someone. Chris and Nick never would, they think it’s stupid. But,” His nose nuzzles on the rim of my ear, my body tensing from the sensation. “--maybe we could do it together sometime.” 

I crane my head up, looking up at him. His eyes meet mine with admiration. “I’d like that.” I blush. He gives me a small smile, leaning his head down to rest against the back of my own. 

“M’kay, ready to head back inside? I don’t want you to get too cold.” His hand returns, rubbing up and down my arm. I laugh at his remark. Cold? His body heat radiated onto me, warming me better than any jacket I had ever owned. 

“Sure.” I responded. His body heat dissipates as I hear the crunch of his shoes against the dirt. I turn around, watching as he opens the branches like a curtain. 

“Come on, princess.” He teases. I blush at the name, walking through the void. I feel his hand clasp around my wrist as I stand beneath his raised arm. I look up, watching his eyes hungrily gaze down at my lips. 

I smile, letting him drag my hand up to his chest. My palm lays flat on his chest, his hand enclosing on top of mine. I push my toes down, bringing my heels up as I lean onto him. I peck his lips swifty, backing up to see his eyes closed and his lips still semi-puckered. 

I laugh at his reaction, making his eyes snap open. His face is overcome with a proud joy, gleaming with admiration. I let my feet relax, but my foot twists as it lands on the uneven surface. I shriek, feeling myself stumble. 

Matt’s hand drops my own, his arm tugging me immediately back to his chest. He leans down, his breath fanning across my nose in the slightest. I let out whispered breaths. “Caught ya.” He remarks. I feel my smile return to my face as I flail my arm back to his chest. 

As soon as I move my arm, a rough sting is apparent on my forearm. The burning sensation pricks me, making me whimper in pain. Matt pulls my body up to his with his arm, guiding us out of the curtained-branches and to the field of grass. 

“Hey,” he reaches out, grabbing my arm from my grasp. I watch as my vision becomes blurry from tears. I gasp as he gently pulls my arm in between the two of us. A large thorn, embedded in his hoodie. His three-hundred dollar hoodie. 

My bottom lip quivers as the sight in front of me intensifies, sending fear and panic through every pore of my body. I ruined it. The slight stain of red becomes more apparent, seeping into the green fabric with high contrast. 

“I-I—I’m so so so sorry, Matt. I-” He shushes me, pulling me into his chest in a hug. One of his arms wrapped around me, caging me against him. I push back, only for his hand to enclose around my head with a firm grip. “Matt–”

“Shhh, don’t look.” His voice is comforting and gentle. His firm grip gets tighter as I attempt to push myself back. “Matt-” Is this it? Is this where his gentle touch disappears? 

I wince from the burning sensation, feeling yet another prick. I can’t help the tears from falling from my eyes, soaking onto his sweatshirt. “Shhhh…I got you, it’s gone, look.” His grip falls back down to my waist as he holds a bloodied-thorn in his hand. 

My eyes widen, immediately darting to the hoodie. I yank the sleeve up above the wound, letting the crimson paint down my arm, dripping slowly from the shallow wound. “Hey, you’re gonna get cold.” Matt states, yanking the hoodie back down. 

I gasp, watching a streak of red appear. “Matt! It’s gonna-” “I don’t care, it’s just a hoodie. Now, let’s get the first aid kit and take care of ya, yeah?” He states, pulling me by the waist. 

I feel my ears go hot from embarrassment. I’m fucking crying over a splinter. I should be profusely apologizing for destroying his things. 

I choke back my tears, clearing my throat. “Matt, I–,” the quiet shaking in my voice makes him turn his head, analyzing me. He supports my weight, walking quicker as he slides open the back door. “--I’m really sorry.” I state, letting it out in one breath. 

Matt shakes his head, placing his hands on my hips. I squeal, feeling my feet lift off the ground. He pushes me back, sitting me on the cold counter. I look up, willing the tears to crawl back inside. I hear a drawer open, metal clanking as I look over to see him holding a first aid box-kit. 

“I’m really sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean to-” The words get caught in my throat. He takes out an alcohol wipe, ripping it open with his teeth as his other hand rubs up and down my thigh. “It’s okay, really. I’m not upset in the slightest, okay?” I nod hesitantly at his words, watching as he reaches out with the alcohol pad. 

I scoot back on the counter, leaning my body weight away. It’s gonna hurt, I know it’s gonna hurt. Why do I have to be so weak when it comes to pain? 

“Hey,” His hand wraps around my thigh, keeping me in place. “”--it’ll hurt, but then it’s gonna feel better. I have to clean it.” 

It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna hurt. 

“Here, come here.” He opens his arms. I fling myself into them, latching around his neck desperately. His hand grabs my arm, pulling it down and to the side. I feel the burning sting, whimpering from the pain as I attempt to keep my arm still for him. 

Please, don’t think I’m weak. 

I loosen my grip, feeling the cool air on the wound. I hear another rip, seeing as he places a bandaid over the red area. I look down in shame. Why do I have to be so weak?

“I’m sorry for crying and being a baby. I’m especially sorry for ruining your hoodie.” I run my clammy hand against the top of my thigh. His hand pushes my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his. His gaze softened, a slight pout apparent on his lips. 

“Don’t. You don’t need to apologize for anything. It’s a piece of clothing–” 

“It was your favorite.” I retort. He shakes his head, letting out a sigh. 

“I can have a new favorite.” He remarks with a soft smile. I nod, trying to blink back the tears. “--if you need to cry–cry, it’s okay.” He soothes. I shake my head, looking up towards the ceiling. 

“I don’t want to cry.” I let out. My body betrays me, a stream of hot tears running down and into my scalp. Matt wipes the tears gently with the sleeve of his sweater. “Why not? It’s just me.” He points out. I wipe under my eyes with my fingers. “I don’t want you to think I’m weak.” I laugh out dryly. 

I let my eyes shift to his. He shakes his head, a smile tugging on his lips. “I don’t think you’re weak.” He breathes out. “You don’t?” I interrogate. He shakes his head, “Elevators aren’t even in my top five fears and I almost had a panic attack. If anything, I think you’re strong.”

He brushes the hair back as I look into his eyes. The fear started subsiding as a comforting wave of relief washed over me. “You okay?” I nod my head as he places his hands on my hips. I let him help me off the counter, but he doesn’t set me on the floor. 

My legs wrap around him as he starts walking to his room. “What are you doing?” I ask, grappling onto his neck. His shoulders shrug from beneath my arms. “Distracting you, returning the favor.” He says. He shuts his room door closed with his foot.

I cling onto him, feeling his body crouch and lay on the bed. I go to sit up, maneuver myself off of him, but he pulls me closer. “Wanna watch a dumb show again?” I smile, nodding as he grabs his phone out. He props it against his cologne bottle, pressing play on ‘Too Hot To Handle.’ 

His hand comes back, cradling my head to his chest as I listen to the thumps of his heartbeat. 

_

I had woken up to screaming, Chris’s voice echoing in the house. I felt Matt stir from beneath me, pulling me closer as his lips pressed against my head. Soft snores escaped his parted lips, making my heart flutter from the sound. 

I giggle, pushing myself up and off of Matt’s chest. Matt huffs, his hand curling around my entire head, suctioning to my ear. “Ignore them, ‘m sorry.” I laugh at his lazy words, squirming out of his grip. I watch as his eyes squint open, his hands rubbing his face. “Come back.” He voices. 

I lean over him, feeling his arms wrap around my waist as I reach for my phone on his nightstand. I grab the device, pulling myself back. Matt pulls me down, crushing my nose against his chest. “Ow.” I say. His eyes darted open, his face grimacing as I held my nose. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, his hands untangling from my waist. I move freely, sitting up against his head board. 

6:00 P.M. 

“I need to leave for babysitting soon. I have to walk home and then to Mrs. Evans house.” I say. Matt groans, flipping on his stomach and letting his arm fall over my lap. I laugh, lifting the limb and standing up. Matt’s head pops out from the pillow, his hair aloof. I smile at the sight, watching as he climbs out of bed. 

He walks over to his closest, pulling out a knit, buttoned, purple sweater. He hands it over to me as I grab the fabric hesitantly. “I’m going home, I don’t–” He holds up a hand, “It’s for my own selfish reasons, okay?” I laugh at his bluntness, nodding my head. 

“Can you just cover your eyes or something? I really do need to leave. I probably needed to leave a bit ago, honestly.” I remark. His hands cover his face as he lets his neck drop, facing the ground. I pull off the green hoodie, sighing at the red stain. I let the soft, knit sweater envelope around me. 

It’s so soft. “Oh my god, this is so soft.” I voice. I look down at the fabric that pools over the pajama pants I had yet to change out of. My dry skin admires the smooth fabric, my arms moving without an uncomfortable scratching feeling as I fold the green hoodie. 

Matt reaches out, grabbing the sweatshirt and throwing it onto the opposite side of the bed. “Don’t worry about it. Want some sweats–actually, don’t answer that. I’m giving you sweats.” I laugh at his statement. He pulls a pair of clean sweats down, handing them to me. 

I look at him knowingly. “Oh, yeah.” He covers his face, looking towards the ground. I let the pajamas fall off my legs, pulling on the sweats and tying the drawstring tightly, securing them on my hips to the best of my abilities. The fabric pools at the ground beneath my feet. 

“Uh, Matt?” He unveils his face, looking in the direction of my pointed finger. “I don’t think they–” I stop as he kneels to the floor. His hands reach out, folding the fabric until it comes to my ankle. He does the same to the other side, the neat folds not budging as I wiggle my foot in the air. 

“Thank you,” I said. He nods his head, holding out his hand for me. I place my hand in his, allowing him to guide me to the front door. He slips on his own shoes as I do the same. I look around, the room barren of a single person. “Can you tell your mom I said bye?” 

“Mhm, now let’s go.” I tilt my head at him as he grabs his keys. “Huh? I have to babysit—I’m walking home and then to the place.” He shakes his head. “No–I’m driving you home and then I’m driving you to whatever the address is for the house you’re babysitting at.” He pulls the coat from the coat rack. “--and put this on, you’ll be cold.’’ He pulls out my arm, sliding it in the arms of the coat and doing the same on the other side. 

He steps in front of me, his hands bringing the zipper of the jacket all the way below my chin. “Matt, you don’t need to–” His intense stare makes my words falter. “I’m not letting you walk, let’s go.” He pulls me by the hand out the door and to his car. 

I pull down the zipper, the warmth already becoming overbearing. Matt opens the car door for me as I sit in the passenger seat. He grabs the seatbelt, leaning over me and clicking it in. His eyes fall below my face, his hands reaching out and pulling the zipper. I feel the cold metal brush against my chin as he pulls away, shutting the door softly. 

I laugh quietly to myself, hearing his door open and shut. He turns the heat on, starting to drive. I pull down the zipper. I gasp, feeling the car come to a semi-abrupt stop. “What are you doing! You’re gonna get cold.” Matt mutters, reaching for the zipper. 

I push his hand away. “Matt,” I put his hand on the center console. “I’m sweating, okay? I’m gonna faint from heat exhaustion at this rate.” I state. His lips purse as he sways his head. “Okay.” He says softly, pulling off the brake. 

I watch as he reaches out, turning the AC down. I open up the coat, my fingers fiddling with the hem of the soft sweater. 

_

“Can I have a fourth wish, genie?” He asks. I look over, watching his hands turn the wheel. “Please.” He adds. 

I laugh at the question. “Sure, what’s your wish?” I urge. He pulls onto my street, my house visible from the few streetlights. He pulls over in front of my house, parking the car. He takes the keys out of the ignition, looking over at me. 

“Let me come in?” His eyes wander up. I look back, seeing the wooden house that seems almost abandoned. I sigh, looking back at him as his innocent smile plastered across his face. “Please.” He repeats. I suck in my bottom lip. 

Should I? Is my dad even here? 

“Pleaseeee. I just wanna see your room–plus, parents love me! I’m so cute, look!” He cheeses hard at me, making my giggle ring through the car. “That’s a yes, right? Great, come on!” He doesn’t give me time to respond as he gets out of the car, practically sprinting over to open my door. 

He pulls me up, dragging me to the front door as I pull out my keys. “Wait just one second, okay?” He nods, his arms swinging by his sides impatiently. I crack the door open, seeing nothing but darkness. I flick on the flights, seeing a barren living room. I listen for any sounds, hearing nothing but the wind pushing against the windows. 

I look back at him, nodding for him to follow. I shut the door behind us. “I just need to grab a couple things from my room, my dad might be in his room though–just,” I stop him at the bottom of the stairs. “--wait here for a minute.” He nods. 

I take a deep breath, the stairs creaking beneath my feet as I place one foot in front of the other. Reaching the top, I knock on his door. Silence meets me, but I don’t trust it. I slowly open the door, wincing at a screech of the rusted metal door hinges. 

I peek my head through the door, seeing him. He looks over at me blankly, a cigarette between his lips as he sits on the window sill. “What do you want? He grumbles. I feel my stomach churn at the sight of smoke falling from his lips. I bite back my tongue, shaking my head as I close the door with a soft thud. 

I look down at Matt, motioning for him to follow with my pointer finger pressed against my lips. He nods, walking up the steps quietly. I wait for him to reach the top of the stairs, swallow thickly as I look back at his door. 

I sigh, letting my shoulders sink with defeat. I walk towards my room, opening the door and shutting it as he walks through. I feel a boulder of embarrassment sink in my gut. I watch as his steps falter, scared to move as he analyzes the room. 

The twin mattress is on a cheap, metal frame in the center of the room. A ratted blanket is covering the mattress, the baby blue knitted blanket laying at the top by the singular pillow that lays flat and deflated. 

My anxiety shoots through my body as I watch him turn around. His eyebrows furrow before his lips tug into a slight smile. “Ya know,” he walks over closer to me. “--a stuffed animal would really make this feel more home-y.” He says. 

I tilt my head, holding back a smile. “Shut up.” I mumble, shoving past him and into the sliding closet. I pull out jeans, pulling down a bin full of my underwear. I shuffle around, pulling clothing out and into my hands. 

I hear Matt clear his throat, looking up to see him scratching the back of his neck nervously. He sucks in his lips between his teeth, avoiding my eyes. “You should, um…” I set the clothes down, crossing my arms over my chest. I raise an eyebrow at him as he meets my gaze. “You should bring some clothes over, just in case we wanna have more sleepovers unexpectedly, ya know?” He finishes. 

I hold back a laugh, shaking my head. I grab more underwear and bras out of the bin, placing them in my backpack. “Tired of me stealing all of yours?” I tease. 

“Nope, but I don’t exactly have women's underwear.” He holds up his hands in defense. My cheeks burn as I lick over my teeth. 

“Really?” I ask. My eyes flicker to his, watching as his eyes squint at me. “--I would’ve thought you had tons!” I remark sarcastically. He brings his hand up, smoothing over his forehead. 

“I–” His words are cut off by a pounding on the door. My eyes widen with fear, my fists clenching to my stomach. The door swings open a crack, my dad peeping his head in. “Listen, I’m sorry for–who is this?” He looks over to Matt, opening the door further. 

Matt gives a subtle wave, scratching at the back of his neck shyly. “I’m Matt, nice to meet you.” My dads eyes squint at him, cocking his head to the side. 

“Do I know you?” He asks. Matt shakes his head, “Nope, we just go to school together–I was gonna drive her to her babysitting job.” He answers. My dad hesitantly nods his head, looking back over at me. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?” He asks, his eyes staring down at me. 

I look back at Matt, giving him a small smile before walking out the open door. I hear my dad close it, dragging me down the hallway gently by my shoulder. “Who is that boy?” He interrogates. I shrug, “Matt–he’s a friend of mine, that’s all.” I answer. He furrowed his eyebrows, raising them as he rubbed his creased forehead. 

“Okay, just–no having sex, okay?” 

“Dad!” I whisper-shout. My eyes bulge out of my head as a heat of embarrassment and anger clouds my body. The audacity. “I can take care of myself, remember?” I spit. He moves his eyes, staring at the wall behind me with a sullen look on his face. 

“I…” he huffs. “--’m sorry, okay? I’m trying, I’m really fucking trying. I just–it’s really hard when you look more like her everyday. It hurts. I swear, I only bought cigs to curb the craving, okay? I…I never want to hurt you, not again.” He grabs out, caressing my forearm with his bottom lip pouted. 

My eyes swell with tears. Relief makes my breath fall with my shoulders. I look like her. Is that a blessing or a curse? “I…” I suck in a breath. “--I’ll do better with staying out of your business.” I say. He mumbles gratitude under his breath, patting my shoulder. 

“Okay, get to your babysitting whatnot. Are you coming home tonight?” He asks. I shrug, watching as he nods softly, walking in his own bedroom and closing the door. I sigh deeply, letting my feet float back to my room. 

I open the door, watching as Matt sits on my bed. His hand is caressing over the baby blue blanket with a soft face. “Ready to go?” He asks. I nod my head. 

I let my hand reach out. He stands up, walking over and placing his hand in mine. I smile at the comforting touch. He grabs my backpack from the floor, tossing it on his shoulder. I step out, leading us back down and out the door. 

_

I had put the address into his phone, holding it up for him to see the directions. Once he had parked on the side of the street, he sprinted out and opened my door for me. I grab his hand, giggling as he pulls me out of the car. 

My heart feels warm, my chest feels light, everything seems to be getting better. It’s not gonna last though, is it?

I shake off the thought as he walks me to the door. “Thank you for driving me. Really, you didn’t have to.” I say. He shrugs his shoulders, pulling me into his side. Before he can say anything, the front door swings open, revealing Mrs. Evans and her husband. 

“Hello! Oh–hi, Matt!” Mrs. Evans greets. Her husband grumbles something about getting the car from the garage, walking past us with a friendly smile. She grabs a purse, her sweater and jeans contrasting with her typical attire at school. She fixes her earring before clasping her hands together. “Will Hailey be having another buddy to hang out with, hm?” She questions. 

I watch as little hands grab at Mrs. Evans side, a small girl peeping her head around. Her brown, curly hair is done up in two pigtails with beads. Her brown skin, like most kids, looks buttery-soft. Her doe eyes look like honey from the porch light gleaming down on her. “I like your hair.” I compliment. The little girl blushes, hiding her face behind Mrs. Evans legs. 

“I get two friends, mom?!” Hailey exclaims, tugging on Mrs. Evans sweater. I let out an awkward laugh. “Well, he’s not staying, it’s just me.” I explain. Hailey’s smile falters, her eyes landing on Matt. 

“You don’t wanna be my friend?” Her eyes are teary as Matt immediately shakes his head. “No–I’d love to be your friend…” His eyes darted to mine with panic. “He’s just busy–” Hailey cuts me off, tugging Matt’s hand inside. 

Mrs. Evans laughs, holding her purse tightly as she rummages through the bag quickly. “The envelope on the counter is for you. I think I have everything,” she looks over, headlights beaming from behind me. “Okay, our reservation is in like ten minutes and it’s a fifteen minute drive. We’ll be back in around two hours-ish?” She walks off. “Just text if you need anything! Matt’s welcome to stay with you!” She winks before shutting the car door. 

I bite back a smile as I wave, walking into the house and shutting the door. I look up, my eyes bulging and my hand slapping over my mouth. I attempt to hold back the giggles, seeing Matt with wide-eyes sitting on the couch, Hailey decorating his hair with colorful beads and bows. 

“Do I look pretty?” He nervously asks. I nod, sitting on the couch next to him. “Very.” I answer. “You don’t, you don’t have to stay.” I point out. He shakes his head, “I want to, well–if that’s okay with you.” I nod my head, leaning my head on his shoulder as Hailey hums a song while fiddling with the bows in his hair above us. 

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[bellarkeselection]

His Compass of Harrenhal - part 3

Part 2 - Part 4

Tag list - @only4thefics @superintenseart @universallyrascaldreamercookie @uniquecroissant @vavafaure1994

It had been a few weeks before we had received the news that Grover Tully had died. Once receiving that letter I hadn’t managed to will myself out of my bed chambers that I shared with Daemon. Having my whole body buried underneath the covers while I just cried in a ball hearing the heavy door creak open and my husband’s voice came out into the room. “Y/n, what are you doing underneath the covers?”

“I’m not feeling well, husband.” I muttered not removing the covers off of my face while I cried. I wasn’t quite sure how much emotion I could show towards him about the passing of my Lord father.

His boots could be heard scuffing across the stone floor till I felt the mattress dip down at his weight while he crawled underneath the covers and wrapped his arms around my shaking form seeing the tears still coming from my eyes. “I don't really know what it's like to lose a parent. But I don't remember as much of my mother as I wish I did.” He gently ran his through my hair letting my tears soak his shirt with tears.

“I'm really glad you’re here. I don't want to be alone right now.” I snuff into the crook or his neck.

He kissed the crown of my head before he heard someone knock on our door. “I'm right here, little fish - Go away. We don't wish to be disturbed!”

“My apologies, my prince. Simon peaked his head inside our chambers altering us. “The Riverlands lords are waiting for you, your grace.”

Daemon and I followed Strong outside seeing all the Riverland lords and young Oscar waiting for us. I fixed my gaze only on my nephew. “Be welcome, my lords...and you have my thanks for answering my summons. I know I'm not the man my grandsire was, but I hope to begin well, and go on from there.” My very nervous nephew cleared his throat trying to address the bannermen properly.

Daemon moved away from my side shaking his fist in the air before pointing to the young lord. “Well said. One thing is clear...the Rivermen honor the old ways and abide by tradition. Here, then, is tradition. Grover Tully is dead. Lord Oscar raised up in his place. You have been summoned here to swear anew your fealty to him, and as his bannermen, answer his call.”

“And what would that call be?” A Riverlord I couldn’t recall the name of asked out into the open.

Daemon rested his left hand on the top handle of his sword that was attached to his hip. “In his wisdom, he has pledged his house, and yours, to me.”

“Lord Oscar, for generations we have been guided by the judgment of your forebears. Why should we now follow a boy, younger than my own sons, when you will align with one who will desecrate the innocent to reach his aims?” Lord Piper challenged my nephew.

Lord Blackwood pushed two other men who had chains wrapped around their wrists before the group. “I did only what was necessary, my lord. And I now deliver to you the traitor. Amos Bracken and his son.”

“No more traitor to his land. than you, Willem Blackwood.” Lord Piper scoffed at Lord Blackwood.

“I take to heart your words, Lord Piper, and I agree, I-I-I am young. And I have no love for Daemon Targaryen, unlike my beloved Aunt Y/n seems to. He has dishonored himself and the crown with his...comportment here.” Oscar turned back towards me and Daemon very slowly making me feel nervous knowing that me choosing to be with Daemon now put a target on my back against my former family House Tully. “Nevertheless, having so little experience to guide me, my best course is to defer to the oath my grandsire swore to King Viserys when he named Rhaenyra his heir. I see no reason to cast aside loyalty. no matter how loathsome I may find her representative, the prince.”

Daemon interrupted the young lord. “King. Mind your tongue, boy.”

“Daemon, don’t.” I stepped forward squeezing his forearm causing his purple eyes to drift down to meet my soft gaze.

Oscar slowly stalked over to the dragon prince getting in his face not fazed by what he had said. “Will you have our army or not? I am, in the end, a Riverman and the word of my house stands, even if certain people are unworthy of it.”

“Your Lord Oscar is bold. But he is perhaps not wrong. I may have been a touch enthusiastic. in pursuing my aims. But don't allow my failings to...keep you from supporting an upright man.” Daemon stepped beside Oscar shifting his gaze around to the other lords that surrounded them.

Lady Mallister spoke up. “Lord Oscar, we honor the old ways, as Prince Daemon says and the old ways call for justice to be done.”

“Justice has been done. They who bent the knee to the usurper have been brought to heel. And now, we unite before our liege lord...and our king consort.” Lord Blackwood yanked the two men who were his prisoners forward, eyeing his ledge lord to see if he was impressed or not by his actions.

“I accept you as my vassal, Willem Blackwood… but...I am Lord Paramount of all River Houses. And there is only one answer for the crimes you visited upon your neighbors.” Oscar raised a brow with a look of disgust to him.

Lord Blackwood wasn’t expecting that reaction from his lord. “I did only what His Grace the king required of me.”

“It is true that he made clear his base desires, but you did not have to pursue such savagery. You did it... because you wanted to.” Oscar deepened his voice in a threatening manner to one of his bannermen.

Another lord in the crowd raised his voice. “Our young lord speaks truly.”

Oscar simply declared. “Seize him.”

“God's no.” I gasped and brought a hand up to my lips briefly forgetting how we dealt with traitors in the Riverlands.

Willem Blackwood attempted to fight against his loyal lords dragging him before their Ledge Lord. “Don't fuckin' do this. Your Grace, command them. I've only served you. Command them.”

“If His Grace wishes to show contrition for his acts and to prove himself deserving of our banners he must now rectify his grievous error. Denounce your crimes...and dispense justice.” Oscar didn’t draw his sword and rather focused his eyes on the dragon prince telling him that he would be the one to take the lord's head.

“Oh, dear.” The knight who currently watches over the castle watched with nerves when my husband drew his sword and moved forward over Lord Blackwood who had been thrown down in front of him on his knees.

I didn’t realize a scream escaped my lips at the exact same time when Daemon raised his sword above his head and then lowered it beheading the man. “Ahh! D - Daemon.” I croaked with water eyes as he came back over to me, dropping his sword on the ground and just leading me inside the old castle.

“I didn’t think you’d have to see something like that. Are you - is the baby okay?” He asked me with a much gentler tone compared to the more serious one he had delivered to the Riverland Lords outside.

Placing one hand over his that was resting on my swollen belly I whispered meeting his eyes. “We’re alright, my king.”

“Good. I won’t lose my wife and little dragon if I can help it.” Daemon rested his forehead down against mine and I smiled about to kiss him till another set of doors around was flung opened by Simon Strong.

“Your Grace, my lady. Queen Rhaenyra has landed near the castle. She is requesting your presence, my prince.”

Clutching the fabric of Daemon's tunic in my fingers he pulled my head against his chest while I whispered under my breath very much terrified. “That can't be good for me.” Either she would accept me or try go feed me to her dragon.

[samgirl98]

Forgotten Demon Twin 10/?

Prev | Next

Well, here it is. Sorry for the long wait.

“What do you want, fruit loop?”

Danny got in a defensive posture, sure Vlad would try to attack him one way or another.

Vlad raised his hands, “I just want to talk, little badger. Especially since new secrets have come to light. I want to ensure certain ones stay in the dark from your moth—parents. We wouldn’t want them to find out how much of a killer son they had brought into their home, now would we?”

Danny scowled. He knew his eyes were glowing when Vlad started smirking.

“How dare you threaten me, Plasmius?” Danny said in a low voice. The room got colder. “I am the Crowned Prince of the Infinite Realms; I will be your King. The only reason you’re not fully dead right now is because I’ve been holding back. Don’t test me.”

“You adorable, Danyal,” Danny gritted his teeth at the way Vlad sneered his real name, “but let’s think about this logically, shall we? Your parents just found out their adopted son was sent to spy on them by a cult interested in their research. Fine, that’s one thing; they can forgive that. You’re still their precious baby boy.”

“Now, imagine you add on top of that. You tell them you’re Phantom, the ghost boy menace of Amity Park. Not only that, but you’re the Crowned Prince of the Ghost Zone, the future king of the very species they sought to experiment with and exterminate. Do you believe they can take the pressure and the angst? Will they forgive you?”

“And let’s say they do accept you for being Phantom? What will they do when they find out their son wasn’t just a part of a cult but an assassin? Will they see you as a monster for taking lives and being Phantom? Have you thought about that?”

“You just don’t want mom to find out you’re the Wisconsin ghost,” Danny accused even as a small voice at the back of his head whispered at him.

“Believe what you will, little badger. Believe what you will,” with those last words, Vlad disappeared.

Danny collapsed. Now, what should he do?

____

Bruce picked up the phone.

“This is Bruce Wayne.”

“Hello, Mr. Wayne, it’s Maddie Fenton.”

“Mrs. Fenton, how nice to hear from you again.”

“Put it on speaker,” Tim mouthed.

All of his children stopped what they were doing and paid attention. Bruce almost left the room but knew that would make them more curious and force them to find destructive ways to eavesdrop. With a silent sigh, he did what Tim told him to do while giving them.

“How may I help you, Mrs. Fenton?”

“Danny has agreed to a DNA test. When do you want to do it?”

His children perked up at the new information.

“As soon as possible,” he answered. He wanted to be a part of Danny’s life and wanted written proof Danny was his. “I have ways to do a discreet DNA so the media won’t catch wind of it.”

“Hm, that’s fine. How does tomorrow work for you, Mr. Wayne?”

“Tomorrow’s fine. I’ll pick you up—”

“No need,” Mrs. Fenton interrupted, “Tell us where we have to be, and we’ll meet you there.”

Her voice was neutral, if a bit off-putting. Bruce gave the name and address of the hotel where he was staying. While Bruce would’ve loved to have used the Batcomputer to do the test, he knew he couldn’t explain it to the Fentons. Instead, he got a trusted company that would keep the secret to do it and were on standby.

They would come to the hotel, take a sample and have it back to him in 72 hours.

“We’ll be there at 9 o’clock. Oh, and Mr. Wayne?”

“Yes?”

“It doesn’t matter what that test says. Danny is a Fenton. He’s our son. Ours. We’ve raised him; we’ve been his parents for the past eight years. So, if you try to take him from us, you will have a fight. Your money doesn’t scare us. We will do anything for Danny. Anything.”

“Mrs. Fenton, I would never want to take Danny away from the people he loves. I want to know if he’s my son and how I can help him. If that means he stays with you, well, that’s his decision.”

“Hmph,” she huffed, “We’ll meet tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“That went well,” Tim said.

“She feels I’ll take away her son. It’s only natural for a parent to want to defend their child,” Bruce said.

He may not show it most of the time, but he would protect his children with his dying breath, and if anyone tried to take them away from him, well, he would move Earth and Hell to get them back. He could blame the Fentons for wanting to protect their son from him. If anything, it made Bruce feel better that his son had found such loving parents.

“Now, where were we with these Anti-Ecto laws?”

He would protect his son however he could.

____

Two boys ran in the park with a dog chasing after them.

Damian watched them and felt envious. He could’ve had that with Danyal if he had looked for his brother after he went with his father. Instead, he had removed his brother so far from his mind that Damian had completely forgotten him. Even when he started getting along with his adopted siblings, Danyal never entered his thoughts.

Respawn suddenly came to his mind.

He still remembered his joy when he found out he had a blood brother, not an adopted one. Danyal still hadn’t crossed his mind. There was so much joy for a half-brother who wanted to kill him when his twin had been left alone and forgotten.

The two boys began wrestling with each other, giggling the whole time.

Would Damian and Danyal have had a normal sibling relationship if Damian had brought him home to father sooner?

“What’s on your mind, baby bat?”

“Tt, nothing, Richard.”

“He’ll come around if you show him you want him in your life.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Richard shrugged, “Then we leave him to be and protect him from afar.”

Damian frowned. He didn’t like Richard’s solution. He wanted his brother to come with them so he could mend the relationship. So he could show Danyal how much he’s changed. He didn’t need a fake family; he had father and the rest of their siblings.

Damian was about to say so when an explosion rocked through Amity. Richard got up quickly and looked toward the direction of the explosion.

Green, Lazarus green plumes (always that accursed color) rose into the sky.

Damian didn’t think; he ran toward it. He knew his brother would be there and was determined to help.

“Damian, wait!”

With a slight twinge of guilt, Damian ignored his older brother. He couldn’t afford to wait. He had a brother to help.

It's been a few busy months for me. First, depression hit me like a wrecking ball. Then, we moved, and I started a new job, and the next thing I knew, it was May.

I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Thanks for reading

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[aurashes]

"A dive into the past"

chapter nine

Brennan Sorrengail x Riorson reader Blurb: Star explains a piece of her magic while passing time waiting for e certain someone. wc: 3.9k ☆ SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. Not much really. Star's thoughts get their own warning? Uses pronouns: she/her. i use Star as a nickname as y/n sounds weird, and i'm awful with names.

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

After a lot of back forth with House Lindell today would finally be the day I'd see my brother again. Almost two months after I came back home I finally get to bring him home.

I didn't sleep much, I kept tossing and turning, filled with nervous energy. Wondering what state he'd be in, we might have been separated for only two months but those two months have been long and difficult.

Since I couldn't sleep I spend the night cleaning Xaden's room, tidying it up, making sure everything he could possibly need would be there. I refreshed his sheets which gained me some glares from the early staff because of the noise. I also gave him new and extra pillows.

In the morning I almost bumped into Brennan. Despite that our... Issues had been resolved, I didn't necessarily go look for him to spend my time. He still leaves meals for me with notes and what I heard from Felix he still doesn't spend much time outside his room. I visited him in the beginning of the week with some books I thought he might like but he didn't look too happy about them.

It fueled me with insecurity for some reason. I wanted to do something nice but I'm not sure that that is how it came over to him. An insecurity I still feel right now, as he literally sits Infront of me in the mess hall.

It's mostly empty, lunch ended an hour ago. I've been restless for the whole day. Waiting for Xaden to arrive. Aethan promised he would come and get me when he arrived but that was hours ago.

Brennan looks up from the paper I slid under his nose. His brows furrowed in confusion. "Please, enlighten me, what am I looking at?" His sarcastic voice asks. He knows I'm nervous and restless, he handles it well compared to other people. "A paper?" I cringe at my own words. "Your serious." He deadpans. "What are the symbols?" He asks, his voice a little softer now.

"They're runes." I state matter of factly. "They're runes on a paper." He looks at me as if I just told him his dragon spits water instead of fire. "Runes?" He asks with raised brows "You don't know what runes are? Did precious mom keep that from you too?" I taunt slightly, which earns me a glare.

"No, I do know what they are but they are forbidden." He explains softly. "I know they are." I say a little bitter. From all the provinces, Tyrrendor suffered the most after unification. We lost our language and our culture.

"Then why write them down? You're not allowed to use them and you can't use them." There's is curiosity in his voice. "Not allowed and not being able to are two different things." I correct.

"Yes, I know that but you can't use it. You're not a dragon rider. You don't have magic." I scoff at that. Dad was right, riders are truly pricks. Their ego bigger than their dragon. "And you think you dragon riders are the only ones with magic?" I challenge with a raised brow. "Yes, there is no other way except channelling from the ground and you look pretty sane to me." For the love of the lord.

I let my eyes glow their soft red hue. It's always a thrill to show people who think they're the only ones in power that they're not. It's so much fun.

His eyes widen slightly and he opens his mouth to say something but he quickly closes it.

I blink and now eyes are back to normal. I give him a moment to process before I answer what seems to be everyone's first question. "I was born with it. No one knows where it came from as both my parents didn't carry magic nor did their ancestors." He nods slowly. "I thought you would have had at least an idea that I had something as I used it a few times when we were stuck in that cave, hiding from everyone." I continue on.

"I don't remember much for then seeing as I had come back from the dead." He says sarcastic. Fair enough. What do I know about coming back from the dead.

"What can you do with it?" He asks, motioning to my eyes that were glowing earlier. I tilt my head, it's a good question but I don't even know where to start. "It's...complicated. We never found the limits. My dad told me the first time it showed was when I was four, it was harmless. From there on it showed more and more. When I was seven colonel Mairi started teaching me runes, in the hopes that could control it somehow, she had put this rune on a necklace to keep my magic contained. When I was seventeen I lost it near the cliffs of Dralor." I start, giving him a piece of past behind it, by far not everything.

"When you're a teenager you get to that age where you just wanna discover yourself right?" He nods. "Well, I took the necklace off many times. I'd be in the woods or near the cliffs of Dralor, trying things out. I devoured the library for books that could help, I tried everything in my reach." I continue.

"And? What did you find?" He asks with a curious tone. "If I'm correct, which I'm not sure of I am. My magic comes from a source in nature or nature itself. The possibilities so far have been endless. Moving things, making shields like wards, enhanced senses. Those seem to be the most common. But with the right idea a lot more is possible. It's just...unknown. Which is scary." I finish. I left out the parts of being able to read minds. But for the sake of not freaking him out more that might be smart.

He nods again, his eyes focused on mine. He looks like he's prossessing the information. "And of course the red glowing eyes and the magic itself looks pretty amazing." I say trying to lighten the topic. He laughs softly, leaning back as he looks at me with those adoring eyes.

We stare at each other for a moment. He looks like he has a million questions, which, fair. He opens his mouth but quickly shuts it and tenses. I frown and look behind me to see Ulices walk over us.

He looks directly at me, basically ignoring Brennan's presence. My frown deepens. "Lieutenant colonel." He addresses me. Oh, that sounds weird. I shudder. I'm never gonna get used to that. "You're needed in the assembly." He says curtly. My mind instantly goes to the worst case scenarios. "Excuse me." I tell Brennan hazy. He give me a small smile but I can see the tenseness in it.

I stand up and follow Ulices. My mind spins. What if Xaden is not coming? What If House Lindell changed their mind last minute. What if they sold us out to Navarre? Will they hurt Xaden? Or worse?

My mind continues to spiral as I follow Ulices. We turn the hall to the assembly room where almost every member except for Aethan waits.

Huh?

I stop once I reach them. My brows furrow in confusion as I stare at them, waiting for an explanation. Trissa clears her throat. "Aethan is waiting for you inside." She says as she gestures to the closed door.

Nervousness and nausea coils deep in my stomach as I make my way to the door. I push on the large door handle, opening it so I fit through. I close it behind me.

Aethan leans against the table, the stress is visible on his face, which only worsens mine.

I swear I'm gonna throw up.

I open my mouth, wanting to ask him what's going on when another voice cuts me off before I can even say something.

"Hey, little sister." My heart stops and I freeze. I haven't heard that voice in more than two months.

I slowly turn around, my whole body trembling. My younger brother, leaning against our father's throne.

"Xaden." I breathe.

☆

Taglist: @honethatty12 @smashee0789 @awkardnerd @randomperson1234sblog @bangtanxberm @hyperactive-bookworm-0

[azaharinflames]

I saw your answer to the fanfiction anon about how the buddie fandom is all about isolating buck from everyone else until the only one that's left is eddie. And thinking back to most of the fanfics I've read, that is exactly what happens. Like the theory that if you isolate two roosters for long enough, at one point they are bound to mate. I believe one of the major reasons behind that is the fact that Buddie only works through the fandom lense but once you broaden your perspective though, you are left with a very ordinary relationship and everytime i see any post by a buddie fan, I have to really wonder if they have ever had friends because if you think that is romantic behaviour, then me and my best friend are practically soulmates bound through the ages (well, we are but not like that). which is probably why it's so hard for the GA - particularly people who are not used to how fandom sees things, to care about buddie. because believe it or not, most people have an eddie in their life. actually most people have someone better than eddie in their life but that is a discussion for another day. raising a kid? my mother's best friend has half raised me even though i have a full set of parents, to the extent that she is still the only one whose approval i need for academic decisions. doing chores? i used to do my best friend's dishes every week because she hated doing them. people thinking they are together? our professor in college genuinely thought we were together and this is back when homosexuality was illegal in my country. shipping is fun, it's cool to find meaning where there might be none. it is death of the author at its finest. but that doesn't mean that you get to burn the book and posit that your version is the only version that's real. be a fan, don't be a white colonizer.

Couldn't agree more, Nonnie!

It sounds bad, and it is not my intention to be mean, but it does feel like a lot of them either lack a deep friendship in their irl life, or they choose not to see the similarities. I spent hours on end next to one of my best friends, helping her with her enrollment in her Master's because it was confusing her. A friend called me when she had something bad happening to her because she felt like I could be the one giving her comfort. One of my best friends had his Dad go through a very bad health crisis, and I spent days by his side so he wouldn't be alone. And, newsflash, I'm not in love with any of them.

When it comes down to it, I think this is why I can't bring myself to ship Buddie anymore, not even in a casual way. It is what stopped me from shipping them that much initially (Tommy coming into our screens was just the nail in the coffin) - I'd read a fanfic, and then go and rewatch the series, and I would realise just 1. how different both things were (yet how it was almost an unsaid rule that fanon was the actual canon) and 2. That Buddie just wasn't there in the way that was pushed in the fandom. All the moments of jealousy they claimed happened? Didn't happen. Buck spending all of his free time with the Diaz boys? Didn't happen. Buck and Eddie being co-dependent to the point everyone teased them about it? Didn't happen.

Their friendship, even? Not even half as good or deep as the fanfics write it to be. But that's a whole other rant lol.

My point is, it's fine to have a world created in fanon. My OTP isn't canon, all of my works exist solely in fanon. And it's fine! But a line is crossed whenever they try to force fanon into canon, and harass everyone who refuses to do that.

Also - I really don't like how they make Buck this defenseless man-child that needs Eddie to fight his battles because everyone is so mean to him, and only Eddie can save him. Bffr. Buck lived on his own for years, was a nomad for years. He's been shown to have a temper if pushed and poked enough. His sunny outer persona distracts people from it, but honestly? Buck can fight his own battles perfectly fine on his own (and has, in fact, done exactly that for the entirety of the show).

[delulupunk]

DUNE AU DAMIAN WAYNE X READER PART FOUR

Mild brutalia

Fem reader

Notes: Under no circumstances should opinions expressed by characters be linked to this author in anyway. This is written in the style of Frank Hebert’s book, this means spoilers for Dune. While inspired by Frank Herbert’s novel the plotline may be similar, however it will not be the same.

Someone please bully me into a regular update schedule

Imperial terminology

Bene Gesserit: The ancient school of mental and physical training established primarily for female students after the Butlerian Jihad destroyed the so-called ‘thinking machines’ and robots.

Caladan: Third planet of Delta Pavonis.

Filmclip: An apparatus used mainly for training consisting of a shigawire imprint carrying a mnemonic pulse.

Faufreluches: The rigid imperial system of class stratification.

Shield, defensive: The protective field produced by a Holtzman generator. A shield will permit entry only to objects moving at slow speeds.

Spacing (Guild): Powerful organization which ad a monopoly on space travel and transport due to their Navigators.

Mating index: The Bene Gesserit master record of its human breeding program aimed at producing the Kwisatz Haderach.

Mentat: The class of imperial citizens trained for supreme accomplishments of logic. ‘Human computers’.

Sapho: High-energy liquid extracted from barrier roots of Ecaz. Used by Mentats who claim it amplifies mental powers. Users develop deep ruby stains on mouth and lips.

Without our mothers, we are nothing of worth. Commentaries On The New Emperors Family- Empress Y/N

The soft wind swished Talia’s hair to the side as she looked down at her favourite flowers, which were jewels in a sea of sage leaves.

Pondering she brushed her hand against the soft surface of the petals. She found herself wishing that she knew who her parents were- she understood the Bene Gesserit reasoning of why it was never to be shared, yet still she longed to have true clarity over she truly was. It was well known that the information wasn’t shared, in case the necessity for crossing blood lines arises.

Talia didn’t want to know just for the sake of lineages. No, she was interested in possessing a picture of her parents, to see which one she most looked like- where all these features of herself came from.

She raised her hand slowly to her face, rotating it as she analysed it. Her hands were slender yet firm, a mix of her parents she decided to dub it.

Would they be proud of me?

If only she had a little diary filled with memories of her parents, their subtle tics, their beliefs, their friends and foes. Would she align with them or simply be so profoundly different that she could feel nothing but disgust?

The soft crunch of leaves from strong boots filled the air, Talia noticed the imperceptible difference between the sound of the standard issue boots, and the strength of the Duke’s.

Duke Wayne stopped before her and tipped his head to his lady, causing a smile to grace her face.

“You don’t frequent the gardens much my love.” The Duke stated, however his eyes shone with curiosity.

“Well it hasn’t rained today, beloved, so I thought I’d pay a visit.” Talia replied, answering his hidden question. The sun today on Caladan had been glaring as if it was prodding around the planet for a traitor. Even at sunrise this morning. Talia found her skin covered with perspiration which was a sensation she’d completely forgotten, due to the humidity of Caladan.

“And I thought I’d pay a visit to you.” Lovingly the Duke muttered, dipping his head down to place a kiss as sweet as cherries onto his woman’s lips. Silently they kissed each other, their lips making small movements against the others. Talia firmly tilted her head up and moved her hand to the back of his neck.

Clang

Clang

CLANG

Their kiss was broken like shattered glass as they heard clanging of the gates.

Talia used Bene Gesserit techniques to prevent herself from snapping her head like animal, and instead turned with curiosity.

The training could not prevent her breath from catching, as the Duke latched his arm around her waist- pulling her inwards.

Dreams are all emotion, and no thought.

Lessons From The New Emperor- Empress Y/N

“The language of flowers is so elegant Damian, you must read learn it one day! A bouquet isn’t just solely about aesthetics, it’s about hidden meanings!” The girl excitedly told him, her hands gesticulating as wildly as a bull. Each time she paced behind his back he felt a gust of air, she was truly going that fast.

“What doesn’t contain hidden meanings, beloved?” Damian smirked as he looked down at the papers thrown onto his desk.

“Yes, but the same type of flower can have different meanings, just dependant on its shade! Take for example…”

Damian shook his hand amused, his girl was truly an addict to knowledge. Not the same as a Mentat though, who concerned themselves with the nitty gritty and science.

He paused his thoughts to snigger at the thought of her being a Mentat, she was simple too happy and restless to be confined to her mind with all those facts.

Where Mentat’s found solutions in learning, she seemed to find joy. Damian admired her for it, he’d only studied purely for the duty of his House. Perhaps if he found pleasure in it, he’d be able to engage as throughly as she could in these conversations. Damian strengthened himself with steel, promising to love learning as she did, so he could see that brilliant smile of hers.

He was hyper aware of the harmony of her voice- it exhilarated him and awoke him from what felt a slumber for the ages. Every punctuation of her words, sent a jolt through his spine, while the soft syllables relaxed his head.

The girls fingers threaded through his hair, before yanking his hand back insistently.

“You’re ignoring me.” Damian could hear the pout in her voice, before any other senses could be felt. The twang of pain at her sudden pull came a moment too late, like an echo of a sound long passed.

Smiling amusedly Damian tipped his head back, “This better for you beloved?”

She grinned satisfied, “There’s my handsome-“

“Damian!”

A pillow rammed into his face causing him to splutter.

“I’ve been shouting your name!” Talia pulled her son from her bed and rushed to the other side of the room, hastily throwing a set of clothes at him.

“Come quick Dick Grayson is at the gates- he’s alive!” His mother cried.

Taglist: @maria-trisha

I love you all so much, thanks for still reading xxx

[zazozaliad]

ramble I keep saying I'd make about sunday wrt adoptee trauma

so this is the promised screed where I talk a little (a lot) on the way society treats adoptees, which Sunday and Robin are & which I think is uhh a detail we're kind of easily prepped by Orphans As Media Trope to not really dwell upon on a deeper level. and I get it. but star rail is in fact writing these two on a level where this is an extremely important detail of who they are as people, it's intrinsically part of how they TICK. they don't just have a Complicated Flock of Dad Situation, they don't just have religious trauma, they have the adopted child version of these things which is every normal part of it but also backwards on roller skates while someone calls you ungrateful for wanting to stop and fix your skates' laces when they start coming untied.

from my own admittedly limited perspective — I am one, but it was a kinship adoption; I thus recognize the limits in my point of view and also want to try and elevate the voice of other adoptees whose experiences of displacement were different than mine. for instance: here's a great article by mirah riben, that also comes full of links for further reading.

anyway. they're adopted. this is an extremely critical decision in the halo sibs' design, and going further into the narrative foils territory the Aventurine and Sunday similarities don't stop at 'Aventurine and Sunday both lost their home and parents.' There is a next step, and it is 'Aventurine and Sunday were both once trafficked children.'

Soooo let's get to it! Ahem. Adoption, as it exists in modern society, is a multi-billion dollar industry. it is not, in fact, a noble act of salvation, undertaken by adopter on behalf of adoptee. It is, in blunt distillation, an intentional act of putting a human being under another's care — or, "mercy," how about we call it? That's a great word, isn't it.

With them at his mercy, Gopher Wood treats Sunday and Robin, these 'twins of Order,' as his golden opportunity. He used power and influence to secure the chance to raise them, after the senseless disaster that uprooted their lives. This last bit is a fact neutral statement, by the way; even if he turned out to be the coolest flock of birds dad ever, he still plucked them up like they were some choice shinies left laying around. They perfectly suited his personal needs, so that's the whole reason he's in their lives, and that they're in his.

I'm framing this merest act of adoption in a highly uncomplimentary way for a reason. By the way, peep the bits of canon showing Robin and Sunday as really young children, and how they aren't explicitly being called 'Robin' and 'Sunday' there. But moving on!

Adoption, and not just the circumstances leading toward adoption, is traumatic. It doesn't always result in unresolved trauma, because different people have different levels of resiliency to different things; a stressor is a stressor, whether you tanked it well or not. It is a disconnect with, or even a destruction of a portion of one's personal identity. The places we are from, the way those before us lived, these are intrinsic parts of our selves an adoptee loses partial or full access to.

Star Rail is pretty decent at showing this, actually; we've met adoptees in every major area (even arguably Amphoreus, if we stretch for the case of Pasithea) and each and every time you can see how the experience complicates. Bronya discovers the bittersweet answer to that hollow in herself in front of us in real time. Yanqing is maybe one of the Softest depictions of this, and he is still a relentless workaholic who itches to show himself as worthwhile. Because that's the thing.

Because society frames adoption as benevolent sacrifice, there's that weight, always there, in the mind.

In truth, adoption is acquisition, the factual motion of a supply (of people. of a person) meeting a demand. You don't, actually, pledge to take care of a child on accident. That's not a real thing. A child adopter is, when we ignore all pretentious sentiment, a person enacting a desire to acquire a child.

Sunday, I think, is my favorite depiction of a Star Rail adoptee thus far. He continues to commodify himself into adulthood to the point we see him literally turn himself into a big craftwork of unfeeling metal and porcelain. But they specifically chose to Not make him unrelentingly gracious toward his 'rescuer,' a move that has given me terminal brainrot about him, irrevocably, forever! ...And actually, by the time we meet him, he's gotten kinda fuckin' bitey at his "father," while still carrying out his Big Plan? It's a fascinating thing to see and a breath of fresh air, because it would have been pretty easy to write him a different way, and may have even made him more 'sympathetic' by showing him as just being some poor misled soul waiting for a wake-up call in the form of a train to the face.

but instead we have who Sunday actually is.

Sunday is, in fact, well aware of the wrongness of his own lived experience getting exploited for the Oak Family Order Conspiracy's ends, but ….

...he still chooses to do what he does because sure. You can know. You can know it's all fucked up, you can have that conversation until everyone involved is blue in the face, but there is a version of reality you would prefer to be true and then there's the version of reality that you personally live in, and Sunday, if anything, is quite used to feeling like he's the person starkly forced into facing the latter, so much so, he thinks, okay. What if I could make it so that I was the only one who ever had to live that, from now on?

…

there are no easy answers to tragedy. The 'answer' Sunday has dedicated the majority of his life to is that if he could simply personally suffer enough, conform enough even through the bitterest moments, everything will become easier and more harmonious for the world at large. this belief propels him on through acts of great endurance, into doing some real mean shit, and also, into crafting a fake fantasy version of reality ("I am okay with this state of affairs") to push other people to live in because things will be more convenient that way.

This is, in fact, "the vibe," of being an adoptee, In The RL. It doesn't matter if you win the fucking lottery and get adopted by the sweetest person to ever live, the messaging of society at large is still gonna blare ever in your ear: you're so lucky. you should be grateful. aren't you grateful? why aren't you grateful? what's wrong with you? if you won't appreciate what you have, you should imagine what it's like if it gets taken away.

an adoptee doesn't have to imagine what its like to lose what they have, by the way. even if their adoption happened when they were an infant. and even as sunday tries to seize the mantle of becoming 'the strong,' to reforge himself into a guiding star, he speaks from the perspective of one who has been 'the weak.'

I do not have my fandom PhD in Robin studies yet so I don't feel like I can get as in depth here as I like, but also, the trauma of being an adoptee is where I feel that a lot of Robin's more implicit characterization comes from, and also where a lot of potential misunderstanding of her comes from, because people I think.. don't very easily relate to the adoptee perspective, and instead think of it like a more 'normal' (bunny ears) (massive. massive bunny ears) family dynamic where there isn't that particular sword over the head. I am extremely understanding of this! if you haven't lived it, it can be hard to grasp how bone deep it goes into you. in everything. every moment. every day.

but. uh. TO ME, there are so many moments she is saying "blink twice" to Sunday while being very careful to not potentially have him pull away, because she sees him as way more 'in deep' and indoctrinated than she is. I think Robin sees her brother for most of the plot and fears she's looking at a Grateful Adoptee(TM), and it is a brick wall between their ability to communicate earnestly with one another. have you seen the letter Sunday almost-but-didn't-send her by the way? ho-ho-holy shit. I need someone to write that canon divergence yesterday, but that's also me huffing copium over the idea that that letter would have ever made it off planet when people were canonically reading sunday's mail.

...by the way, I think it's really interesting that robin's activist work seems to be aimed to try and stabilize areas in need, rather than rescue people from those places. this, too, is a mark of someone who understands The Problem With Adoption, To Me,

uhh. I don't really know how to end this. I just really need people to think more about this specific angle of his character other than it just being a source of sadness in his background he has moved past because it's actually extremely formative of his Everything and also I stare into the darkness between stars when we talk about Welt signing adoption papers. It's fine. I'm not gonna come for you for saying that even if I try to remove it from my own vocabulary. But oh my God. Oh my God. Please commit to EXPLORING THE CONNOTATIONS I would love to see people make fanworks of him reckoning with the extremely mixed and difficult emotions that "Welt attempts to dad at him explicitly" would inspire.

ok... peace..... I've spent way too much time writing this when I am sick and should be resting....

[astoopidfool]

Expanding Chapter 8 - Blossom

| Rating: T | Words: 4,828 | CW: Mentions of drug use | On Ao3 |

| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 |

Tommy

It’s just past noon when his phone rings. Rolling out from under the car he’s currently working on, a banana yellow Volkswagen Bug from the 1980’s, he picks up the device that’s laying on the worktable and checks caller ID. It’s Branson’s school. Sighing, and rubbing at his forehead with grease stained fingers, he readies himself for what he’s going to hear. Swiping to answer, he puts the phone to his ear and says cordially, “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr. Tommy Buckley-Kinard?”

“It is.”

“Hi, Mr. Buckley-Kinard-”

“That’s a mouthful, please just call me Tommy.” He interrupts, already feeling the headache bloom. He loves Evan, but he curses their hyphenated last name on the daily. It’s too long for really no good reason.

“Tommy, then.” The voice on the other end of the line is friendly enough, but is no nonsense. From Tommy’s memory, it sounds like the principal. What’s his name? Mr. Coralson? “This is Harold Carlson calling from the high school” Carlson, that’s right. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m afraid that I need you to come down to the school to pick up your foster child, Branson Rodriguez.”

“My son.” Tommy corrects him. “I need to come pick up my son.”

A beat of silence. “My apologies, Tommy. I hadn’t realized that you had officially adopted him. Congratulations to you and your spouse. I’m sure Branson is in wonderful hands.” Ugh, Tommy hates empty platitudes, but he supposes the principal can’t exactly call the teen a little shit. Most parents would take offense to that.

“We haven’t yet.” Tommy clarifies. “But that doesn’t make him any less of our son.”

To his surprise, Tommy hears the smile in the man’s voice when he next speaks. “Well then, that’s just as good, if not better.” Another quiet pause. “But as much as I love to hear that, Mr. Buckley-Kinard, my reason for calling still stands. Branson is the unfortunate instigator of an altercation with Mr. Smith Patterson.”

Tommy’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. That isn’t what he’s expecting to hear. Branson is a lot of things, but Tommy would never peg him as the type to raise his fist. “Are you sure that he’s the one that started it?” Also, isn’t that Smith kid Branson’s best friend?

Mr. Carlson hums. “According to his own story, yes. Smith corroborated it. If you could please come to the school we can discuss it in further detail. Unfortunately Smith’s parents are unavailable at the moment, so I’ll have to have a meeting with them at a later date.” There’s unspoken words there; unavailable isn’t exactly the way to put it but in polite company, that’s the only PC way.

“Sure thing, Mr. Carlson. I can be there in about twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting for you in my office, Mr. Buckley-Kinard.” The line goes dead and Tommy lets out a long, slow breath, letting his head loll back as he rolls out his neck a few times and places his hands on his hips. Emira hadn’t been kidding when she warned them about Branson. Tommy knows, from the bottom of his heart, that Branson is a good kid. But god almighty is he testing every ounce of Tommy’s patience. He’s honestly glad that he’s the one who received the call and not his husband. Evan is the type to blame himself for everything, and he’s already got guilt for miles about Branson’s arrest, whether it stays on record or not.

Once his feelings are wrestled mostly back into place, he heads back into the house to wash off his hands and at least change shirts. The one he’s wearing has oil stains all down it from the pan dripping on him. In under five minutes he’s in his truck and driving towards the school.

The building looms as he pulls into a visitor parking spot not too far from the entrance. Hopping out, he checks his phone for any missed messages and sees one from Evan, sent about fifteen minutes ago.

<3 Evan: Miss you.

Tommy: It’s been like… four hours.

<3 Evan: Yeah? Well to me it feels like a lifetime.

Tommy: if you were here, I’d be snorting in your face you sap.

<3 Evan: It’s a good thing I’m not. I don’t want your nasty boogers all over me.

Tommy: I bet I know what you want all over you instead.

<3 Evan: Tommy omfg! I’m at work! You can’t just say things like that. Now I’m gonna have to miss you even more. *pouting face emoji*

Tommy contemplates taking a crotch shot to show Evan that he isn’t the only one affected, but then he remembers where he is and settles for:

Tommy: Good. If you’re thinking of me it means you won’t cheat on me. *kissy face emoji x5*

He snickers for a long minute thinking of the look of indignation Evan most certainly has on his face right now. Tommy loves him, but Evan doesn’t handle jokes at his own expense very well, so Tommy has to be exceedingly careful when he uses them. The last thing he wants to do is legitimately hurt Evan’s feelings, even if most others would take the comment in stride. His husband is a sensitive person, towards others and himself, and it’s a quality Tommy wouldn’t change for the world… Even if Tommy’s snarky attitude gets him in trouble more often than he likes.

<3 Evan: You’re such an asshole. But I think I like you anyway. Swing by the firehouse tonight or tomorrow?

Tommy: Of course. I think I like you, too. Have a good shift. *heart emoji x3*

Tommy slides his phone back into his pocket, rolls his shoulders a few times, and strides towards the front entrance. Through the front doors, he veers left into the office where the secretary, Ms. Eve - a younger white woman with platinum blonde curls Tommy’s grandmother would’ve envied, bright pink lips, and a genuine smile - greets him. “Hello, can I help you?”

Tommy surveys the room, eyes stopping on a familiar teen, slumped in his seat as he fidgets with one piercing and then another, alternating as though on a puppet string. He hasn’t even looked up yet, seemingly lost in thought. Bringing his eyes back to the pretty, young, secretary he says, raising his voice a bit in hopes he’ll get his son’s attention, “Yeah, I got a call from Mr. Carlson about my son, Branson.”

Ms. Eve gets a pitying look on her face. “Oh, of course. You must be Mr. Buckley-Kinard-”

“While I love my husband dearly, I’d really appreciate it if you’d just call me Tommy. My biggest mistake in marrying him was telling him we could hyphenate.” Tommy winks and gives her a cheeky smile. She blushes and snorts a laugh, her pink lips turning up in the smallest smile.

“Why d’you think I stayed with Eve?” She chuckles. “Anyway, I understand, Tommy. Mr. Carlson is waiting for you in his office. I’ll let him know you’re here. Please take a seat while I reach him for you.” She points in the direction of the seats Branson is parked on. He’s still staring at the ground as if he’s waiting for it to open up and swallow him. Nodding and stuffing his hands into his jacket pocket, he approaches the teen.

“Hey.” He says, plopping down in the spot right next to him. Branson’s body stiffens, something in his demeanor changing in an instant. He doesn’t speak but the fidgeting stops. There’s a nearly feral look in his eye and Tommy swears Branson’s biting the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t know what to say or do when he’s like this so he remains quiet, trying to give off some sort of calming vibe; tries to convey that, while in trouble, Branson needn’t worry. Tommy’s frustrated, not mad. There’s a vital difference.

Not more than three minutes later, the door behind the front desk swings open and the principal, Mr.Carlson walks out, a grim look on his somewhat pudgy face. He’s got cheeks like a chipmunk which takes away from the height advantage when it comes to intimidation. Harold Carlson is by no means a small man, standing at least 6’2 and weighing at least 200 pounds. His white-grey hair is still thick and gelled back into a gentle puff, a wisp of bangs tickling his eyebrow. Underneath the layer of extra love, Tommy feels that there’s a whole lot of muscle. This is the type of guy that plays sports where being heavy is a benefit.

His brown eyes roam the room before landing on Tommy, who’s now standing. “Ah, Mr. B-... I mean Tommy. Thank you for coming.” Approaching, the older man holds out a hand that hosts surprisingly slender fingers. Tommy takes the hand and shakes it. “While I would love to be meeting under better circumstances it is what it is.” He turns his eagle sharp stare on the boy. “Mr. Rodriguez. If you’d please come with us.”

“Yes sir.” Wow. His voice is the smallest Tommy has ever heard. Branson’s always shown a level of self confidence most would envy. He spoke with assurance, even if he was in the wrong. But right now, it’s like the teen is a shell of himself. When he stands, he hardly picks up his feet as he’s ushered into the small, clean office. Tommy follows a step behind, closing the door without asking.

Herded to one of the chairs in front of the large desk, Branson sits, falling hard into it. Habitually he begins picking at his cuticles. Tommy can see how raw and red there are from here. Something pulls hard at his heart and he moves on instinct, grabbing his son gently by the wrist and pulling the arm back so he quits destroying his skin. Branson’s breath catches and he stops breathing. “Branson.” Tommy tries to keep his words soft. “That’s enough. You’re going to start bleeding.” Tommy feels the way his pulse races where his fingers are pressed into his skin. God. This boy was terrified. Of him?

Tommy takes a steadying breath before letting go of Branson’s wrist, setting his hand on Branson’s shoulder and squeezing lightly instead. He can’t check the teens heartbeat anymore, but he seems to breathe again, however shallowly. Hopefully he doesn’t begin hyperventilating. If he does, it's a good thing Tommy has EMT training. Turning his attention to Mr. Carlson, who’s now sitting behind the desk, hands clasped on its top, he states, “Tell me exactly why I’m here, Mr. Carlson. I understand that Branson instigated a fight but I’d like the whole story.”

“Yes, let’s get straight to the point. Unfortunately we found Mr. Rodriguez and Mr. Patterson duking it out in the hallway near the exits to the football field just prior to A lunch. When Mr. Anderson got to them, he’s our campus security guard, Mr. Rodriguez has Mr. Patterson held down on his stomach, trapping him. If help hadn’t arrived when it did, Mr. Rodriguez himself admits that he was ready to smash Mr. Patterson’s face into the ground.”

Gawking, Tommy’s mouth flaps soundlessly for a solid thirty seconds as his grip on Branson’s shoulder tightens. When he finds his words his voice is brusk, “Branson. Seriously?” It takes an agonizingly long second for Branson to bob his head in acknowledgment. Tommy stares at him in astonishment. “Christ, Branson. How badly did you hurt him?”

The principal clears his throat. Tommy snaps his head back to him. “Though quite bruised, and having his nose broken, Mr. Patterson is otherwise alright. The nurse did what they could with the resources available, though we sent for a professional to check for anything more serious.”

Tommy is forced to swallow the lump in his throat. He’s known enough people in his life that resort to violence to solve their issues that he doesn’t want it for anyone else. Fists tend to only make things worse; he’s learned through first hand experience. Quietly he asks, afraid if he speaks any louder he’ll lose it, “Tell me why, Branson. Every detail, I don’t want the abbreviated version.” To his utter shock, Branson spoke immediately, not making a single excuse for his actions. He states the facts without embellishing anything. There’s no elation about the fight in his words. It feels like a sad resignation, like Branson expects it of himself.

“So you see,” the principal says once Branson finishes his story, “it’s quite the response to the actions taken. Ms. Portman wound up with some bruises as well from Mr. Patterson’s actions but she’ll be just fine, and should heal in a few days. Now, as for Mr. Rodriguez’s punishment.” Mr. Carlson sighs heavily, seemingly genuinely upset over what he’s about to do. “The violence shown today is unacceptable for any reason. An adult intervening is the only reason that the fight came to a somewhat peaceful resolution. That being said, I understand that many students view out of school suspension as a vacation, but it is the best course of action for all parties involved.”

Branson’s shoulders shake under Tommy’s hand and he glances down at him. Branson’s eyes are wet, a single tear sliding down his cheek as he holds in a sob. Attention back on Mr. Carlson Tommy asks, “For how long?”

“A month. Minimum. During that time, I will expect Mr. Rodriguez to continue his coursework online. The only positive thing to come from a modern day pandemic is the ability for students stranded away from school to continue their lessons. I’d be more hesitant to do such a long suspension if he had no way to keep up on his school work, but the joys of modern technology make it an easier choice.” The man takes a deep breath before steepling his fingers, attention turning to his student. “Once he returns from his suspension, I will expect him in detention Monday, Wednesday, and Friday every week until the teacher on duty decides that he’s fulfilled his punishment. Do you understand, Mr. Rodriguez? You will be out of school, but this will be no vacation.”

“I understand.” He sniffles, not bothering to wipe his face.

“And what about the Patterson kid? Clearly he’s got some answering to do.” Tommy asks, a slight bite to his words. His kid fucked up but he didn’t do for solely selfish reasons. That isn’t an excuse, but it softens the blow a bit. “It sounds like he’s already on the police’s radar.”

The principal nods. “I can’t give you all of the details but Mr. Patterson will be removed from the school for an indeterminable amount of time. During that time he will be seeing a counselor that will help to get him back on the right path. And if that doesn’t work…” The thought hangs in the air like a rain sodden cloud.

“I understand. Am I allowed to take him home now?” Tommy asks, giving Branson’s shoulder one last gentle squeeze before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Certainly. He’ll receive an email where he can join in any classes that he’ll be missing. Teachers will be expected to continue marking him present or absent so make sure that he’s signing on each day. As for the rest of the day he’ll just have to miss the lessons.”

“Will do. C’mon, Branson. Let’s head home.” Wordlessly the teen gets to his feet, grabbing his backpack by the straps and letting it swing between his legs, an attitude like that of a beaten dog. Ire rises in Tommy’s chest because no child should feel this scared, especially of a guardian. Holding back a growl, he guides Branson in front of him, nods to the principal and Ms. Eve, and leaves the school behind.

When they get back to the car, Branson goes to open the back door but Tommy stops him. “Why not sit up front, Branson?” His shoulders are up by his ears again as he hunches in on himself, trying to make himself as small as feasibly possible. “I don’t bite, I swear.” He tries to add some levity to the situation. He doesn’t know how to make him relax, or if he even can if he’s being honest. The teen is opening up to Evan more than himself and he’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because Evan is sunshine and warmth and a golden retriever incarnate, while Tommy is more like a cat - moody and guarded and acts uninterested but then offended when he’s not included. He’s difficult to open up to, he knows that. It still hurts a small bit to know that even someone he’s trying to make his family is weary.

Shifting from the back door to the front, Branson pulls it open and slides into the front seat, hugging his bag to his stomach like it’s a life preserver, the only thing saving him from drowning. Swinging the door closed, Tommy sighs heavily and runs his fingers through his hair, sending his curls astray. If this is how the next forty-eight hours are going to go, it’s going to be a very long two days.

Getting into the driver’s side he puts the truck into reverse and pulls out, pointing the vehicle in the direction of home.

As he expects the ride is more silent than the grave. As they approach their driveway he states, “I don’t want you sitting in the house by yourself right now so I’m going to clear a spot off on the workbench and you’re going to hang out in the garage with me.” A small part of him wishes Branson would rebel, show a little bit of that familiar ferocious spirit he’s got but instead he nods like a meek little kitten. Head drooping and sighing in resignation, they climb out of the car and head the rest of the way back down the long drive to the garage that’s hidden behind the house.

They enter through the side door and Tommy flips the switch, illuminating the space with the bright fluorescents. Walking over to the table that’s covered in tools and various bits and bobs he pushes them aside, making sure to keep them somewhat orderly for easy access, and takes a cleanish rag to wipe the surface down. Once that’s complete, he habitually throws the rag over his shoulder and turns to his son. To his surprise, Branson’s eyes are locked on the Bug, mouth dropped open in the tiniest O of shock. He never hangs out outside so Tommy isn’t all that surprised by his surprise. “A Volkswagen Bug, circa 1985 or so.” He states, unable to stop his smile. “I’m only about 60 percent done restoring her so she’s got a long way to go.”

Branson approaches slowly and looks down into the engine compartment, brown eyes taking in every little detail about the car. His lithe fingers brush over certain parts and he inhales sharply, eyes turning a bit glassy as he pulls his hand back. “T-that’s cool.” He mutters, turning and stomping over to the table. Dropping his bag, he falls onto the wooden stool pushed under it and begins to pull out his school supplies.

Interesting. Tommy thinks. Wonder if he has a thing for cars in general or if it’s just the classics. “Thanks. I’m going to go change back into my other t-shirt so don’t go anywhere.” As he exits he hits the garage door opener and it trundles open slowly as heads back into the house.

For the next two hours the two of them work silently side by side, though Tommy can feel Branson’s eyes on him, burning holes in his back with a million questions. They’ve got the radio playing a station that plays mostly rap and hip-hop - Branson’s choice - and he finds himself bobbing his head to the beat. He’s never actively listened to this particular genre, but he finds that he doesn’t hate it. Eventually the silence is too much, the laser focus on the back of his head more than he can take so Tommy starts to ramble. “You know, Branson. What you did was wrong, but I’m not really that mad about it. There’s no right reason to do what you did, but I can kind of understand. What Smith did to Nikki wasn���t right, and the way he was talking about her was unacceptable. That being said, he’s been clear about his feelings about myself and Evan since day one. While I don’t exactly enjoy some of the things people say about me, it’s no skin off my back when a newly turned eighteen year old is talking smack about me.” He cranks the ratchet in his hand, relishing the sound as it’s turned. It’s soothing.

He doesn’t turn as he hears Branson’s toe scraping over the dirt laden floor. When there’s no timely response, he expects his words to be ignored so when Branson replies, he goes stock still and listens. “He shouldn’t say things like that. He called Nikki a bitch and a whore and a whole bunch of other things. She didn’t deserve that.”

“No, no one ever deserves to be called those things.” Tommy agrees, bending back over the engine to continue working. “As for what he called myself and Evan, as well as every gay man alive or dead, I know you’ve said similar things.”

“No I haven’t-!” He goes to defend himself, the stool screeching back as he goes to stand.

“We know you have, Branson, and it’s okay. You grew up in an environment where being different was frowned upon. Evan’s teammate, Eddie, grew up in Hispanic culture, the machismo culture, and he developed some pretty damn backwards beliefs about masculinity and the roles women were to play.” The bolt tight, Tommy turns and leans casually against the bumper, crossing his arms once more, as well as his ankles. “It took him well into adulthood to unlearn some of those behaviors. There are some he still can’t quite shake but that’s a topic for another day.”

A blush rises to his cheeks and he looks away. For the first time in the months they’ve had him, Tommy can’t help but see him as cute. Still a teenager. The thought makes him grin, just one side of his lips quirked up. “I… I don’t like that I said those things.” He admits quietly. “You guys… you guys aren’t like what I thought queer… gay men… are like.”

“And if we had been?” Tommy knows what he’s referring to. If he and Evan had been more on the effeminate side of the queer scale, and were more visibly a part of the community, Branson’s opinions would likely still be different. The shrug he gives proves it. “Anyway, we can maybe discuss this more later but I can tell that you’re upset by your actions and that’s all I can ask. Just know that I can’t fault you one hundred percent for your actions, even if they weren’t the best course of action, and know that I appreciate you standing up for Evan and myself. You’re growing, Branson, and we couldn’t ask for more than that.”

The urge to hug him grows too strong to ignore so Tommy walks right up to him and wraps him in a bear hug, pressing his cheek to the top of his head and not letting go until Branson wraps his arms around Tommy’s waist and hugs him back. They stay wrapped like that for a solid minute, at least, before Tommy lets go and ruffles the boy's hair. “So, I saw you eying the car. Are they something you enjoy?”

Branson swats his hand away, some of his spunk coming back, though his cheeks are rosy either with embarrassment, happiness, or a mixture of both. “Um… Not cars… really.”

“Oh no? You seem to know some about them.” Feeling lighter, Tommy returns to work, though he shuffles around the vehicle so he can work while watching Branson as he does, the tension between them eased by at least 85 percent.

Branson picks up the pencil he’s been writing with it and fiddles with it for a second before saying, “When I was a kid, I had a collection… of model cars. I, um, I didn’t want to work on cars but… I liked looking at them. It wasn’t huge or anything, but I treasured them a lot. My grandparents gifted them to me any time they went anywhere, they would stop in at local rest stops and stores on the side of the highway to check and see if they had any different ones. My abuelo loved to tell me all their stories and would tell me all about the models they’d found.” Tommy’s heart melts into a puddle of goo at the soft expression on Branson’s face, at the far away look in his eyes. Tommy’s never seen anything even close to that in the three months he’s been here. “Once they died, I didn’t have much chance to collect them anymore, though I would sometimes find Hot Wheels for cheap at thrift stores, though it was never the same.”

Tommy wipes his hands on the grease rag over his shoulder. “What happened to them?”

Branson’s expression shutters, lips drawing into a thin, pale line. “My parents started selling them off for drugs saying that they were just useless pieces of junk that cluttered up the house.” Under his breath he muttered, “As if the trailer we lived in wasn’t a piece of shit that fell apart if we breathed the wrong way, anyway.”

“Branson, I’m so sorry to hear that. That was wrong of them.” Tommy’s brows furrow, upset at Branson’s, rightfully, sour mood. “Were you able to keep any of them at all?”

He nods, but shrugs. “I mean, I managed to stash a few of them and I took them with me when they took me away but…” His expression falls further. “Some kids found them at my first placement and before I knew it, I was told that I had to share them, and that I couldn’t hoard toys. They tried telling me that they weren’t mine, there was no way I could have something like that, and said they must’ve bought them and just didn’t remember. I stashed one away for safe keeping, the very first one my abuelo and abuela gifted me, but when I got to the group home, I was told I was too old for toys and they took it from me.” He sniffles, clearly upset, but he shakes his head, dispelling any tears he may have cried. “Anyway.” His words are choked, but he’s trying to be strong. “It was just a stupid collection, and I’m too old for toys anyway. But yeah. That’s why I like cars.”

Tommy decides right then that he will scavenge the world if he has to to find replacements, and more, for every single model car taken from this boy’s hands. “Hey, you’re never too old to find enjoyment in something. If you like model cars, you like model cars. If you want to see the bigger versions, maybe we can find a car museum some day and go check them out.” His expression brightens, a small hint of excitement in them. “I’d have a great time, too. There’s a lot of cars that had a very short production window and I’d like to be able to see some of them with my own eyes.”

“That… sounds like fun.” He admits, scratching at his nose before tugging lightly on the small golden hoop in it, a nervous habit if Tommy’s ever seen one.

Grinning Tommy nods, resolute. “Awesome. Let’s look some up together later, alright?” Branson nods, looking significantly happier than he had in weeks. “Now, it’s almost dinner time. How does it sound meeting Evan at the firehouse for dinner? You can finally meet at least the adults in the family.”

He perks up, sitting up straight in his chair. “Yeah?”

Laughing Tommy says, “Absolutely. I’ll text him to let him know we’re coming. Go shower and get changed. I’ll be right behind ya.” Hopping up from his seat, Branson zips through the garage, leaving his things behind. Chuckling softly, with a small shake of his head, Tommy pulls out his phone and opens the text thread with his husband.

Tommy: Branson and I are stopping by for dinner. I have some things to tell you so be prepared.

<3 Evan: Uh-oh, should I be worried?

Tommy: Maybe only just a little. *smirking face emoji*

He slips the phone back into his pocket without waiting for the answer and trails after Branson into the house, excited to finally be making real progress with a kid that just needs a little bit of care and attention.

[theoppositequeens]

Fandom: The Empyrean (Fourth Wing)

Relationships: Bodhi & Imogen & Eya

Rating: T

Warnings and tags on Ao3. Read here on Ao3.

Me and @ellebellewritesfic have this little challenge of doing drabbles for 7 Taylor Swift songs each for 7 days of Bodhi Week 2025 by @empyreanevents

Written for Bodhi Week 2025 Day 3: Signet Countering. What could be the reason Bodhi manifested a signet blocker? Is it as simple as being useful for the revolution or is there a darker explanation? Title from Eyes Open - Taylor Swift.

nobody comes to save you now

---

It’s a showdown

And nobody comes to save you now

But you’ve got something they don’t

---

Bodhi is sure he, Eya and Imogen are going to die.

They’re surrounded.

It would be almost a fair fight, four against three, if the cadet from First Wing right in front of them wouldn’t have manifested a fire wielding signet just last week, among the first of their year group. It’s barely December, no one else has manifested anything significant, and though Cuir has been channeling to Bodhi for a while, he doesn’t have an inkling of what his signet may be.

He’s never going to find out.

Careful not to move too quickly, he inches in front of Imogen and Eya, though they don’t take the protection his bulk would offer, flanking him boldly instead. They’ve got weapons in hand, Imogen has pulled a pair of wicked-looking daggers, but Bodhi knows that her aim isn’t good. She might hit him, she might not. If she doesn’t, he’ll kill them for sure. If she does, there’s no saying he won’t be quicker, or able to torch them while wounded.

Rushing them will do no good either, as there’s too much distance to cover. They’d be burnt before they got there.

“Look at you,” a woman on the fire-wielder’s right says. Her voice is mocking and sharp. “Cornered like the dogs you are.”

Bodhi chooses not to answer, but Imogen does, playing for time.

“What does that make you?” Imogen snorts, lifting her chin in challenge. “Our scraps? Because I could take you in a fight, Malva, and leave you in bloody tatters for the scavengers to gulp up.”

Sometimes Bodhi wonders how she knows the names of fucking everyone in the Quadrant, when she studiously pretends to ignore all of them. He’d kill to sit in on her gossip sessions with Quinn. They must be vicious.

At least Imogen will die vicious, as she’s always been.

“But this isn’t a fight,” Malva says, her tone gleeful in a way that is truly disturbing. “This is an execution. Look at you, all lined up against the wall.”

They were taken by surprise, and they’ve been backed into a dead end by the fire-wielder. It’s not near any main hallway. The chances of anyone coming across them are slim. Cuir has already relayed a distress call to any other marked ones within Basgiath, but there’s no telling if they’ll get here in time. Most of the second years – Xaden included – are on a fucking land nav course, out of range.

“All neat and orderly,” one of the others chuckles.

“You don’t even have it under fucking control yet, Tristan,” Imogen spits, defiance in every line of her tense body.

Tristan – that’s his name, the fire-wielder – smirks, cocking his head. “Well, I don’t need to have it under control. Just need to create a large enough blaze. And I’ve practiced for this.”

Fuck, that’s sickening.

“Been setting up bonfires by the Iakobos?” Imogen taunts, but Bodhi knows she’s afraid. Knows this is an embodiment of all of their nightmares.

“We aren’t our parents,” Eya tries, her tone soft and conciliatory. Bodhi admires her calm, her obvious attempt to de-escalate and buy them time, but he doubts it will work. “We haven’t betrayed Navarre.”

That’s a lie, but Bodhi isn’t going to tell them.

“You’ll die all the same. They killed my family,” Tristan says. “Why should their families deserve to live?”

Bodhi can see him raising his arms, and despair tries its best to claw up his throat. He feels like he might throw up.

“Calm, my Loyal One,” Cuir urges. “Think.”

But there’s no time to think.

“It’s no dragonfire,” Tristan comments, like he’s truly disappointed he can’t summon up that kind of power. “But it’ll do for traitors. Some kind of poetic justice.”

They’re going to die, all three of them, the same way their parents did. Burnt alive, only this is guaranteed to be a much slower death. The dragonfire that swept over their parents and siblings barely gave them time to scream. It was hot enough to be blue, scorching Bodhi’s face where he stood, hot enough to leave nothing behind.

This won’t be that hot. Tristan has barely got rudimentary control. They’re going to die in pain.

Imogen and Eya.

They’ve been his friends since childhood, both their parents from Aretia, and Bodhi can’t imagine better people to die alongside – except his cousin – but he wishes he was alone. He can take pain. He can take death, even if he’s afraid, especially knowing Cuir has relayed the identities of their attackers and Xaden will hunt them down the second he returns, or someone else will before then. He will be avenged, and these cowards will die.

But his friends.

Bodhi can’t stand the thought of a world without Imogen’s glare and her sharp tongue. A world without Eya’s knowing smile and her heart of gold.

They’ve pressed closer, the women, their shoulders against Bodhi’s, like they are one entity. And they have been, through childhood. Even if their closeness is not the same now, not after years of separation, and they’ve got other friends, they’re still a trio.

Funny, that they were all born in the same month, only days apart, and now they’ll all die on the same day, likely only seconds apart.

At least we weren’t alone, Bodhi thinks. Our mothers were friends, we slept in the same cradles, and we grew up together. We saw them all die together. We survived Threshing together. We bonded dragons together.

"And I will be with you, always," Cuir says. "You can do this.”

It’s a comforting thought.

The flames rise in Tristan’s hands and Imogen throws her first dagger.

It misses.

There’s no time to wait for Imogen to throw the other, because the standoff is broken and the flames are rushing towards them, insidious heat filling the hallway in a blaze. At his side, Eya moves as if to duck, as if to escape, and Bodhi remembers the same instinctual movement in his mother, seconds before her demise. The reflex to flinch from the heat emanating from Codagh’s maw.

No. No. Imogen and Eya won’t share the same fate.

Bodhi refuses to let them die like this.

His hands rise without his own input, as if to shield him from the flames, and as his wrist twists, the deadly heat dies as if all air has been extinguished, its power supply cut off.

There’s no time to ponder what he’s done, no time to process the roar of approval from Cuir in his ears.

Tristan’s eyes widen in fright and surprise before Imogen’s second dagger catches him in the chest. In the next moment, Bodhi is rushing the remaining cadets, and Imogen and Eya are following into the fray.

They come out with broken bones – Eya’s ribs – and a few bloody gashes, but they live.

[creacherkeeper]

happy pride everyone

for some reason i was sitting outside this morning and enjoying some shockingly not boiling hot weather and reflecting on a post i had made like ... 12 years ago on here that "blew up" (like 60k notes on early days tumblr) and thinking like. wow i sure do know a lot more about myself now that makes all that make sense but

the post was someone saying like. hey how can you call yourself an atheist and support gay people because gay people go against the concept of evolution. and my reply was like. actually there are gay members of like every social species weve studied it in and i had a bunch of facts laid out about all the different very gay animals of this world (like giraffes having very largely m/m sex)

but now, like 12 years later, i am thinking about human evolution and queer identity and thought it would be fun to talk about. i am by far not an expert and so if there are experts who want to correct me or talk more in depth about this Please jump in but

... why did humans evolve to be queer anyway?

very short answer: because its helpful to raising kids

longer answer: though its debated whether humans are a prosocial or eusocial species, it is agreed upon that early humans cooperatively raised young, including those that they did not personally sire or give birth to, and that we lived in multi-generation communities where younger members would help raise older members offspring, and vice versa

(note: im using the terms amab and afab for human populations potentially pre concepts of gender but work with me here, i dont want to keep repeating genitalia or genomes when those arent always a helpful 1 to 1 either. sex is a spectrum gender is made up etc support intersex rights)

we know that due to fraternal birth order effect (npr link), youre 33% more likely to be gay with each older amab sibling that you have (not 33% total, but 33% more, so like 2% to 2.6 to 3.5 etc). this is true of both amab and afab people with older amab siblings. we also know that a birthing parent having more of a specific antibody makes their children more likely to be gay (and that antibody is not exclusive to but is highly tied to giving birth to amab children)

in addition, evolutionarily speaking, its just as advantageous for your siblings children to do well than it is for yours to. its incredibly rare you would happen to have a very helpful mutation that your siblings dont have. which means that your siblings kids would be about 25% amab grandparent, 25% afab grandparent, and 50% a parent who is unrelated to you. this is exactly the same for your own children

okay, so what does that mean?

to put it simply, it means that having older siblings, specifically older siblings who are more easily able to sire more children, makes you more likely to end up in a same-sex couple, which means you are two adults with no children who are now around to help raise children you are equally invested in the success of than if they were your own

the more older youth or adults you have around to help who are not also using up a bunch of resources by being pregnant and having non-helping-age children, the better off that community's children will be. more people to hunt and gather and create resources like tools, which means everyone prospers, especially the kids

or, to frame it from the opposite view: having gay siblings means your children are more likely to survive and thrive

(kind of funny how conservatives are like gay people shouldnt be around children when the entire point of our evolutionary development was that we were great to have around if you had kids but like. alas)

so, thats the very basic core of it. but you can apply this concept to a lot of queer identities. aroace? working adult around to help who is not bringing in an unrelated partner or having kids. trans? you now either have an m/f couple who can fill two different social niches without having kids, or you have a gay couple who is able to do more varied physical tasks whether or not they do have kids. bi people may have kids or may not, or their children may be more spread out if they have partners of different sexes over time

not to mention you kind of have some built in, ready to go parents in the case that another community member dies, and there are now orphans that need raising. its a lot harder for someone whos already a parent to take on more children, as opposed to an adult couple who doesnt have any

so yeah :) were queer because we were helpful to have in communities and allowed everyone, but especially youth, to prosper and thrive

tl;dr: queer people were an evolutionary advantage to have in an early community because we were helping-age members who were able to cooperatively raise young and take on orphans without using up resources on birthing and raising our own young

yay science :o) happy pride everyone!!!

[modelbus]

hooray!!!

well, might as well start off strong here!

how abt tommy x gn!reader (they/them, romantic) one shot in which reader is horribly touch starved. like to the point where they will flinch away when people offer physical affection. don’t get me wrong, they crave it. they absolutely love physical touch, hugs, cuddles, kisses, etc. they just aren’t used to it. speaking of which, they will never ask for anything in fear of rejection

just a story based on this idea, with reader needing physical affection and tommy giving it :))

no rush tho, take your time. make sure you drink water and eat food. luv you!!!

🫧

🫧, are you spying on me... why is this me Oh yeah guys, finally answering my requests!

Pairing: Cc!Tommyinnit x Gn!Reader (romantic)

Tortured Touch

It starts, naturally, with Tommy. Of course it starts with Tommy; you’ve never seen a person more likely to tackle someone else for the fun of it. Or, in your case, more likely to fucking smother someone.

You blame his parents. Lovely people, but God did he not know the meaning of personal space. Although, it’s not like you ever corrected him. Not like you ever pushed him away, not like you ever awkwardly asked him not to pretend to kill you because he was doing a bit.

So, it started because of Tommy. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The ache inside of your chest that seems to breathe when you do? Entirely his fault. His fault for making you crave something, and then actually giving it to you. Who does that? Who is that kind to you? 

Physical touch. It’s a love language, according to the internet. It seemed appropriate enough. Those little arm touches, the casual hand-holding, a relaxed hold. They’re all part of a language you never learned how to speak. One you never learned how to speak, but everyone else did. A secret you were never let in on, like pig latin between the popular guys at school, or a whispered joke that led to muffled laughter you never could join in on.

Until Tom fucking Simons came along, slung an arm over your shoulders, and dragged you into a conversation before you could explain that you didn’t know what the fuck he was saying. Not that you would tell him you didn’t know what all the little touches meant; you were supposed to, and admitting that you don’t is too shameful. Besides, you didn’t want him to stop.

Selfishly. 

Selfishly, you didn’t want him to stop the physical affection he seems to give so readily. You were needy, and greedy, and probably a whole bunch of other adjectives that end in -dy, but you couldn’t stop. It’s a damn drug, and he’s your dealer. A very idiotic and oblivious dealer, but still.

He’s nice enough to never mention when you flinch, either. Tommy’s careful to never startle you, to never sneak up and scare the shit out of you, but you flinch at his touch all the same. A habit, for some odd reason. You’re too ashamed to admit that it’s because of how unused to it you are.

“And this is our funniest real-life video yet.” Tommy is saying to his webcam. “YouTube has this weird glitch where—“

“Liar.” You cough, and his head whips toward you. 

“The YouTube glitch is very real.” He argues, running a hand through his hair to fluff it up again for his next re-do of his intro. “It has wiped out families. It’s left orphans. Orphans!”

“Is it coming for me next?” You ask, smiling at him.

Tommy shakes his head. “Worse. It’s coming…” He trails off, raising his eyebrows at you.

The joke sinks in after a moment, making you groan. “You’re horrible.”

He bursts out laughing, an infectious thing you can’t help but join in on. “Since you ruined that take you have to be in this one.” He declares, barely giving you a second before he’s reaching out for your hands to drag you and your chair into frame.

You startle backward at first, but relax and let him drag you. He throws an arm over your shoulder, squinting at the monitor that shows his webcam. It takes you a moment to translate the meaning of the casual touch, but you finally settle again and lean into him hesitantly. 

“The lighting of the fucking room is off.” Tommy complains, reaching to flick on a lamp. “Does that look better to you?”

“Tom, it looks the exact same.”

“Forgot you’re blind as shit.” He sighs, rubbing up and down your arm. “I think it’s brighter.”

“Your editors can always fix the lighting.” You remind him. He always stresses about the technical aspects of filming, but you know he secretly loves getting the perfect lighting or angle.

“But it’s not the same.” Tommy fiddles with the lamp once more before relaxing back. “Alright!”

Taking that as a signal that he’s starting the new attempt at the intro, you smile brightly at his camera.

“This is our funniest real-life video yet. If you want us to do something like this again, subscribe. If we get one gazillion subscribers I will—“ he falters, clearly having forgotten whatever mental script he had.

“He’s going to kill me.” You chime in. “I will consent to death.”

He follows the bit quickly, nodding solemnly. “Leave comments telling me how I should kill them. I can throttle them like you do to babies.”

“Hang on—“ It’s too late, he’s already gripping your head in both hands, palms over your ears. 

“I will shake this all around like a fucking snow globe.” He tells the camera.

“Don’t call my head a fucking ‘this,’ that’s weird.” You protest, and he covers your mouth with one hand.

“Snow globes don’t talk, stupid.”

You lick his hand, and he shrieks, jerking away from you. “Aw, gross! Now my hand’s all infected with you!”

“You kiss me, Tom, I don’t think it’s your hand that you should be worrying about.”

He scoffs, self-righteous, and practically tugs you half onto him. Your body locks up, but he’s insistent, holding you to him until you relax into his warmth. He’s always run hot, a small thing you love.

“We should get food.” He mumbles, resting his chin on your head. Intimate, in the way he always does without flinching. It means something, just like all of his little touches do. You guesstimate this one to be ‘I love you.’

You guesstimate most of them to be ‘I love you,’ though, mostly because that’s always what you try to convey when you work up the courage to take his hand first or lean against him. 

“You’re still trying to do your intro.” You remind him, smiling at the image of you two in his monitor. 

“Fuck that, I’m hungry.” Tommy reaches out, grabbing your phone and unlocking it to search for places to eat. “Starving. Actively dy-ing.” He splits the word into two for dramatics, making you laugh.

“Withering on the spot?”

“Turning to bones.”

“Get your intro done.” You instruct him, because if he doesn’t then he’ll jolt awake at two in the morning in a panic. He makes some long-suffering noise, only being louder when you stand up and dodge his attempt to grab your arm.

“You can’t leave, you’re my hostage!”

“I think you mean partner.” Raising your eyebrows expectantly, you wait for his correction.

“What I said. Anyway, you can’t fucking leave me!”

“I’m going to grab fast food.” You sigh, taking pity on his dramatics.

Tommy brightens considerably, sitting up straight. “Ooh, I want a large--”

“I know your order, Tom. Have some faith in me.” Stepping toward the door, you pause.

After a second you backtrack to give him a kiss, quick and short, slightly worried it’s the wrong thing to do. But he beams at you for it, too-happy and joyous at the simple kiss. See? You can get this physical affection stuff down sometimes.

“Don’t forget my-” He starts to call after you.

“Diet coke, I know!” You shout back, laughing as you leave.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 6

Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze

Alternate Universe : Military school

Words : 4k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Camp Wiegman part 6

Monday, October 19; 6:15 AM - Ona and Alexia's Room.

A new week is about to begin. I meditated a lot over the weekend. I now feel ready to move forward in the right direction. At least, I will try... The days are becoming repetitive. Wake up at six, preparations and check-in at exactly a quarter past six. That's what's happening right now. I stand straight as a rod in front of my bed while Bronze inspects our room.

"All right, you can go."

I only release the pressure once she gives the go-ahead. Her analysis has become quick since she has nothing left to reproach me for.

"Are you coming?" Alexia asks, waiting for me at the door. "Go join the others, I'll be right there."

She waits a moment to see if I'm serious before shrugging. I wait for her to leave the room before turning to Bronze with a smile.

"Did you have a good weekend?"

She raises an eyebrow, remaining stoic. My friendly approach fails miserably...

"Since when do you want to chat with me? I thought I was your number one enemy here?"

"Well... After Friday night... I thought we could continue on that note... Unless you'd prefer I go back to being the annoying student," I joked.

My smile fades when she ignores me. I start to wonder if I misinterpreted... I feel stupid for thinking she would stay friendly with me.

"Well then, are you coming?"

I lift my head to see her waiting at the door. I let out a sigh I hadn't even realized I was holding. I really expected her to leave me stranded in the middle of my room.

"We can chat on the way to the cafeteria, right?" "Yes," I nodded frantically.

I hurry out of the room before she changes her mind. She closes the door behind me and we start walking towards the exit.

"So... Did you have a good weekend?" I hesitantly ask. "It was good, and yours? Did you keep busy with Williamson?" "A bit. It was better than last week since I wasn't alone. We binged the Hunger Games saga." "Good to hear," she smiles.

I look around when I feel watched. It's really the case. People must not be used to seeing a student chatting with an instructor. Bronze doesn't seem to care, unlike me. It starts to weigh on me, being the center of attention. Don't they have anything better to do than follow my every move? I shake my head, remembering the reasons why I'm with Bronze.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Here we go. I knew there was something behind this."

"W-what? No way! I just wanted to take the chance to ask you..."

"If you say so," she shrugs. "What do you want to know?"

"I swear it's true... I just wanted your opinion on something."

"Hmm, I'm listening."

"Do you think there's a way I can get my leave this weekend?"

"For your birthday, I imagine?"

Her response takes me by surprise. I didn't know she knew my birthday. She offers me a small smile.

"Don't be surprised. I have a file on you, and your birth date is in it. Not to mention, I heard your brother mention it when I came into your room on Friday."

"What do you mean a file? Wiegman promised not to disclose anything to the educators!" "She didn't disclose anything. I'm the only one with this file, and it contains the bare minimum." "Oh... What's in it then?" "That's not the point, is it?" "Please...?" I begged with a pleading look.

I don't like being refused things, even answers. Especially when my curiosity has been piqued. Bronze has no qualms about doing it. She makes me feel like I've been a spoiled girl my whole life. She's the only one who went as far as confiscating my belongings; even my parents never did that.

"You're really something. You know that, right?" "I know," I said, biting my lip nervously.

"There's not much, it's like a sort of resume," she replies. "Name, first name, and all that. I can show it to you if it reassures you."

"You'd do that?"

"It concerns you, I have nothing to hide. Now that you've asked your question, can I ask mine?"

"I guess so..."

"I can understand that you don't want to disclose your information to strangers. However, I'd like to know if you at least confide in one person?"

"My best friend," I said without hesitation. "Completely?"

"Yes."

No, but she doesn't need to know. She knows almost everything. For what she doesn't know, she's created hypotheses that I never confirmed.

"Hmm..." she replies, skeptical. "Good. I was starting to worry about the shell you have. It's good to talk, so don't hesitate to do so with people you trust."

"I don't trust many people," I admitted.

"I figured. That's why you shouldn't hesitate to talk to them. Promise?"

I nodded gently. I don't understand why she's so insistent on this. She frowns at my reaction.

"Words, Ona. You're capable of speaking, so use that ability which isn't given to everyone."

"Yes, yes, I promise," I rolled my eyes. "No need to make a big deal out of it."

"It's important to do so, that's all. If you keep everything to yourself, you'll wallow in self-pity and sink."

"That's already the case..." "Well, you're going to make sure you're not anymore." "Easier said than done." "Luckily, you're not alone anymore."

I smiled sadly, thinking she's probably right. Surprisingly, it's her I think of first. It's been a long time since someone took care of me the way she does. She's authoritarian, but fair at the same time. It's exactly what I needed to get back on track. If she continues to behave this way, she'll certainly become the second person to find a crack in my shell. The only one who managed to do it before her is Mapi. We were close in high school, and she came back at the right time. She's the only one who knows part of what I've been through. Even my mother knows only the tip of the iceberg. She's seen me in all my states, but she never knew the reasons. I think that's what pushed her to send me here. She couldn't stand seeing me on the defensive and wallowing in self-pity. Bronze is right in saying I need to open up to get better, but it's beyond my strength. What I've been through is hard to confide. I was in an unstable environment where I had to fend for myself. I lost all trust in myself and people in general, especially strangers. However, I feel like Bronze is trying to be accepted into my little world. I'm resisting for now, but if she continues to stir up my painful memories, I might quickly crack without wanting to.

"You still haven't answered my question," I realized.

"You want my opinion for this weekend, right?"

"Yes..." I said, dreading her response.

"As I told you, I have a say in your leave. Even though it hasn't been very useful the first two times."

"Hmm..." I sighed. "Wiegman knows my every move, huh?"

"Yes. We have to send her reports during the week. So I'm obliged to talk to her about you." "I see," I sighed. "If you stay in line this week, I'll support your leave," she tells me.

-  Really?!

-  Really, she confirms. If you get through the week without any infractions, I guarantee you'll get your weekend pass. No delay in class, no more disrespect, no more fooling around, and everything will be fine.

-  I didn't know they reset the clock every week, I say, not hiding my excitement. This is great news! I was already imagining being stuck here because of my disastrous first two

weeks. If she wasn't my supervisor, I would probably jump on her out of sheer happiness. We stop in front of the cafeteria once we reach it.

-  You're not lying to keep me in line, are you?

-  Of course not. The pass is a reward for a successful week. I'm just warning you that Wiegman won't be lenient if you're even a minute late. His decision will be final.

-  Just one clean week... I think I can do it.

-  I hope so, for your sake. Can I go eat now?

-  Yes, sorry, I laugh. Thanks and enjoy your meal!

-  No problem. Enjoy your meal too. I do a little happy dance behind her back as she joins her colleague, who smiles amusedly at me. I immediately stop, my cheeks turning as red as a tomato, if not more. How embarrassing! She will definitely tell Bronze. I wait for them to enter the cafeteria before taking the same path. The usual noise fills my ears. It seems like nothing can spoil the good mood Bronze's answer has put me in. My attitude doesn't go unnoticed by my new friends when I join them at their table.

-  So, what's up with you? Since when do you talk to Bronze? Alexia asks right away.

-  Talking to Bronze? repeats her sister. Why did you do that?

-  I needed to ask her something. I stay vague, not wanting to be bombarded with questions or reveal my intentions. At the same time, I understand their curiosity. Since my arrival, I've been saying how much I hate my supervisor, so it's natural for them to be intrigued. I still hate her, but in a different way now.

-  Is it related to your good mood? Patri asks.

-  No, because this is the first time we've seen you so... happy, Pina finishes.

-  Can you all just leave her alone? Leah grumbles. She hasn't even started eating yet. I thank her with a smile and finally enjoy my breakfast with the first bite of my chocolate croissant. It's my favorite meal, even though my tray looks very similar every morning. It's rare that I choose

anything other than a pastry. Not that I don't like variety; I also enjoy a bowl of cereal or homemade pancakes.

-  So? Lotte insists.

-  I asked her if I have a chance of getting my weekend pass. It's my birthday, and I'd like to go home. Alexia chokes on her food, and her sister has to pat her on the back to calm her coughing. Her eyes are almost popping out of her head.

-  Your birthday is this weekend?! she exclaims. Why didn't you tell us sooner?!

-  I didn't think it was that important, I giggle at her expression.

-  Of course, it's important! How could you think it's not? she scolds me I shrug nonchalantly. Given her reaction, I don't dare tell her that I don't enjoy celebrating it anymore. She'd probably come up with all sorts of arguments to remind me how important this celebration is. I don't see why getting a year older is something to celebrate. It's just a reminder that we're getting closer to our death.

- You're turning twenty? Patri asks.

-Obviously, she's turning twenty, Alba replies as if it's obvious.

-What? You never know! Maybe she's turning nineteen or twenty-one, she retorts.

-I'll be twenty, I interrupt their debate. If I were twenty-one, I wouldn't be here. I'm happy to have met you, but I hate this place.

-No one would ever guess, princess, Leah teases. Relationships and you, you're not friends.

Camp Wiegman part 6

I smile at the nickname she used. She's been teasing me with it ever since she heard my supervisor call me that. She used it when I tried to negotiate a reduced punishment while we were on dishwashing duty. Unfortunately for me, Bronze is never easily swayed.

-  Why? Claudia finally asks.

-  Why what?

-  Why don't you like maintaining relationships? Lotte asks.

-  It's complicated, I shrug. Attachments aren't my thing. They only bring trouble.

-  You shouldn't just focus on the negatives, Alexia counters. You're saying that like you only see the bad side. There are plenty of advantages to having friends.

-  You're my friend, Ale, I roll my eyes. But only because you make me... I say with a silly smile. She laughs and lightly pushes my shoulder, knowing I'm teasing her. We change the subject when they realize I won't say more. I've already had a lesson on friendship with Bronze this morning; that's more than enough. I know having friends is important, but it's become difficult to find the right people. That doesn't stop me from appreciating everyone at this table. We all have our stories, different contexts, and that's probably what binds us. They know I already care about them a lot, even if I'll never tell them. I think they're great, but I'm not at the point of confiding in them. If they don't know it, I'm not going to admit it. I hate opening my heart and revealing my feelings. I've lost track of the conversation because of my thoughts. I smile to myself, thinking about this week. I really hope it goes by quickly and without any problems.

Thursday, October 22; 5:15 PM - Dormitory hallway.

-  Do you know where Ale went?

-  No. I sigh in frustration. The week went by quickly, but it was very strange. I feel like everyone is hiding something from me, especially Alexia. She's been nervous for the past few days, and now I find out she's lying to me. After class, she said she needed to quickly join her sister to ask her something. I found myself alone in the hallway as she vanished into the crowd. Her excuse might have been believable if I hadn't just seen Alba in the dormitory hall with Leah. They intended to go to the common room rather than meet Alexia. I was determined to find Alexia, but Leah must have sensed it because she convinced me to let her walk me to my room, where I had planned to go first.

-  Why would she lie to me? I fume.

-  Relax, Princess. She probably has a good reason. Are you coming down to the common room with me?

-  No, I'll take advantage of Ale's absence to call my little brother and tell him I'm coming home.

-  As you wish.

-  Do you want to come in? I offer, opening my room door.

-  No, I'll head down to the common room to join the others.

-  Alright.

-  You know where to find us if you need us.

-  I'll probably come down after my call.

-  OK, see you soon then! I watch her walk away, hands in his pockets. She's definitely one of the people I get along with best here. If I had to name people in priority when I get back, it would be Leah and Alexia's. I like the others too, but the bonds are different. Patri and Claudia are the group's jokers, and Lotte, the most timid. I have a hard time trusting her since her mother is the school's director. She must sense it because she often makes awkward attempts to approach me. I often wonder what she's doing here because she doesn't seem like a troublemaker. The last member of the group is Alba. She's the complete opposite of Lotte. She has no trouble coming to talk to me. She even inserts herself into my conversations with others now. This week, I decided to have a talk with her after what Alexia told me. I preferred to put the brakes on immediately rather than let her have false hopes. I felt like it didn't go down well at first, but her ego took over, and she accepted that we become good friends.

And then, I have to mention Bronze too. I think we've turned a corner. We've made a little truce, leaving the commander and the princess far behind this week. There's no more tension since she hasn't had to punish me. I showed her I could be obedient, just as she wanted. I felt a bit proud when she complimented me this morning, asking me to keep it up. I must admit, it's much better this way. I've been able to establish a routine since I have free time after classes.

I throw my bag at the foot of my desk after grabbing my planner. Alexia is lucky I really need to call Joan. I have good news to share since I managed to go a week without any infractions. I still need to get through tomorrow morning to get a positive response, but I know my pass is almost guaranteed. I pass by my wardrobe to grab my phone. It's time to call home. I sit on the bed while dialing Sam's number. I would never risk calling the landline for fear of reaching my mother or Marcus.

-  Hey Ona, how are you?

-  Good, and you? I say with a smile, hearing her voice.

-  You sound like it. Better than your first days, huh? I’d be good if you're calling with good news.

-  Yeah, I'm finally getting used to the environment... And I haven't had any sanctions this week. That's why I'm calling... I have a good chance of spending my birthday at home.

-  That's great! How did you manage that?

-  By putting up with it, I chuckle. Is Joan around?

-  He's in the shower, I think... Surprise him; he'll be happy. When do you think you'll be home?

-  My plane is at 20:25. I think I'll land around eleven at night, I say while thinking.

-  Alright, I'll let Hector know to pick you up at that time.

-  Thanks, I say while flipping through my planner. I despair at the sight of the mountain of homework waiting for me tomorrow. They aren't lenient with us on Thursday nights. They always bombard us before the weekend so we can be free. It's nice, but annoying. Plus, I never managed to catch up on my backlog from the beginning of the year. I started working on it this week since we've begun having tests on it. It's hard to catch up on a whole month. Especially when I have extra hours due to Bronze's punishments. Needless to say, I have a lot to catch up on.

-  Do you want anything special for lunch on Saturday?

-  Surprise me. It can't be worse than my cafeteria food... Well, it's not as bad as I expected.

-  Don't tell me it's better than my cooking! he complains.

-  No way! I chuckle.

-  Phew, that's reassuring! Alright, I'll figure something out then.

-  Hmm... By the way, now that I think about it.

-  Yeah?

-  I'm really mad at you. You'd better make it up to me with food this weekend.

-  Really? What did I do? We haven't seen each other for two or three weeks and you already blame me for something?

-  Yeah! I was totally embarrassed because of you!

-  Enlighten me, he laughs.

-  The other night, when I had you on the phone... My supervisor was waiting for me! You told her I was gay !

-  Ooooh! I'm sorry, Oni, he laughs. Did she say anything?

-  No, I sighed. And fortunately for you!

-  So what's the problem? Why are you complaining?

-  Seriously! You shouldn't have done that. I was super embarrassed! I pout when he laughs. Knowing him, he probably knows the face I'm making. He always makes fun of me when I imitate a five-year-old who didn't get their candy.

-  I never understood why you can't accept yourself.

-  I don't know, but it's just how it is.

-  Anyway, I always told you you'd end up with a girl. I smile, remembering that conversation we had when I was sixteen. Samuel had just replaced our former cook. My mother opted for youth since he had just turned eighteen. We hit it off right away, to the point that I imagined he had a crush on me. That idea disappeared when he revealed he was gay. That day, we had a long discussion about it, and he also mentioned he could totally see me with a girl. I made fun of him for a long time for that idea he insisted on. I laughed less the day I introduced Mapi as my girlfriend. He was one of the few who knew I was gay , along with Lucie and Maps herself.

-  Did I lose you?

-  Sorry, what were you saying?

-  That I have to hang up, your mother will be home soon and I haven't finished their meal.

-  Oh, no problem. We'll see each other on Saturday anyway.

-  I hope so!

-  Don't worry about that. I'll do everything I can to make it happen.

-  Alright, good luck. I'll see you on Saturday then.

-  Yes! Have a good evening, Sam.

- You too, Ona! Kisses.

I hang up, smiling. I can't wait to hear Wiegman's verdict. I put my phone in the bedside table to hide it a bit, knowing that the room doors can't be locked. There are cameras in the hallways, but that doesn't stop everyone from having access. I stick to my plan and decide to join the others in the common room, not feeling motivated to work on my courses. This has become my little routine since I've been free after classes. I opened the door to leave. I'm surprised to come face to face with Bronze, her fist raised, ready to knock. Her expression shifts from surprise to a smile.

-  I was looking for you. They told me you were here.

-  I was about to go down to the common room.

-  I just wanted to tell you the news myself.

-  What news?

-  I just left Wiegman's office. She granted your permission. I remain still, trying to process the information she dropped so casually. I have to repeat her sentence countless times to realize... I let out a scream of joy, jumping on Bronze who wasn't expecting such a reaction from me. She laughs near my ear as my face buries in her neck. I quickly pull away, realizing our proximity and blushing from the embarrassment I just caused.

-  It's well deserved. She was surprised by your sudden improvement and so was I.

-  Thank you, thank you, thank you! Thank you for everything.

-  I didn't do much. You can be proud of yourself. Let's hope you continue on this path.

-  That's not guaranteed.

-  Well, you know the price then. Alright, I have to get back. See you tomorrow. What time are you leaving?

-  Around noon so I'll have an early lunch.

-  I'll walk you to the gate then. Oh, and also. Keep this news to yourself. I'm not supposed to tell you until tomorrow morning. I nod, too happy to argue. She turns around and I wave goodbye before jumping for joy again. I thought I'd get the news tomorrow, but I'm really happy! She didn't have to tell me now. It's going to be hard to hide my joy from the others. I will sleep well tonight, without this endless wait. I'm finally going to go home! I'm finally going back to Barcelona !

[i-heart-yellowstone]

35 - Norris Meets the Bunkhouse

Part 36

Raised Fair Share of Hell

Please leave comments of your thoughts or any suggestions ❤️

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Faith’s pov

Once my aunt Beth and uncle Rip had left the room and my mom had came out of the kitchen with biscuits everything seemed to settle down.  Cutting a piece of my steak I put it into my mouth, eyeing my boyfriend from the corner of my eye. 

Cooper was pushing some of his potatoes around with his fork while my grandpa asked my mother a question.  “Alissa, is everything set up for the branding tomorrow?” 

“Yes.  Alana and my mother seem to have everything under control there.  Your ranch hands Will just have to work with ours since we now combined our two properties.  Meaning more cattle and more that need branding.” 

Cooper swallowed a bite of food looking around the table.  “What’s the branding?” 

“Since we’re a cattle ranch we have to mark our cattle with our brand symbol.  That way if any of them get out of the fence and wander off someone can know who to return them back to.” My mother explained simply to the son of an oil manager. 

Cooper stabbed another piece of food with his fork.  “Would you like some more help with that tomorrow.  I may be a slow learner but I can offer help.” 

“Absolutely.  That would be amazing, Cooper.” My mother grins at the gesture. 

My father interrupted the lighthearted conversation between the four of us.  “What are your intentions with my daughter?” 

“Daddy, be nice.” I whispered under my breath. 

My father stabbed his knife into part of his steak glaring at Coope from across the table where he looked like he might launch himself across the table.  “I am being nice and making conversation.  Now back to my question, what are your intentions?” 

“Mr. Dutton, I would treat your daughter in the room way.  I haven’t even ever kissed a girl before until I met her.” Cooper admitted with a deep red appearing on his cheeks. 

Daddy death glared at him still.  “What about your family life?  Do you have any criminals or any past records we should know about?” 

“Kayce!” My mother scolded her husband. 

My father sat down with his fork and knife rather angrily.  “It’s a reasonable question, Alissa!” 

“I can answer it, Mrs. Dutton.” Cooper responded back taking a deep breath thinking about how to word his family correctly.  “We’ll I guess I should say my parents are divorced and don’t have a good relationship like you two do.  Um - I have a younger sister named Ainsley but we don’t get along too well.  I don’t have any criminal record and neither does my family.” 

My phone vibrates on the table flashing Ryan’s name up on the screen.  “Are you coming over to play cards tonight since you’re back home?” 

“Who’s texting you at dinner?”  Mama asked me hearing my phone go off. 

I turned the phone over replying to her.  “Ryan.  He wants to play cards.” 

“Who’s Ryan?” Cooper questions. 

Getting up from my wooden chair I waved to him to follow me saying goodbye to my family.  “He works in our bunkhouse.  Come on, I’ll introduce you to them.  Goodnight mama, daddy.” Her grandfather waved bye to us as we made our way to the bunkhouse. 

Cooper and I walked into the bunkhouse building hearing the gang watching someone ride a buffalo through a green field.  Normally they would be playing cards and drinking beer.  Moving around the couch I plopped down by Ryan and Cooper sat down on the armrest of the couch.  “What are we watching exactly?” 

“I feel like he just looks like some kind of sexy Jesus on the buffalo.  Ridin’ into the sunset.” Teeter spoke, causing Cooper to give me a weird look. 

“What did she just say?” 

Colby, her boyfriend, responded back to him. “Nobody ever knows what she’s saying.” 

“How is that guy staying on it?” Cooper asked the group. 

Lloyd, the oldest ranch hand on our ranch answered his question while sitting at the dining table.  “Cause they can’t buck.” 

“Really?” Cooper looked over his shoulder. 

Ryan nudged me with his elbow.  “Are we sure this kids really from Texas?  Or did he just have you buy him that hat that’s from Texas Tech?” 

“His father works in Texas, Ryan.” 

Lloyd explained about the buffalo video to my boyfriend.  “They can’t buck, they can’t rear up, but they can’t roll over on your ass.” 

“Hey we outta ride a buffalo out there in that field.” Teeter suggested. 

Leaning forward on the couch I looked at Tetter who was sitting on the tile floor in front of us.  “Where at?” 

“Out by the corral near the edge of the fence line.” 

Liyod got up from his chair at the table.  “Who feels like ridin’ a buffalo?” 

“Uh. Not me.” Ryan replied. 

Cooper paused in thought.  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

“I’ll ride one.” I jumped up to stand and Teeter raised her and we high fives. 

“There’s my girl.” 

Cooper whipped his head around in concern watching me go over to the fridge that was full of beer, taking one out and cracking it opened.  “Faith, you’re 18.” 

“And you’re 22.” I pointed the bottle at him, taking a long drink from it. 

He shifted around on the couch, fear written all over his face.  “It means you can’t drink.  You can smoke but no alcohol.” 

“I’ll be fine, Cooper.  As long as my parents don’t find out we’ll be fine.” I quickly finished my beer grabbing another running out the door shouting.  “Let’s go ride a buffalo!” 

We all saddled some horses with me and Cooper riding on the same one together.  Cooper slid off the saddle standing beside the horse, stumbling to regain his balance when I asked Liyod.  “So how do you do this, Lloyd?” 

“You can’t rope’em around the neck, you'll crush their larynx so you gotta rope them by the horns.  And then you pull them to a stop and hop on and off you go.” 

Cooper shifts his gaze back over to me.  “Faith, this doesn’t look like a good idea.” 

“Don’t worry, Norris.  These past felons wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.” I kicked my horse in the belly catching up with Liyod who was roping the buffalo for me.  

Cooper shouted over the cheering from Teeter and Colby.  “Felons! Wait what - Faith!” 

Dismounting from my horse I climbed on the buffalo’s back one second bed Lioyd’s lasso around its horn snapped causing the buffalo to start running trying to throw me off.   “Woo! Cooper!” The buffalo ran in circles until it took a sharp turn charging directly at Cooper where I thought he would run hi, down.  

“Ahh!” My boyfriend screamed when a rope dropped around his waist by Ryan who yanked him towards his horse.  I slid off the buffalo letting the animal run for a little bit before he simply walked back into the open field. 

Liyod jumped off his horse helping me up from the dusty grass ground.  “That a girl.  Are you okay, little Dutton?” 

“That was freaking awesome!” Throwing my hands up in the air I cheered up into the night sky with the familiar stars above us.  Walking over to my boyfriend who was lifting the rope off of his body and over his head.  “You ain’t hurt are you?” 

Ryan explained taking his rope from his hand.  “I did my best to get him out of the fucking way.” 

“Thanks Ryan. So how are you, Cooper?” 

He removed his ball cap ruffling his hair.  “I thought I was about to get run over by a buffalo.  I can’t - you hang out with these guys every night.” 

“Pretty much.  I think the only thing we do that doesn’t physically hurt anybody is playing cards and talking trash.” 

“We can play tomorrow night if y’all will be around then.” Colby responded sitting on his horse. 

Cooper chuckled, placing his hat back on his head smiling at me.  I knew he was out of his element but I knew he would have fun in some situation if I had any say about it.  “I’m going to become a cowboy before I leave here aren’t I?” 

“More than likely, you bet your boots yes.” I smirked at my boyfriend tipping my light brown hat at him.  “Welcome to the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch, Mr. Norris.”