#i just and it’s not my parents fault but i’m so tired of having elderly disabled parents

[cas-kingdom]

The Pup and the Cub

A/N: The make-up (or is it?) we’ve been waiting for! And the debut of one of Jaskier’s famed songs about the White Wolf and his Pup. Set a little after the last episode, so reader is about 18. Enjoy.

Find the OC version of this fic here.

Title: The Pup and the Cub

Summary: Geralt leaves you and Ciri to finally sort out your differences.

Words: 4104

Two weeks is a painfully long time to be in the company of two girls who will not look at each other. Granted, the majority of it was your fault—Ciri hadn’t started anything—but though the princess had done well at ignoring any snide looks or remarks from you for the first two weeks, she seemed to have found her roar in the third. 

He’d had to warn you innumerable times, threatening to leave you on the side of the road if you continued to be a bitch, but the moment Ciri had first clapped back, he’d well and truly given up. He could parent you, he was experienced in that, but telling Ciri what to do and what not to do, after everything she’d been through, didn’t seem right. He wasn’t her father.

So, he let you be. And it was agonising.

You’d remained at the farmhouse for some time with the elderly couple, letting his leg heal and allowing the princess to recuperate before you left, and you’d been on the road since. He was eager to make it to Kaer Morhen in the hopes that Eskel could provide a punching bag for you and use his power of words to help you find the right path again.

It had been snowing for the past two days. An incessant, harsh snowfall that’d soured everyone’s moods even further. Ciri had fallen in a snowdrift twice, you were getting a cold, and he was tired, both mentally and physically. And so, when you reached the next village, he rented a room at an inn, one with two beds and an extra blanket so he could sleep on the floor.

As if that would help.

Sometimes, he missed the feeling of travelling alone. Alone being without either Ciri and you, back when he hadn’t yet come across the basket, and his heart was still encased in ice.

“Please stop moving, Ciri. I’m trying to sleep.”

“I’m not moving.”

“You are. I can hear the covers rustling.”

“Oh, gods.”

“My name’s actually Y/N, but that was a nice compliment.”

Geralt closed his eyes from his place on the floor and dragged both hands down his face. A moment of silence was all he needed. He would give anything for it. He would sell his soul for it. The sporadic words you had been tossing at each other from your separate beds were hammering into his brain, causing a throb he knew wouldn’t subside unless you fell silent. He’d thought the comfort of the beds would help you fall into deep sleeps and catch up on what you’d missed while on the road, but apparently even the soft mattresses were no match for the unexplainable aversion you stupidly felt for each other—one more than the other.

“I wish I were somewhere else,” Ciri said, that characteristic gentleness still in her tone. She may have found her roar, but she was still no more than a cub. And you, his infuriating Y/N, were no more than an upset pup.

“I wish you were somewhere else, too.”

“Perhaps I’ll leave, then.”

“Do you need any help?”

“None from you.”

“Fuck! Enough! Both of you!” A low growl came from Geralt’s throat as he shot up, turning towards the beds. The room was shrouded in darkness, but he could see you both clearly, two heads facing him, mouths shut tight against anything you might have wanted to say. “I have had it with your fucking arguing. I get that you don’t like each other, I don’t give a shit whether you do or not, but all I’m asking is for you to ignore each other, pretend the other doesn’t exist, for all I care. Just shut. The fuck. Up!”

Anger built up over two weeks coursed through his veins like blood, and his fists clenched by his side. Both you and Ciri were quiet, but he did not currently have enough trust in you to believe you’d continue in your silence the moment he lay back down again. So, with a defining nod to himself, he stood to his feet and grabbed his cloak.

You sat up. “Where’re you going?”

“Out.”

“You’re leaving us here?”

“To sort out your shit, yes.” He tugged his boots on and stepped over the makeshift bed. “When I get back, I want you to be at peace with each other. Do you understand, Y/N?”

“It’s not just me!”

He walked to the door and pulled up his hood to cover his hair. Ciri’s eyes were peeking at him from under her covers, you were still staring in disbelief, and he was more than ready to drink himself into a solitude that reality wasn’t equipped to give him. “You started it,” he bit out, pointing at you. “And if you don’t finish it, I’ll pass you onto Lambert for training once we reach the Keep, I can promise you that.” You grimaced. “Do we understand each other?”

Before he could witness your meek nod, he spun around and strode through the door, shutting it behind him with a click.

The silence was deafening.

“Did he just... lock it?” Ciri asked quietly.

You visibly deflated, your jaw tense. “Probably.” Your tone was monotonous. You flopped back down on your back and stared up at the ceiling while Ciri bit at her bottom lip.

Since Geralt had found her, she’d never been left alone with you. Not once. She’d figured Geralt was too scared to; perhaps he thought he’d return to a puddle of blood and a satisfied grin on your face. Ciri wondered briefly what the witcher’s response to that would be. Would he gasp and reprimand and wonder what on the Continent had turned his child into the devil, or would he thank you for getting rid of a mistake he’d made once upon a time?

She blinked. No. You may not have wanted her around, but she was sure Geralt was more inclined to let her live. He’d protect her.

For a month that had been majorly defined by a snowstorm, tonight was disturbingly lacking in it. It felt as though the world was teetering on the edge, biting its tongue as it looked on with bated breath and keen eyes, waiting for one of you to say something.

Ciri curled her hands around the blanket before asking softly, “Who is Lambert?”

You thought about ignoring her but realised with a stab in your heart that considering Geralt’s words, ignorance would get you nowhere. Besides, it was a tiring thing, hating someone and not knowing why, though those feelings were still currently present.

“A witcher,” you responded dully.

“Is he nice?”

You snorted. “Not really.” There was the silence again, and the discomfort of the situation sparked through you. You ran your tongue over your lips. “Eskel is, though. And Coen. They’re witchers, too. And Vesemir takes some time to get used to, but he’s kind underneath it all.”

“You know a lot of witchers.”

You shrugged lightly. “I know of a lot of witchers, I suppose. There aren’t many left, but Geralt tells me about the ones they’ve lost. Eskel, Coen, and Lambert are… they can be difficult, but they helped raise me. And Vesemir… don’t ever call him Grandfather, but that’s what he is, you know?”

You realised you weren’t sure if Ciri knew. You didn’t know much about the princess at all, other than the fact she’d fled Cintra and had been hunted since. It was a petty couple facts to base an entire opinion off, you knew that, though they hadn’t exactly been the cause of… whatever you were feeling.

“I won’t call him that, then.”

“If you want to live.”

“Would he really kill me?”

“Maybe.” You flicked your eyes over and noticed the slightly horrified glint in Ciri’s eye. Five minutes ago, you might have revelled in that. “No,” you corrected yourself. “Vesemir’s not like that. None of them are. They won’t kill you.”

“Oh.” Silence again. Funny thing, silence. You either love it or you hate it. “I know you hate me, Y/N—” You shut your eyes. Not this. Please, not this— “but I’d really like it if we could just… I don’t know… do what Geralt suggested and ignore each other? Arguing is pointless.” She sighed, and you knew that despite her words, ignoring each other was the last thing you wanted. For some foolishly contradictory reason.

You clenched your jaw and drew in a sharp breath. You sat up and turned in your bed, the light of the withering candle on the wooden table between you highlighting your face as you looked across at Ciri. Ciri waited patiently, blinking in the illumination of the dancing flame.

“Do you know how Geralt and I came to be? Have you… heard any songs?” Your words were slow and pronounced.

Ciri shook her head. “No.”

You took a second to marvel at that; it was rare you and Geralt came across someone who hadn’t heard the songs and stories. For as much as you loved Jaskier, you sometimes missed the times before his songs became fable, when nobody knew the extent of the relationship between the infamous witcher and the girl that shadowed him, and nobody knew that Geralt of Rivia was capable of a beating heart. It’d been better, quieter, when you were the only person in each other’s world, strangers travelling the Continent, masked from the outsiders.

Though you couldn’t have expected less from the bard, to be perfectly honest.

Eyes dropping to your hands, you heaved a sigh and began to relay the story you’d never once had to say out loud.

“He found me in the woods when I was a few days old. No blankets, no clothes… just at the bottom of a basket.” Ciri sat up, turning to face you. She crossed her legs in front of her and listened with an obviously keen interest. “I was crying,” you continued, “and he heard me, and he found me. He saved my life that day. My parents—birth parents—had left me to die, to be eaten, and he saved my life.” You swallowed an uncommon lump in your throat and frowned at the dark wall ahead, missing Ciri entirely. “He told me once he’d never intended to keep me, but something changed, and he did.”

Ciri was clearly processing it. What she’d said had been true; she’d heard whispers of songs, snippets of verses containing a white wolf and a pup, but her grandmother had always steered her away from the bards and their instruments and troublesome tongues, instead pushing her in the direction of ballads and stories of famed warriors. It was only after she’d discovered her destiny that the reasonings for those steers and pushes became clear. Calanthe had kept Geralt a secret from her for so long, and though fate had been drawing Ciri in with those songs, the queen had been well-equipped in ensuring the names Geralt and Y/N were not heard of until they had to be.

That had worked out splendidly.

She worried at her bottom lip and stared at you. You looked deep in thought, fingers clasped and still in your lap, but you seemed to shake yourself from your reverie a few seconds later. Your blue eyes glanced up and locked onto Ciri’s.

“I love other people,” you stated, a firmness to your voice that hadn’t been there before. “I love Eskel, and I love Lambert, and Coen, and Vesemir, don’t get me wrong.” The firmness grew tenfold, and your eyes seemed to bore into Ciri’s. “But Geralt means more to me than all the worlds and all the universes combined. He saved my life, and then he became my life. Do you understand? I can’t lose him. I can’t have him taken from me. It’s always been just us and Roach. And then he ended up asking for a child of surprise. You. And it wasn’t just us anymore. Even in the years before now, the months before you were even born… I was young, but not young enough to not notice a change. It wasn’t just us. And it isn’t just us anymore. That’s…” You swallowed again, but the lump didn’t move. “Hard. A hard thing to… get used to.”

Somehow, a flicker of something different appeared in your eyes, and the desperation Ciri had noticed earlier died down. You opened your mouth to speak but found that the right words wouldn’t leave your tongue. You shut your eyes and released the tension in your shoulders. “I know you lost everyone,” you said, quieter than Ciri had ever heard you, “I’m sorry for that. I know what it feels like. I know he’s really all you have too. But please…” You opened your eyes and glanced up. “Don’t take my life away from me, Ciri.”

Ciri wasn’t too sure what to say in response to the revelation she’d been searching for. It really hadn’t been what she’d expected. Yes, she’d noticed your glare darken whenever Geralt had paid her more attention, and she’d seen the way you seemed to cling onto the witcher more than you probably needed to. But she’d never labelled that as… what even was it? She couldn’t call it jealousy because it seemed unfair.

By all rights, Geralt was yours. Ciri wouldn’t say she’d had the most social upbringing, but she’d had more than one constant in her life. When her grandmother was out fighting, she had Eist at home, and Mousesack and her friends from the village. You, though it seemed you’d had in-and-out visitations from a few people, and the occasional presence of other witchers, had never had anyone more than Geralt. At least when it mattered most. When you needed it most.

When Geralt was away fighting, you couldn’t have been anything but alone, waiting in trepidation for your guardian to return. Even accompanied by other people, Ciri knew enough to know that you still would have felt deserted until you saw him again.

So, she could understand better now, why you had reacted so harshly to her from the moment you’d met. It wasn’t because she was a princess, or because she came from a different lifestyle to yours… it was simple fear, ruling as it always did. Fear that Ciri, now alone herself, would take Geralt away from you and leave you with nothing.

She shook her head. “That… that was never my intention, Y/N,” she promised, sincerity clear in her voice. “You believe I would take him from you?”

You put your head in your hands. “I don’t know. I don’t know you. I was…” You groaned, searching for the words. “I don’t hate you, Ciri, I never have. I was just…”

“Afraid?”

You laughed under your breath at Ciri’s cautious suggestion. You shrugged and pushed your hair away from your face. “You could say so,” you agreed. “I’m not… good at making friends. I don’t have any my age. Everyone I know is either a mutant, magic, or an idiotic bard.”

Ciri laughed. “I don’t have many friends either. My grandmother kept me very sheltered.”

“That must have been difficult.”

“Sometimes. But I snuck out a lot… dressed as a boy.”

You looked impressed. “Really? The Princess of Cintra disguised herself as a commoner? And a boy, no less?” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the bed. “Did you ever get caught?”

Ciri twisted her face in contemplation. “A couple times. Once by Mousesack, but he let me stay and didn’t tell my grandmother.”

“It’s a weird name, don’t you think?”

“Mousesack?” She tucked some hair behind her ear and smiled at the memory of her old friend. “I’m not sure it’s his real name. Whatever it is, he never told me. It doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“My friend, the bard, his name is Jaskier,” you started in an attempt to steer clear of the morbid subject, “but I found out some time ago that his name is actually Julian.”

Ciri snorted, hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Julian?”

“It gets worse. His middle name is Alfred.”

You stared at each other for a moment. Ciri broke first, laughter bursting from her throat, and you followed not long after. You moved to lie back down on your bed, smiling giddily up at the ceiling. “I suppose you’ll meet him one day,” you said. “You’ll like him. He’ll probably write a song about you.” Then, a moment later, “But he’s mine, too, just so we’re clear.”

Despite the teasing inclination of your voice, you were both were clear. Ciri lay down and sighed, blinking against the darkness in the dwindling candlelight. “I won’t take your family from you. All I want is safety, and… and people. So that I’m not alone. That’s all. The last thing I want is to take Geralt from you. I didn’t—I didn’t…” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t ask for this either. I want everything to go back to how it was, too.”

“You miss your grandmother.”

“Unlike anyone I’ve missed before.”

You chewed at the inside of your cheek. “Geralt used to sing to me when I was younger,” you said quietly. “I can sing for you, if you like.”

Ciri’s mother had sung to her. Her voice was one of the only things she remembered. Calanthe had never picked up the night-time ritual of lullabies before bed after Pavetta had died, so yes, Ciri decided, it would be nice to hear the lilt of a song again.

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

You shut your eyes, the words of Jaskier’s song swirling around your head. He’d told you once it’d been his favourite song he’d written, slaving over his lute for nights, and you found yourself humming it sometimes to put you to sleep, the words a constant comfort.

“Starless sky, he walks beneath, the lone wolf stalking the night.

Accompanied by solitude, he hears a cry, and he grasps it tight.

A shadow in his shape, armed with his heart, he’s bonded his life with her own.

Daughter of the wolf, child of the witcher, both no longer alone…”

You opened your eyes. “For the heart of the wolf is the pup, and the heart of the pup is the wolf.”

Ciri was asleep before the final word of the song left your lips. You squinted in the darkness and leaned over to blow out the remainders of the candle.

You were still for a while—how long, you weren’t sure—simply thinking to yourself as you stared aimlessly upwards. There was a newfound ease encircling you now, a relief you hadn’t known you’d needed. No longer was the princess a threat; well, not as much as before. She was something else now, something you couldn’t quite wrap your head around yet, and though your concerns were very much still alive, you wouldn’t pin them on Ciri. Geralt was still your guardian, still your best friend, and you were his. Ciri was a tag-along, for now at least.

You were blinking to stay awake by the time you heard the lock turn and the door creak open. Muted light flooded the room and then disappeared as the door was shut. You half-expected Geralt to return to his makeshift bed on the ground, but you were pleased when you felt the bed dip slightly as he sat on the edge. You listened to the thump of his boots as he shoved them to the floor and the slight whoosh of air as he took his cloak from around his shoulders. He stretched his legs out across the bed and lay down beside you, clasping his hands together on his lap.

“Is she asleep or dead?”

You rolled your eyes and turned on your side away from him. He smelled like ale and woodsmoke, with the tinge of familiar forestry. It was a comforting scent, always had been.

“Dead,” you mumbled, just to spite him, then you relaxed. “We talked.”

“About good things?”

“Mostly. I don’t hate her so much anymore.”

Geralt felt a wave of the reprieve he’d been searching for wash over him. Perhaps he’d enjoy the ride to Kaer Morhen from now on, though that would be asking for a lot more patience than he was currently capable of, even with the apparent final truce between you and Ciri. The drinks he’d indulged himself in down at the tavern had just about eased the headache, but there weren’t many hours left until dawn, and he was sure the pounding would return.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“It doesn’t mean we’re best friends.”

“Hmm.”

“But she doesn’t want to take you away from me.”

“Surprise, surprise. The traumatised princess’s master plan to kidnap me and leave you alone is no more.”

You breathed a laugh before you rolled back to face him, and he cracked an eye open to glance down at you. “What is it?” he asked.

You reached for the medallion around his neck. “Nothing.”

Geralt watched you a moment longer. He doubted it was nothing, but he wouldn’t question you on it. Instead, he shut his eyes, feeling you move closer to him. “I told you you’d see things differently if you gave her the chance.”

“You didn’t give her a chance before deciding she was good.”

“She’s little more than a child, Y/N. Of course I decided that. Assuming someone’s good before you’ve met them is better than assuming they’re not. You taught me that.” He felt the warmth of your sigh against his neck. “I thought you didn’t hate her so much anymore.”

“I don’t. But I wish it was still just us. Like before. I liked it better before.”

He opened his eyes again as you settled beside him, your hand on his chest, clasped over his medallion, moving with the rise and fall of his breaths. Your own breaths evened out eventually, free hand somehow wrapped around his own, like you were holding tightly onto him for fear of losing him. Like he was your possession, your lifeline, something you simply couldn’t afford to have taken from you.

One thing was for certain, he thought to himself as he felt the tension of the past weeks finally dissipate into the silence of the room, he doubted it would last long. You were a firecracker, but you were his firecracker, and though he hadn’t said it, he was proud of you for supposedly sorting things out with the princess. Of course, you could have been telling the truth, and Ciri really could be dead in the bed beside you…

His eyes cracked open at that thought, his face instantly melding into a frown. He peered down at you, sleeping innocently against him, and wrapped one arm around you, dispelling those thoughts from his mind. You weren’t that much of a firecracker.

Still, he wouldn’t bet on the fact that you’d leave Ciri alone for good now, and vice versa. There’d undoubtedly be spurts of newfound irritation shot at each other in the form of words and moody glares, but he was ninety-percent sure that for now, everything was okay. You didn’t totally hate Ciri, and you hopefully held no residual feelings of abhorrence for him either, if your grip on his arm had anything to say for it.

He hummed as he settled again. The moment you got to Kaer Morhen, you would hopefully settle more. He hated seeing you so out-of-sorts, but he was optimistic Vesemir would be able to help him on that account. He usually could. Or Eskel. Or anyone, really; it seemed as though he wasn’t working as well as he was sure he once had.

He wondered how Ciri would get on with his brothers and old mentor. As long as she didn’t call him Grandfather, she’d be fine with Vesemir. And Eskel and Lambert… he sighed drearily to himself, moments away from sleep. Those two could be difficult, but with your—perhaps, or perhaps not, reluctant help—hopefully she wouldn’t find it too overwhelming.

Sleep took over his body quickly, and he eventually drifted off in the hazy safety of knowledge that though his and your ‘normal’ would not be returning, this, the girl in the other bed, had the possibility of becoming a new normal that he could be able to live with.

He only hoped you could learn to do the same.

For the heart of the wolf is the pup, after all, and the heart of the pup is the wolf.

Witcher Masterpost

[dreamescapeswriting]

25 Days Of Christmas ~ Day 17 ~ KSJ

WORD COUNT: 0.7K

PAIRING: Seokjin xGN!Reader

GENRE: Fluffy, christmas drabble, prompt, little to no storyline, cute fluffy, reader breaks a bone

Song Suggestion for the day: Holly Jolly - Lady A

Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - December 2021

Check out the masterlist HERE

Jin stared at you from across the room as you hissed at the doctor that was putting your leg into a cast. You whimpered a little feeling your boyfriend burning holes into the side of your head. This wasn't exactly how you had wanted to spend the holidays. 

"Don't look at me like that." You whined as you looked over at Jin, a smirk on his lips as he shook his head at you.

"I can't believe you hurt yourself putting up Christmas decorations." He said in a scolding way, only playfully. When he'd first found you he could do nothing but laugh.

"Like it was my fault," You grumbled as the doctor let out a small chuckle. 

"What happened?" The doctor questioned as he continued to layer on the red casting material. 

Jin was out all day and you were getting tired of being the only home on the street that wasn't decorated. So you were planning on spending the entire day decorating the house by yourself.

Usually, your boyfriend would be the one to help you but he and the boys had been so busy you couldn't wait for him. It was as simple as putting up the tree and a few decorations in the window but you didn't want to do just that.

You wanted Jin to come home with the house completely finished so he wouldn't have to climb up and down a ladder after a long day. 

"You sure you can manage?" The elderly man who lived next door to you asked as he made his way to his car. Jin and you lived beside an elderly man and his wife who were like parents to you both. 

"I'm sure of it Mr Lee, thank you." You smiled looking at the giant inflatable Santa Claus that stood on top of the porch roof. 

"If you're sure." He chuckled before driving away.

Once you knew he was gone you began to make your way up the ladder, holding onto the porch roof to steady yourself. The inflatable was already waiting for you, all you had to do was flick a switch on the thing. 

"Easy as pie," You laughed turning on the switch and watch as the Santa began to fill with air. Smiling triumphantly to yourself you began to climb down the ladder only you missed a step. Before you could scream out or catch onto anything to stop yourself you were on the floor and in a lot of pain. Deep radiating pain as you stared down at your leg,

"F-Fuck," You hissed trying to move your leg only to let out one of the loudest squeals as you felt more pain up and down your leg.

"Shit," You mumbled as you could barely feel your foot from the numbness that was beginning to spread through your leg. 

You'd managed to drag yourself into the living room in a hunt for your phone. But by the time you'd gotten to it, Jin was in the house and staring at you. 

"This explains why the ladders are on the floor," He laughed as he stared at you, your legs were laid on the floor as you whimpered at him in pain. It was like nothing you had experienced before 

"It hurts." You pouted as he nodded at you, walking over as he carefully rolled the pants up from around your ankle.

"Oh yeah, that's broken-"

"Oh, Jin! You're a genius! I never would have known!" You snapped a little as you whimpered, rolling your head back as he began to touch your ankle. Each tap and poke made you want to rip his head from his shoulders and scream at him.

"I'll take you to the hospital, maybe they'll give you red and white cast material." He chuckled as he bent down to swop you up into his arms.

"You know what to do in the future." The doctor chuckled as you stared at him, 

"Wait for your boyfriend to get back," He laughed as he finally finished applying the last of the cast. Standing back to admire the work that he had done and smiled to himself. 

"Perfect, I'll go and get some discharge forms." He told you as he got up. Leaving you and Jin alone as you pouted, you didn't want to spend Christmas on crutches or in a wheelchair. 

"I'll help you finish decorating," Jin said with a small smile, standing beside you as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

"You can put the star on top of the tree, I'll lift you up." He laughed as you glared at him playfully. Wanting nothing more than to go home and pretend that the day had never even happened.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​ @misa0000​ @kookiekuu​ @lolalee24​

[dameronology]

love in a time of p.t.a meetings {marcus moreno}

one shot #3 - 4am

summary: you’re used to it just being you & your kid, and you’re even more used to taking on the world on your own when it gets hard - so, it’s difficult to let marcus in, even when he wants to help {series masterlist}

warnings: parenting themes, very brief mentions of loss, probably the nearest thing you’ll ever get to angst in this series and it’s not even angst 

sorry about the huge gaps between the one shots!! life is v hectic at the moment and i am running around like a headless chicken 24/7. what a vibe. enjoy :) 

- jazz xx

Things had been going smoothly - too smoothly. 

That meant it was only a matter of time before your mini demon child decided to kick up a fuss and do something completely, irretrievably wild. He’d done it before - there had been the fire incident, the shaving the dog incident, the you can’t re-enact the final scene from Revenge of the Sith with pencils incident. You’d taken them all in your stride and tried to learn from them; what else could you do, other than roll with the punches in life? Nobody was born knowing how to parent and you had to constantly remind yourself that. 

But this? This was fucking exhausting. Jack’s sudden refusal to sleep was absolutely kicking the life out of you. And even though he seemed to enjoy living in the Moreno house, you couldn’t help but feel your big move had been something to do with it. You were plagued with guilt at the thought of ripping him away from his childhood home, despite the fact he’d been excited to live with Marcus and Missy. You knew it was all in your head but still, his sudden misbehaviour was really bad for your guilty conscience. It was one thing having your parenting questioned by the minivan mums on the playground but something else entirely when it came from your own mind. 

‘Jack, please!’ You reached out for him, pulling him off his bed and forcing him to lay down. ‘It is 4am. Go to sleep!’

‘No!’ He thwacked your arms away. ‘I don’t want to!’

This was the fifth night in the row that he had refused to sleep. Whether it was loudly banging on the walls or playing Life Is a Highway at full volume from his iPad, the little human had taken it upon himself to deprive the entire family of sleep. Normally, you could have handled it (just about, at least) - but work had been beyond busy and with the loss of an elderly family member, everything was beginning to pile up on your shoulders.

‘I cannot do this tonight!’ You tried to suppress your frustration. ‘Jack, please.’

You didn’t want to cry. They weren’t even tears of sadness, more tears of frustration. Frustration that you couldn’t seem to get through to your own kid, and frustration that he wouldn’t listen. You were sleep deprived as fuck and it was out of your control. The temptation to wave your white flag and let Jack have what he wanted was almost overwhelming. 

‘I don’t want to sleep!’ He yelled. ‘I don’t have to do as you say!’

‘Fine!’ You flapped your hands in the air. ‘I’m done, Jack. Do whatever the hell you want.’

Tossing the stormtrooper you were holding to the floor, you turned your back and stalked out the room, shutting it behind you. 

Your back hit the wood with a thud as you slid down it, the formidable pressure on your shoulders finally prolapsing. You rested your head in your hands, letting out a silent cry. Fuck, you hadn’t cried in ages. Most of the time, you were immune to the absolute craziness that came with your child, but you just needed a break. It had just been you and him for so long that you were used to handling it all on your own and you hadn’t had a day off since he was born. Even when his dad had been in the picture, you’d still practically been a single parent. Doing it on your own was all you ever knew. 

You hadn’t even realised that Marcus had come to sit beside you; not until you felt a warm pair of hands on your shoulders, and the softness of his pyjama shirt against you. For a man who had been losing as much sleep as you and running a superhero team, he was surprisingly with it. His ability to hold his shit together was astounding. 

‘I am so sorry.’ You murmured. ‘His behaviour has been bad but not this bad.’

‘You don’t have to apologise, sweetheart.’ He replied. ‘Kids are stubborn as hell.’

‘It’s not even that.’ You sniffed. ‘It’s just that he won’t listen. And I’m the one person he should fucking listen to.’

‘You don’t have to have the solution to everything.’ Marcus reminded you. He gently wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb. 

‘What if it’s my fault?’ You leant further against his side. ‘What if me uprooting him from the apartment messed him up?’

‘No decision as a parent is easy.’ He said. ‘Especially not ones like that, but you did what’s best for you and him and that’s all you can do. It’s a lot of change for you both but it was the right choice, I promise you.’

‘Maybe.’ You murmured. ‘It’s just...I’ve always been his only parent. Like I am single-handedly responsible for the way he turns out and I do not want to accidentally screw up.’

Marcus softly chuckled. ‘It’s gonna take a lot more than you moving house for him to be a screw up - besides, I’m here to help now too.’

You peered up at him. ‘You don’t have to deal with his shit.’

‘Maybe I want to.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t have to.’

He thinned his eyes at you. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’

Marcus moved his arms from you, shuffling around so that you were facing each other. He had a way of holding your gaze that nobody else quite managed; even his brown eyes were tired from exhaustion, he still managed to look right into your fucking soul. Maybe it was part of his job, or maybe he just saw through your bullshit. 

‘Please don’t shut me out.’

You let out a small sigh. ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to get involved with my kid’s crazy shit. You had a peaceful life before this and-’

‘- I’m not gonna do what his dad did.’ Marcus suddenly cut you off. You could only blink in surprise. ‘I know that’s not you’re saying but it is what you’re saying.’

You’d got got pretty good at your little juggling act over the last five years; it was like you had three balls - Jack, work and everything else the universe had to throw at you. And maybe you weren’t just juggling, but you were doing it on a unicycle. Sometimes it felt like you were going to lose your balance and drop everything, but you’d managed it this far. The idea that Marcus wanted to help you and actually, genuinely had your best interests at heart was an alien idea. You were used to doing everything on your own. 

‘I’m sorry.’ You murmured. ‘We were let down and it’s gonna take time to heal. That’s on me.’

‘No, it’s not.’ Marcus took your hands in his. ‘We’re a family, okay? Nothing is ever going to change that now.’

You gave him a watery smile. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’ 

He stood up, pulling you up with him. 

The fact that not even Marcus and his unusual talents to get your child to behave were working was a testament to Jack’s rough patch. He was normally obedient as hell when it came to listening to him - probably because he was a superhero, you figured. Either way, you both just wanted to sleep. 

Marcus slowly creaked open the door - the sounds of Jack jumping up and down on his bed had stopped, but the godforsaken song from Cars was still blaring in the background. You peered over his shoulder on your tiptoes, trying to get a view at what was going on. By some miracle, the child was now passed out in the middle of the floor. Five nights of no sleep had finally caught up with him, in the same way they were about to catch up with you. 

You gently crept inside and tugged his iPad from his hands, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead. If you moved him from the rug to the bed, you would have woken him; instead, you pulled his blanket from his bed and tucked it over him. 

‘C’mon,’ you took Marcus’ hand as you exited the room. ‘Before we wake the sleeping dragon.’

He tossed an arm across your back, pulling you into his side as you walked down the hallway. 

‘The only person who can wear that kid out is himself.’ He reminded you. ‘Maybe we just need another Jack.’

‘Please don’t give me nightmares.’ 

[basicjetsetter]

Part II

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death, Depression, Triggering Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt

▹ Words: 3k

▹ A/N: ATTENTION! This is an emotionally heavy part. Please DO NOT READ if you know you will be affected. For those struggling with depression, I see you, I care for you, and I love you. You’re not alone and you are undeniably worthy of love.

-Five Years and Twenty Nine Days Later-

You don’t want to get up.

Your phone’s alarm clock is rounding on its tenth circuit, if your counting is correct… and there’s a good chance you blanked out for fifteen minutes while watching a strip of sunlight lethargically inch down your blanket to the foot of the bed, so your number may be off by six or seven.

It’s not that you’re tired or anything, or maybe you are and that’s beside the point. It’s just that your bed is far too comfortable for your own good and you know today is Saturday, the busiest day at Hal’s Diner, and it just so happens you’re scheduled for an 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. brunch rush. If you had a choice, you’d stay in bed.

But you don’t. And you’re running twenty minutes late… for the fourth time in two weeks.

I’ve got you.

Shut the fuck up.

You wearily snarl, snatching your pillow out from under your head and slamming it against your face, uselessly stuffing it over your ears as if that would somehow miraculously block out the words. 

Usually, the voice stayed quiet. After three years of the repeated promise drifting around your brain like a lost ship at sea, you had finally figured out how to anchor it to the deepest, darkest, most unchartered recess of your mind. Every now and then, though, they’d find a way to rattle the chains, just to remind you of their eternal presence, but it never lasted long. You didn’t acknowledge them anymore. They no longer fooled you.

But, twenty-nine days ago, something reinvigorated the voice, giving them a renewed sense of purpose and a reason to break free.

Twenty-nine days ago, on the exact anniversary of their disappearance, everyone came back. 

Out of the blue, in the middle of the day, all of the people Earth mourned for five years reappeared to a very, very stunned world. Celebration rocked the streets of New York and all over the globe. Lovers lost returned. Mothers. Fathers. Sisters. Brothers. Babies. Friends. They all came back. And the voice in your head broke free of its chains, rampantly bouncing around your mind as if they were on pure steroids, ready to charge forward and find the one your Destined Words belonged to. 

Everything reverted back to normal.

Except, besides your newly released Destined Words, nothing changed for you.

You weren’t there when… when your best friend rematerialized in your previous apartment. You moved to a smaller, modestly priced place six blocks away. It was great for what little money you had, and your landlords, a lovely couple that always leaves you a present outside your door for Christmas and birthdays, were generous enough to accommodate for your lack of funds.

You just couldn’t keep your parents’ apartment. Not when you knew they weren’t coming back. 

No one ever speaks about the casualties of the ones lost that day, the ones who perished from the effects of the blip. For a long time, you just couldn’t cope with the fact that a swerving hit from a rogue truck whose driver turned to dust was all it took to take your parents away. But you had to move on.

Ever since that day five years ago, you’ve been on your own.

You’re sure your friend tried looking for you by now, continually calling up a retired cellphone number, searching through deleted social media accounts, maybe even asking your old high school for your whereabouts to no avail. Even though you’re not far from home, she’d never find you. 

You don’t want to be found. You like being alone.

With a great, gusty sigh, you roll out of bed, grab some clothes and undergarments, then pad to the bathroom, ignoring the chiming circuit of your alarm clock. It can wait. You go through the motions: washing up, putting your hair in its regular bun, brushing your teeth, and staring at your unaged face in the spotted mirror.

It’s not vanity, though it’s common knowledge that your features will be impervious to aging for a long while. You literally haven’t aged a single day since the blip.

It was an intriguing phenomenon after the first two years. Everyone your age who had heard their Destined Words but had yet to meet their Soulmate just stopped aging, and when the younger generation hit the age of eighteen, they stopped aging as well. For some, like you, the effect was felt rather than seen. Ever since the string inside you snapped, you knew that cosmic time would stand still until you connected with your other soul. You’re not holding your breath for that anytime soon.

As you step out of the steam-filled bathroom, your alarm blares out its last chime before switching to the Vmm Vmm Vmm of an incoming call.

You pick up on the sixth ring. “Good morning, Hal.”

“This is the fourth—”

“The fourth time. I know, I know. I’m on my way.”

Hal grunts into the receiver, “Don’t get smart with me, little lady. Just because you’re my best server doesn’t mean I won’t fire you.”

That’s precisely what that means, and he knows you know it. You blow out a sigh, “I’m seriously almost out the door. Like two steps.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, a hint of a grin in his quizzical noise. “Well, hightail it, would’ya? The joint’s packed already and I need all hands on deck, so scoot.”

“Scooting,” you confirm, snagging your bag off of your sofa and grabbing your keys. “Who’s with me today?” Please don’t say Wendy. Please don’t say Wendy.

“Chris and Wendy.”

You groan as you shut the door behind you. “Come on, Hal. She’s dead weight in the morning. I might as well be working with a zombie in an apron.”

Hal grumps, “At least the zombie gets here on time.”

“Have you had coffee yet? You’re not you when you’re decaffeinated.” It’s true. Even with your truancy, Hal wouldn’t hold it over your head more than twice. He’s usually as chipper as a dog in a dog park at this time, bustling and joking up a storm.

He takes a loud sip, then says, “We’re slammed, is all, and I’m missing my best hand.” Two disgruntled heys ring in the background and Hal immediately issues apologies. “Just get here, will ya?”

Before you can remind him again that you are on your way, he disconnects the call.

You’re wondering if it’s too late to go back to bed.

The little, infamous family diner is only seven blocks south of your apartment building, a nice walk when the weather’s good and a pain in the ass when it’s not. You used to enjoy the quiet mornings and the stillness that came with it, but ever since things went back to normal, you can’t survive the walk without a pair of headphones jammed in your ears and your music’s volume turned all the way up. Everyone’s just so… loud.

Thankfully, today, the walk is a straight shot and you’re in the doors within fifteen minutes.

It’s like stepping into a den full of ravenous animals. Worse, it’s like stepping into a den full of ravenous animals and being stuck with the task of serving them.

“Look who’s finally decided to show up,” Wendy chides, stifling a yawn as she shuffles to a table and places down three menus. She’s twenty-two years old and likes setting your teeth on edge.

You deadpan, “Did the cat drag you in from the front door or the back?”

“Knock it off, you two,” warns Chris, walking by with two arms balancing four plates of the Sunrise Breakfast Special. He looks at you, then jerks his chin back to the kitchen. “Boss is about to blow his top.”

Nodding, you make your way to the back, giving a small wave to some regulars. Out of breath and sweat running down his reddened neck, Hal is moving like a man caught in a whirlwind, flipping eggs and pancakes and sausages and hash browns and bacon while checking orders and filling plates. As soon as he hears the kitchen door close and sees you, he visibly sags in relief.

“Don’t bother clocking in. Just put your apron on and get out there.”

You nod. Set down your things. Put on your apron. Arrange a plastic smile.

Go through the motions.

It’s all the same thing every single day. Wake up, work, school, sleep. Repeat. Unlike the other constants, school is something you’re temporarily trying out. It wasn’t your original plan, the whole four years to a bachelor’s degree, then some more years for a master’s. You gave that up long ago. Right now, you’re just taking a free weekend art class at a community college. Oddly enough, it’s something you’re beginning to look forward to on Saturdays and Sundays.

Work, while you’re great at what you do, is never a highlight. 

Hal was right. The diner is slammed, and you’re swept up in the current of rude, demanding customers, snide remarks from Wendy, cheerful shrugs from Chris, and barking orders from Hal for six whole hours. You work through your two fifteen-minute breaks. No one reminds you. You slip on spilled hash browns. No one helps you. You bring back a plate three times to satisfy a customer who kept finding fault with their eggs. No one thanks you.

Everything is back to normal.

I’ve got you.

“Fuck off,” you snap, slapping a hand to your mouth when you see the elderly woman you’re serving knit her brows in revulsion. “Oh, no, ma’am. I’m-I’m sorry, I was—”

She stands and marches out of the diner before you could explain, snatching her ten-dollar tip off the table.

“… talking to myself,” you finish under your breath.

She’s the last of the brunch rush, leaving only the regular afternoon crowd and a few stragglers. The clock near the cash register reads 2:13 p.m.

You brush off the disappointment of a lost tip and head to the kitchen to grab your things and leave, Chris and Wendy following you. Hal’s two other workers, the ones here till closing, cover the floor well. Not like they had much to do.

Hal is whistling a jaunty tune when you walk in, stopping to salute you, Chris, and Wendy with an exhausted grin. “Nice work out there, you guys. See you tomorrow.”

Wendy is out the door the instant she clocks out.

Chris catches your arm as you grab your bag from your small locker. “Hey, um, I sort of heard your little outburst, and I was wondering if you were okay.”

You nod, gently shrugging his hand off. “Yeah, it’s just a tip. I made enough.”

“No, not that,” he shakes his head, clearing his throat and pushing a hand through his choppy beach-blond hair. He ineptly bends his head down a little, getting close enough for a private conversation you do not want to have. “It’s just… you’ve done that before and I just want to make sure everything’s alright with you.”

You can’t put the plastic smile back on, he’s seen it too many times to know it’s not real, so you half-heartedly grin. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, anytime. Hey, so, me and a couple friends are hanging out tonight. There’s gonna be a music festival in Cunningham Park. Wanna hang?”

Chris tries this every week. At first, you thought it was his bashful attempt at asking you out, but he’s a happily taken man with a big heart and a lot of friends. Every customer he meets, boom, they’re friends and soon loyal customers of Hal’s. It’s a gift. You just wish he caught your not-so-subtle hints of evasion.

Tonight, though, you had the perfect excuse. “Can’t. I got class.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “On a Saturday night?”

“Yeah. It’s a free course. Get it where I can take it, you know,” you awkwardly laugh, hoping Chris wasn’t offended as you take a couple of steps back towards the exit.

His smile doesn’t falter. “Maybe next time, then.”

Not likely. “Sure, yeah. See you later.”

You duck out before he says goodbye, dashing out the front door and speed-walking home.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

You stop dead in the middle of a sidewalk.

Where did that come from? It’s never said it three times in a row before. Does… does that mean something?

Your breath quickens at the thought, and you spin around, scanning the vacant street. You’re the only one occupying the sidewalk, you and a curious squirrel sniffing at the crisp air. There’s not a person in sight. When you’re certain you’re in the clear, pivoting a glance around one more time for good measure, you pick up the pace, practically running the rest of the way home.

Once you’re in your apartment and the door shuts, you desperately whisper to your mind, “Don’t say it anymore. I don’t want them, okay? I don’t want a Soulmate.”

Nothing.

“I know you hear me,” you bite out aloud, forcefully shoving back the urge to yell. “Stop saying the words.”

Still nothing.

Silence rings hollow in your mind like the voice is waiting for your temper to cool down. Like it knew it upset you and felt chastened enough to back off and take a time out in a corner.

You stand immobile in the middle of your cramped sitting area. Tense. Waiting. Waiting longer than you care to admit. The urge to fight deserts you as quick as it comes, but you’re still standing there with your fists balled up, feeling more and more defeated as the minutes drain away.

The voice isn’t going to leave you alone. You know that. It’s here to serve one purpose, and the only thing holding it up is you. You’re meant to meet whoever those words belong to… but then what? They magically fix you? They love you back to normal? Five years ago, you may have believed they can do that. But, the problem is, you’ve gone through enough life-altering events in the last five years to last you a lifetime, and this one person, this person destined to pair with your soul, won’t be your wave-of-a-wand solution.

You just want it to stop.

I’ve got you.

A lone tear slides down your cheek as you trek to your bed and climb in fully clothed.

For a long time, you simply stare up at the ceiling as the tears leak out the corners of your eyes. You make no noise, and your chest doesn’t jerk up and down with sobs. The tears gather, and then they fall. Gather and fall. Gather and fall until there are no tears left. You continue staring at the ceiling.

You think back to the days when those godforsaken words and the future they foretold brought you happiness. What a wonderful promise, pairing with someone who will always be there for you in some capacity and will instantly love you. You can’t recall any Soulmate story not working out. Maybe they just never speak about it. Why mar the fantasy?

The sun dipped below the horizon a while ago, and now the moon shines bright in the night sky. You missed your art class.

Your body is as stiff as a board when you sit up. There’s a tight pounding in your forehead, either from crying or lack of food, but you aren’t bothered enough to deal with it. Instead, you move to the only window in your room and pull back the curtains to gaze at the stars. Not many are out yet, but they glitter like gems around the moon, and the night sky nears a lovely shade of midnight blue.

The sight is so pretty; you find yourself grabbing a couple of paint bottles, brushes, and a small canvass, then heading out of your apartment, walking up six flights of stairs to reach the roof.

It’s quiet when you get up there, save for the noise of zooming cars below. The first time you came up on the roof, just out of curiosity, you loved how solitary it felt, loved the view overlooking the building-strewn skyline and the overall height of the complex. It became a nice place to visit when you wanted to be by yourself.

You walk over to the edge of the building, sitting your supplies down on the ledge, then look up at the sky for the best angle to capture the moon and the stars.

The sky is vast. So endless. So open. So free. You stop scoping out for the perfect angle and just admire the shining moon when your eyes land on it. It’s waning, only a sliver of its surface visible as it prepares to transition into a New Moon. Then you gaze at the stars as they dimly twinkle back at you… like they can see right through you.

Like they can see your sadness.

You step closer to the ledge, each step laden with the weight of smothered grief. You lost everyone. Your parents. Manda. She’d never recognize the person you’ve become.

You step onto the ledge, not looking down but up, trying to memorize the image.

You lost your Soulmate. That broken string in your chest never felt the same, even after everyone came back. Maybe you were too far gone for any connection.

You turn around. You’d thought you’d feel numb, but acceptance fills you. It’s okay to let go.

You lower your eyes, slowly lean back, and let gravity take over.

Air sails past your ears in a rush as you fall, and you can’t really focus on anything except your erratic heartbeat. You don’t struggle as your body wants. You just fall and wait.

And then, in a sudden flash of red and blue, you’re propelling sideways and swinging upwards, a strong arm pressing you against a hard chest.

“I’ve got you.”

As soon as he said the words, you knew who they belonged to, as if you knew this entire time. Even with the mask covering his face, you knew. But it still doesn’t stop you from incredulously saying, “Peter?”

His masked face snaps to yours. A small part of you tries to pin his surprise on you correctly guessing his identity, but something bigger assures you the reason for his alarm is a match to your own.

He knows you’re his Soulmate.

...

Part III

[daily-commission-fear]

My genshin impact oc just putting this hear so I don’t forget anything also no tags because I’m ✨embarrassed as these are bad✨also I was super tired while doing this will do second oc in the morning also for my first one trigger warning for alcoholism smoking death and sucide

Pic crew used here

Oc name = Heiko Schleiermacher

Pronouns = he/him

Vision = cryo

Weapon = catalyst but can use a bow if forced he won’t like it though

Age = 25

Sexuality = gay

Height = 5’8

Date of birth = 23/06

Where he lives = in mondstadt and while he works in the city he lives in springevale because he enjoys the smaller crowds and the fish by the pond are calming and it’s a lot cheaper

What he does = mixer/bouncer at angles share but will work at dawn winery manor when certain people come into the city to hide

Backstory = Heiko parents moved to liyue from Fontaine when Heiko was only a child in an attempt to escape there shady past and it almost worked! For then years up until heiko was aged 15 they all lived a peaceful life then in Qingce Village then the attack happened the fatui attacked they killed both of heiko parents and his best friend who they mistook for him. It turns out heiko mum was doing some work with the fatui but when she released she was helping making a weapon that would kill thounds she ran even tho she new the fatui would kill her and her whole family for the betrayal. Heiko was walking into his house after helping his elderly nabhour paint his walls and that’s when he found the body’s burlity murder on the floor and note written by his mother in her dying moments explaining everything and that he must run away from liyue so they can’t ever work out he wasn’t killed and they got to the wrong boy and that they will always love and watch over him. That was the moment he got his vison sobbing over the body’s of the only people in the world he loved yet he had to run like they said he hung his vison around his neck using his neckless he was given for his birthday the last thing he was given from his family and ran with what little mora they had and a single photo of the 4 of them. He didn’t have to worry about his friends family as his family was all he had as he was an orphan he was pretty much heiko brother.

Heiko ran to mondstadt as quickly as he could and also changed his name to Heiko there at this point he doesn’t even remember his real name. When he got to mondstadt he was put into the orphanage and also join the knights of favonius he was desperate for revenge it being his only obsession it all he was at that point he feared getting closer to the other knights because of what happened to his friends and was extremely closed off though he did have to talk to them a lot especially Jean who was around the same age at the time because he would constantly push himself to hard and she would have to take him to the nuns to get help. But overall the rest of Heiko teen age years where just training to be a better fighter and rising in the ranks of knights while completely isolating himself from others and falling deeper and deeper into a pit of self hatred, wrath and regret he blamed himself for what happened even made himself believe it was his own fault “maybe mother could have saved herself father and him if she had got help instead of writing to me… if only I was never born”(friendship rank 10 line) and even sducidal but he promised himself he would not die until he got revenge then he could see his family again. This time was also when he discovered his love of alcohol and smoking. the edge that was taken off when he smoked and the only time he’s ever happy is when he drinks, this meant he quickly became an addict as soon as he hit 18 you would often see him at the bars drinking away the pain when the training yard kicked him out as apparently 3am is bad time for training?!

As an adult a lot changed with the fatui actually inside mondstadt Heiko was finding life harder and harder to hold back eventually aged 23 he couldn’t anymore. A fatui man was wearing his father watch he knew it was his fathers because of the graving on the side Heiko launched himself at the man using the ice in his vison to pin him to the wall and integrated him and soon found out this was the man that killed his family and ruined his life. Seething with rage Heiko killed the man just as brutally as he did to his family luckily it was in a conner of mondstadt nobody ever goes to except jean who has to work that area also his boss…Jean heard it all and is conflicted while she does think he deserve to die because of what he did (just not as painfully as that) she can’t let someone as violent and vengeful stay as a knight especially one that could cause major problems for mondstadt so while she agrees to keep It quiet because of that and because she has a soft spot for her old friend but he would have to leave the knights. Heiko accepts the deal he was having his own problems with the knights anyway not bealving there aggressive enough and way to passive letting to many foes walk all over them. But dispute this he felt so empty the knights are all he ever knew and he just got revenge yet he doesn’t feel happy he doesn’t feel like he’s done anything he still feels as empty as before so what does he do goes down to the angles share and get wasted. While walking out the door he makes the mistake (or miracle) of telling diluc that they shouldn’t look for his body. That’s right in his drunken haze he admitted that he’s going to try and commit sucide to diluc who quickly followed him to the tree in springevale where he was going to hang himself but diluc stoped him. Heiko had a panic attack and once again confessed his life story to a man he had only really known from the battle they fought together while both knights and when it was over he simply sobed into diluc chest. Diluc took pity on Heiko and offered him a job and if it came to much at the angles share that the winery is open to him as well. At the time Heiko never really questioned it to emotionally to do so tho as time goes on he never really understood why but as the next two years goes on he becomes closer to diluc something he hasn’t done for years and is curtly trying to find a reason to live and to stop his addiction before they end his life

But that’s his story and that’s where we are know with Heiko now a addict that’s trying to quite and a lost soul trying to find a reason. He finding a little bit a love in the world and as time goes on mabey he will move on from that day

[nerdzzone]

Light After Dark: Chapter One

Summary: Brooke Harris was trying her best to be grateful. As the world tackled the COVID-19 pandemic, she was healthy and safe and so was the rest of her family, but her dreams had very quickly been crushed by the economic fallout. Trapped on the quaint island of Jersey with nothing, but free time to wallow in her mistakes, Brooke’s mental health was taking a hit, but when she collides with a handsome stranger she starts to realize that the future might not be so bleak and there might still be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

______________

April. 12. 2020

Stress.

Everyone was feeling it these days. Pandemics will do that to people. Especially when the world that everyone knew and loved had crumbled into an entirely different, almost unrecognizable version of itself.

Restaurants were closed. All stores that were deemed non-essential were shuttered. The streets were empty.

It was an odd kind of bittersweet. It was heartbreaking to see all the bustling cities turn into ghost towns, but it was good because it meant that people were listening. People were caring about their vulnerable friends and neighbours, their elderly grandparents, the health care workers who fought tirelessly to save those who needed their help. 

It was a necessary evil, but nevertheless it was odd to see and the uncertainty of how the future would unfold was anxiety inducing.

At first, I wanted as much news as possible. Staying informed of everything happening in every affected country gave me some comfort. It was as if it somehow gave me more control, but I quickly realized that wasn't the case. It gave me no clearer indication of how or when things would end or when some kind of normality would return. It left me overwhelmed and drowning in hypothetical worse case scenarios when really the truth was that no one had any idea. Even the experts couldn't say what would happen next. It was all just guess work and while some of it was educated, most of the articles were not and it was turning me into a nervous wreck.

So I decided to disconnect. I decided to trust that I would be informed when the number of cases dropped and the lockdown was lifted and trust that the process would not be sped up by me consuming as many statistics and projections as I could find.

Turning off was hard though. I wasn't one of the lucky few who could simply do their job from home, I had nothing to fill my days. I had also chosen to isolate with my parents in the lovely house they'd bought a few years earlier on the beautiful island of Jersey. In some ways this was a lucky choice as the risk was far lower than in London where I was living, but it was quaint and the lack of hustle and bustle made me feel even more restless.

Which was how I found myself out exploring the trails. 

My mother had kicked me out of the house when she caught me doing one of my niece’s art projects for her out of boredom. My niece hadn't wanted to do it anyway, so I didn't see the harm, but my mother had reminded me that she was seven and didn't get to just opt out of schoolwork if she wasn't in the mood. She then cited some article she'd found about how the government were still encouraging people who were feeling cooped up to go outside to exercise once a day and tossed me my shoes and bag before pushing me to the door.

I'd wandered sulkily at first, frustrated that at thirty I was in a situation that had my mother tossing me outside the way she did when we were kids and our endless energy was getting on her nerves. But I soon realized she was right. It was a beautiful island and I should appreciate the opportunity to explore it. So I found a map, picked a destination and then hiked for almost an hour until I'd reached the viewing point I was looking for.

I had to admit it was a beautiful view as I looked out over the ocean, sitting on the little bench I'd found, but the peace it brought was short-lived. I started wondering if I really should have sat down at all considering I had no idea who had been there before me. My legs were tired so I had figured it was worth the risk as long as I didn't touch anything, but was it really?

Sighing into the mask that covered my face, it struck me again how strange the world currently was. Two months ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about sitting on a public bench or worried what would happen if another group joined me in the little clearing I'd found, but now every stranger was a potential threat.

I quickly grew frustrated with my negative thoughts. The walk was supposed to get me out of my head and I was annoyed that I couldn't shake it, couldn't think of anything else except the stupid pandemic for even just a few minutes. The mask on my face suddenly felt suffocating and I just wanted to get home so I could rip it off.

Rising from the bench, I checked the time on my phone before tossing it back into my bag with a sigh and heading off down the trails. I was in a world of my own as I walked. Day dreams about how things would be now if none of this had ever happened filled my head and then, when the inescapable reality broke through my thoughts, I pondered what kind of new cocktail I could try when I got home to ease the pang of loss that seemed to constantly fill my stomach.

I was in the midst of drooling over a prosecco and elder flower concoction that I'd recently read a recipe for when suddenly it felt like I was hit by a truck.

I landed on the ground, flat on my back, fighting to breathe as the wind was knocked right out of me. My chest was tight and my vision was blurry as I felt a familiar panic rising in my chest. Did I bring my inhaler? Where was my bag? What had even happened?

As the thoughts raced through my mind, I could vaguely hear the sound of someone next to me.

"Are you alright?" They asked, their tone conveying a similar panic to the one I was feeling. "Shit, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

I nodded as the spasm in my chest subsided, but my weak lungs seemed to struggle to recover from the shock. I coughed into my mask as I forced myself to sit up, looking frantically for my bag and spotted it a few feet off to the side. My breath was coming out in short wheezes as I struggled to move closer to it, but the man was much faster. He thrust it into my arms, watching me like a worried puppy as I quickly dug through it.

Relief flooded through me as my hand wrapped around my inhaler and I quickly pulled down my mask as I pressed it against my lips. It took a few moments, but I felt myself calm down as the tightness began to subside and my body relaxed. It wasn't until I'd taken a few deep breaths that the man spoke again.

"Are you alright?" He repeated, clearly realizing I was in a much better position to actually give a response. "I'm so sorry."

I nodded as I finally took a good look at who I was talking to and suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe again for an entirely different reason. He had a baseball hat pulled low on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity, but it didn't work as I realized I was face to face with Superman himself, Henry Cavill.

"Y-yeah, I'm, uh, I'm fine, thanks," I sputtered out. "What happened?"

Henry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he squatted next to where I was sitting on the dusty trail.

"I was running and I crashed into you," He admitted. "I wasn't paying attention and didn't see you around the corner."

"Oh," I nodded, still trying to come to terms with the situation. "I wasn't paying attention either to be fair. It's not your fault."

He pulled a face that made it clear that he didn't necessarily agree with that statement, but he didn't argue.

"Are you really alright?" He asked again, guilt written all over his face. "You fell really hard and then you weren't breathing. I thought I'd killed you."

I snorted a laugh, quickly covering my face as it turned into a cough.

"I'm okay," I insisted, my voice raspy. "And for the record I don't have that stupid virus either. I have asthma. I think I got winded when I fell and it triggered an attack."

"Shit," Henry rubbed his face nervously. "So I almost did kill you."

"Nah," I smiled, appreciating how genuinely bad he felt about the situation. "You can't be blamed for my broken lungs."

He chuckled and flashed me a smile before standing and holding out a hand for me. I took it happily, but once he'd pulled me to my feet another issue became apparent. As soon as I put weight on my left foot, I crumbled into Henry's arms, gasping in pain.

"Whoa, I got you," He soothed as he caught me. "What hurts?"

"My ankle," I groaned, shifting all my weight to my right foot and off of him.

Henry's brow furrowed in thought before his eyes widened like a little light bulb had gone off in his brain.

"There's a park nearby," He informed me. "Can I take you there and look it?"

I raised an eyebrow as I hopped slightly to keep my balance.

"I don't remember the Superman movie where Clark Kent went to medical school."

There was a brief flash of surprise on his face when he realized I knew who he was, but it disappeared almost instantly as he chuckled and shot me a smirk.

"I can't say that he did," He confirmed. "But as someone who had to stay in pretty decent shape for that role, I'm more familiar than I care to admit with sports injuries."

"I don't think being bowled over by a man with muscles bigger than my head counts as a sport," I matched his smirk. "But I would appreciate your opinion if you don't mind looking at it. It hurts quite badly and I'm clueless with this stuff."

"Of course," Henry nodded. "Ready?"

Before I could even answer, Henry had one arm tucked under the back of my knees and was holding me bridal style in his arms. I gasped quietly at suddenly being lifted off the ground, but my surprise quickly turned into awe at the ease with which he had picked me up and how he was now walking quickly down the trail as if I weighed nothing at all. It had been far too long since I'd been in a position this intimate with a man and my mouth suddenly felt dry as his biceps flexed under my back and I couldn't help, but imagine what they would look like if we were in other intimate positions.

Stopping those thoughts as fast as they appeared, I pulled my mask up to hide my reddening cheeks.

"We are definitely not six feet apart..."

My mumbled words were muffled even more by the mask covering my mouth, but the shake of Henry's shoulders as he chuckled and the wink that he shot me made it obvious that he'd heard me loud and clear.

****

"Alright, well, it's pretty swollen, but I don't think it's broken," Henry informed me as he sat on the bench of the picnic table he'd placed me on. He'd spent a few minutes wiggling my foot around, watching my response before announcing his opinion. "I think it's probably just twisted or sprained."

"There goes my dancing career." I sighed dramatically in an attempt to make it clear I was joking, but the slight drop of Henry's jaw and the guilt that riddled his face meant I'd missed the mark. "Kidding! I'm kidding. My lack of coordination killed that dream when I was a child. I'm a baker. Or rather, I was a baker."

Henry quirked an eyebrow at my change of phrasing.

"Decided on a career change?"

I looked down, wishing I hadn't brought it up in the first place. I was starting to accept the way things were, but it wasn't something I was eager to discuss just yet.

"I didn't get a chance to decide really," I started to explain, my voice suddenly coming out much meeker than it had before. "The pandemic kinda made the choice for me."

"Oh," Henry frowned. "Well, it can't go on forever. I'm sure they'll start letting places reopen by the summer."

"Not my place," I smiled half-heartedly in an attempt to hide some of the self-pity I was wallowing in. "I put all my eggs in one basket...A basket which the pandemic then threw off a cliff."

Henry chuckled at my explanation, but there was sympathy on his face.

"Is there no chance you could pick up where you left off?"

I sighed, but shook my head.

"I opened my own bakery in January," I admitted. "I barely had it up and running when the pandemic hit and with my asthma, I'm pretty vulnerable so I closed up shop as soon as things started heading south. I sunk all my savings into it though so I don't have enough to keep it a float. I was past the point of no return after only a few weeks of being shut."

Henry was quiet for a moment and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me as I realized that I'd massively overshared my problems with a stranger who was simply trying to make polite conversation. I opened my mouth to spout out some apologies when Henry cut me off.

"I'm very sorry to hear that."

His eyes met mine as he spoke and even though it was a simple sentence, it put me at ease. His eyes were warm and comforting and it was clear there was sincerity to his words. Not wanting to burden him too much though, I simply shrugged.

"It could be worse," I pointed out. "I'm healthy, my family are all healthy. People have lost a lot more to this virus than I have."

"Just because people have lost more, it doesn't make you loss insignificant."

I had heard his words before and I appreciated the sentiment, but it still felt hard to grieve for a lost business when an incomprehensible number of people were grieving for lost loved ones. 

"You sound like my therapist," I teased, feeling a strange warmth in my stomach when a smile slid onto his face. He really was very handsome. It was no wonder why women and men all around the world would kill to get this close to him. "Anyway, I should probably call my dad and see if he can pick me up. I don't think I'll be able to walk home."

Henry nodded and passed me my bag from where it was placed on the ground. He waited patiently as I made the call, arranging for my dad to meet me on the road I could see running past the park just up a small hill. Once it was all set up, I turned back to Henry.

"Thanks so much for all your help," I smiled. "I think I'll be okay for now though, you don't need to waste any more of your day."

"It's not a waste," Henry argued. "Besides, I still maintain this whole mess was my fault so it's the least I can do to help you up that hill when your dad arrives."

"You really don't need to," I insisted. "I can hop or crawl or something."

A laugh slipped from Henry's mouth as he shook his head.

"As entertaining as I'm sure that would be to watch, it wouldn't be very decent of me to let you struggle like that," He held firm, clearly not one to back down easily. "How about as a trade off for my assistance, you can give me your number?"

I snorted a laugh as I looked at him in disbelief.

"You want my number? Is that a joke?"

"No!" He grinned from ear to ear as he fished his phone out of the pocket of his shorts. "It's the least you can do after I gave you my expert medical advice."

"Wow, Mr. Cavill. Very smooth," I smiled, my cheeks heating up as I rattled off my number. He entered it in carefully before looking up at me again.

"Now, I just need a name to go with it."

"Oh! How rude of me." My blushed deepened when I realized I hadn't even introduced myself. "I'm Brooke."

"Brooke," Henry repeated as he typed it into his phone. "It's nice to meet you, Brooke."

"You too," I agreed before deciding it was time to to turn the attention back to him. "So, what brings international superstar, Henry Cavil, to the little island of Jersey?"

"It's my home," He informed me, a fond smile on his face. "I grew up here so when production got shut down due to the pandemic, I decided to come here to isolate with my family."

"What an amazing place to grow up," I said, my words dripping with envy. "You must have had the run of the island!"

"We did," Henry nodded with a chuckle. "I have four brothers so my mother always knew we'd keep each other safe and let us do what we pleased for the most part."

"Four brothers?" My jaw dropped slightly at the thought. "I have one sister and that was more than enough siblings for me."

"It was a lot," Henry agreed. "But it was nice. I love having a big family and we all went to boarding school so there wasn't five of us in the house together all the time."

"That makes it easier," I nodded. "Are you close?"

"Absolutely! I'm closest with my younger brother because we're only two years apart, but we're all quite good friends. We try to get everyone together at least once a year if our schedules permit it."

He grinned as he spoke and it was clear that he loved his family very much. I couldn't help, but return his smile.

"That's really nice."

"Are you close with your sister?"

"I am," I nodded. "It's part of the reason I'm here, I guess. My parents moved here a few years back and she decided to bring my niece here to isolate so they could help look after her. My brother-in-law is a paramedic so he knew things were getting bad long before the lockdown started and he felt it would be safer for her not to be in the house with him in case he gets exposed. My sister is working from home though so home-schooling Molly by herself while trying to do her own work would be tough. Since Jersey is obviously safer for me too with my asthma, I decided to tag along when they came over from London way back at the beginning of March so I can help my sister with Molly too."

I felt like I was rambling and oversharing again, but Henry's eyes were on me the entire time and he never once seemed disinterested. It was refreshing to meet someone who was actually interested in having a proper conversation.

"That sounds like a very sensible choice," He nodded when I was finished my explanation. "It must be hard for your niece to be separated from her dad so I'm sure she appreciates having you around. A couple of my brothers are in the military and I know when they've been deployed, the kids really struggle."

"She's doing better than I expected, but there's days when we can tell she's having a hard time," I admitted. "Are you just isolating with your parents?"

"No, no, we're doing a similar thing to you," Henry smiled. "One of my brothers was over visiting at the beginning of March during a school break so when there was talk of schools closing, they decided to just stay over here. So it's my parents and I, plus my brother, his wife and their three kids. Oh, and my big fluffy dog."

My whole face lit up at the mention of a dog before I could even control myself.

"You have a dog?!" I practically squealed, making Henry's shoulder shake as he chuckled. "Do you have pictures?"

"Of course!"

Henry picked up his phone from where he'd placed it on the table and quickly opened his camera roll. From where I was sitting, perched on the table above him, I could see dozens of pictures pop up on the screen, most of them of a big fluffy, black and white dog. He scrolled for a moment before tapping on one and turning the phone towards me.

"Awwwe," I cooed, looking at the big goofy grin on the dog's face. "What's his name?"

"Kal."

I stared at him for a moment, confusion written all over my face.

"You named your dog Cow?"

Henry tossed his head back laughing, shaking it slowly.

"No, not cow! Kal!" He emphasized the 'L' as he clarified. "As in Kal-El."

"Ooh, I get it," I giggled, realizing my mistake. "Wow, you're a nerd."

"I am," Henry chuckled, not fazed by my jab. "If you think naming my dog after Superman is bad, wait until you hear how I've been spending all this free time."

I wrinkled my nose in mock disgust.

"Let me guess...some video game like...World of Warcraft?"

Laughter once again erupted from Henry, making me laugh at the sight.

"No, surprisingly not," He shook his head. "Even though I did almost miss the call for Superman because I actually was playing World of Warcraft..."

"Oh my god, really?" I raised an eyebrow, finding it hard to believe someone who looked like him was into something that many people consider so uncool. He nodded in confirmation before I got us back the point. "I need to hear that story too, but what have you been doing with your free time then if not gaming? Lifting cars to keep those muscles in perfect condition?"

Now it was Henry's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Cars?" He questioned, but I simply shrugged in response. "No, not that. Well, I mean, I do spend a good portion of my day keeping fit, hence this fateful run, but what I was referring to is this..."

Henry flipped to a picture on his phone and showed me. I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking at so I took a guess.

"Painting figurines?"

"Pretty much," He nodded. "It's all tied in to gaming. They have a whole world and lore created about it."

I giggled and shook my head in mock disbelief.

"If only your fan-girls could see you now..."

"Oh, they love it," He smirked. "I posted the picture on my Instagram and apparently they find my nerdy side rather endearing."

"They're just blinded by your handsome face," I teased. "And your gentlemanly manners."

"Most likely," Henry agreed with a grin that filled me a warmth. "Speaking of, I think your dad has arrived."

I looked over my shoulder towards the road and spotted a man waving his arms.

"Yep," I nodded, shifting over to the edge of the picnic table. "Now, how are we going to do this? Can I hold your-"

Before I could finish my sentence, Henry had his arm tucked under my knees and lifted me up bridal style once again.

"Show off," I teased, reaching back to grab my bag from the table just before Henry started the walk up the hill. "I think you're just trying to impress me with your strength."

Henry glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.

"Is it working?"

It was, but I shook my head.

"No, not at all," I lied. "If the tables were turned, I could carry you just as easily."

I was jostled slightly as Henry laughed at that bold statement.

"You're much stronger than you look then," He informed me as we got to the top. “Hold on to me now."

I listened to his instruction, keeping one arm draped around his shoulders as he lowered me to the ground, letting me lean my weight on him and off my left foot.

"Henry, what a pleasant surprise!" My dad greeted us, making me raise an eyebrow in suspicion of his rather familiar greeting of my new friend. "What are you doing here?"

"Unfortunately, I'm to blame for your daughter's injuries, Mr. Harris," Henry explained looking rather sheepish once again. "We collided on the path."

"It wasn't his fault," I insisted. "Neither of us were paying attention and he was kind enough to check me out after."

My dad glanced between the two of us, curiosity written all over his face.

"Check you out?"

My cheeks heated up as I realized how he'd chosen to interpret those words and I rolled my eyes.

"Check my ankle out," I clarified. "He says it's probably just sprained, but I can't put much weight on it."

"Well thank goodness Dr. Cavill was here to assist you," My dad teased, his smirk making me suddenly very aware that Henry still had his arm around my waist. "Your mother is worried sick though so we should probably get you home."

I nodded and hobbled towards the car with Henry's support. Once I was settled safely in my seat, I looked up at him.

"Thanks, Henry," I smiled. "I really appreciate your help."

"Anytime," He nodded. "Let me know when your ankle feels better, yeah?"

"Of course."

Before I could say anything else, my dad leaned over from the driver's seat.

"Can we drop you anywhere, Henry?"

"Oh, no, that's okay, thanks," Henry waved him off. "I should probably finish my run."

"Is that the safest plan?" I questioned, a smirk on my face. "Maybe you should get yourself a bell first so you don't mow down any more unsuspecting women..."

Henry fought back a smile as he feigned indignation.

"You never told me that your daughter was a comedian, Mr. Harris." He said to my dad as I giggled away at my own joke. 

"Yes, well, we try not to encourage her too much," My dad rolled his eyes. "Don't need her getting too big headed now, do we?"

I protested his comment as Henry laughed before we said a quick goodbye and he jogged off down the hill.

We drove in silence for a few moments before my dad looked over at me.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," I assured him. "I fell pretty hard and obviously banged up my ankle, but it's definitely not broken so it'll heal."

"I'm glad to hear that," He nodded. Another silence settled between us before he spoke again. "Your mom's worried about you. She said you seemed down this morning and that you’re getting antsy."

I looked down at my hands, not wanting to delve into this conversation.

"Everyone's getting antsy," I shrugged, deciding I needed to quickly change the subject. "Anyway, why didn't you tell me that you knew Henry Cavill?"

"I don't really know him, but his parents live just down the street from us so I've met him once or twice," He explained. "I didn't know you were such a fan."

"Well, I'm not really," I admitted. "I'm not not a fan, but I don't know much of his work. He is rather...You know, he's got a nice..."

I trailed off realizing who I was talking to, but my dad simply smirked.

"A nice face?" He suggested. "Nice abs? Nice arms? Which I'm sure you got a great feel of since you definitely weren't six feet apart, young lady."

My cheeks were red as I swatted his arm.

"I know we weren't," I muttered, feeling like a teenager who'd just been caught sneaking out with a boy. "But I was injured and I couldn't walk."

"Well, I hope you're good at hopping because I won't be able to carry you into the house like that with my old back," He informed me. "I'm no Superman."

I rolled my eyes and mumbled a quick 'shut up' as I looked out the window, but there was a smile on my face that I couldn't shake and for the first time since this whole pandemic fiasco began, I felt a little flicker of hope.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“pine and lavender”

Lisa and Julius go to visit her hometown in the woods. Julius has a grand ol time. idk what the title is supposed to be ajfdskfljds. Anyway, here’s another self-indulgent one shot. stan julisa etc. 

Pairing: Julius x Lisa (my oc ajfsdkl)

Warnings: alcohol use (Julius gets a lil drunk) also some heavy flirting, a little of it suggestive but not like... that suggestive.

Two years. That’s how long it had been since Lisa last visited her hometown. She was still a magic knight back then, young and full of dreams, ready to take on what she believed to be a long career. But now, of course, that changed. Her career, and her whole life was unrecognizable. And even she was.

But even so…

“Are you sure about this?”

“Hmm?”

Lisa looked up from where she waited, to see Julius walking over. They were both dressed to travel, packing light for the mere two day getaway they had planned. Yet, Julius was asking as if they were about to leave for some treacherous journey. Perhaps that was true.

“You know… I don’t want you to think I expect to hang out with your family all the time,” Julius continued, finally reaching her side to stand on the balcony. “I know it’s tough for you, with your mother and all-”

“Julius,” Lisa interrupted him, taking his hand in hers to cut him off. “It was my idea, not yours! You made me hang out with your parents last week so it’s only fair that you have to visit my family!”

Julius blinked owlishly, then narrowed his eyes. “I see… wait, so you didn’t enjoy yourself last week?”

Lisa gulped nervously. Meeting Julius’s parents for the first time was an… interesting experience. Both of them were quite old, living alone in a nice place out in the countryside. The Novachrono family, being nobility, owned a couple of residences which they cycled between. Lisa, who grew up a commoner, found the whole arrangement quite extravagant, but it provided some neat weekend hideouts for her and Julius to enjoy. However, they weren’t alone last week.

(tragic flashback time)

“Julius! Oh, this must be your girlfriend!”

Lisa peeked out from behind Julius, her heart thumping in her chest as the elderly couple finally spotted her after greeting their son. The spark of excitement in their eyes, nearly identical to how Julius’s would be, gave way to some other emotion. It was brief, but they almost looked taken aback. Lisa physically resisted wincing.

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it-

“OOh, you’ve got some mysterious mark on your head as well! No wonder our Julius likes you so much, ahah!”

Oh good. Lisa let herself exhale a nervous laugh, stepping forward to greet them properly. It wasn’t her fault she looked so young; she stopped aging when she was 20, after all. But it was nice to not be bombarded with questions all the time, from people assuming things about her relationship. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too!”

(end non-so-tragic flashback)

“Oh, your parents were wonderful. A little… excited, but wonderful.” Lisa grinned and elbowed Julius playfully, earning an exaggerated reaction. “Anyway, I think they told enough embarrassing stories about you to last me a lifetime!”

“Ah, is that so?” Julius grinned back sheepishly, his prior worries fading quickly. “I thought you already knew everything about me?”

“There’s always more to learn~” Lisa shot a cheeky wink up at him before picking up her bag. “Come on, we’ll be late for dinner if we keep chatting all evening.”

“Right, right.” Julius could barely contain himself as he took her hand again. “I’m so excited to see your cousins again- do you think they’ll remember me?”

“Remember? You?! Meeting you was the highlight of their lives!”

Without any more delays, Lisa held on tight as Julius finally took off, leaving nothing but faint traces of his mana behind.

Approximately two minutes later, the pair landed with a resounding whoosh, causing birds and leaves alike to take flight from the trees around them. Branches creaked, and bushes rippled, but only a moment later the forest was as still as it was before. “Well, here we are!” Julius let go of her hand only momentarily to stretch a long arm over his chest. “Too bad we have to walk into town from all the way out here-”

“We talked about this, remember? What do you think’s gonna happen if you just crash down in the middle of town?” Lisa reminded him, turning away once he was ready to start the walk. “And also- once we get there, you’ll have to transform into someone else. I don’t want to become the talk of the town or anything…”

“I know, I know!” Julius looked more disgruntled at that factor than anything else. He let out a deep sigh, sadness shifting through his gaze momentarily. “If I could have my way… I would want everyone to know.”

“... I know. Me too.”

Julius was unapologetic in every facet of his life, and love was no different. He loved the Kingdom, he loved his friends, but most of all, he loved Lisa. If he had it his way, Julius wouldn’t hesitate to herald the news from every corner of the country. 

“This woman? She’s mine! And I’m hers!” 

Sadly, the two of them already felt the harsh reality of the world, when Augustus and the Magic Parliament found out and used Lisa’s involvement with Julius against her. And because of that, Julius had to keep this treasured relationship close to his chest, where the general public wouldn’t find out.

“Hey-”

He looked down as Lisa snaked her arm around his, smiling up at him comfortingly. “Marry me one day, and then everyone can know.”

Julius’s eyes lit up at the mere thought. “Seriously? Let's get married today, then!”

“What?! No way! Not yet, at least…”

“Ah, alright. I’m patient~”

Before they knew it, they reached the outskirts of town, and Julius was forced to transform. Lisa watched curiously as his body glowed gold, and he morphed into an unfamiliar man. He kept his blonde hair, but he had blue eyes instead of his usual purple. Also, his nose, chin, ears, brow- it was all different. “There! How do I look? Handsome?”

“Not as handsome as usual,” Lisa answered, eyeing him up. It was true, nothing could beat the usual Julius. Julius, of course, knew this, giving her a teasing wink as he grabbed her hand again to continue their journey. 

Lisa’s hometown was small, but stable. They mainly subsisted on local crops and game, but they had to buy food from neighboring areas as well. Situated at the base of the mountains dividing the Clover Kingdom from Diamond, the town was once a battlefield, as both kingdoms vied for control over the precious gems underground. However, all those gems have been stripped away, and things calmed down for years and years.

At least, it used to be calm… up until that day. 

One fateful attack by the Diamond Kingdom, nearly four years ago. That day changed everything. Lisa’s father was killed, leaving her alone with a mother who hated her and powers that she didn’t understand. She lost so much…

But I wasn’t alone, remember?

Lisa glanced up at the man walking next to her, humming to himself as they moved. She couldn’t help but smile as the memories washed over her.

Because, that day… I met you.

“LISAAAA!!!!!”

The door to Lisa’s old home slammed open, revealing her aunt Portia and her cousins. Before the two of them could react, they were bombarded with hugs from adults and screeching children alike. Lisa could do nothing but stand there and take it, but the wide grin on her face betrayed the fact that she was enjoying it.

“Lyra! You’re going to suffocate me!”

“And I would be right to do so!”

Cousin Lyra- One year older than Lisa, a total airhead, but also the sweetest person you’ll ever meet. The girl stepped back from her cousin with a little pout on her face. “You never come to visit, even though I told you your mom moved out! We only get to see you once a year, you know!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry! I am kinda busy, you know!” Lisa defended herself, still smiling brightly. “Well, we’re here now, both of us.”

“Hey, who’s this weird guy?!”

Uh oh.

Lisa turned just in time to see Julius being circled menacingly by her two younger cousins, Pat and Rocco, the twins. Both of them had met Julius before, but now they were eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re right, who is this guy, Lisa?” Portia asked, her eyes widening. “Don’t tell me you and Julius broke up!”

“What?! No! I am Julius!” Julius looked a bit confused before the reason dawned on him. “Oh wait- right!” He stepped inside the house, out of sight of the street, and let himself change back to normal. Rocco and Pat immediately gasped. “OH! WIZARD KING!”

Lisa covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Their excitement never failed to crack her up.

“Aha, you know- you can call me cousin Julius-” Julius told them, but it was no use. They continued to chant his title and before grabbing onto his legs like they were two tree trunks. Julius just sighed and let out a tired laugh, looking over at the others. “Not yet, I see-”

“Well, now that we’re here-” Lisa winced a little as she sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m ready for a relaxing night here at home.”

“What?! Relaxing?” Aunt Portia let out a giggle. “Nonsense! Lisa, you know what day it is, right?”

Her family giggled as she stared at them blankly. “It’s friday!”

Her eyes widened. “Oh no…”

Julius looked between them, confused. “Wait, what does that mean? Friday? What’s so special about friday.”

“It’s the busiest night at the tavern! All hands on deck!”

The rest of the family cackled. Lisa’s father owned the sole tavern in town, so it passed down to Portia and Lyra once he died. It was popular, and Lisa worked there for many years before leaving to join the Magic Knights. Lyra giggled and nudged Lisa with her elbow. “It’ll be just like old times! You and me waitressing, I even kept your old ‘uniform!’”

Lisa’s already-pale face was white as a sheet now. “U-Uniform!? Oh god, you can’t mean-”

(thirty horrible minutes later)

“TA-DA! Look at this, ‘James’!”

Julius turned around at the sound of the fake name he was using today. He had been sitting alone in the tavern, watching the other groups as they sat and drank, laughing and chatting among themselves. It was a strangely serene experience, being able to be alone. Well, at least it was nice to not have Marx breathing down his neck. Julius did miss Lisa though… he wasn’t sure why, but being away from her, even just for a little while, made him deeply uncomfortable. But luckily, she was back… sort of.

Lyra strained as she attempted to drag someone out from the back room. “Lisa! Behave!”

“No! Jul- I mean, James, don’t look at me! This is embarrassing-”

Lisa finally gave in, her face burning bright red as she was dragged out into the open. 

“Isn’t she cute!? She had to wear this every day when she worked here!” 

Her “uniform” was that of a tavern maid; a dress a little shorter than knee-length, a cute apron, and her usual tights. It wasn’t anything too shocking, but-

Lisa covered her face with her hands, mortified to be wearing something so out of her usual wardrobe. “D-Don’t look at me-”

It was too late- Julius was L O O K I N G.

“I said stop it!”

Julius finally snapped out of his “trance,” the dumbfounded look fading into a devilish grin. “Wowie… Lisa, maybe you should change your usual uniform to this-”

Portia and Lyra cackled along with the rest of her family as Lisa shouted back, too embarrassed to make any sense. Julius chuckled to himself, letting up on the teasing but allowing his eyes to still wander all over her body.”There’s nothing to worry about, my sweet… you look good in anything.”

Lisa sighed, letting her shoulders slumped, still not looking forward to the night ahead, but maybe it would be bearable. Maybe. “Thanks… You’re usually right.”

“Of course I am-”

“Lisa! Stop making eyes at him and get to work!”

With another loud objection, Lisa was dragged away once again, while Julius watched her work with shining eyes. As someone raised in nobility, Julius had to admit that he was a little out of his element. The tavern became increasingly louder as people started drinking, shouts and laughter filling the small building. Julius felt himself shrink around his drink, only accompanied by the younger twins and Lisa’s uncle. But among all the chaos, Lisa navigated it all perfectly. Once she forgot about the outfit, she weaved between the tables and jostling chairs, carrying a teetering tray of beers, her voice managing to pierce the noise filling the air. “Hey! Keep it civil, guys, I don’t want to mop up any of your blood.” “Talk to me like that again, and I’ll tell the Wizard King to come get you! Yeah? Scared now?” “NO GAMBLING IN HERE!” “Do you want me to burn you to a crisp? Because you’re asking for it!”

Julius laughed to himself as he listened, not able to tame the big smile on his face.

She’s so cute-

“Hey, Lisa, you got cute~”

Julius’s eyes popped back open.

Did… someone just-

“Hmm? So what if I did?” Lisa glared down at her new admirer, well, admirers. They were a group of three men sitting at a round table, red-faced and drunk, and apparently smitten with their waitress. “It doesn’t mean you can look at me!”

“Oh, but we are~” One of them giggled. “Why don’t you come back with us tonight? It can’t be fun JUST hanging out with your family.”

There was nothing Julius wanted to do in that moment other than spring to his feet, release his disguise, and teach those guys a lesson directly from the hands of the Wizard King. And he almost did, too! With his fists clenched so tight he knew his nails would leave a mark, Julius barely scooted his chair back before freezing as Lisa stepped in to defend herself much better than he could have.

“Listen! You three used to bully me all the time for having no mana. I wouldn’t want to be seen with you, even if my life depended on it! And besides-” Lisa resisted shooting a cheeky glance over at Julius. “I already belong to someone, so you’re too late.”

The trio blinked dumbly up at her, unable to comprehend what she was saying. Julius smiled to himself and slowly slid back down into his seat.

“I already belong to someone.”

He always liked hearing that.

“What are you looking at?”

And suddenly, she was right next to him, leaning up against the table with a little grin on her face. Julius blinked, his reaction sluggish. Ah, I guess I got stuck in a little daydream there- He shook off the feeling, amplified by the beers he drank, and smiled up at her. “Oh, just the cutest waitress in this place.”

Despite being mortified earlier, Lisa only blushed lightly at the comment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh? I’m honored~ And what a coincidence, you’re the cutest guy in this place…”

Oh boy. The alcohol was starting to kick in for Julius, and Lisa knew it. His gaze started to fog up with some weird emotion that she knew well. She rarely saw him even get buzzed, so this was entirely unfamiliar. “Aha- ah, shucks, hehe-” He giggled boyishly to himself, closing his eyes for a moment as he collected his “thoughts.” Ahh… he would look so cute right now if he wasn’t in disguise, Lisa thought to herself, but it was enough to know that the unfamiliar man sitting here wasn’t unfamiliar at all… he was her man. “Hmm, you seem like you’ve had a little too much to drink” she teased.

Julius shrugged, lifting up his glass. “This is the best goddamn beer in the whole goddamn kingdom- HIC.”

Lisa bit her lip, thinking the little hiccup was just too cute. “Take it easy! I wouldn’t want you to pass out on me, hmm?”

Julius just laughed to himself again, his poor addled-brain hardly able to keep up. Damn! This beer is way more potent than I’m used to… these country folk know how to brew, that’s for sure. If I’m not careful, I’ll actually get drunk.

“Well, then tell me, waitress~” Julius finally spoke, wiggling his eyebrows. “When do you get off your shift?”

Lisa giggled, reaching out and running a friendly hand over his shoulder. Julius eagerly leaned into the gesture, like iron drawn to a magnet. That was what she was: a magnet. He would always be drawn to the gravity she possessed, something he couldn’t understand yet didn’t need to. All he really needed was her.

“Be patient~ We can go home soon.”

Without another word, Lisa leaned down and kissed his forehead, before pulling away to continue her work. Julius could do nothing but sigh and watch her go, his smile still traced on his lips and his mind hazy with desire.

(the next morning)

At exactly 6:30 am, Lisa’s eyes popped open. She was like a machine, her consciousness restoring itself almost instantly after her usual 6 hours of sleep. That was all she really needed, so she never gave herself much more. With a little yawn, the girl slowly rolled over in bed, her arm reaching out to find the warmth of a body beside her. However...

Julius wasn’t there, for some reason. Lisa frowned a bit, blinking as she got her bearings. Hmm, I wonder where he is? She was sure that they were together when they fell asleep late last night. In fact, she was 100% certain that was the case. Julius got all needy when he was drunk, and wouldn’t let go of her even as he fell asleep. It takes a lot to get him drunk in the first place. He should be terribly hungover right now.

“Portia? Lyra?” 

Lisa peeked into the kitchen, the stillness in the air betraying that no one else was awake yet. That’s weird… well, Julius likes his morning walks, this could be his way of dealing with his hangover

She knew that Julius was the last person on earth she usually had to worry about, but he was unfamiliar with the area and could get lost. Keeping that in mind, Lisa quickly got dressed and headed out to search for him. It was still early, and also a Saturday, so the town was very quiet and empty. Lisa strolled down the streets, becoming increasingly disheartened as she failed to locate her wandering boyfriend. Well… maybe he went out into the woods? Ooh, I hope he’s alright-

Lisa decided to check the outskirts before heading back home, just in case. Luckily, her intuition ended up being right… just not in the way she expected at all.

“Lisa!!!! Hello!!! Good morning!!! Look at me!!!”

Just as Lisa reached the edge of the woods, who should come running out but a grinning Julius. Usually, Julius only moved fast when he was fighting, and moved so fast that he left afterimages everywhere he went. Other than that, he glided from place to place, as graceful and stately as could be. But now, Lisa watched in shock as a seemingly-normal albeit awkward looking man, with arms and legs a little too long for his body, came sprinting at her. But the strangest thing was-

“Julius!!! Why are you dressed like a lumberjack!?” 

Lisa backed away slightly as he skidded to a stop in front of her, still almost giddy with boyish excitement, and she eyed his strange outfit: a red flannel shirt, JEANS, and a strange looking hat. She also noticed that he wasn’t in disguise anymore. But before she could say anything, Julius launched into a harried explanation, as if he already knew what she was thinking. “Oh, don’t worry! No one recognized me with this hat on, haha! See, I woke up early to make you some coffee for when you woke up, but your uncle was awake and invited me to come help him and some others gather wood and stuff in the forest! He gave me the outfit and everything! It’s a little tight though-” Julius shifted uncomfortably in his jeans. “Anyway, a lot of people in this town don’t have much magic, at least not for gathering wood, so I got to use an axe and everything! It was so much fun, we’re taking a short break now but we’ll be at it again soon, haha!” 

Julius let out a jovial laugh while Lisa stood there, still absorbing the words he just spat out. “Oh… I see. Well, I’m glad you’re having fun-” She eyed his hat again, noticing that it covered most of his blonde hair as well as his swallowtail mark. “So… you’re not hungover or anything? You were pretty drunk last night…”

“Drunk? NO, no!” Julius wiggled his eyebrows. “That stuff only buzzed me… I was just using it as an excuse to act a bit more boldly, you know? I’m perfectly fine this morning.”

… of course he would do that- Lisa thought to herself, not sure if she should be charmed or exasperated…. She was leaning towards the former, since by now she was used to Julius’s antics. “You seem to be enjoying the commoner life, maybe we should quit our jobs and move out to a cabin in the woods,” she teased, letting herself smile brightly up at him. Now that the shock was wearing off… he did look really good in his new “uniform.” “You should wear stuff like this more often~”

Julius raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t wipe his goofy grin off his face. “Oh? Maybe I will~ And-” He reached down and took her hand in his, clasping it tenderly. “I’ll take you out to cabins in the woods whenever you feel like it! Just say the word, and it’s done!”

Lisa giggled, squeezing her eyes shut as Julius’s hand cupped her cheek, holding her face gently as his lips found the side of her head. “It’s good to know I have you wrapped around my finger~”

“Oh, more than my finger, my dear.” Julius winked as he straightened back up. However, that brief, sultry moment ended as soon as a new idea crossed his mind. “So! I was thinking- we should have a picnic for lunch!”

Lisa’s eyes it up at the same time as his own. “Ooh, I like that idea! Out in the woods?” She immediately started brainstorming what she could make.

“Not just any spot, though-” Julius fidgeted with excitement. “That spot by the river… with the flowers, where we first met?”

“Oh… oh! Yeah!” The memories flooded back, memories from a time much more complicated than now. “Meet me there at noon?”

“Yeah! Thank you, darling.” Julius leaned down, his intention clear. Lisa closed her eyes in time to feel his sweet kiss on her lips, brief yet just as intoxicating as ever. “See you soon!” Without another word, Julius waved goodbye before running off, disappearing into the trees. Lisa sighed to herself, the warmth of his presence still lingering on her skin. Wow… well, I have a picnic to prepare. She turned around and started to walk back home, her mind still caught up in the dream she somehow managed to turn into reality.

Back then, years ago, they met in that spot by the river. Lisa was lost, alone, hopeless, and confused, but all it took was a kind smile and that strange, warm feeling to get her moving again. Moving towards her goals, with nothing left to lose and everything to gain.

I gained and lost so much, over and over, but now… it’s just like you promised, Julius. You said, one day, our life will be simple. And now it is.

Despite the trials they experienced, the satisfaction of knowing filled Lisa’s heart: she was his, and he was hers. Completely.

(shortly before noon)

Finally alone, Julius took off his hat, letting his head breathe for the first time all morning. He had arrived at the spot a little early, so he had a few minutes to himself. “Hmm… this is the place, alright,” he muttered to himself, looking around. The stream still flowed lazily like it always did, and the blanket of white cornflowers still rippled gently in the breeze. The whole atmosphere was calming, yet so deeply potent with memories, both good and bad… but one in particular.

I still remember it so well… During that Diamond attack, Lisa dropped her Grimoire. I had to chase her all over town to give it back! I ended up catching up to her here… we had our first conversation. And her first smile-

Julius would have been content to die in that moment. For that brief second, he forgot that he was Wizard King, he forgot about all the responsibilities he carried on his back. He was weightless, unburdened… blessed. A girl he barely knew, someone he could tell was deeply troubled and complicated, defeated him with just a smile. At that time, he couldn’t have imagined that he would grow so close to her, watching as she clawed her way up, a girl with nothing to lose but everything to gain. It was what he admired most about her, but she was more than just another remarkable person in the magic knights.

She was his.

Julius found himself standing at the edge of the stream, the water calm enough for him to make out his reflection.

Despite how perfectly everything felt now… he couldn’t shake an unwelcome feeling.

Dread?

Julius shook his head slightly, watching his own eyes narrow with determination.

If I can protect an entire kingdom… I can protect one person dear to me. 

“Julius!”

The voice calling out from behind him immediately dispelled the dread from his gut. Perking up, Julius quickly turned around to see Lisa walking over, picnic basket in hand and a big smile on her face. “Hey! I’m right on time~ Hungry?” She held up the basket, opening it up to look at the contents. “I made some sandwiches, but Portia had some leftover wine from last night so I packed a little of that as well, and-”

Lisa was suddenly cut off when a pair of arms closed around her. She stood there silently as she was held tightly, her face buried into the rough flannel of Julius’s shoulder. Slowly, she inhaled, taking in his scent, a scent indistinguishable from her own save for the new notes of pine he managed to pick up while working. Then, she exhaled, her arms drifting around his torso in time with her breath. 

It was moments like these that she knew she was cherished. More than any treasure or prize the Kingdom could offer. Even if she didn’t understand why, she knew that fact.

After a few long, tender moments, Julius’s grip finally loosened, and he stepped back just enough to peer down at her face, his smile tinged with faint notes of sadness. “Thank you, Lisa.”

“My pleasure.”

The two of them turned and walked towards the stream, their hands still entwined as tight as fate itself.

[kitsutaes]

pluto protector

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, coming of age-ish, bffs2lovers!, astrophysicist!reader, & artist!taehyung

word count: 2.6k

rating: pg-13 i guess

warnings: none

a/n: this is inspired by rex orange county’s song pluto projector, a song i love so so much. also this fic is split up into small parts & it focuses more on tae’s and reader’s small but important moments together !! i hope you like it even though it isn’t too heavily edited. p.s. thank you teresa / @sketchguk for looking this over !! you da best !!

summary: you and taehyung have been in the same galaxy, orbiting one another for as long as you could remember. but as time passes, gravity pulls you in closer and closer, ready for the two of you to collide.

Kim Taehyung was your protector. Just at the age of nine, Kim Taehyung held your hand as the two of you ran around the playground, feet hitting the wood chips that spewed around. His disheveled chocolate brown hair bounced around as he ran, eyes bright as he turned around to look at you. He had a goofy smile plastered on his face, exuberant as any nine year old at the park with his best friend should be.

“___! Let’s go on the swirly slide!” Taehyung yells, pointing at the bright red slide ahead. The playground near your neighborhood was huge since it was already part of an already massive park. While the park had its own variety of plants and wildlife, the playground consisted of slides, swings, monkey bars, and corkscrew climbers that allowed you to climb up and slide down like you were going down a fireman’s pole; only round and round instead of sliding straight down.

“Okay, but only if we go on the monkey bars next Tae!” You respond, swinging your arm that held his hand. Your eyes matched his, bright and bubbly. Taehyung nodded as the two of you climbed the blue steps that led to the big red swirly slide.

“You first or me?” Taehyung asks, letting go of you hand to grasp the yellow metal bars on the sides of the red slide. You roll your eyes, seeing his mischievous grin, basically telling you he was he was ready to go first.

“You.”

Sticking out your tongue at him, Taehyung takes off, gravity pulling him down until his sneakers hit the ground. He turns around, motioning for you to slide down.

“C’mon ___!” Taehyung calls from below. His arms are crossed as he waits for you to come down. You nod, your own hands gripping the metal bars Taehyung previously held onto as you’re seated on the bright red plastic. Letting go, you slide down, feeling parts of your hair stick up to the underside of the slide.

Taehyung’s eyes widen as he knows what’s coming next. You’re up and off of the slide, ready to chase him and zap him with your finger charged with static.

“___! Come and get me!” Taehyung giggles running off to the opposite side of the playground to avoid getting shocked. You’re right behind him, but you trip on your own foot, falling onto the wood chips.

Instead of a smile, you’ve got a pout on your face. Eyes turning red, brimming with tears, ready to cry. Taehyung’s looking back at you with a worried expression, heels turning around as he’s running back towards you.

“Tae!” You cry as his arms are helping you up, feet standing upright once again. His hands are gripping onto yours, leading you back to where your parents were.

“It’s okay ___, I’ve got you.”

At the age of twelve, Kim Taehyung was still your protector. Although you ended up with different teachers and classes, the two of you didn’t drift apart like most friends did as they entered middle school. Most kids ended up finding new friends, groups, cliques–forgetting and leaving the friendships they made when they were just a few years younger. But, you and Taehyung weren’t like most kids. The two of you stayed together in gravity’s grasp, never leaving the solar system you shared.

Just like always, after school, Taehyung came over to do homework with you since you shared the same subjects. His green backpack would be plopped onto your carpeted floor right beside yours, colored pencils and papers almost spilling out of them.

“You had to read The Monkey’s Paw too?” You ask turning around in your seat, nose scrunching at the thought of the story Mrs. Tang read to your class today that gave you the chills. It was a story written by W.W. Jacobs that just had to be a part of your English class’s “Poetry and Short Stories” unit and you couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Taehyung was seated on your bed while you were seated at your desk. Taehyung looks up from his math homework, nodding at you. 

“Yeah, I kinda liked it.” He says, giving you a small shrug as you shudder.

“It was creepy!”

Taehyung laughs at your expression, your face showing that you were totally repulsed that he slightly enjoyed the supernatural short story that was required to be read in every 7th grade class.

“Just a little bit,” he responds as he looks down at his homework, “I bet you’re enjoying science right now though.”

Taehyung was 100% correct, you were loving science this week. This week’s unit was about space and that was something you held close to your heart. There was just something about the universe, galaxies, protostars, and planets that intrigued you to no limit. You wanted to be like Neil deGrasse Tyson and Carl Sagan, exploring the vast universe full of the unknown. Just last year it was announced that Pluto would no longer be considered a planet and just that, broke your heart to pieces; Taehyung was there to witness it. Your love for the little planet was undying, feeling as if it deserved much more appreciation just like Neptune and Jupiter. In your eyes, Pluto was something special.

“Yes, oh my gosh! We get to make a presentation of a planet of our choice, and I’m still picking Pluto. I don’t care what Mr. Peterson says.” You scoff, a determined look gracing your face as you turn back around in your seat.

In that very moment, in Taehyung’s eyes, you were something special.

Graduation had finally fallen upon you. After days of graduation practice, you were finally here; sitting in the risers, that was placed on the fifty-yard line of the football field, clothed in your graduation gown that possessed one of your school’s colors. The night had overtaken the sunny skies, leaving you and your fellow classmates and friends underneath the shining stars as well as the bright stadium lights your school used for all sorts of events.

Your parents were in the stands, most likely with Taehyung’s family, along with other parents and family members of graduating high school seniors with their phones and cameras taking pictures to capture this once in a lifetime moment.

You didn’t graduate a valedictorian or salutatorian, but at least you made it until the end. It may pain some to hear it but grades aren’t everything. Despite getting kids into higher level colleges, grades don’t and can’t define a person, you learned that the hard way. High school’s about learning about yourself and the people you surround yourself with. Are they real friends? Do they talk about you behind your back? To you, it’s about exploration, finding the people who fit you well and help you shine brighter like the stars, and hopefully avoiding space debris that just get in the way.

Taehyung’s seated a few rows above you with only a few people separating the two of you, meaning you’re still able to make faces at each other, winking and scrunching your noses while the ceremony proceeds.

He looks great, handsome even. Dark locks trimmed just for this special event, since his mom made him. His bright eyes are shining even brighter with the reflection of the stadium lights as you peer up to look at him. 

Seeing him like this, you realize how grown up he looks. Despite only being eighteen, the Kim Taehyung sitting a few seats away from you definitely does not look like the Kim Taehyung you met in 3rd grade. That Taehyung you met years ago is still somewhat the same as the Taehyung now, but just older, more mature–not mature, but more. It makes you realize how time flies, because it literally just seemed like yesterday where Taehyung first moved in a couple houses down from yours. Your neighborhood was full of elderly people, so when you found out a kid your age had just moved into town, you were ecstatic. Ecstatic to the point where you bugged your mother to take you to meet your new neighbors.

You smile to yourself as you look away, eyes reaching the stars that you were always fond of. 

This was a moment you hoped you would remember forever.

“I felt like gouging my eyes out.”

Taehyung’s eyes roll at your complaint. You just came out of your physics class with Mr. Garcia’s lecture picking at your brains during the entire hour and a half. You and Jungkook (the only person you knew in that class) walked out looking as if your souls had left your body; even though that was exactly what happened. The two of you part ways with a tired wave as he had another class to attend. 

Taehyung had been waiting for you since his class finished a few minutes before yours. He was nose deep into a book when you find him sitting on a bench just outside your building. His bright blue hair made him easy to spot anywhere. He made you dye his hair before the semester started, insisting on trying a brand new look.

Before the two of you graduated high school, you’d done college applications. You’d gotten into one of your dream colleges, opening the acceptance letter in front of Taehyung and your parents. Taehyung on the other hand, didn’t tell you what college he got into until after the graduation ceremony. It led to you punching his arm while exuding tears of happiness. Now, at the age of 21, you’re spending your time attending classes, studying for exams, while downing cups of coffee during breaks with your best friend.

“Seriously ___, your fault for wanting to be an astrophysics major.” Taehyung scoffs, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head off to one of the coffee shops you and Taehyung frequent the most. Fortunately it was close, just a couple blocks away.

Smacking his arm away, you frown. “You say that every single time.”

“I’m just stating facts.” Taehyung shrugs, wrapping an arm around you again, and this time you don’t fight it.

Your own arm wraps around his waist, gripping onto a part of his coat. Taehyung, even though you didn’t want to admit it to anyone else but yourself, made you feel safe. Whenever he’d scoop you up into his arms for a hug, or just had his arm around you as you two walked down the street, it made you feel loved. Knowing that someone cares in this world full of fortunate and unfortunate events, is one of the greatest feelings in this world. 

“I wish I was still in astrology 101 or 102, learning about the stars, black holes, and the Milky Way,” You say, grinning cheekily at the man beside you. “—not the chocolate.”

“I literally wasn’t even going to say that.”

“Liar.” You snort, nudging his side with your elbow. The two of you have reached your destination, ready for caffeine that you’re desperate for. Taehyung’s arm has left your shoulder, a certain warmth departing with him, as he opens the door for you like the gentleman he’s always been.

“What do you want?” He asks as you both reach the cashier and glass display case showing an ever so wonderful variety of pastries to eat with an already amazing cup of coffee.

Peering through the glass you see some newly added goods, alongside the usual but you already have your order in mind.

“I’ll have a macchiato and some madeleines please,” You say to the woman manning the cashier with a soft smile, while taking out your wallet from the small pocket of your backpack. Taehyung’s hand stops you, handing his own credit card to the lady who grins cheekily at the two of you. She was around maybe thirty years old.

“Tae—”

“And I’ll have a hot chocolate please.” Taehyung’s lips are pursed, nodding his head as she repeats your order.

“You guys are a really cute couple by the way,” She smiles, handing Taehyung back his card along with the receipt while you’re left standing there staring at him with wide eyes as he thanks her for the compliment.

At the age of 24, you’d think you would have plenty of things figured out. You don’t.

But at this age, you’ve learned that things really aren’t constant in the world, and that everything’s prone to change. Although somehow, there’s one thing in your life that hasn’t really changed.

“Tae, where are we going?” You whine, head leaning on the car window. Taehyung had just picked you up from work, a long day of work, and all you wanted to do was go home.

You and Taehyung had been dating for awhile now, after he admitted his long time feelings for you when he took you to his studio and painted you your favorite planet in the Milky Way. His feelings for you were returned, having loved him ever since you were kids as well. Now, he spends most of his time at your apartment as if you two shared it; not like he didn’t do that before already. 

“___, you’ve asked me that 5 times already and I told you that it’s a secret.” He says, turning his head towards you for a moment before looking back on the road. You don’t see it, but he’s sporting a small smile on his face. Taehyung’s been waiting to show you this secret of his for quite some time.

Your head isn’t leaning on the window anymore as you recognize where you’re headed to. “Wait, we’re going to your studio?” The road to Taehyung’s art studio is one that isn’t too familiar but isn’t unknown as well.

After a few more minutes of driving and parallel parking (which actually doesn’t take Taehyung long to do it) you’re already standing in his studio, gazing at his works of art.

“Tae, these are incredible.”

While you’re gaping at his paintings, Taehyung’s laughing at your reaction to his creations. This is the first time in a long time you’ve visited his studio, and the first time in a long time that he’s shared his pieces with you. While you’re studying about outer space and the secrets of the universe, Taehyung’s in his studio painting his heart out whenever he wasn’t busy.

Whenever he was in the mood to paint, he’d enter this zone, totally blocking out anything and everything, letting his passion for the arts take over. Sometimes when he’d pick you up to have a cup of coffee or when he’d come over to have dinner at your apartment, he’d have paint marks all over his hands and occasionally his face. 

Like you with your science idols, Taehyung admired plenty of incredible artists who worked with various mediums like, Claude Monet, Keith Haring, and especially Vincent Van Gogh. Taehyung had this affinity for Van Gogh’s artworks that even he couldn’t fully explain why he loved them so much.

“Wait until you see this,” Taehyung says, reaching towards one of the canvases he had stacked and leaning on the side of his wall.

You’re so immersed into some of his other paintings you don’t realize he’s right beside you, ready to reveal one of his latest pieces. Taehyung loved to experiment with different mediums, always trying to find his niche. You noticed even though he painted a variety of things, he loved to paint scenery. You could feel yourself getting absorbed into his creations full of lush greens and calming sunsets, fluffy clouds, and sometimes quite the opposite.

“___,” Taehyung nudges you, poking your cheek to get your attention and it definitely works. You’re turning your head, eyes catching a painting of Pluto that looks exactly like the real deal, as if you’re seeing the planet with your own eyes.

“I love you ___. As much as you love this little planet and as many light years it would take to reach other universes out there.”

[namjoonspiration]

ON [1]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You and your best friend Jungkook grew up in the only Mage village in the corner of the Citadel--the last civilization on Earth. When the humans feel threatened by the magic abilities of your people, you are taken away from your family. Thankfully, Jungkook remains by your side.

Warnings/Tags: violence, hate, imprisonment and forced labor (but, it’s not hardcore or extremely upsetting because that’s not what this story is about), finding happiness even in the darkest of places, kissing

Author’s Note: Welcome to my second BTS fanfic! Thank you guys for all the support for my first one (Saudade ft. Jimin)! I’m a little late in posting this, but here it is finally. This is chapter 1 out of 6 (maybe?). It won’t be super long. BUT this is my interpretation/imaginative storyline I created based on the ON music video. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Part 1

Year 3040 – 379 years after the Fall of the World

“Y/n, please be careful! I won’t wash your clothes again if you fall in the mud, and you’ll be wearing it for the next week,” your mother warns as your little legs took you farther and farther away from the hut—your home. You reply back with a high-pitched okay, only half-paying attention to what she said. You are too excited about today’s mission to give thought to anything else. The wind helps carry you faster, lifting your feet off the ground and whipping your hair in front of you.

The dirt under you became wet and tried to suction you to the ground as your trail changed from dirt paths to the tilled fields. The ever-looming walls that always remained in two directions of your vision at all times grew even more gigantic with each step towards the end. And by the end, you mean it the part where those two walls connect, keeping you and everyone in your village inside. These walls continued around in a massive rectangle that encased the Citadel from the outside world, like an army of giants.

You search amongst the kids running about near the East wall for your best friend. “Kookie!” You call. “Kookie!”

Jungkook, whose mouth is pressed in concentration, looked up from the lily he was trying to levitate. “Here!”

“Did you find the rabbit again?” You asked about today’s mission, watching him staring intently at the flower top.

“Yeah! You can see him from here.” He abandons the daisy and rushes to the wall. You run after him. He peeks through one of the holes caused by the many cracks in aged pewter stone. “He’s right there. He’s nibbling on that patch of grass,” he moves and gestures for you to look with a floppy wave of his small hand.

You peer through with one eye and spot the rare brown speckled rabbit. It was having some lunch on the thin short grass that covered the endless open environment outside. “How do you know it’s a he?” You ask.

“I just do,” Jungkook shrugs, tapping at the wall with the toe of his shoes.

“But I named it Princess Brownie, so it’s a girl,” you counter.

Jungkook crosses his arms. “No, its name is Captain Carrot.”

“Not so! We named it Princess Brownie the last time we saw it,” you pout, looking back out the hole. Suddenly, you spot another bunny—and then baby bunnies! “Oh my gosh! More rabbits!” You shout in excitement.

“Lemme see, lemme see!” Jungkook pushes against your shoulder, trying to see outside too. “Are those babies?”

“Yes! It’s a family!” You both watch them sniff around the grass for a few moments longer. Then, the two bigger bunnies hop closer to each other and rub noses. “Bunny kisses!” Jungkook ‘ews’ in disgust. “What? S’Cute,” you say.

“Kissing is gross,” he screws up his face, waving his arms in front of him in a ‘no’ fashion.

“Oh yeaahh?” you drawl, eyeing him mischievously and making a kissy face. Jungkook’s eyes widen in terror, and he turns on his heel to run away. You begin to chase after him, quickly gaining distance on him. Even though he’s a year older than you, you have pretty long legs for a six-year-old. He looks over his shoulder to see how close you are and begins yelling in fear. He pushes himself to run faster. Both of you dodge other kids left and right, most of them calling for you two to stop before the adults scolded you for causing such a ruckus. Jungkook ceases his wild screaming but doesn’t stop running.

Eventually, you get really tired. You stop, hands resting on your legs and you try to catch your breath. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice that you stopped chasing him. You sit against the cold stone of the wall, calming your breathing.

Sometime later, Jungkook circled back and found a seat next you.

You were caught up in your thoughts when he asked you what was wrong. “I wish we could go outside.” He knew what you meant. The outside world beyond the Citadel. No one ever went outside the walls unless they were ordered by the Governing Circle to find medicines and supplies, but very rarely did it happen because it was dangerous for those who went out and then came back in to where everyone was living.

“I think we will one day,” Jungkook says optimistically.

“You think so?” Despite his hope, your voice was sad. After a few moments of silence, “You promise?”

He gives you a closed-lipped smile. “I promise we’ll go outside one day.”

You smile, playfully bumping your shoulder into his. When then he bumps back, and then you bump back, and he bumps back until it turns into an all-out pushing contest to see who is stronger.

A boom sounds, like a cannon being fired.

You and Jungkook cease your shoving, startled by the sound.

A sequence of chirps and whistles followed immediately after.

You look at each other in panic, both knowing the meaning of those sounds.

The village was in trouble. And the Governing Circle was on their way.

Scrambling to your feet, you begin to run back towards the house with Jungkook running fast by your side.

“Mommy!” You lock your arms around your mother’s legs. “What’s happening?” You cry. Everyone in your village had dropped everything and stood in the crowd at the village gates. Jungkook had left you to find his parents, and you lost him in your line of vision amongst the throes of people.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry.” You mother reassures softly, patting your head and wiping your tears away. Her voice is comforting, but her expression is anything else but as she looked beyond the gates.

Men on horseback are approaching the village entrance. Soldiers with guns in tow and directly two horses pulling an iron prison wagon behind them. You mother tightens her grip on you into steel, pulling her behind you. You could feel tremors of fear shaking her.

They enter the village, the Lead Governor of the Circle standing at the forefront. He is wearing an eye patch rumored to be cover a nasty eye infection that never healed. A thick scar ravages the cheek underneath, and his icy blue eye drills fear into those who dared to look him directly in the face.

“People of the Mage community,” his voice booms, making you clutch your mother’s skirt tighter in your hands. “You’ve betrayed our trust, and it has resulted in several deaths of our brave men who dare venture outside the Citadel for our survival.”

“We haven’t killed anyone!” An elderly Mage steps forward and her shouts. Her words are very quickly echoed by the other adult Mages around her.

“Silence! Or you’ll be arrested for insubordination!” He threatens. You watch as those who had the courage to speak up suddenly cower back with their heads bowed. “Nearly thirty years ago when our kinds signed the Treaty of Coexistence, you Mages—the last of your kind—agreed that you would not use magic to keep the darkness that plagues this Earth away. And in return, we allowed you to enjoy the safety of the Citadel. Now, magic has brought that evil closer to us, and it has killed our own and it’s your fault!” His face is bright red with rage.

“So, we’re here to stop you from breaking the law any further and to save the lives of humans. First, arrest the children!”  He orders. Shouts of protest erupts from the Mages. Your mother cries for them to not take you, hiding you as much as she can. Terror makes your blood turn cold. Why were they here to arrest you? Where were they going to take you? You didn’t do anything.

“They don’t have magic! We do! Take us and not the children!” One of the younger parents steps forward, tears running down her face. She holds her wrists out to the Lead Governor.

He scoffs at her, a horrid laughter scratching its way out of his throat. He nods at one the armed soldiers.

And he shoots her.

She falls to the ground, blood staining the dirt underneath her.

It becomes absolute chaos. Screaming, yelling, pleading, Mages fighting against the soldiers from taking their children, who were wailing as they were dragged from their parents. But even in the midst of the ear-ringing pandemonium you could hear the Lead Governor’s voice loud and clear. “We know about you Mages! You lose your magic at old age, so you pass it all onto your offspring! They are dangers to the citizens of the Citadel and will be treated as such!”

An iron-grip wraps around your arm, and you scream. “Mommy!”

“NO! Don’t take her! She isn’t a danger to anyone! She’s only six years old!” You mother pleads, keeping a locked grip around your waist. “Please, please, please…” Your mother is crying hysterically, mirroring you. Two soldiers grab at her shoulders, trying to pull her away from you, but she won’t relent. A solider hits her in the head with the butt of his gun, and she collapses. She loses hold on you, and you’re dragged away.

“Mom! Momma!,” you cry hoarsely, kicking at the soldiers hauling you into the iron wagon. Your knees bruise against the unforgiving metal when they throw you in with the other sobbing children. You crawl, scrambling away from the opened door to the iron box, sitting in the far corner. You curl into a tight ball, burying your face in your arms.

“Y/n!” Jungkook shouts, moving from his spot to sit close to you.

“Kookie…” You sob, looking up at him. He has a growing bruise on his cheekbone, tear tracks staining his face. You couldn’t think of what else to say. Nothing made sense.

The soldiers throw the last of the kids in the box and slams the doors into locked position. It becomes very dark. The only sunlight streaming in is from the intermittent line of small punched out circles at the very top of the box that none of you could reach. Then the wagon is moving, the protests of your mom and the Mages growing fainter until you can no longer hear them.

Jungkook rests his head on your shoulder and gently, carefully, holds your pudgy hand in his. “We have each other.” After a while, you calm down, exhausted but soothed by your best friend’s presence. “I’ll keep my promise,” he murmurs. That promise had suddenly become so much more, unspoken between the two of you. The promise you’ll both be freed one day from the prison you had just entered. The promise that one day the Citadel will simply appear as a tiny box in the distance.

Year 3049 – 388 years after the Fall of the World

Nine years didn’t change much. Since the day you and the other children were taken, you’ve grown up together in a dank prison, let out only when the soldiers have been ordered to take you to a cased-in farmland. They had used the word “greenhouse” to describe. But that didn’t make this whole situation more peaceful or less wrong. When you first arrived at the prison, the soldiers pushed all of you in pairs into individual cells. Thankfully, because you and Jungkook never let go of each other’s hand, you got assigned to the same cell.

You both had sat in there for days at first, periodically receiving water and bread with cheese. You’d made sure to split it evenly between you and Jungkook while also agreeing to ration it as long as you could. Neither of you could tell what time it was or how many days had passed. The food never came at regular enough intervals to tell what meal it was.

Then, one day, all of you were herded to the “greenhouse.” There the Governor of Agriculture was waiting to reveal how your life would be moving forward. He was an elderly man with a white beard, dressed in tan cotton robes. He looked kind to you at first glance, but as you learned so far in the past—well, you guessed—several days, nothing seemed so clear anymore.

But you always welcomed a surprise.

Mercifully, he had vouched for all the Mage children, appealing to the rest of the Governing Circle that your magic would be valuable to the survival of humans.

If there was a moment that any of this became even more confusing, it was that moment.

The Governor of Agriculture, whose real name was Michael—and preferred you to call him that—did not completely agree with the Lead Governor’s decision to prison you until they finally figured out what to do with all of you. However, you weren’t under any illusions that this guy was some kind of Saint. He still wanted the Mage children imprisoned and their magic restricted, only freed when it served to benefit the survival of the Citadel’s human citizens. A blessing, but still a curse. That blessing was—

Food.

It was certainly odd, but you realized later that there is worse labor you and the others could have been subjected too. You were taught farming skills—how to plant seeds, how to care for crops, when to harvest them. They tried to force your magic to cooperate with the plants the first year that you were there. Unfortunately, they were under the impression that your powers were in full bloom. They learned quickly at that your young age, it takes years for them to develop beyond simply being able to levitate objects—something that Jungkook forced himself to quickly master, but you could still not do even four years later.

At that point, you had become concerned that they would take Jungkook away from you and separate him into the group of older kids that were beginning to successfully get their magic to cooperate with the crops, while you would keep farming like a human. You cried to yourself every night that Jungkook wouldn’t come back for hours, nearly making yourself sick that he wouldn’t ever walk back through the cell door.

To your fortune, he always did, albeit eyes already closed, swaying with exhaustion until he collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep. He always came back like that, practically sleepwalking and overworked. You became so concerned about his health that you secretly ate less of your food and put more on his plate for him to eat the next morning. It was all you could do for him.

Then, to your surprise, one evening, he wasn’t so exhausted and caught you crying uncontrollably after a particularly bad day. “Y/n? What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked, looking you over to see if you were injured.

“They’re going to take you away from me, Kookie.” You cried. “I can’t get my magic to work. They are getting impatient with me, I can tell. They’ll find some other use for me, and I’ll never see you again.” Your sobs wracked your body again.

Jungkook shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. Goodness, when was the last time he had a haircut? It was down past his shoulders now, you thought to yourself distractedly. “That’s not going to happen. I told you, we’ll always have each other. I won’t go anywhere without you.”

“I know, Kookie, but it doesn’t change the fact that my magic doesn’t work,” you said, frustrated with yourself.

“I don’t think that it’s your magic that doesn’t work; you’re just not being able to express it.” He explained, and it slowly began to make sense to you. You’ve felt repressed the last four years you’ve been here already, thinking about your mother, who you might never be able to see again. That you’re trapped between one cage and another with no telling when you’ll be free. “I’ll help you.”

Jungkook sat crisscrossed on the damp stone of your shared cell, the only light coming in from the lamps outside your cell door. You joined him. He fished something from the pocket of his beige cotton clothes, which were too big for him. The soldiers always did that with the clothes, so as you got bigger, you’d grow into them for a few years. Less resources they had to spend on you.

He pulled out a lily and tenderly placed it between you two. You looked at him in surprise, and he simply smiled at you. “It gets a little easier to take things from the greenhouse the more time you spend up there. Try and levitate it,” he gestured to the flower, perfectly untainted with the stain of this place.

You focused all your energy on it but are only able to get it to move a tiny bit. It wasn’t even that profound. Your magic looked like nothing more than a slight draft or wave of the wind. You set your eyes downcast. You were a failure. How could you even call yourself a Mage? “I can’t do it, Kookie.”

“Yes, you can.” Your eyes met his when he gently touched the underneath of your chin to lift your head. “And you don’t have to do it alone.” He used his other hand to bring yours to meet his, palms and fingers pressed together. “Every time you want to use your magic, think of the connections you share with it. It’s in your blood; your mother gifted it to you; the other kids have it, who got it from their parents; and I have it. We’re connected by magic—a living, flowing entity that surrounds us and binds us. Think about it… You’re never alone. Believe in that.” His voice calmed your spirit and centered your magic with every word. Your eyes had fallen shut, seeing the faces of those you loved and had happy memories of. Your skin tingled and warmed until it cooled.

You opened your eyes to see the lily floating between you and Jungkook.

You stared at it, shocked. “Jungkook, are you sure you’re not making it do that?”

He merely laughed, beaming at you. “I’m sure. This is 100% all you. It’ll take more practice to master it, but now you know that it’s possible.”

You let out a shuttering breath of relief. So much of the anxiety and worry that had wrapped around your lungs like a vice finally let go, and you could breathe again. “Thank you, Kookie. I don’t know what’d I do without you.” You released your magic, throwing your arms around him in a hug.

He wrapped his arms around you, too. You can still hear the smile in his voice when he said, “You’ll never have to find out. I’ll always be here.”

Life became a little easier after that.

You were forever grateful for Jungkook’s presence in your life. You had to give back somehow, so you would secretly teach the other young kids who were struggling with their magic expression while pretending to plant seeds. Soon, every single Mage child got their magic to cooperate with the plants—getting them to grow faster and better, removing sickness and disease, increasing the yield of each crop, coaxing tropical crops to finally grow in this dry climate.

You were silently put in charge by Michael to grow oranges the next year, given a few orange seeds that had survived hundreds of years since the Fall. You weren’t sure if there was any life left in them, but it didn’t matter because your magic could get the inner workings of the seed functioning again. Getting the seed to sprout was the easy part, but it took the better part of three years for it to grow. Finally, the summer you turned sixteen, the sprouting had grown into a tree and produced oranges. Michael was so pleased that he allowed you to have two on the week of the Summer Harvest.

You were so excited to share them with Jungkook. You’ve heard the taste is like nothing like you’ve ever had before. When you were dismissed, you hurried to the Greenhouse, spotting Jungkook and gesturing for him to meet you in a hidden corner behind crates of fresh vegetables and the tool shed.

“Jungkook, look,” you whisper excitedly, showing him the bright fruits. “Oranges! I finally got them to grow!”

“Shhh,” he holds a finger up to his mouth, chuckling. “That’s awesome. I have something to show you too.” He presents his hand from behind his back to show you a handful of— “Strawberries,” he grins excitedly.

“They look amazing,” you examine them closely, pocketing the oranges in your apron.

“Yeah. They taste even better too.” He hands you one, and you don’t waste a second in biting into one. Strawberry juice escapes your mouth and dribbles down your chin. You try to catch it and wipe it off with your free hand. Jungkook chuckles again, happy to see you clearly enjoying yourself. He eats his own strawberries, and insisting you eat the last one since he’s already snuck in more than he should have while picking. After you finish, you pull out the oranges, so he can get a better look at them. “How do you eat them?”

“Well, you see, you have to peel them. The skin is too bitter and thick to eat, but the fruit on the inside…” You skillfully peel one orange and hand it to him. You quickly then peel the second one. Opening the circular fruit, you pick a fat, juicy slice and hold it between your fingers. “It’s citrus-y, but sweet. Open up,” you nod at him, excited for him to finally taste it.

He opens his mouth, and you gently plop it in. When he first bites down, his face first screws up, but then relaxes in the indulgence with a few more bites. “It tastes so good,” he says, and you giggle at his satisfied smile. “You eat some.” He pulls a slice from his orange and takes a step closer, coincidentally putting you between him and the wooden shed. He holds it out, nodding at you like how you did with them.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you before opening your mouth to receive the orange. Jungkook takes his time bringing the fruit to your lips, gently feeding you the fruit, watching your face as you pull the orange slice into your mouth and eat it. The corners of your mouth turned up at the delicious taste of the fruit and at Jungkook’s hopeful expression.

You take your turn to feed him another slice of your orange, doing it exactly as he did. He gets a playful look in his eyes, and then makes sure his lips brush your fingertips when you feed him the orange. You feel a hot blush creep onto your face, which does not go unnoticed by Jungkook. He thoughtfully eats the fruit you just gave him, reading your expression as you try to hide your red cheeks from him with a hand. When you drag your eyes back to his, he grins cutely at you, and you can’t help but blush further or fight your own grin.

Jungkook reaches a tentative hand out to brush your hair behind your ear. You had recently cut off several inches of it again with the gardening scissors you snuck from the Greenhouse again. You’d even given Jungkook a haircut, so his hair wasn’t hanging in his eyes while he worked. You were by no means perfect at it, but you did your best to make him handsome.

He smiled down at you, and you suddenly couldn’t remember when he’d gotten so much taller than you. When had the muscles in his arms appeared? When did his face begin to lose the soft roundedness of childhood? Then you wished he was seeing you the way you were seeing him just now. You weren’t kids anymore.

He brought a hand to cup your cheek, moving closer. Searching your eyes for an answer to the silent question of permission. You nodded, your nose just barely brushing his before your lips meet in your first kiss, for both you and Jungkook. Your lips were trembling against each other’s, not sure how to explore such new territory. He pulls back to search your face again.

Then, you were both smiling like complete idiots. He presses his lips to yours again and again and again until they meld perfectly in synch. Your hands come to rest on his waist. You two deepen your kiss, tasting a mix of strawberries and oranges, sweetness and citrus.

And you swear, the sun grew brighter outside the Greenhouse, its rays breaking through the cracks in its structures to shine on your faces, and the world appeared more colorful. It was euphoric. Your settings melted away, and you felt free for the first time in years. You could feel your magic dancing with his in the air around you. The plants around you perk up more in their pots, and the birds chirped a little louder. Jungkook’s hands move from your face to your waist and yours to wrap around his neck, pulling the other impossibly closer as you two lay sweet kiss after sweet kiss on each other’s lips.

When you two became breathless, you finally pull back with much reluctance. Jungkook rests his forehead against yours as you both became to giggle to yourselves. “I love you, Jungkook,” you whisper to him, hoping to keep this moment between just the two of you.

“I love you too, y/n. Always have.” He steals one last kiss from you before having to let go even though he very much did not want to, as he expressed. You assure him that you would see him later on that day, and he walks back to his station after staring at you for several moments longer, not wanting to take his eyes off you. He thought you looked positively radiant—skin pink, eyes bright, mouth pulled into a big, beautiful smile.

Thus, began several weeks of farm work and taking advantage of every possibly excuse you had to see Jungkook in the Greenhouse to steal a kiss when no one was around or to brush hands when they simply weren’t looking. Of course, then at night when you got back to your shared cell, you watched each other fall asleep while lying in your separate beds, murmuring sweet nothings and promises of your future together.

….

However, the Citadel seemed to have a way of ripping away the things you loved just when life was happy.

You and Jungkook were sitting on his bed in your cell, playing handshake games. He was quietly singing to you one of the songs from the Hymns of the Mages that he remembered from childhood. You tried to keep up with his angelic voice with your own singing but didn’t do as well as you hoped. Jungkook loved that you were singing, stealing kisses from you to make you feel better.

That’s when you heard men screaming from down the dank hallways of the prison. You were swords slashing, guns being fired. You both scrambled to your feet, rushing to get a peek out of your cell’s door to see what was happening.

The screaming and clashing of metal kept getting closer and closer until heavy footsteps rushed in your direction. “Get them out!” Doors of cells creaked open loudly, along with startled yelps of your fellow Mages.

Suddenly, a large, muscled man—a warrior—with long silver hair appeared in front of your cell, his gold eyes feral. Jungkook jumped in front of you, shielding you from the man, and pushed up back into the cell. The warrior smashed the lock with his weapon, and the door swung wide open. He stepped into the cell, weapon tight in hand and pointed towards Jungkook, who took up a fighting stance, his lips parting to reveal bared, gritted teeth.

The air sudden tasted metallic in your mouth. You realized it was because of Jungkook. His magic was radiating from him. It was like a heat wave rippling off his body. How was he doing this?

The warrior simply scowled at him and raised a hand, eyes closing shut. Then the metallic air dissipates into clean oxygen. Jungkook’s body visibly relaxed, and you stepped around him, watching the warrior curiously. Then your boyfriend said, “You’re a Mage.”

“We’re here to rescue you. Get you out of the Citadel,” he said, firmly.

“Really?” Your voice was full of hopeful.

“Yes, but we don’t have much time. I’m afraid our mole has gotten cold feet, and it won’t be long before the Citadel realizes we are here.”

We? There were other Mages, here?! Had your village finally figured out how to save its children and escape the clutches of the Governing Circle once and for all?

“Let’s go!” He shouted at both of you before stomping out of the cell to bark other orders.

Jungkook led you out first, following close behind you. In the hallway, your fellow Mages were either looking around confused or eagerly following the silver-haired warrior. The warrior’s team, men you’d never seen before, shook kids from their stupors and pushed them up the dungeon steps. Jungkook made sure the younger ones—the ones that were babies when you all were taken from the village—behind you two got in front and were following.

The sounds of quick breathing and feet running on stone bounced off the prison walls. Everything seemed so quiet otherwise.

Too quiet.

“Don’t let them escape!” One of the familiar voices of a Citadel soldier called behind you. You turned around and saw men with guns approaching fast. One of the Mages shouted for the silver-haired warrior in front, who pushed the kids to keep following another one of his team to the trucks. At the last second, the warrior and two other Mages stopped an onslaught of bullets flying towards you with a wall of powerful force. The metallic taste had returned in the air, but ten times more potent than before. The warriors groaned in effort until the soldiers at last emptied their guns and had to waste precious seconds to reload. Just enough time for the Mages to raise stone spikes from the surroundings walls to block the path.

“Run!” He bellowed, urging everyone to duck from any further bullets fired.

You were all sprinting out of the dungeon, and you could taste the fresh night air. You were so close to freedom!

What you didn’t expect was the smoke that instantly invaded your lungs. There were fires everywhere outside, blurring in your vision as you ran. Screams of terror and of pain rattled your ears. More Mages. They were everywhere, fighting the Citadel’s soldiers or anyone who tried to get in their way. Bodies dropped to the ground one-by-one. They noticed their silver-haired leader emerge from the prison with their intended targets and worked ferociously to clear a path to the vehicles.

They had to get out of here. They were already out of time.

“Get in the carts!”

Mages began to pile into carts strapped to horses, but the little children were loading too slowly. The Mages put up walls of force or moved the wind to blow around everyone, creating screens of smoke. You and Jungkook, along with the other older kids hauled the younger ones up into the cart beds and closed them shut. You all hopped in after them.

“Go! Go! Go!” A Mage warrior called after everyone was on the carts.

“Wait!” Jungkook whipped around in the cart bed and saw one of the children sprinting desperately. He must have gotten lost in the chaos. Without even thinking, Jungkook jumped out of the cart, rolling onto the ground to his feet and ran for the kid.

“Stop, stop!” You shouted desperately. “There’s one more!” The silver-haired warriors gold eyes glared at you. “Please! Jungkook, hurry!”

He ran as fast as he could back to the kid, dodging bullets. He scooped up the kid, who wrapped himself tightly around Jungkook’s torso, and sprinted back. He was panting heavily, sweat running down his face. He had to make it. Pounding boots sounded closer to him, and whipped around just in time, arm outstretched and eyeing a nearby fire to direct it onto the soldiers chasing him.

They are set ablaze immediately, howling in pain as the magic in the fire burns through their flesh rapidly. Jungkook turns back on his course quickly, leaving the men on fire to become ashes as they fall to the dirt.

You slam your hand against the wood of the cart. He’s going to make it, he’s going to make it, he HAS to make it! “Jungkook!” You called, desperate for him to run faster.

He gritted his teeth, willing his legs to move faster. He’s so close. 10 meters. Then, out of nowhere a black guard rammed into his side, sending all three of them reeling off track.

“No!” You cried.

“We need to go!” One of the Mages ordered. “The others can’t hold the gate any longer!” You looked towards the gates; they were slowly closing. If the warrior didn’t instruct those horses into full sprint in the next ten seconds, none of you were going to make it out.

Jungkook let go of the kid and blocked the black guard from attacking the boy. “Go to the carts,” he shouted. A large cut on his forehead sends blooding dripping down the side of his face into his eye.

The young Mage ran towards the cart, and you hopped out, ready to hoist him in.

“C’mon, c’mon,” you hurry him along and toss him into the back. You turned around, hoping to see Jungkook running towards you.

But he’s not. He’s still trying to fight off the black guard.

The black guard suddenly brandished a knife from his sleeve and cut deep into Jungkook’s arm. He cried out in pain, hand flying to the injury. It’s the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. This wasn’t just a knife wound. He felt like all of the magic in his blood was burning in his veins.

“No!” You tried to run towards him, to save him! But thick arms wrap around you and haul you back to the cart. “No! Let me go! We can’t leave without him!” You kick and punch the Mage warrior who had a hold on you, but he won’t relent dragging you further away.

“We’re leaving now!” He hauled both of you into the cart bed, his grip like iron.

“Jungkook! Please!” Tears burned like acid in your eyes and down your face.

Jungkook has flipped on his stomach, still screaming in his pain. And he sees you, trying to fight your way to him. You’ll have to leave without him, he thought, but this isn’t goodbye. No… A new kind of rage filled him, one that scorched more than the pain in his body. Gathering the last bit of strength, he had left, he yelled as loud as he possibly could. “I promise!”

I promise I will find you again. I promise we’ll be free someday. I promise we’ll burn the Citadel to the ground. I promise to stay alive.

You heard him. Every last one of those promises etching themselves into your heart. You felt his rage, his pain, and his relentless love for you.

The carts hauled faster and faster, and Jungkook grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Even as everyone looked towards the gates that were closing with each passing second, you couldn’t move your eyes from where you can see Jungkook being lugged to his feet and taken away.

“Come on!” You here the warrior driving shout in frustration, urging the horses to go faster.

The stone gates get closer and closer

No, we won’t make it, it’s too close. We’ll crash the truck.

The Mage warrior bellows a cry of war, snapping the reins quickly in one last effort.

And then you’re through the gates, the stone booming shut behind you.

Deafening silence sucks the sound out of the air like a vacuum.

You stop fighting the Mage and fall to the floor of the cart bed, staring numbly at the Citadel—a locked box, probably to never be opened again. Black smoke billowed up into the night sky in thick clouds, the inner walls of the Citadel lit orange by flame. And Jungkook—your best friend, your true love—your Jungkook, was still inside.

You felt a hand at the back of your neck, and then a sensation that stole the breath from your lungs and froze the blood in your veins.

You fell, out cold, and the Citadel became a tiny box in the distance, until it was nothing more.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Run To You - Chpt.1

Summary: Bucky has had the day from hell and all he wants is to buy what he needs and get home to his sick kid. Enter Steve Rogers in the wrong place at the wrong time and Bucky’s day goes from bad to mortifying.  Master list is HERE :)

Content Warnings: A smidge of bad language, but really ya’ll should expect that from me by now lol

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Who’s ready to start a new adventure with me? I knew I wanted to write a kid!fic with Bucky and Steve but I didn’t expect it to go quite this way until I jokingly called a friend “Captain Clueless” and then couldn’t get that name out of my head in relation to Steve. I fell completely in love with this little universe as I went and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. XOXO - Ash

Chapter One

Bucky Barnes is not at his finest. He just got off a sixteen hour shift from his job as an ER nurse and can barely keep his eyes open. The shift should have ended four hours earlier, but a tour bus accident had them overwhelmed on what had already been a busy night. Bucky was looking forward to catching a few hours of sleep while Becca was at preschool but nope, he came home to a frazzled best friend/ babysitter and a sick four year old. It was always something with Becca, her immune system just wasn’t what it needed to be. Bucky couldn’t fault her for that, she had been born premature and that unfortunately resulted in a whole host of health issues for the little girl. He would never regret adopting her, it was the best decision he’d ever made, but some days parenthood wore on him. 

Bucky moves the load of laundry Natasha had started for him into the dryer. It smells clean but there will forever be a slight stain from puke on the ladybug print sheets. He can try his heavy duty stain remover on it later, but he knows there is only so much that can be done for white fabric and bodily fluids. There’s a reason most of his scrubs are black. After checking in on Becca, Bucky begs Natasha to stay a little longer so he can run down to the bodega to pick up a few things for when Becca wakes up. He would have sworn they had an extra bottle of Pedialyte, but apparently they’d used it up during Becca’s last bout with the flu. 

Natasha waits patiently, listening to Bucky complain about his shift while he quickly changes out of his scrubs into a pair of soft grey sweats and an old Blink 182 tshirt. She’s been his best friend since their first year of college when they met in Intro to Biology. The two of them have been inseparable ever since, both even choosing to stay in Brooklyn after college instead of going back to where they were from. Natasha’s family was from Russia but traveled a lot so she was happy staying in the city that felt like home to her, and Bucky would have done just about anything to avoid going back to the tiny town in Indiana where his parents were still selling drugs out of their trailer and making each other miserable. 

Bucky had thought he was free of his family forever when NYU accepted him into their nursing program. It was his way out of a poverty stricken little town that people rarely escaped from. Bucky had left home at eighteen with no intentions of returning, and he probably never would have, but during his last year of nursing school he found out through Facebook that his thirty eight year old mother was pregnant. To no one’s surprise, his mom was still dealing, still with his deadbeat dad, and was too far along when she found out she was pregnant to have any other option than having the baby. It was a repeat of the situation she’d found herself in at sixteen when she had Bucky. Knowing what it was like to grow up in that house, Bucky couldn’t allow another child to be brought into such a toxic environment. As soon as his mom confirmed the news was true, he hopped on the next flight out to Indiana and started the process to legally adopt his sister once she was born. 

When Rebecca Grace Barnes came into the world nine weeks early the doctors said it was a miracle she survived. She was so small, just barely three pounds, and needed to stay in the NICU for just over a month. Bucky had made arrangements with his professors to turn in exams and papers online, barely managing to finish up his nursing degree while biding his time before he could go back to Brooklyn with his baby sister. It had been a wild ride trying to get his nursing career started while caring for a newborn but Natasha had been a life saver. She and their other friend Clint had stepped up in a huge way, helping to watch Becca when he needed to work and daycare wasn’t open. Their schedules had gotten even messier recently when Becca started preschool. Bucky is counting down the days until kindergarten starts so their schedules will align enough for him to only lean on Nat and Clint one or two days a week at most. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Natasha throws a balled up Minnie Mouse sock at Bucky who’s too tired to dodge and instead gets a face full of pink fleece. 

“Yeah, Nat,” Bucky sighs, wishing he could take off his aching prosthetic but knowing he’ll need both hands for shopping bags. “I’m getting you a choco taco and a red bull this time. I got you.” 

Natasha nods happily, completely unphased by Bucky’s eye roll. She’s getting her wake up juice and her crunchy chocolatey sugar, and that is all that matters.

Bucky rushes around the bodega grabbing everything he’ll need to deal with a sick kid, throwing things in the basket without even bothering to check price tags. His bank account will hate him, but he doesn’t exactly have time or options to find the best deals. Grabbing Nat’s items and an iced coffee for himself, he waits in line as an older man chats with the clerk while the teenager rings up his order. The television in the corner is playing the local news, apparently Captain America visited a rec center in Brooklyn recently. There are sound bites from elderly residents and young kids fawning over him, and one of the Captain himself extolling the importance of community and keeping kids off the streets.

Bucky thinks his eyes will get stuck in the back of his head with how hard he rolls them. “This fucking guy.” Bucky grumbles as he places his basket on the counter, unloading his stuff. 

The clerk nods in silent agreement.

“I’m sure he was a ‘bright shining beacon of hope’ back in WWII but he has no clue what’s going on in the real word nowadays.” Bucky continues.

The clerk nods once again and Bucky, feeling particularly exhausted and grumpy, yells over at the TV, “It’s not all rainbows and sunshine Captain Clueless!”  

“Captain Clueless?” A deep voice rumbles from behind him, “I’ve been called a lot of things over the years, but that’s a new one.” 

Bucky sees the clerk's face go pale and the kid freezes, confirming what Bucky feared when he heard that rich baritone behind him. Oh fuck. 

Turning around, Bucky prepares himself for the worst. Instead, he finds an extremely amused looking Captain America holding a bottle of water and a bag of swedish fish. 

“I’m… I… I didn’t mean…” Bucky stammers. He doesn’t know how to politely explain I meant every word but never meant for you to hear it. 

The register pings as the clerk frantically finishes ringing up Bucky’s order, trying to get both men out of the shop before the situation can get any worse. The sound startles Bucky and he turns around to see the green blinking $58.79 on the little box. His stomach sinks, there went grocery shopping for the week. But, he reasons, Becca won’t want much for a few days while she recovers and he’s no stranger to a ramen-only diet. They’ll get by, just like they always do. 

Before Bucky can hand over his last three twenties, a sleek black card taps against the card reader and the machine starts blinking, processing it. Bucky spins around in surprise only to literally face plant into a solid wall of muscle. Muscle that smells like tea tree and mint, yum. Bucky moves backwards in surprise, bumping into the counter but getting himself away from the giant of man who’s also moving backwards after their collision. 

“It’s on me.” Steve tells him with a shrug. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” Bucky insists, “I insulted you.” 

“You were just being honest.” Steve reasons, “I don’t get to hear people’s honest opinions all that much.” 

“That has to be weird.” 

Steve chuckles, “Pal, you got no idea.” 

“Well, thank you. And I am sorry you heard that.” Bucky collects his bags, still dumbfounded by the whole experience. 

“I’d like to hear more about why you said it. Whatever you think it is I’m missing about the twenty-first century. I’m just out for a run so if you don’t mind company on your way back to wherever, maybe we could talk?” 

Bucky shakes his head. The man actually wants to learn how to be a better person after being insulted by a random grungey stranger in a bodega. “You really are Captain America.” Bucky murmurs, still stunned. 

Steve chuckles again; a deep, throaty sound. “Yeah, guilty as charged. But you can just call me Steve.” Steve winks conspiratorially and Bucky thinks he might actually combust. No one should be allowed to be that good looking. 

Bucky waits as the cashier rings Steve up for his things and Steve taps his card again to pay. “I thought it was weird enough getting a card that swiped when I came out of the ice, but now this one doesn’t even swipe. It just taps and poof, done.” Steve says with a faint tone of awe. 

Bucky can’t imagine how many things Steve needed to adjust to after waking up from the ice. “Far cry from what you were used to, huh?” 

“Well, it sure beats keeping coins in old coffee cans.” 

Bucky glances over at Steve as they leave the bodega together, “You do that whole ‘awe shucks, man out of time’ thing really well. Is it real though? No offense, you can’t really be that well adjusted. You’re still human.”

Steve meets Bucky’s eyes for a moment, crystalline blue piercing into smoke grey-blue, assessing him. After a few beats he decides Bucky is someone who can handle the truth. “It’s a lot easier to do that than to curse up a storm every time some piece of tech pisses me off. Plays out a lot better with the whole Captain America image too.”  

“I didn’t think Captain America even knew how to swear.” Bucky teases. 

“He doesn’t, but Steve Rogers does. I grew up in Brooklyn, I know how to curse.” 

Bucky laughs, swinging his bags idly as they walk in silence for a few steps.

Steve breaks the silence, reminding him of why they’re walking down the street together in the first place, “So really, why do you think I’m so out of touch? Because I thought SHIELD did a bang up job teaching me about the world and what I missed while I was out.” 

“I’m sure they did, but SHIELD is still an agency with their own ideas and agendas. I promise you, you got a watered down version of real life. Do me a favor; when you get home look up what they say about The Great Depression and WWII. Do a little research on how we look back at those times. Then think about how it really was back then when you were living it. I would bet you lunch that the two don’t line up.” 

“I never thought about it that way.” Steve admits. “I’ll look it up today, promise.”

They arrive on Bucky’s stoop and he climbs up a step, looking down at Steve instead of up at him. He wants to know what Steve thinks once he does some research but doesn’t know how to ask. Luckily, Steve beats him to it. 

“I’m going to need your number if you’re taking me out to lunch.” Steve says casually, a light hint of teasing. 

Bucky blushes, trying to remind himself that he was the one who threw the lunch bet out there. Steve Rogers would never just ask him out like that. “I… uh… um…” he fumbles anyway.

Steve takes a step back in retreat, his own cheeks flaming. “I’m sorry, that was. I’m sorry. You clearly have a sick kid to get back to, and I’m sure a lovely wife waiting for you too.” he motions at Bucky’s bags. “Thank you, for being honest with me.” Steve turns to hurry off and, thankfully, Bucky’s brain catches up with him.

“Steve, no.” he blurts out. “No wife. Sick kid, yes. But no, um, no one else. If you want my number, I’ll give it to you. My schedule is a little weird because of my job but I do want to know what you think when you get done looking things up.” 

Steve smiles up at Bucky, soft and hopeful and genuine. It isn’t the All American facade grin he uses for the cameras, and it feels all the more special to Bucky because of it. Steve hands over his phone to Bucky so he can enter in his contact info and then sends him a quick text so Bucky has his number too. “So, I’ll call you later then?” Steve tries, sounding a little unsure still.

“Yeah, I’ll look forward to it, Steve.” Bucky looks up at his doorway, knowing he needs to get back to Becca but not wanting Steve to leave quite yet. 

Steve takes the hint and gives him another soft smile and a small wave as he turns and heads off down the bustling city sidewalk. 

Bucky stands there a moment, collecting himself and trying to process it all, before hurrying back upstairs to his little apartment to relieve Natasha of babysitting duty.

*** New chapters will be posted on Sunday and Wednesday nights until the fic is complete ***

[tiny-smallest]

a test of heart c1: deal

Rating: G Characters: The Prince, The Princess, The Witch Warnings: none Description: After the Witch strips his princess of everything as he looks on and weeps, the prince's grief as he sobs over his love's unconscious body gives way to rage. In his fury he makes a deal with the Witch on behalf of his beloved.

Can he overcome the hurdles of her challenge, or will he fail?

Also on AO3!

—

aka: The Witch is kind of a giant asshole and while the story never vindicates her she gets no kind of comeuppance at all, and whether or not the prince's parents do is also up in the air, so I will take a hammer and lightly fix the canon

—

He must been sobbing for at least four hours. The grass might have been properly watered with his tears as a substitute for rain if not for the salt in them.

She, of course, had left soon after the wolf's body had slumped softly to the forest floor in unconsciousness. What happened now was of no consequence to her; she had done her half of the deal, and now it was time to set out to use the influx of magic from that deal to fix what these two cretins had done to her forest.

It was somewhat on the grueling side, even for her. The blaze had thankfully not leveled the whole thing, but it had touched a not-insignificant portion of it, including literally all of her most frequented areas. It was with much grumbling that she set about fixing it. How could two young idiots cause so much damage?

She coaxed the grass to grow again, freshening the soil first before bringing forth the undergrowth, then bringing the trees back to life. Area by area, she repaired the forest, satisfied as the woodland monsters tentatively began to return to their haunts. The Witch liked them no more than any other person who lived in the forest, but their absence meant the local ecosystem was out of sync. Rather bad for someone who lived there.

Lived here. Right. She would have to reconstruct her home, too. And without everything inside-

She grit her teeth. Well. That project had to start sooner or later.

She hadn't expected company when she returned to the site of her home, though. That was a surprise. Of course, she expected the wolf to still be out cold--she would have to toss her somewhere later--but the huddled form of the human was nearly a full-blown shock.

His wails and sobs had weakened to soft weeping, but his arms remained around the unconscious wolf's neck, his tears sliding down his pale, wan, tearstained face onto the grass below.

"Could you stop that?" she asked idly as she turned her back on him to survey the ruins of her cabin. "I just brought that grass back to life, thank you."

He made a choking noise and then dead silence.

She fixed some of the rocks meant to be outside the cabin as she spoke. "You know, I'd run if I were you. She's not going to remember you when she eventually wakes up and you're a tasty snack to her. There's no point in staying."

Silence for a moment and then, hm. He actually spoke. A hoarse, numb whisper; she halted in her construction to listen to it, surprised he spoke at all. "And go back to what? She is the only love I have ever known."

"That sounds very much like not my problem, but it's equally not my problem if you wait around until she eats you." She materialized a wooden sign for the front of her house. "... Unless it happens on my front lawn, I suppose. I'm sure your guts and bones would be of decent quality to use in my potions, but I don't care to extract them from the ground or from her maw, and I hardly have time to bother with that sort of thing when I have an entire cottage to reconstruct. So if you could leave, I would appreciate it."

Another choking noise.

She paused for a moment before shrugging and was just about to disintegrate one of the blackened beams of rubble when she heard it.

"You."

The fire in that voice, like the hissing of an impending inferno, could not possibly have come from the small, weak thing bent over the wolf's body, but when she turned to see what new annoyance had manifested in her forest, she found herself staring into the burning eyes of the prince whose sight she had just restored, smoldering beneath his bangs.

It was such a shock she forgot how to breathe for a moment. The wind ruffled their hair and clothing, time standing still.

"What." She didn't know what this was the start of but it was best to shut it down as quickly as possible.

Even her iciest voice didn't extinguish those eyes. He sat back from his hunched position and would have looked quite ridiculous as he stood, with his dirty, battered feet, filthy, ragged nightclothes, short stature and soft face... if not for those eyes.

"You took our happiness. Why?" His fists clenched. Adorable.

"Well, the inferno, for starters." Idiot. "But it wasn't like she deserved to keep all of those things anyway."

His teeth bared. "You're wrong."

Her head jerked back. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, she lied to me. It hurt. But she was right; I wouldn't have accepted her aid if I'd known her true identity; I would've been too scared. I stand here today with healed eyes because she lied. It was wrong, but there wasn't a right choice to make. The forest fire was entirely my fault because I was the one who refused her help even when it made sense to, putting my feelings above the safety of the whole woods, and so I dropped the lantern when I fell! But despite fire being her greatest fear she came for me! Me, who had yelled at her! And yet you call her selfish!"

The witch beheld the small human and his trembling fists, his burning eyes, and a laugh erupted from her throat. There was a rush of wingflaps from above. "Oh you are rich, human! You think any of that was selflessness? She did it because she wanted to keep you! Her happiness mattered to her more than anything else!"

"Then why did she not keep me blind."

A pit lodged itself in her gut, freezing her from the inside out. She looked at him.

"She could have. She could have kept her memories and her human form, and turned down the deal, and walked away with me. I wanted her to, even. I begged her to! You were there! But she refused to even try to take it back. Righting her wrong, even if it was accidental, was what mattered most to her- because- because I mattered most to her."

The Witch snorted, shaking the ice from her heart and smacking the black beam to disintegrate it into dust. "Fairytale nonsense. Go home and cry to your mother about it."

"Did you ever tell the truth."

The ice returned.

Slowly, she turned back around. The prince's eyes were green, she realized somewhere in her mind. Summer green. Summer forest green.

She hated them.

"What."

"You mocked her earlier, asking if she became more honest when she apologized. Then you taunted her with her mistakes. She would've agreed to the deal without all that nonsense manipulation you did; you did it to be cruel. Or maybe, since you think so little of her, you thought she really wouldn't do it without you pushing her. But did you ever become more honest?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The girl. Witch..."

He was not going there.

"Did she ever learn who murdered her brother?"

"THAT. IS ENOUGH." The space between her hands gathered dark magic to throw at him, to shut him up, shut him up forever-

"I'm going to take that as a no, because if you had told her the truth, you'd have delighted in throwing that in my face." His look was near placid now, watching her. Truly, the moron must not care if he died. "And on top of that, you were even more selfish still. It was your deeds that got her killed. You let her believe you weren't as terrible as the stories made you out to be, didn't you? Surely you didn't actually rip families apart as payment for the wishes they asked out of desperation and necessity rather than greed. Surely it wasn't you who separated lovers, parents from children, siblings, the elderly from their families."

"THEY ASKED FOR IT!" She threw. Her aim was off, still shaky because she was tired, of course, from all that bullshit earlier. He watched the tree explode several feet away from him, and she cursed.

"Allow me to recap." He began to tick points off on his fingers. "You demanded lives for the price of your help for the wounded, sick, dying, the poor. You killed her brother. You divulged none of this to her so she could make informed choices, and so she stayed, and you grew to love her. Your behavior changed to accommodate for the feelings you felt for her and what she taught you, but still, you never told her the truth. She died for that truth from people rightfully angry at your cruelty, and wrongfully too quick to action where it concerned her. And then- then-"

His face scrunched with disgust.

"Then, instead of allowing her rest, and allowing her to be with her brother, whose soul I assume was released accidentally in the rampage, you kept her. You bottled her in a jar, because you, Witch, were the one who was too selfish to let go.

Not my princess."

She pointed a finger wrapped in dark magic at him. "Give me a reason," she breathed, "why I shouldn't blow your pretty little head from your shoulders."

"Because I'm right. And you know that. And you hate it. And killing me won't prove me wrong; it'll just make me dead."

The steel in his eyes didn't waver. Didn't look away. Didn't blink.

"And then you'll have to live with the echoes of my words for the rest of your probably-immortality."

Her hand trembled. If she'd had the magic to spare, she would have transformed into the beast again, stomped him into the earth, left a red smear all over the grass near his precious little princess-

His princess. His wolf, rather.

Her face split into a truly terrible smile that peeked through the mask a little with its intensity. The laugh that tore from her throat was much louder this time, cracked and high-pitched, manic. She wrapped her arms around herself and shook with the force of it while he stood and watched.

"All- all right," she wheezed, wiping one of her many eyes as it subsided. "All right, little prince- If you are so sure in your righteousness, then how about a little wager?"

"What sort."

She picked up her staff, clearing her throat to steady herself. "I'll alter my conditions," she said sweetly with a wave of her stick. "She is still a wolf beast, but! This can change."

"Go on." Still his expression remained the same. Her fingers tightened on her staff, the previous mirth from earlier starting to vanish. "It will take you some time to leave the forest," she said flatly. "I estimate about a week, and perhaps a week more to deal with whatever is waiting for you back where you came from, given your earlier comments. Given that, I allow you one month from tonight. I will return her memories to her, locked deep inside her head. You have one month to coax them to the surface. Should she recover her memories and accept your feelings, my price for healing your eyes will be forfeit. She will regain her shapeshifting abilities, she will keep her recovered memories, but she will not get back her singing voice."

"That is fair. It was part of an earlier deal." Show some damned emotion, brat! Wasn't her voice what you loved to begin with!? "What if I fail."

Her grin returned. "I claim your soul. She will be given her memories back, if only to languish about how her sacrifice failed."

She saw the shift in his eyes. A spike of pain- was that fear? Ah, that felt good.

His mouth pressed into a grim line. "I'll do it."

Well, well. "So be it."

She waved her staff over the body of the sleeping wolf, watching the light gather around her, swirling upwards like light met smoke.

"It is done."

The prince nodded and reached down to smooth some of the fur from his beloved's face before straightening and turning to leave.

"Remember. One month."

"One month," he echoed back at her before turning around again.

She watched his form disappear into the darkness of night, letting out a low cackle when he was out of sight, looking back down at the sleeping wolf.

"Silly girl. He might think he wants this right now, but that will fade in time once he is back where he came from. Humans and monsters were never meant to be friends. Whether he attempts to see this through to save his own skin or dismisses it as empty threats, your sacrifice will be for nothing."

She couldn't wait.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 62

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @ocfairygodmother​

  She stands on the patio area; where terracotta and highly polished stone and faux games of various colours -laid out in intricate patterns- meet rich, luscious green grass. A fussy and cranky Addie lying along on arm and a hand over her eyes; shielding them from the bright, powerful sun as she watches TJ and Millie -supervised by their uncle- entertain themselves on the elaborate wooden playground.  Their exuberant and lively conversation floats on the breeze, accompanied by their giggles and occasional bickering; Millie successfully teaching Saju how to climb the stairs to the slide and slip down it. Less than a hundred feet avail one of the handful of nannies -Diya, an elderly woman who had helped raised both Anil and Saju and speaks both Hindi and Bengali but very little English- keeps a firm on hold on the back of Declan’s shirt as he crouches dangerously low to one of the many ponds; attempting to get a better look at turtles and frogs.

The three of them are settling in well; random tearful moments of missing home and school and their daddy, yet making the best of the situation. Always finding something to do to keep themselves busy and always managing to laugh and smile despite the tremendous changes to their young lives. TJ and Millie are especially adept at accepting new challenges; never struggling with transitions or upsets to their daily routines, simply taking things as they come and ‘rolling with the punches’.  Rarely paying attention to the heavily armed guards that continuously patrol the perimeter and line the roof of the house. Their nerves don’t seem frazzled by the open display of weapons; never asking questions regarding just who these men are and why they’re always watching them.

Tanner is an entirely different story. He’s always struggled with change; becoming incredibly anxious with even the slightest tweak to his usual routine.  Seeking comfort in familiar surroundings and finding it in sights, smells, and sounds. Needing advanced warnings before switching from one activity to the other; a sudden, abrupt change enough to bring on frayed nerves, irritable behaviour, stomach issues, and even tears. He’s easily overwhelmed by new and unfamiliar situations and is easily annoyed by crowds of people and too much noise  or activity going on around him. He loves his version of normalcy; the same faces and voices surrounding him, the comforts of home with his own belongings and the sound and the smell of the ocean. And while he loves his siblings and shares an enormous, powerful bond with his twin brother and doesn’t shy away from playing with the others or sharing in adventures, he’s happiest when left alone; comfortable and content doing the things he loves.

It would be easy to force  him to be more  like brother and sister. To just throw him into sports as opposed to always having his nose stuck in books or engrossed in school work. To be more ‘kid like’  and pursue being a social butterfly instead of secluding himself.  And while they encourage him to at least try and broaden his horizons and to experience new things and attempt to join in the fun that his siblings are having, they refuse to push him out of his comfort zone. Both had had parents that weren’t happy with how they acted or behaved and had been forced into becoming entirely different versions of themselves.  Made to ‘fit in’ by society’s standards instead of being encouraged to be who they were meant to be. And they adamantly refuse to do that to their own children; knowing too well the kind of temporary anguish and long term negative effects that are inflicted when you’re forced to be something and someone you’re not.

He lounges under one of the many trees that form a border around the yard. Using a dozing and complacent Mac as support for his back; bare feet dug into the grass and his knees bent, impossibly thick and heavy hardcover novel resting on his thighs. Those wayward locks of hair falling across his forehead; brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in concentration. A facial expression identical to one she's seen many times in the course of nearly seven years.

Satisfied with the level of safety and security being provided to her other children, Esme moves a whimpering and grumpy Addie to her chest -a hand on the back of her head when the baby immediately nestles her face into her shoulder- and journeys over to where Tanner sits.

“What are you doing, nugget?” she inquires. “You look pretty comfy.”

“Just relaxing,” he replies without looking up. “Reading some.”

“You don’t want to go play with your brother and sister? Maybe go swimming? Or go and see the animals?”  She often wonders if he’s lonely during his frequent moments of solitude.  Unable to stop herself from worrying that he is. That he’s somehow missing out on his childhood even though he’s always expressed just how happy he is doing what he loves, not what others expect him to do.

“No, I’m happy where I am,” Tanner says. “Mac’s keeping me company. Besides. I’m kinda tired today. I did lots yesterday. And the day before. I just want to hang out.”

It’s easy to forget that he’s only five. So well spoken for someone so young; words always coming so easily to him and his tone always low and calm and his face and eyes so serious. Phenomenally intelligent and intuitive. And sensitive to a fault; always worrying about things that are way behind his years. Like his father in so many ways; allowing very few people to get close to him but fiercely protective of those who ‘make the cut’. Loving so deeply and so profoundly. Traits that his father successfully manages to hide from just about everyone, but Tanner is so open and honest about.

“What are you reading?” Esme asks, as she sinks down onto the grass beside him, stretching out her legs and laying Addie along her thighs.

“Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You’re reading a Harry Potter book?”

Tanner nods.

“You’re five.”

He shrugs.

“Where did you find that?”

“When I was talking to Anil yesterday, I told him that I really like to read. But not little kid books. Older kid books but not too much older. When I woke up this morning, there was a box of books by the bed, with my name written on it. Anil got them for me. All of the Harry Potters. I picked this one ‘cause I like the picture on the front.”

“And you can actually read and understand it?”

“Mom, I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid. In fact, you’re insanely smart. Almost too smart. But you’re also only five, nugget.  A five year old being able to read that well?”

“You and daddy always read to me, even when I was a baby.  I remember how you guys always made me repeat words, even when I was small. They’re in my brain and I recognize them when I see them and remember them. That’s how my brain works. I know what things say and I know what they mean. Is that weird?”

“Not weird. Just...I don’t know...just...wow.”

“Daddy said next time we’re in town, I can get The Hobbit. And then maybe Lord of the Rings for my birthday.”

“Can you read me some of Harry Potter?”

Tanner frowns. “You think I’m lying? I’m not making it up. I CAN read it.”

“Just humour me. Pick a random page and read me a bit of it, okay?”

“Alright…” he huffs dramatically, then grabs a leaf off the grass to use a bookmark before flipping to a different place in the book. “Now? Start now?”

Esme nods. “Just pick something. Anything”

“Okay…”   one of his fingers rests on the page, the tip slowly following each word. “...it is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something and would give anything to slow down time, it has a ….” he pauses, frowning up at her. “I don’t know how to pronounce that word.”

She peers down at. “Disobliging.”

“...it has a disobliging habit of speeding up.”

Esme’s eyes widen.

“What? What’s wrong, mom? What did I do? Was that wrong?”

“No. It was right. Every word of it. I just...I don’t know...I think maybe daddy and I need to talk about sending you to a different school.”

“One for smart kids? ‘Cause no offence to any of the other kids, but they’re all stupid. I know how to read words like ‘cat’ and ‘dog’ and ‘ball’ and I can write sentences with those words in it. With my eyes closed! I know my full name, my address, my phone number. I even know daddy’s full name and his cell number and when he was born; day, date, and year. I  even know how to tie my own shoes. A lot of those kids don’t do that stuff. Not even TJ knows how. Why can’t I be in a bigger kid class? Where the work is harder?”

“I don’t know if that’s allowed.”

“What? The school doesn’t like smart kids or something? It’s so boring there. I could stay home and you and daddy can teach me. You guys are both smart. You went to college.”

“I don’t think either of us can give you what you really need,” she admits. “Learning wise. But we’ll talk about; daddy and I. Okay?”

Tanner nods, then flips back to the page he’d been engrossed in when she’d interrupted him. “Hermione’s my favourite,” he says. “I read it for her mostly. I don’t care much for Ron or Harry. I think they’re whiners. Who’s your favourite?”

“I don’t have one. I’ve never read them.”

“What?” He looks mortified at the mere suggestion. “You’re how old and you’ve never read Harry Potter? That’s shameful mom. Maybe daddy’s read them.”

“I highly doubt your dad has read Harry Potter. He’s not really into that kind of stuff.”

“Daddy’s into cool guy stuff. Like UFC and football and beating people up.”

“Well he doesn’t necessarily LIKE beating them up. Sometimes he doesn’t have a choice.”

“He kills people sometimes too.”

Esme nods. “Sometimes.”

“Is he going to hell for doing it?” Tanner inquires. “For killing people? Isn’t killing people bad?”

“Most of the time it is.”

“But they deserve it, yeah? The people daddy kills? They deserve it?”

“Why are you talking about this? You’re five.”

“I’m not a dumb little kid. I know what daddy does; I know what his job is. I do hear people talking, you know. I know he gets paid to hurt people. I know he gets money to kill them. I know he’s a mercenary.”

Esme scowls. “How do you even know that word?”

“I hear things. And they stay in my brain. I don’t care, that's what he does. It’s just his job, it’s not who he is. He’s daddy. That’s all that matters. That when he’s with me, he’s just my dad. He only hurts bad people. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“That’s the last thing he’d ever do. Hurt you.”

“I know. And I know he won’t let anyone else hurt me either. I feel safe when I’m with him. Because he’s big and strong and I know he’d protect me no matter what. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.”

“No. He definitely wouldn’t.”

Tanner sighs heavily. “I really hope he’s not dead.”

“What? Why would you even say that?”

“He hasn’t called in two days. Daddy always calls. ALWAYS. Right before bed. But two days and no calls. What if the bad guys got him?”  He draws in a shaky breath as tears well in his eyes. “What if he’s dead and I never get to see him again?”

“Your dad is NOT dead.”

“What if he’s gone and I never get to hug him or his voice again? Or I never get to apologize for all the times I was bad and made him angry.”

“Tanner...oh my goodness…nugget…” she reaches out to brush his hair from his eyes. “Tanner...what in the world goes in that head of yours, baby boy?”

“I don’t  mean to be bad. I don’t make daddy mad. I don’t mean to make him yell sometimes. I don’t mean to make him hate me.”

“Okay, first of all…”  shes gives an appreciative smile to one of the other caregivers that rushes over when she sees Tanner in distress; taking Addie and giving Esme the freedom to scoop the now sobbing five year old into her arms. Cuddling him as she would a baby; across her body with one arm under the back of her legs, the other around his shoulders. “...daddy could never...EVER...hate you. He loves you. More than anything else in the world. He always has and he always will. Just because he gets mad and yells, doesn’t mean he hates you. And how often does he actually get mad and yell?”

“Not much.”

“It takes A LOT to get daddy THAT mad. And even if he does get angry, he still loves you. And it’s really not you he’s upset with. He’s just frustrated more than anything. And sometimes, that frustration isn’t even about you. It’s about him. He’s frustrated with himself. Because he struggles and it makes him sad and angry with himself and unfortunately, it gets taken out on your guys. Or me. Do you remember what I told you? About daddy’s brain?”

Tanner nods. “That it hurts. That it’s sad and in pain.”

“Well he’s working very hard at making his brain better. And the doctor is helping him and I’m helping him. And so are you guys. Because it’s you and your brothers and your sisters that make him the happiest?”

“Can’t he take some medicine to get better?”

“It’s not that easy. But he IS working on it. He works on it every day. And he’s tough and he’s strong but sometimes he needs help. He needs us to help him. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The five year old nods.

“Daddy always loves you. He could never hate you. He helped make you. You’re part of him. You’re part of his new life; his second chance. There is no way he could ever hate you.  Could you ever hate him?”

“Never,” he sniffles. “I love him too much.”

“Well that’s how he feels about you. And no. He’s not dead.”

“How do you know?”

“I would know. Trust me. He’s just busy, nugget.  He’s got a lot going on. A lot on his mind and a lot to do.”

“He’s too busy to call us?”

“Sometimes he has to go places where he can’t use his phone. Where it’s not safe to call. But he will when he can. But he’s not dead. I promise.”

“I hope you’re right, mommy. ‘Cause I’d miss him. So much. I’d miss his face and his voice and smile and the way he tucks me in. And the way he always teases me about being so short. I get mad when other people do it, but not when daddy does it. It’s funny when daddy does it.”

“Well he makes fun of me for being short, too. I always tell him he's just ridiculously tall and has ridiculously big feet.”

“He DOES have really big feet,” Tanner declares, then giggles. “And his hand is bigger than my whole head, I swear. I bet he could kill someone with one punch. Do you think he could? Do you think he could break the guy at the grocery store in half?”

“What?” Esme laughs. “What guy at the grocery store?”

“The one that touched your bum. That guy with the weird hair and the Mustang. Do you think daddy could break him in half?”

“Well maybe not literally. But he could definitely hurt him pretty bad.”

“Could he kill him?”

“What is this obsession with your dad killing people?”

“I’m just curious. I wanna know how he killed someone with a garden rake. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” she says, as she combs her fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t there. I just know he did it. I don’t need the details.”

“And it was two people, yeah? How? I don’t understand it. I’ll have to ask him.”

Esme laughs. “You can ask, but I don’t he’s going to tell you.”

“Because you’ll tell him NOT to tell me.”

“Exactly. You need to know the details. Not with that kind of stuff.” She presses a series of kisses to his forehead, then his tears away with gentle fingertips. “Want some lunch?”

“I could eat. Can we have normal food? Like our normal? I miss our stuff.”

“I’ll see what’s in the kitchen and we’ll go from there.”

“Can I help? I wanna help.  Remember when I used to always help you when it was just me, you, Millie and TJ? When daddy didn’t live with us for a bit? I was little but I still helped.”

“You were a big help,” she praises. “You used to love to fold laundry.”

“And you used to wrap me in the warm towels from the dryer. I liked when you did that. And I used to bring you tissues when you were sad and you would cry. Do you remember that?”

“I do,” she presses a kiss to his cheek. “You were like a knight in shining armour.”

“I slept with you all the time when you were lonely. Because you missed daddy even if you were really mad at him and didn’t want him around.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want him around. I just…”

“I know why he wasn’t there. Why he had to leave. It’s okay, mommy. I don’t blame you. Daddy wasn’t daddy. And it made me sad. I didn’t like him very much. He was really mean. He yelled a lot. Especially at you. I didn’t like it. I wanted to punch him in the face.”

“My little protector.” She kisses his cheek once more, then tousles his hair. “You know too much for someone so small.”

He pouts. “I’m not small.”

“Yes, you are.” She nuzzles the tip of her nose against his temple. “And you always will be to me.”

***

It’s shortly before one in the afternoon when Tyler  arrives; stepping out of the chauffeured car provided by Anil. Eyes surveying  the enormous white stucco ‘Spanish hacienda’ inspired home;  immaculately kept lawns and gardens and an elaborate marble and gold fountain in the middle of the circular interlocking brick driveway. By normal standards, Mahajan’s had been lavish and large; sleek and modern, sparsely furnished and feeling cold and empty. Anil’s is unlike anything he’s ever seen;  the gigantic home somehow welcoming with its turquoise colored front door and matching shutters on every window. The grounds are equally sprawling; everything well maintained and expertly manicured; gardens bursting with various types of flowers in a wide variety of colors. Not the kind of place that you’d expect someone ex military to reside in. Hell, even his own home is far beyond anything he could have ever dreamt about or hoped for. The five million from the IRA making it possible to afford a place like that, and with Anil’s generous initial offer and the constant flow of money going into the bank, he won’t ever have to worry about living expenses ever again. No more lying awake at night wondering how the hell he was going to pay a mortgage and all the bills, never mind how he’d put clothes on his kids’ backs and food in their bellies.

He shrugs a simple black backpack onto his left shoulder, the simple movement causing him to wince to when the fabric of his shirt presses and rubs against his upper arms. The injuries are noticeable now, and far worse than he’d expected them to be; the knees that had pressed into his biceps leaving purple and black bruises that he can feel  right down to the bone. In a futile attempt to spare his kids the sight of the worst of the damage, he’d worn a long sleeve shirt to hide the marks, only to find that even the softest and smoothest of fabrics and the smallest of touches irritate his arms. His right is in a sling; forearm immobile across his chest, the shoulder long popped back into place yet still relatively useless and needing support. And his throat still throbs; rows of visible finger marks  and solid area where a forearm had been placed against his neck in hopes of holding him still or rendering him unconscious.

It’s an all over body ache like   he’s never experienced before; pain that seems to travel right to his very core, settling in and gnawing incessantly. Thankfully the after effects of the drug he’d been injected with have almost disappeared; only hampered by moments of temporary memory loss, confusion, and brief episodes of dizziness.  He’d slept for two days. Only waking long enough to make trips to the bathroom and to get as much liquid into him as possible. No energy for anything beyond that. Battling crushing fatigue and an incessant migraine that saw the need for the curtains to be tightly drawn and all lights and television turned off at all times.

As much as he wants to be in on the action and feel useful  to the team, the fact remains that right now, he’s anything but.  Knee still throbbing and limp much more pronounced, a store bought brace doing little to immobilize it or help alleviate some of the pain. He’s able to use his right hand, but has very limited movement in the shoulder itself, making even the smallest of tasks like dressing himself almost impossible. Deep bruises travel along the small of his back and into both kidney areas; the physician Anil had brought in the day after the attack believing the bruising most likely affects the organs as well. Each piece of damage already done to a broken and tattered body making him the weakest link and forcing him to step back for a couple of days. And for once he’d been relieved at the thought of being benched until the doctor declared him ‘medically fit’ to get back into the thick of things. And when Anil had assured him that the team would be fine without him and told him to take the next forty eight hours to spend with his family, he hadn’t stuck around long enough to question the decision.

One of the armed guards leads him to the backyard, and he can hear the kids before he sees them; their excited chattering, squealing, and giggling accompanied the sound of splashing water and Kyle’s deep, calm voice. And it’s his brother in law that sees him first; giving him a broad smile and a nod in greeting, then whispering something in Millie’s ear as she clings to his neck. Her wet hair sticks to the sides of her face and her forehead when she glances over her shoulder; eyes immediately sparkling and a bright, wide smile spreading across her face.

“Daddy!” She shrieks, and abandons holding onto Kyle’s neck in favour of a frantic doggy paddle that takes her to the nearest ladder.  “Daddy!”

Tyler had promised himself that he couldn’t crack. That he wouldn’t allow his tattered and fragile emotions get the better of him. His kids don’t need to see that; him bursting into tears and having a complete emotional meltdown. But he’d come so close...so fucking close...to never seeing them again. To never hearing their voices or feeling their hugs. To never seeing them grow up. And it’s impossible to completely hold back the desperation and relief; his throat feeling incredibly tight and tears burning his eyes as he manages to drop down to one knee as his daughter comes rushing towards him.

“Daddy!” Millie throws both arms around his neck, body drenched from the pool. “You’re here early! Mommy said you wouldn’t be here for a couple of days! But you’re already here!”

“I was able to get things done early.” Tyler explains. “Thought I’d show up and surprise you guys. What’s going on? You having a good time?”

“There’s lots of stuff to do here. Lots of cool stuff. But I still miss you. I wish you were here to do cool stuff WITH us.”

“I’ve got two days to spend with you guys. We can do all kinds of cool stuff.”

“Two whole days?”

He nods.

“Daddy gets to spend two whole days with us, Tyler,” she says to her younger brother, as he practically shoves her out of the way to get to his father. Another set of arms wrapping his neck; a second wet body pressed up against him.  None of that matters. The dampness of his clothes, the wet hair against his skin, the smell of chlorine. The only thing that matters is the press of those tiny bodies against his, the sound of their voices, and the smiles on their faces and the tears in their eyes.

“What happened?” Millie gingerly touches his shoulder. “You hurt it? Again?”

“Just banged it up a little. I need to keep it in this thing for a couple of days. It’s nothing serious. Hey…” he lays a hand on the back of her head and presses a kiss to her brow. “...it’s okay. Don’t cry. I’m fine. I’m here, right?”

She nods, valiantly holding back a flood of tears as her gentle and curious fingertips trace the bruises on his neck. “A bad guy did this to you?”

“A very bad guy.”

“Did you kill him? ‘Cause he hurt you? Did you kill him?”

“Don’t cry, Millie,” TJ implores, perched upon his dad’s thigh, an arm still around his neck. “Daddy’s fine. He came to visit. That means the bad guy lost. That daddy was stronger and meaner than the other guy was. He’s alive, right? No bad guy’s ever gonna kill daddy. He’s too strong and too smart.”

“Does it hurt?” Her voice cracks as she continues her exploration.

“A little. The other guy looks worse.”

“How come?” TJ asks. “Is he dead? Please tell me he’s dead. ‘Cause that’s what he gets for messing with you.”

“How about we NOT talk about killing people?” Tyler suggests, and accepts the hand that Kyle offers; able to pull himself to his feet without too much or the dizziness setting in.

“You look like you’ve been to war and back again,” Kyle remarks, then hands over Declan’s small yet solid and strong body, wrapped in a towel.

“Feels I’ve been to hell and back.” he admits, and runs a hand over his son’s damp hair and places a long, gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Well if you look like that but you’re here, I take it the other guy is in a body bag.”

Tyler nods in confirmation, then lets TJ and Millie pull him towards the house via the side pockets on his cargos; talking over each other as they prattle on about the home theatre and the playground and the animals and all of the things they can’t wait to show him.

“How close did it come?” Kyle asks. “To you NOT being here?”

“Too close for comfort, that’s for sure. Needed to get away for a couple of days; clear my head. Figured this was the best place to do it.”

“Only place that matters,” Kyle reasons. “Things were starting to get a little tense around here. Wasn’t too bad when you didn’t call the first day, but when you missed the second? I thought my sister was going to have a mental breakdown. Then I see this…” he nods in the direction of Tyler’s injured shoulder. “...they didn’t get a hold of you, did they?”

“I’d look a lot worse if they did. And I definitely wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Tyler...oh my God…” The patio door slams shut behind Esme as she rushes out of the house in her bare feet, and he barely has time to pass Declan to his brother in law before she’s tossing her arms around his neck; her position on edge of the deck making them nearly the same height. Careful not to embrace him too enthusiastically; mindful of the injured shoulder, feeling the press of his immobile forearm against her. “...oh my God…” her hands are in the hair at the back of his head, fingers pressing into his scalp. And he can feel the way her body trembles against his and her tears against the side of her neck, not even trying to hold it in. Audible sobs of relief that have her shaking. And Kyle whisks Millie and TJ away; sparing the kids the sight of their emotionally fragile parents and giving them some sense of privacy. “...I was worried sick about you. Where the hell have you been?”

“It’s a long story.” He manages to hold back in his own tears, but the relief is evident in his voice. “I should have called. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I thought something happened to you. That they got a hold of you. And neither Yaz or Koen or Ovi would tell me anything but I could tell something was wrong. I figured it couldn’t be too bad if they weren’t showing up to tell me you’re dead. Are you okay?   Both hands are still in his hair when she pulls back to look at him. “Jesus Christ, what happened?”

“Not right now, okay?” He rubs the small of her back, then covers her lips with his in a long, slow kiss. “Later. When the kids are in bed. I don’t want them hearing them. I don’t even want YOU hearing it.”

“This goes way beyond someone just jumping you, doesn’t it.”

Tyler nods.

“What the fuck happened?” Gentle fingertips travel over the top of his shoulder and onto the side of his neck. “Never mind that. HOW the fuck did it happen? I don’t understand how someone could get THAT close to you? How…?”

His hand moves to the side of her face and he silences her with another kiss. Longer this time. Deeper. Harder. It’s desperate and it’s needy; fuelled by the realization that he comes so goddamn close to never getting a moment like this again. IF they’d managed to get a hold of him, he would have spent days, weeks, even months, being put through unbelievable agony and torture. Knowing his family was still out there; completely vulnerable without him to protect them. And he knows that Mahajan would have not only  let Esme know that he was still alive, but he would have made sure she knew exactly what was being done to him. With no hope of him ever surviving it.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”  Her voice is just shy of a whisper as she embraces him tightly, and she presses her lips against the side of his neck. “That you’re okay and you're here and I don't have to worry about you anymore. How long can you say? Overnight?”

“Couple days.”

“That’s more than I thought,” she sniffles. “I’ll take it.”

“It’s okay now,” Tyler places a kiss on her temple. “I’m here. Everything’s okay now,”

“It’s so far from okay. I’M so far from okay. But you’re alive and you’re in one piece and that’s all that matters right now. I was so scared, Tyler. I was so fucking scared.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, baby. That’s the last thing I wanted. It was out of my control. Believe me when I say that..”

“I do. I do believe you. I just…” she pulls away once again and takes his face in her hands. “...I’m just so happy to see your stupidly handsome face.”

He gives a small chuckle and pecks her lips. “Where’s the baby? And Tanner?”

“They’re both napping.  Tanner had a rough night. He’s having a hard time. And we really need to have a talk about him. About how smart he is. I can’t wrap my head around just HOW smart.”

“We’ll talk about it.”

“Go and see him,” she urges. “He’s in the living room. On the couch. He’s going to be so happy to see you. I’M so happy. And relieved. So fucking relieved.”

“It’s alright, Esme. I’m here.” He kisses her once more, then pulls her tightly against him with his one good arm. “I’m here.”

*****

Tyler spends a half an hour standing at the side of Addie’s crib. Watching her as she sleeps and reaching out to gingerly remove the soother than dangles precariously from her lips. The hand is soft and gentle that he lays against her hair; palm cupping the back of her head, thumb brushing repeatedly over her ear and then along the top of her cheek. And it’s then that he allows the tears to come. In that still, quiet room with the breeze fluttering the curtains and Addie’s tiny body rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. The enormity of what happened...what COULD have happen...finally hitting him. It’s the closest he’s been to death in nearly seven years. Had Farhad been successful at his attempt on the bridge and had Esme NOT been there to save him, his death would have been relatively quick; bleeding out in minutes and likely losing consciousness from shock before that happened. If his assailant had gotten a hold of him, death would have eluded him. At least until Mahajan felt he had learned his lesson.

He almost didn’t get this chance. The opportunity to see his infant daughter again. To see the way those long, dark eyelashes brush against the tops of her cheeks or how those soft, pink lips as if suckling from a bottle. To hear her soft breaths and the little murmurs and sighs. He’d come within minutes...maybe even seconds...of never experiencing her first birthday or seeing her take her first steps or hearing her call him daddy for the first time. It’s a sound -an experience- that always brings tears to his eyes and takes his breath away; the moment each of his children looked at him and smiled and finally knew exactly who he was and what to call him. Nothing on earth can possibly come close to that feeling.

He leaves her to sleep. Pressing the tips of two fingers to his lips before softly placing them against hers, then using a forearm to clear the tears from his face as he leaves the room.  He’d slept for two days yet he’s still so fucking tired; body feeling as if it’s on autopilot, as if he’s simply going trough the motions of living. And while it’s a tremendous relief to be with his family and it was desperately needed, he hates that the sabbatical has been forced upon him. That some fucking asshole hired by Mahajan had not only gotten that close to him, but had been able to inflict the damage he had. It makes Tyler question everything; his confidence, his abilities, his skills. Whether or not he’s reached the end of the line. Forty is considered relatively old and washed up as far as mercenaries are concerned. And even without his underlying health issues, he can’t help but wonder if the attack is a sign that he’s lost his age and it’s time to let go. To leave field work behind him and just concentrate on running things in the background.

Tanner is still fast asleep on the couch; flat on his stomach with both arms wrapped around a throw pillow and a pout curving his lips.  And he groans and grimaces as he kneels alongside his son, combing his fingers through his hair and pushing the wayward locks off his forehead; palm against his cheek, thumb brushing along the slope of his nose. And it isn’t until he leans in to press a kiss to his temple that Tanner stirs; giving a long, almost sad sigh and his eyes opening slightly.

“Daddy?” He breathes.

“Hey,” Tyler gives a soft, comforting smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Am I dreaming?”

“No, mate. You’re not dreaming. I’m really here.”

Those big blue eyes slowly widen; tears filling them, lower lip and chin quivering. “Daddy…” it comes out as a choked sob. “...you’re here...you’re okay...I was so worried about you. I was scared you were dead.”

“Well I’m not.” He lays a hand on the back of Tanner’s head and presses his lips to his brow, then his temple as those tiny arms circle his neck. “I’m here. With you.”

“You didn’t call. For two days! It scared me. I got worried. I thought the bad guys got you.”

“I’m sorry, Tanner. I didn’t mean to scare you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.  Things got a little crazy and I couldn’t get to my phone.  I  am so sorry, mate. You forgive me?”

Tanner nods. “I was dreaming about you.”

“You were? What were you dreaming about?”

“We went to Disney World. Remember how you said we could go when I was old enough? And that we could go on rides together? Do you remember?”

“I remember.”

“That's what it was about. Going there and going on rides. And eating lots of joke food. And watching the fireworks. You let me sit on your shoulders. I like when you let me do that. Maybe we can go soon to Disney World?”

“Maybe. I’d have to talk to your mom about it.”

“You got hurt?”

“A little.”

“The bad people hurt you?”

“Just a bit.”

“What did you do to them? Did you hurt them back?”

Tyler nods.

“Did you kill them?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “I did.”

“Does it make you sad? To kill people?”

“Sometimes, I guess.”

“Why? If they deserve it, why would you be sad?”

“It isn’t an easy thing to do. Even when they do deserve it.”

“Don’t be sad about it, daddy. You kill people so you can come home and see us. That’s why you do it, right?”

Tyler nods, swallowing around the painful lump of emotional sitting in his throat, tears sparkling in his eyes.  Feeling regretful. Ashamed. Embarrassed of the person he’s become and the things he’s resorted to. The damage that his own hands have been able to inflict. The pain. The torture. The death.

“I don’t care if that's what you do,” Tanner continues. “For your job.  I don’t care if you kill people. They're not good people. But YOU are. Only good people help. Only good people fight back. That’s what you always TJ when he fights the bullies at school. You said that good people always stick for people who can’t stick up for themselves. And that’s what you do, right? You help people who can’t do it themselves.”

“I guess that’s  part of it. There’s so much more to it, though.”

“I don’t care what you have to do. Just as long as you come back. That’s all that matters. I don’t care what you have to do when you’re gone. As long as you’re daddy when you come home.”

He sniffles loudly and wipes away the tears that manage to escape. “You…” he presses a kiss to Tanner’s forehead. “...are way too pure and perfect for this world, you know that? This world doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

“Did you get to say? Overnight?”

“I get to stay for TWO nights.”

His entire face brightens. “Really?”

“Really,” Tyler confirms.

“We can do things together?”

“Yup. But I just gotta be careful with my shoulder. And my knee. It’s kinda messed up too.”

“Maybe you’re getting too old to fight the bad people.”

Tyler frowns. “Excuse you? How old do you think I am?”

“Uncle Koen said you used to ride a dinosaur to school.”

“He did, did he?”

Tanner nods.

“Remind me to flush the toilet the next Uncle Koen is in the shower.”

Tanner giggles. “That’s savage, daddy.”

“You want to come outside with me? So I can’t spend some time with everyone? Wanna show me the animals?”

Tanner nods enthusiastically, then tightens his hold around his father’s neck when he tries to stand. “I love you, daddy. I’m sorry for the times I made you mad and I made you yell. That you hated me.”

“Mate, I could never…ever...hate you. You’re my son. I helped your mom make you. No way I could ever hate you. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way. For ever yelling at you. I shouldn’t do that. You forgive me?”

“Of course I do. You’re my dad.”

“I love you, Tanner,” Tyler wraps an around his son’s tiny frame and draws him tightly into him; eyes closed and his chin resting on the top of the five year old’s head. “You have no idea how much.”

[dadzawa-adopt-dabi]

secret baby ch 10

(oof this is a long chapter! let me know if i forgot to tag anything!)

The first offer of business Dabi gets is for one of his neighbors, a nice elderly alpha woman who can't bend like she used to, she stays in the apartment with him the first few times as they build some trust between them. As Dabi cleans up for her and makes the trips down the block to the laundromat for her. At the end of the day she sends him home with leftovers, some cash and pretty decent leftovers.

Him and Kiyoko get invited back several times as she spreads the word to her friends. Eventually he strikes a deal with a young couple for a free house clean and meal made in exchange for a burner phone to get contact with his customers.

It takes a few weeks , Dabi is getting used to running his own business. He takes Kiyoko with him to almost all of his ‘appointments’, despite one of his customers offering to babysit for him. He places her in a room separate from the one he is cleaning in but close enough to hear him talking and singing to her and she doozes the day away while he works until he picks her up and they go to his next appointment. She has a special basket designed to let her wings poke through and Dabi carries her in a baby backpack to the appointments he can. Sometimes there’s mold and he has to leave her behind, sometimes he has another nurse Karen for a client, someone who judges him for bringing Kiyoko.  His first client eventually clues him into an omega in the building who watches the buildings kids for a small fee.He still brings Kiyoko when he can't bear to leave her with his babysitter, a consistent fear of something happening to her keeping him close. Sometimes when he brings her he gets paid less because Kiyoko's crying supposedly bothers his clients. It's only ever a couple dollars difference but every dollar counts when you're raising a kid by yourself.

Eventually he has keys to most of his clients places of residence as he cleans for busier and busier people. His networking slowly starts paying off as he starts making enough to squeak by on rent while keeping himself and Kiyoko fed. It’s close and it won't last but it's enough to get them through the month. It's stressful and he can feel the strain of it wearing on his health.

Kiyoko is 3 months old when his body snaps under the stress,just at the age where she can giggle at the funny faces and noises Dabi has been making for her lately. He’s canceled all his appointments for the next few days, head bent over a toilet when she giggles for the first time. Dabi feels like crying from all the stress, he’s sick and tired and is just barely going to squeak by on rent again unless he can reschedule all his appointments again. He’s cooking and cleaning his apartment and other peoples homes and is probably just sick from the anxiety and stress of being a single parent. Maybe actually sick from a bug he unknowingly caught and has now transferred to his daughter. He makes a note to make a doctor appointment for both of them as he heaves.

And his daughter is laughing, giggling at him as he makes funny noises to her. He kind of feels like crying, he wants someone to rub his back. He wants Hawks, he has no idea how Hawks would react to this. If he would be caring and sooth Dabi while he held their daughter, Or if he would tell him to clean up when he was done being dramatic. 

He’s doing everything by himself, trying to stay under Enji and Hawks radar. It's been months and they haven't come looking but that doesn't mean they wont. He honestly doesn't know if him and Kiyoko can make it. If he should call Hawks and come clean. Maybe he wouldn’t be as bad as enji had been, for a moment he wavers in indecision. The want to have Hawks close is something he thought would fade with time. Instead the want is only growing with every obstacle put in his path.

What steels his resolve is the chubby smile and giggle Kiyoko gives him as he turns his phone over in his hands. Maybe isn’t good enough for him, and it's not good enough to risk for Kiyoko. He reminds himself firmly. Dabi wipes his mouth and stands up. It’s not like he can call Hawks anyways when he left his old phone and Hawks number with it on his table. He can do this, for Kiyoko, he has to at least try.

“Something funny princess? You're the best thing to happen to me okay? No matter if I'm worrying my head off or you laughing at me as I lose my lunch. You're the best damn thing to ever happen to me.” Dabi scoops her up and steps into his tiny shower with her.

There’s not going to be any fear from her parents in Kiyoko’s life. No screaming and yelling. No being blamed for things she had no control over like being sick. Dabi isn’t going to be Enji and he’s not going to raise Kiyoko with someone like him either.

Dabi’s nest isn’t as big or well made as Kiyoko’s considering he’s had less practice doing it for himself and nothing ever feels quite right after they are both clean making faces at her. She giggles at nearly anything he does. It makes Dabi’s heart feel light again every time he hears the sound. He starts up a rumbling purr for her, the best one he can manage, still full of hiccups and uneven despite how happy she makes him. He’s going to do the best he can and it’s just going to have to be enough to get them through. No amount of how much easier life would be, how much less stigma he would face, status and comfort will ever be worth his daughters safety.

He purrs Kiyoko to sleep and follows moments after.

He gets up after their nap Dabi gets up after their nap feeling a lot better, maybe it has just been the poor sleep and eating habits. Whatever had made him sick, Kiyoko doesn't seem to have caught it. He's been checking both of there’s regularly to make sure she doesn't catch anything from traveling with her after a client brought it up with him. It's been something of a miracle that he hasn’t gotten sick. Kiyoko hasn’t shown any signs of getting sick as easily as he might have as an infant. He doesn't know if he got sick as often as an infant as he did as a child. He knows he was sick a lot as a child, remembers struggling through fatigue to get up and help fuyumi.  The constant exhaustion with the pain from bruises and then having to go ‘train’ with his father. Feeling nauseous and like his knees would go out from under him but he had to take care of the house before enji came home. Rei had been too much of a nervous wreck to take care of him and too busy ensuring the days of depression and neglect got taken care of. Her panic and screaming at them that enji’s anger was all their fault made things worse in those days. It was never anyone's fault other than enji’s that he hit his kids and wife, even as a kid Touya had known that, had repeated it to himself as he treated his and fuyumis burns and bruises. Had told Natsou as he grew older, asking Touya why neither of his parents cared for him and if it was really their fault. Just as he had known that his mother had not wanted to have him or his sister, born as part of a contract agreement for an arranged marriage.

Then Enji had decided that he couldn’t train Touya to be a hero. That Touya was weak,always had been, he would better serve enji’s legacy as a bride married off to an alpha with a strong quirk. Most likely a hero. Touya had been 17 and told that within the year enji would be looking for ‘appropriate’ suitors for someone born of enji. He’d started sneaking out and stashing away everything he could. Eventually he would meet Hawks and being as drawn to him as he was, eventually conceive Kiyoko and jumpstart his runaway plan.

“Hey no fever Kiyoko! Good job! You beat those germs!” Dabi coos at her shanking thoughts of the past from his head. Picking her up and scenting the top of her head as he searches for his phone, if he’s feeling better then he can start rescheduling his clients. He bounces her as she giggles and he talks on the phone, no amount of wishing for Keigo will do him any good. It’s not like he’s wishing for only keigo either, he’s wishing for anyone to help him more often than not despite knowing that he will never accept the help, he doesn't trust anyone enough for that. Keigo just happens to be the alpha he knows best outside of his family.

Most of his clients can’t reschedule and Dabi starts reworking his meal plans for the month, mentally stretching what money he will make to keep them with a roof over their head and the lights on. He’s going to have to ask for another extension on rent, the landlord has been getting increasingly frustrated with his problems but there’s not much more he can do.

It's a couple of weeks later when Dabi takes Kiyoko with him while he runs down to the laundromat for a last minute client that lives in his building. The man needed his clothes with his uniform done but was too busy that evening to do it himself and had offered Dabi cash. So despite the late hour meaning he couldn’t leave Kiyoko with the usual sitter he agreed. 

There’s a young couple fighting outside and Dabi tenses as he tries to ignore it while carrying Kiyoko and the bags of laundry through the dark nearly empty lot. Couple’s argue, they get mad at each other and fight, it's normal he reminds himself and he doesn't want to get involved.He leaves Kiyoko sitting in her carrier on top of a started washer and goes back outside for another bag of laundry outside the door. He couldn’t open the door with both bags and his baby so he had set one down and now had to go back for it. It’s not at all to keep watch on the fighting couple in case someone has to call the authorities.

Maybe they were breaking up and this had been their meeting point or maybe they had a fight here with no one around and whatever it was said was the last straw.

There’s another person hanging around outside,smoking, who raises an eyebrow at him but doesn't say much. Other than them and the arguing couple the place is empty.

“He has to learn at some point! I've got a say in how you raise him like it or not he’s my kid too.” The male of the pair points at a car in the parking lot. Ignoring the potential witnesses watching him.

“Get the fuck away from me, I said we were done and I meant it.” The woman who is getting yelled at by her partner in public growls at him. Dabi’s head refuses to turn away, he knows what comes next but can’t look away. 

He doesn't want to see it, see what comes next, but he’s frozen. His weight shifts, when the guy raises his hand to his girlfriend and the next thing Dabi knows he's let loose his quirk and the man is ash. The woman opens her eyes from where they've been pried shut and screams. She doesn't thank him, she runs to her car and drives off with her kid. Peeling out of the parking lot and almost running him over in her haste. As fast as she can while Dabi stares in shock at where a person used to be.

The other woman who had been smoking steps forward to kick at the small pile of ashes and dark spot left on the pavement.

“Well that's a neat trick.” she gives him a long look and then looks inside the mat at Kiyoko. “she‘s yours right? You on your own sugar?” she grabs his wrist without asking, ignoring his hard flinch, and drags him inside to sit down as she gets two bottles of water from the vending machine. Dabi snatches the cold bottle and tries not to curl into a ball, stares at Kiyoko’s giggling face to distract himself as he presses the water to the back of his neck. Cooling himself down and jolting him back to the present.

He takes a deep steadying breath and looks over at the women. She looks a lot calmer than he feels, she changes out her wash like nothing just happened and comes back to sit beside Dabi.

 “Yeah it's just us, please don- i didn-” he feels like he can't breathe much less beg her not to call the police. “You’ll never have to see me again.” 

This is the closest most convenient laundromat to his building, only a block away, but he would gladly go to one across the city if she doesn't call the police. Calling the police means Enji finding him, it means signing over his rights to Hawks. There's no way to hide Kiyoko from Hawks if Enji finds out. He’s been climbing rabidly in rankings, always on the news, on a magazine cover or giving an interview. Kiyoko with her red wings and gold eyes means you don’t have to be a genius to guess she’s his child.

“Actually I have a job offer for you, I know a guy who knows a guy. He can hook you up with some big cash and all you gotta do is take out the trash like you just did out there.” The mystery woman grabs Dabi’s phone from him. “I can tell that you're already running yourself ragged as is. Quick easy cash in hand, we call him the broker but he’s also known as giran. Has his hand in all kinds of things so if you're not up for ditching bodies ask for something smaller like delivery, he's good at working with you based on your needs and comfort level.”

“Thank you,I'll think about it but no promises.” Dabi carefully takes his phone back. She’s not going to call the cops and is instead giving him a way out. He wants to doubt her and some part of him still thinks this is a trap. The cops never show up even after she leaves and he doesn't delete the number.

@ruelukas22 : im unsure if you still want to be tagged in updates or not! please let me know

[missbeautyandherbeast]

Optimism

Raphael X Reader

Summary: you had an amazing childhood, when you were ignorant to the truth. When you slowly learned it, your family and your life fell apart at the seams and all you could do was watch. Now that you were grown and moved out, you decided to tell your parents very little about how screwed up you were. And they reached out, showing more interest emotionally then they ever had before.

A/N: so life does funny things and I’m not sure how I feel about it just yet. Also thank you to all of you who have been liking and reblogging my stuff. It means the world.

Warnings: ANGST, eventual fluff, maybe like one curse?

Tag: @im-a-loser-for-tmnt

I watched as emotions flickered across his face. It was a lot to handle. I know it was.

My parents reached out to me. They apologized and wanted to help me or at least support me more then they had before. It was a glimmer of hope I had that I could have my family back.

“Don’t trust it. It’s not going to work out.” He said, slow and simple. “You know what they do to you. Every time. Y/n they’re trying to control you.”

“I don’t think so.” I whispered, trying to hide my hurt. “This is different.”

“How many times do we have to go through this?” Raph stood and paced our small room. “I will never forgive them for what they did it you, even if you already did. I despise them.”

“They’re my family Raph.” I tried hopelessly. “And... I didn’t exactly help with it either.”

So not the right thing to say.

“So what now they’re blameless!? Off the hook!? I was there! Every night you came crying, battered, and broken into my arms! And you want to say it’s not their fault!?” His eyes were filled with fury as his voice rose.

“That’s not what I’m saying!” I yelled back. “I never opened up to them like I did with you! They didn’t know that I was broken! I did this time! And they reached out!” Tears threatened to spill. I didn’t want to fight. Not about this.

“This is going to end badly. They’re going to pull the rug from under you. They want to see you fail.” He sneered, a growl radiating from his chest.

I was shocked as I stood. And my shock ignited to anger.

“I know that might happen! I’m not a child! I’m not stupid! I know this can end badly! I know it will hurt when it does! But why can’t you let me hope!? Just once!?” I was in tears now, backing up towards the door. “If you’re gonna be like that...” I shook my head and opened the door. “Keep your comments to yourself,” I turned on my heel. “I’m going home.” My words were venomous, and I could see the pain they inflicted on him, but I was too hurt to care even a little bit.

I didn’t make it a few yards before I ran into Splinter.

“Is everything alright my child?” He asked softly, though he probably heard the whole conversation.

“I have to go. I’m sorry. Thank you for everything,” I gave the elderly rat a hug and took off, up toward the streets.

It was only a few blocks to my apartment that I rarely used. Cornelia street. I thought about taking a cab the four hours back to my parents house but couldn’t bring myself to it.

Unlocking the door, I wasn’t surprised to see that he beat me there.

“Go to hell and get out of my house.” I hissed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes pleading.

“I bet.” I snapped.

I saw a tear run down his cheek and I growled and rubbed my face.

“My parents are apart of my life. You know I love them. I... I can’t live with you always fighting against them. It tears me apart. They came to me. On my turf. On my terms. This is my game and my rules.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

He nodded, still staying silent. I sighed and went over to him, leaning against him.

“I know the bad.” I whispered. “I know every worst possible situation that could happen. My anxiety lays it out nicely for me. But. Once. Just once I want to believe in the good. I want my family back.” My voice broke on the last sentence, tears of sorrow streaming down my face. “I just want my family back.” I buried my face in his chest.

He took a deep and steady breath as he wrapped his arms around me, stroking my hair softly.

“‘M sorry princess.” He consoled as I cried. His voice sounded hoarse as if he had been crying too.

Nodding, I wrapped my arms around him.

“Take me home?” I whispered the plea. “I want to go home.”

“Of course.” I could hear the smile in his voice as he lifted me bridal style, cradling my in one arm as he climbed out the window and took me home.

I fell asleep on the way, emotionally and physically exhausted. It was a long day.

I stretched out when I felt a bed underneath me and opened my eyes long enough to get off my shoes and peel off my jeans and socks. The coolness of the night sent goosebumps up my legs but Raph pulled me close and covered me in two blankets, wrapping his arms around me.

He pressed a kiss softly to my forehead.

“My little optimist.” He murmured.

I wanted to argue about how if I wasn’t optimistic I’d be dead, but I was too tired to try and form the sentence let alone say it so I let out a small sigh.

“I really do love you.” His voice was soft and pleading, as if I wouldn’t believe him.

“I love you too,” I mumbled out, knowing my words slurred together.

Unconsciousness claimed me after the words were said and I faintly heard:

“No matter what. I’ll always be your family.”

[dracoskullonmain]

The moment i realized my own mother was a failure of a human.

[Warning: the following is a rant.] so, i’m mostly screaming this to the void of tumblr, but i need to get this off of my chest. I realized over the past week that my mother, the woman who gave birth to me, is an utter failure as a mother, a daughter, and a human being. Background: I come from a toxic home. The main culprit is my biological father Charles. He’s everything that is toxic masculinity rolled into one trashbag and given a massive paycheck. Since i was born, i have lived in fear of him. He put holes in walls with fists and feet, smashed tables, chairs, lights, and couches with bare hands. He can and has hurled engine blocks across the garage, smashed a window with a digger, thrown a crowbar down the hall, and taken a belt to my ass so much that i couldn’t sleep for three nights.  And he used his strength in conjunction with his financial wealth to rule the house with an iron fist. It was his house, his rules, his internet, his this and that and blah blah blah. Everything was his even if you bought it with your own money. Once, he decided it was a suitable punishment for not paying attention to take my Nintendo SP, a gift from my recently deceased great grand mother, and throw it into the wall to smash it to pieces. 

i can recite a list of incidents that could fill up a 50 page book just from memory, which is sad since i have memory issues, and have forgotten even more. But on Sunday, i learned a new truth about my family: My mother is an accomplice to all his actions.  It never fully dawned on me until she called me, mid day, to inform me that a week earlier my elderly grandmother had gotten into an argument with my dad, and became so desperate to get out that she got in her electric scooter (she cant walk anymore) and try to drive away. if she hadn’t gotten stuck in a ditch just outside, she would be missing today because my father would have watched her leave without a care in the world. Unfortunately, in getting out of the ditch thanks to the local police and fire department, she tried to drive up the driveway unattended since my father wouldn’t come down to help her as he was too angry with her. She fell into another ditch, gashing her leg wide open. She has been in the hospital for a few days now, with a nasty infection in the muscle tissue of her leg and foot.  and my mother, the woman who raised me, who gave birth to me, who’s job it was to protect me from the moment i came into this world, had the fucking audacity to try to paint it as my grandmother’s fault. Why? because my grandma yelled at my grandpa.  See, he has a rapid form of Dementia, which at this point has left him a husk of his former self. for the longest time he was the one who took care of grandma. It came on quickly, and robbed him. Now he cannot function, and Grandma needs someone besides my asshole of a father to do things for her cause she’s got a decaying spine and severe arthritis. So without a family beyond me and a cousin to confide in, and no support network to speak of, she lashes out sometimes. she needs help. What’s he do? Decides to yell at her for yelling at grandpa. And he gets mean. He’ll attack any vulnerability he can find to win. He’s savage, and he’s attacking an old woman verbally. He also locked her out of the house when she left! So ya. She’s sitting there, telling me it’s grandma’s fault she’s practically dead, with a horrible infection that could go Sepsis at any time and weak kidneys that cant fight that off.  I know my grandma. i cared for her on my own for a year. i listened to the bullshit everyone had about her. And she tries to claim she’s doing her best. And that’s when it hit me. She’s not going after my dad for yelling at my grandma and driving her out of the house... She’s going after my grandma. She chose her fucking deadbeat, abusive, manipulative, volatile husband over her own fucking mother, who she PROMISED to care for.  And she thinks, in some twisted way, that i will side with her on it. She didn’t even have the fucking guts to tell me WHEN IT HAPPENED.  She’s allowed my dad to abuse my grandma verbally... And she allowed him to abuse me. my brother. my sister. Thats why we all left when we had the chance. My sister got knocked up by a guy she barely knew at 16 and took the chance to bail on my mom and dad, because she knew mom couldn’t protect her. Mom’s promises are empty hollow lies because she doesn’t have the guts to stand up to my dad. My brother tried to leave at 24, planning for years until he had enough friends in on a plan to move out together. the only reason he moved back in was because his dead beat girlfriend (now ex-wife because she decided after literally 11 months of marriage that she didn’t love him!) was bleeding cash all over the place and left him poor.  And me? When my friend i didn’t very well like invited me to move in with him in new york, i fucking took it. It was only because the other two roommates bailed on us and i wasn’t able to cover their fucking debts after i lost my job due to illness that i moved back to my parents. At which point when the offer to care for my grandma came up, i fucking threw myself at the chance.  It was because we all knew that house was unsafe so long as Charles lives in it, and we all knew deep down my mom’s promises that he will change and her constant “he’s made such improvements” were the ramblings of an abuse victim who’s so delusional that she honestly believes it’s better to live in a house where getting beaten, threatened, yelled at, and having personal belongings at constant risk of being destroyed then to live poor but safe.  Six years ago i ran away from home. I ended up trapped at a local library, hiding from a storm because i couldn’t take my father’s abuse anymore. She came to me there, and begged me to return home. She promised me that if he ever shouted or threatened or hurt me again, she’d divorce him on the spot. She lied to me.  I endured five years of additional abuse on-top of my already long list. i could make entire classes of childcare or social communications students turn white with just a few stories of what he did to me. My therapist asked me why i never called child protective services on him as a kid, and it occurred to me because i was taught by media and other families at the time that being abused like that was fine.  And now he’s abusing my grandma. He’s threatening her life. And my mom just sits there and lets him. She does nothing but justify in her own twisted mind that incurring his wrath is somehow our own fault for not keeping out of his way, as if it was possible to know what was in and out of his fucking way. And as i write this, i realize the real reason i’m upset with her. She is an abuse victim like the rest of us, and deserves some understanding... But that ends when you let others get abused by them. She knows he’s cruel. she knows he’s unhinged. she knows he’s volatile and savage. And she WILLINGLY brought my grandmother into that home, putting her in danger after lying to her about the house.  And for that, i cant forgive her. I will never forgive her. She let him hurt everyone, and just sat there. She couldn’t even run away. Right now, he’s jobless because of covid19. she has a job with the local police as dispatch. She has the power in their relationship for once. And she lets him have control.

I’m tired and full of hatred. How can a mother let this happen to her family? Why? i will never respect her again. I will never listen to her again. And when she grows old and needs help like my grandma does, i will not sully my life to accommodate her when she couldn’t be bothered to protect her kids or parents from him. ... how sad is this? At least for now, i feel a bit better. If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading. I’m gonna go play some games and not spiral anymore. goodnight everyone!

[neighborhoodmoonchild]

Love Heals All (Hoseok x Elf!Reader)

Genre: Supernatural Au, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of hospitals and injuries, P.O.V. switching, I think that’s it

Word Count: 6K

Work. That’s what took up 99% of your time most days and 100% others. Not that you minded, you loved healing others. The thrill of helping someone was addicting and it made you feel good knowing you were making a difference, helping people get better. 

It was your calling, after all, your purpose. Even though you couldn’t understand the why, you certainly loved the how. Since you were little, you’d had a knack for fixing broken things. You’d play doctor with your barbies, then when you discovered your gift you’d moved on to the injured birds that would hit your windows sometimes. 

Your parents knew, of course, that this was something you had to keep to yourself. ‘They don’t understand,’ they’d say, ‘they’ll take advantage of you.’ 

As a little girl, you didn’t understand what they could possibly mean. You were doing something good, right? How could people not understand that?

As you got older, you realized what they had meant. What you could do, no one else could. Something like that made people jealous; made people scared. When all you wanted to do was heal, you knew you’d have to do it their way to avoid repercussions. 

And you played by their rules for a long time. Learned CPR and first aid as soon as you could, took training courses, even enrolled in a nursing program after high school (and graduated with honors). 

No matter how many people you helped, you couldn’t help the gnawing guilt that you could do more. So, so, so much more. 

Then a craze of ‘witch doctors,’ ‘magic medicine,’ and home remedies ran rampant through the city, and you saw an opportunity to put your gift to good use. 

Under the guise of ‘healing auras’ and ‘crystal healing,’ you were finally able to help your way, without fear of inciting panic. 

At least until people started getting suspicious, and suddenly your only choice was to leave home and start over somewhere new. Somewhere no one would know anything about you. 

Leaving that part of your life behind hurt and this wound was something not even you could heal. You’d given up your gift to go back to normal, well, as normal as you could possibly be. You took the night shift at a local hospital, started looking into medical school, and even attended some weekly dance classes to stay healthy. 

You never thought these classes would dig up old bones, but of course the past can never stay easily buried away like that. 

—

You’d mentioned earlier to Hoseok that you thought Euna should get her ankle checked out before returning to class. Of course, he let her decide, and of course she insisted she was fine. You never really talked to Euna before that day, but something inside you knew she wasn’t ok. 

And a quarter of the way through the routine, your suspicions are proved right when Euna falls to the ground with a yelp, hands flying to her ankle as everyone stops and gathers around her. 

Suddenly, Hoseok is in a panic, everyone is trying to see what’s going on, and you’re pushing your way calmly through the crowd, instructing them to leave and give her some space. 

Lowering yourself down to her level, you move her hands away from her ankle and assess the damage. You can tell it’s not a fracture, no broken bones, just a ligament tear. Painful but manageable. 

You turn your head towards Hoseok, who’s eyes keep flicking quickly from her ankle to you and back again. 

You sigh and help Euna move her leg out from under herself so it’s stretched towards you. Better access means an easier fix. 

“Should I call someone, is it bad?” Hoseok tries to hide his panic, even though he’s incredibly bad at it. He’s seen his dancers injured before, but it never fails to scare him every time. After all, their like his family. 

“She’ll be fine, just a mild ligament tear,” You say, hoping to ease some of his worries, and he just stares at you like a deer in headlights. 

“You can tell that just by looking?” He asks, and you mentally kick yourself. Shaking it off, you nod.

“I’m a nurse, it’s kind of my job to know injuries.” Quick, albeit shaky, save. All of your worry he might not buy it washes away when he rests his hand on your back. 

“Alright, so what do we do?” 

You send him for your bag and while he’s occupied, you rub your hand gently over the spot of the tear. Euna is laying down with her eyes shut so you don’t have to worry about her seeing anything.

You feel the slight warm sensation and tingle at your fingertips, her skin beneath casting a slight glow as your fingers move, and suddenly, you’re done. 

You made sure not to do too good of a job, couldn’t make it suspicious, but enough to where it wouldn’t get worse and her pain would subside. Now, it could heal the rest of the way properly with the right wrap and rest, and you could feel better knowing you helped. 

You turn to see Hoseok behind you, your bag in hand, and he seems to stare at you a second too long before he’s handing you your things and offering to get Euna an ice pack. 

Hoseok had always been a bit awkward, so nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You take the medical wrap from your bag and bandage up her foot, making sure to tell her all about the proper care for her ankle.

You also make sure to recommend going to get it properly checked and to not push herself too hard next time. 

After all that commotion, Hoseok figures it’s time to wrap class up. Looking at the clock, it was close enough to quitting time, he figured, and everyone looked thoroughly too exhausted to question it anyways. 

He wouldn’t share with the class, however, that something he saw tonight made him question his mental state, and figured he probably just needs a good night’s sleep to forget about it. 

Everyone packs their things up, and as you shove your stuff into your bag and hike it over your shoulder, you feel a hand touch your arm.

“Hey, walking home tonight?” Hobi asks, even though he knows the answer; it’s the same every week. You smile, giving him a quick nod as you follow him towards the front door. 

Turning quick to lock up, he spins back around to look at you, “Mind if I walk you home then?” 

You both start walking, casual conversation about classes and the hospital flowing freely between the two of you. It was just like every other Thursday night, he’d offer to walk you home because a. It was late, b. You shouldn’t walk alone, and c. He lived a block away from you anyways.  

You two quickly fell into sync with each other, the walks home going from awkward silence to loud laughs and teasing. Hoseok was easy to talk to and you liked having someone like that around. 

Hoseok liked how bright and easygoing you were. He felt you both had that in common, among other things he learned the longer you hung out. 

After moving, you had a hard time making friends, so finding Hoseok’s dance class add in a newspaper an elderly patient had you read to her one morning was a blessing in disguise. 

Despite being completely inept when it came to making friends, the atmosphere in Hobi’s class was so inviting, warm, and friendly, even you found it hard not to feel comfortable. Everyone was so welcoming and kind, you felt like you’d been there your whole life. 

Community and family was something you needed, and it’s what Hobi provided.

Before you knew it, you were standing at the steps of your apartment building, ascending a few before you hear Hoseok’s steps stop. Turning around to ask him what was wrong, his back is facing you, as if he had frozen where he stood.

You peek your head forward a bit, questioning look on your face, “Hobi, you okay?”

Hobi turns around slowly, the image of your hand and Euna’s leg and light burned into his retinas and he just can’t help himself. He has to ask, for his sanity’s sake.

Out of habit, his hand finds the back of his neck, and he’s not sure if he should make eye contact with you or stare off into space so his eyes just kind of find your feet and stay there awkwardly.

“Um, about earlier, when you were looking at Euna’s leg...” The more times he goes over what he is going to say, the crazier it sounds and at this point he wishes he’d never brought it up.

“Yeah, what about it?” You probe, not at all catching on to where he was going. In your mind, Hoseok was completely oblivious, considering he is with a lot of things. Turns out, he pays more attention than you thought.

“Well, there was this...light, I guess, when you touched her leg,” his arms are flailing a bit and he can no longer concentrate on the ground, his eyes darting around like he was looking for the explanation in the night air, “That wasn’t...real was it, I’m probably just hallucinating or something...” 

His sentence trails off and when he finally dares to look you in the eyes, he is hit with an instant wave of cold. In a mere matter of seconds, you’d barricaded yourself from him, putting up a harsh front to push him away. 

It was all happening again. You were dumb enough to think this time would be different. You were stupid enough to let your guard down and you just couldn’t help yourself. Everything slipped away from you once again, and it was all your fault. You’d jeopardized your future here over something as ridiculous as a fucking ligament. 

Now it made sense why Hoseok had been so weird before, it wasn’t his normal awkwardness, it was his ‘I think I saw something I shouldn’t have’ awkwardness. 

Taking the time to process everything in your mind, you could tell by the look in his eyes he wasn’t convinced by his words and he wouldn’t be with yours either. 

The only option left was to cut ties.

“You’re probably just tired Hoseok. You should get some rest.” You don’t even bother saying goodbye, worried that he’d hear the underlying finality in it and try to change your mind. You quickly head up the rest of the steps and barricade yourself in the building. 

Hoseok just stands there, watching you as you almost run from him, and he can’t help but feel like an asshole for some reason. It should’ve been a harmless question about his mental state, but it ended up being so much more. 

When he finally broke from his stare, he continued his walk home, wondering how he’d fix things next Thursday. 

I don’t think a week’s going to be enough time to find a way to fix this.

—

You were just going in for your shift when your phone buzzed. You knew to just ignore it, he’d get the hint after the first hour. 

You enter the locker room to put your bag away and head out to get the report from the day shift nurse. Your phone is still in your pocket, just in case, but you're focused on your rooms, which ones need linens stocked and what not. 

After 30 minutes of just coasting around, checking your patients and helping out a few coworkers, your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You sigh to yourself, making sure to put on a straight face when another nurse walks by, then quickly pull out your phone.

Hoseok

        -Hey

        -Are you not coming to class today?

Shutting your phone off and shoving back into your pocket, you go back to work. A few hours went by, and by 2 a.m. you’ve had three new patients brought in all with varying injuries, but none too serious. 

Once you finally find a break to sit down and chart, you make the mistake of turning your phone back on just to check your schedule, when you notice six new messages from Hoseok. 

Hoseok

        -I’ll take the silence as a no...

        -Are you okay?

        -Is it about what I said the other night?

        -I was just being stupid and paranoid, I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing, will              you please answer me?

       -Y/N, could you please just let me know you’re alright?

       -That’s it...

“The hell does that mean?” You voice your confusion of the last text out loud, warranting a few looks from other nearby nurses actually doing their work. Throwing your phone onto the counter, you stretch your arms and finish up your charts.

As if to clear up your confusion, a few seconds later, Hoseok waltz right into the E.R. slowing his pace only to survey the place until he locks eyes on your form behind the desk, to which he marches right up and stares down at you, almost like he was trying to intimidate you. 

When you look up from your work, Hoseok is the last person you expected to see standing a foot away from you. You can’t hide from him now. 

“The least you could’ve done was answer me and let me know you weren’t dead somewhere.” 

His tone wavers on angry, but he’s still too bubbly to let it sound heavy, but the intent is still there. He’s not really angry, per say, more so hurt that you wouldn’t just let him know you were working. He understands missing class for your job, but to ghost him was just plain rude. 

You look back down at your screen, saving what you’d done, and rise to talk to him. You didn’t like when he stared down on you like you were a child in trouble. 

“You can’t just show up here Hoseok, this is an emergency room not a convention.” Hoseok chooses to ignore your comment, instead waiting for his rightfully deserved apology. Was it bad that he cared about you? I mean, he cares about all of his dancers, and wants to make sure they are okay, since when is that a crime?

“Next time, just let me know you have to work. It’s not that big of a deal.” He’s exasperated at your attitude, especially since he doesn’t understand where it’s coming from. He made one dumb comment and you were taking it out on him, that just doesn’t seem fair. 

You walk around him to grab another chart, crossing the room to a supplies cart. Hoseok follows you, getting dirty looks from the others on the floor, but you just wave them off.

“There won’t be a next time. I’m quitting.”

You turn around to see a confused look on his face, “You’re quitting the night shift?”

Rolling your eyes, you can feel yourself getting more agitated by the second. Not only was he grilling you for no reason, he was breaking hospital protocol, and that could get you fired. 

You spin around, putting one hand up to his chest to push him back towards the exit.

“No, I’m quitting the classes. I’ve got too much to do here. Now get out.” He tries to turn and object, but once you get to the front door, the security officer gives him a strange look and decides it’d be better to just leave it alone.

If you wanted to quit classes and act like a child to him, fine, Hoseok no longer cared. 

That’s what he told himself at least. Why get hung up on one dancer, it’s not like you could be that special anyways. Sure, he’d miss your laugh during freestyle, or the concerned face you made when you tended to everyone’s injuries, even the minor ones. 

Hate to say it, but he’d actually grown quite attached to you, especially since you were the only one he’d share late night chats about anything with when he walked you home. 

Whatever happened that night, you’d changed, and he didn’t like the new you. You weren’t the Y/N he admired, you were somebody else. 

On his way home, he was more passed that he’d left the comfort of the dance studio and his work to check on you at 2 in the goddamn morning. He could’ve been home in bed by then if he hadn’t worked himself up so much during practice. 

He’d would never forgive you for the lost hours of sleep he’d never catch back up on. 

—

Sometimes you thought the universe did this on purpose. You’d had a few weeks of blissful, trouble free work, no Hoseok interruptions, when one night, surprise-surprise, he walks in with a familiar face limping beside him. 

You let another nurse take the lead on this, irritated at the loss of your Hoseok-free streak you were on. Although, seeing him again after not for so long, it caused a warm tickle in your chest that you couldn’t explain. 

Maybe you did miss the company class and Hoseok provided, but you couldn’t risk exposure. After almost exposing yourself and your family from the last incident, you swore to yourself you wouldn’t go through that again. After all, you could only go so far before everything catches up to you. 

Apparently you could only stay so far away from Hoseok before he catches up to you as well.

You spy from one of your patients’ room, filing out another chart while simultaneously stealing glances at Hoseok. He can tell you’re staring at him, but he’s got bigger things to worry about right now. 

Some of the dancers wanted to incorporate more stunts into their routines. Kai had tried to do a back handspring into a back tuck and landed on his ankle wrong, twisting it in a way it definitely wasn’t intended to. 

After dealing with a few of the others almost vomiting at the sight, Hoseok rushed Kai to the E.R. in his car, not even thinking about you being there. 

It wasn’t till he basically carried the poor guy in with him, spotting you from a distance did he remember you had just started your shift. 

‘Of course,’ he thinks to himself, ‘now she’ll think I’m here on purpose.’

Instead of immaturely ignoring you like he wants to, he briefly looks over and nods in your direction. It wasn’t polite nor rude, just a gesture to acknowledge your existence, hoping even that little thing wouldn’t piss you off for some reason. 

You weren’t sure if it’d be right to try and talk to him. You’d been so abrupt and cold to him the last time, you knew he wouldn’t want to hear anything you had to say. Did you have anything you could say to him that would make the situation any better? Not really.

You both end up avoiding each other until Kai is wrapped up and ready to go, so Hoseok escorts him to his car and leaves you with a simple wave. 

You stare off, watching his car pull out of the parking lot and disappear down the dark streets. 

Cutting ties was proving to be more difficult than you thought it would be. 

—

Clocking out, grabbing your bag from your locker and heading out of the E.R., you can barely keep your eyes open. Last night’s shift was particularly draining, and you couldn’t wait to get back to your apartment, peel your scrubs off and replace them with fuzzy pajamas and get some well deserved sleep. 

The universe, go figure, has other plans for you though, apparent when your phone starts going off, Hoseok’s name on the screen.

He never called you when you were friends, so why the hell would he call you now?

Picking it up, the confusion in your voice is present when you say, “Hello?” 

There is heavy breathing at the end, and then a tiny voice, definitely not Hoseok’s, answers you, “Hello? Is this Y/N?” 

The way the little voice pronounces your name instantly melts the tension that built up in your body. You crack a smile, stopping your walk to put a hand on your hip.

“It is, and who might this be?” You can’t help but let out a soft giggle as another voice says something to the child on the phone but the child just makes a noise at them.

“This is Soobi, Mr. Jung got hurt in class and he needs your help.” There is no panic in her voice, so you don’t immediately jump to the worst case scenario. You figure that it was probably him in the background telling her to hang up the phone. 

“Soobi, can you please give Mr. Jung his phone so I can talk to him?” You hear the loud patter of little feet and then a loud sigh.

“Y/N, it’s nothing, I told her not to take my phone and definitely not to call you.” He didn’t mean for it to sound harsh, but he just didn’t want to bother you and he was trying not to let the pain in his hand influence the tone of his voice. You weren’t talking to him and he wasn’t talking to you, so he shouldn’t come to you when something minor happens. 

“Are you at the studio?” There’s a pause.

“Yeah, I took over the youth classes this week.” 

“I’ll be there in 10.” You hang up before he can object. 

You pick up the pace and make it to the studio in 8 minutes on the dot, instantly spotting Hoseok on one of the benches in the hallway, towel wrapped around his hand, a few little bodies gathered around him. 

When he sees you, he tries not to get excited, but he’d been really missing your presence the past couple of days and knowing you were here to help him made his heart beat pick up a bit. 

You approached him carefully, the children all parting to make way for you, staring at your scrubs and first aid bag. 

Before he knows it, you’re knelt down in front of him, taking his hand in yours as you peel away the towel to assess the damage. 

Along his palm close to his thumb is three inch cut leading down to his wrist. It doesn’t look super deep, but deep enough to warrant stitches. You were glad you’d brought your first aid bag with you everywhere, you’d have enough supplies to sew it right up.

While you check him for any other injuries, he can’t help but marvel at how pretty you look when you’re focused like this. 

Wait, did he just call you pretty? 

1. He’s supposed to be mad at you for abandoning him.

2. He’s never been attracted to a member, well ex-member in your case, before

The dam was already breached, though, and now that’s all he could think about as you start getting your supplies out and asking him what happened.

He didn’t even realize he’d zoned out just staring at you until you snapped your fingers in front of his face to wake him up. 

“What?,” was all he could manage before the sound of little giggles causes a redness to creep up his neck. You just shake your head with a playful smirk.

“I said, ‘How the heck did you manage this while babysitting?’” 

One of the children scoff, marching up to you to inform you that they are not babies and they do not need to be sat on. All you can do is laugh and apologize, turning back to Hobi who,  again, is just staring at you like you suddenly sprouted two heads or something. 

“I, uh, was helping another room change a light bulb when I lost my balance and shattered it in my hand.” Saying it out loud made him feel even dumber than he did when it actually happened. 

You wanted to tease him for it, but you could see the embarrassment on his face, and figured he’d been through enough for one morning. 

“Well, you’re lucky I brought my kit with me, you’re gonna need a couple stitches, but it shouldn’t take long.” 

He hears the words stitches and retracts his hand back, cringing. Hoseok wasn’t really afraid of needles, but now that he’s coming face to face with one, he thinks he should recant that. 

You can feel him tense, knowing that the tenser he gets, the more painful it would be. Without even thinking or realizing, you glide your fingers over his hand, holding it gently, almost caressing it. Hoseok can feel the pain subsiding, even as you clean the wound and he can see the needle going through his skin. 

He doesn’t want to look away when he sees a familiar glow extend from your fingertips to his skin, but if he looks at the needle one more time he swears he’ll puke. 

Luckily, the children had all been whisked away by another instructor so you and Hoseok could have some room. 

It takes maybe a few seconds before you’re all done, tying the thread and placing gauze over the area. 

You gently wrap around his wrist and hand a few times, securing it, and putting all your used equipment in a bio-hazard bag to dispose of later. 

“There, all better.” You say, tapping his knee gently as he looks over his wrap. 

Smiling, he stands up, offering his other hand out to you to help you up. When you’re on your feet, your hand lingers in Hoseok’s for a moment, before you pull away. 

“Next time, be more careful, okay?” You dust your scrubs off, heft your bag over your shoulder, and turn to leave, when he stops you. 

He rests his hand on your shoulder, not really knowing what else to do. He wants to hug you, but it’s not the right time or place for that and he’s not really sure where you stand with him. 

Instead, he says, “Thank you,” and gives your shoulder a light squeeze. Hoseok turns back down the hallway, heading towards another room, while you watch him until he closes the door. 

Walking home, you still feel his fingers on your shoulder, the warmth of his hand in yours. 

Maybe you don’t have to cut off Hoseok completely. 

—

After Hoseok’s little accident, he’d come to the conclusion that the only way to get your attention was to appeal to your healer’s side. 

This surmounted to him calling you every day with questions about his injury. 

‘Can I get it wet?,’ ‘Is it supposed to itch?,’ ‘I think it looks infected, what does an infection look like?” 

Needless to say, after the second day, you were officially annoyed with him. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know if your stitches are infected, so why the hell was he you with every little paranoia of his?

Hoseok’s answer is simple: to force you to talk to him. 

Now, Hoseok didn’t like annoying you, well, not too much, and he didn’t like having you think he was a complete idiot, but he didn’t know any other way to get to you. 

You kicked him out of the E.R., you stopped coming to class, and you refused to let him into your building when he showed up. 

So, he resorted to incessant phone calls. Not his best plan, but the best one he’s got right now. 

You were cleaning up your apartment, taking advantage of having the whole day off, when your phone starts to ring again and you have half a mind to ignore it. 

The guilt eats away at you by the third ring, though, and you answer with a loud sigh to let Hobi know he was getting on your nerves. 

“That’s no way to answer the phone when a patient is calling.” You can picture the smug grin on his face, fist curling tight, the urge to reach right through the phone and ring his neck simmering in your veins. 

“Hoseok, I swear to God, if you call me one more time with some stupid question, I’m going to get a restraining order.” 

There a dramatic fake gasp on the other end of the line, your eyes rolling on instinct. 

“Well good thing I’m not calling with a question this time then.” 

“What do you want then?” There’s a long pause, one you’re assuming is on purpose for effect. 

“I’m calling to propose a deal.” You can’t say you’re not intrigued. What kind of deal could Hoseok possibly be proposing to you, and what the hell would you have to do.

“Alright, shoot.” 

“I will stop calling you with dumb questions if you agree to come back to class.” A laugh escapes your lips before you can cover your mouth, but Hobi just ignores it, waiting for your answer.

“Or, I could just block your number.” 

“Then I’d have to resort to coming to your apartment.” 

“I’d call the cops.”

“I could always show up to the hospital and threaten to sue when you deny me care?” 

You shake your head even though he can’t see. 

“Alright, alright, enough with crazy threats, why do you want me to come back to class so bad anyways?” 

He’s silent because he’s not sure if he should make a joke or tell the truth. You were finally listening to him, really listening, and he didn’t want to mess it up. 

“You’re the best pop and locker I know.” Ugh, that was so stupid, but you’re laughing so maybe it wasn’t a total loss.

“Alright, now what’s the real reason?” 

He’s nervous now, but he thinks of something that he knows you can’t pass up.

“The group misses you, you’re family after all.” 

He knew exactly what buttons to push, and the loneliness button was the hardest hitting one. You missed them too, so much. You’d never laughed, played, and goofed around that much in your life. That studio was the one place you felt at home. 

“I don’t know Hobi, I’m pretty busy with work...” you trail off, and Hoseok has to keep his cool even though you finally addressed him by his nickname after dropping the full name bomb on him every time you’ve talked to him since your falling out. 

“Please.” He sounded almost desperate, but that’s what he was feeling right now. Hoseok didn’t know why, but he needed you to come back. He wanted everything to go back to normal. He wanted you to come back to him. 

After mulling it over in your head, you decide that dance class would be better than annoying phone calls. This would also give you a chance to look after Hobi so he would stop hurting himself. 

“Fine, I’ll come back.” Hoseok drops the phone in his moment of excitement, scrambling to pick it up off the floor.

“Great, I'll see you tomorrow then.” 

“See you tomorrow, Hobi.” 

—

“Hobi, I literally saw you do that on purpose.” 

This was the third time this week he ‘accidentally’ tripped over his own two feet and got hurt. This man has been dancing for years, there was no way he’d trip over his feet that easily. 

He was usually so graceful and calculated, but lately he was reckless and all over the place.

Hobi wouldn’t admit it, but he liked when you babied him, so he may or may not have been acting less careful lately. It was never anything serious, just minor bumps and scrapes, but he just loved when you’d hold his hand and get him an ice pack, or clean a scrap and cover it with a cute little band-aid that were supposed to be for the kids. 

His favorite thing was the warm tingle he got when you touched him as you tended to him, the soft glow on your fingertips leaving him in awe every time, even though he had to pretend he never saw it. 

You were catching on, though, and finally caught him in the act. You knew he was doing it on purpose, and now you knew why. He was curious about your gift.

Class wrapped up, and you are about to grab your things and head out when you hear the click of a lock. 

You turn to see Hobi standing at the door, keys in his hands. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, slowly approaching him.

He just stares at you, unsure of how to bring up the fact that he knows there is something different about you, something not human.

You’re tired from class and not ready to deal with the third degree from Hobi on why your hands glow sometimes, so you roll your eyes and reach for his keys. He quickly pulls away, holding them high above both of your heads.

“Using your height against me, how rude.” You jump, trying to grab them from his hands, but even with your most powerful lunge, you can’t reach them. Hoseok’s trying not to enjoy this too much, but it’s impossible with how cute you look, hopping like a little bunny. 

It gets old quick, so you stand there, arms crossed, “What do you want?” 

“Are we not friends Y/N?” You look at him confused.

“Of course were friends Hobi, now let’s go.” 

“Then why don’t you trust me?”

You knew this would come up again, especially after the increase in his curiosity about it. You had patched things up with a Hobi, returning back to your normal dynamic rather quickly, but you still felt like you weren’t ready to share that part of you with him, let alone anyone. 

“I do trust you, Hobi.”

“Then why won’t you tell me about your hands?” There it was, all laid out in the open. Either you could confront it head on, or bury your head in the sand.

“Hobi, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m tired, can we just go home?” You reach for the door handle, but Hobi grabs your hand first. It’s not a tight grip, more like a comforting, soothing one. 

He doesn’t know how else to show you he cares about you.

“You can tell me, anything, I promise.” When you look in his eyes, you know that he’s telling the truth. You want to trust him, confide in him, assure him that you care about him too, but you can’t find the words. 

You turn your head away, facing the door, and dropping his hand, “Can we just go, please, Hoseok.”

And just like that he dropped it and unlocked the door. All it took was the slight fear that you were building that wall again and he backed off. He wasn’t going to push you away again. 

The walk home is silent, neither of you knowing where to go from there. You make your way up to the front door of your apartment building and turn back to Hoseok.

“I really do trust you Hobi.” 

He looks over his shoulder at you, managing a smile even though he feels a bit emptier inside, “Goodnight Y/N.”

You manage to return your own pathetic smile, “Goodnight Hobi.”

—

After waiting around in the studio with the rest of the crew for 30 minutes, you decide to try and ring him again. Holding the phone to your ear, you pray that he answers this time, but instead get the tone for his voicemail.

After an hour, everyone decides to go home, but you book it to Hobi’s place. After knocking on the door for 5 minutes straight, and elderly woman opens the door and lets you in.

“Do you know what apartment number Jung Hoseok lives in?” You ask, slightly out of breath from the run to his place. 

“Up the stairs, first door on the left.” She smiles, and you take the steps two at a time until you make it to the second floor. You locate his door and knock three times, waiting for an answer. 

You get nothing, and start to panic. 

‘What if he fell and knocked himself unconscious?,’ ‘What if he’s having an allergic reaction and slowly suffocating?’ 

The fear quickly takes over, causing you fist to bang repeatedly on the door, frantic. 

“Hobi? Hobi! Open up, are you okay?!?” The loud thump and the shuffling of feet cause you to pause your ministrations. 

Suddenly, the door slowly creaks open, revealing a pale and sickly look Hobi wrapped in a blanket, a tissue tucked into his hood.

You just stare at him, taking in everything. He looked like death.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be here-cough-I don’t want you to get sick.” 

You roll your eyes and let yourself in, helping him hobble his way back to his best on the couch. There are tissue and open medicine everywhere, and don’t even get you started on the smell. 

Maybe something actually did die in here.

“Hobi, I’m around sick people all the time, I’ll be fine.”

You hold his arms, lowering him back onto the couch, watching sympathetically as he cuddles back into the piles of blankets, a sneeze escaping as he does so.

You kneel down in front of him, a smile overtaking your lips, and in Hobi’s illness induced fever dream, he swears you look like an angel.

He tries to smile, but starts coughing, but you get the gist. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were sick? We were all worried about you.”

You place your hand on his forehead, cringing at how hot his skin is. He’s burning up and you didn’t know how long he’s had a fever.

“I didn’t want to worry anyone.” 

“Well, obviously that didn’t work, I ran here like a madman thinking you’d died or something.” 

He laughs weakly, “See? Not so fun being ghosted, is it?” You fight the urge to smack his shoulder, considering he’s so weak.

Instead, you take his hands in yours, rubbing his thumbs with yours. 

“I’m sorry, let’s just agree to talk to each other, honestly, from now on.”

“It’s a deal.” 

You smile, focusing all your energy into your hands. Hobi stares at you, unsure what to say next, when he notices the light coming from your entwined hands. He watches in disbelief as the light flows from your fingertips to his skin, leaving a trail of warmth that flows through his veins. 

He starts to feel less nauseous and dizzy, his chest less congested and his nose no longer runny.

He lifts his eyes back up to yours, catching you staring at him, as if to check on him. 

“You were right, about me not trusting you before, but I do now, fully trust you.” 

Hoseok feels like he could do anything right now, and what he wants to do most is kiss you, right here, right now. 

Then he remembers he’s still sick technically, and your surrounded by used tissues and sweat soaked blankets and decides he doesn’t want your first kiss to be in this mess.

You giggle, seeing him go through all of those emotions as he mulls it over in his head. He’s worse at hiding things when he’s sick.

You just lean forward, pressing your lips to his forehead.

He can’t help but close his eyes, the cool sensation of your lips on his warm forehead releasing all the rigidity in his body and dissipating it in the surrounding air. 

“How about when I’m better, I take you on an official date?” He’d insist the red on his cheeks was from the illness.

Yours, though, was definitely a blush.

“I’d like that.”

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      Here it is, Hobi’s story in all its angsty and fluffy glory. Sorry this one is going up a bit late, this one took me a while to finish. Honestly wanted to go into more detail on some things but I didn’t want to make it too long. Hope you guys will enjoy it nonetheless. This story made my heart hurt a little bit, not gonna lie, I really like this one. Now we just have Jimin, Tae, and Kookie left💜 Stay Spooky!

-Moonie🌙