#mind you she started crying at the thought of being a pawn next week

[imthefkgsupreme]

Bowie Jane needs to put down the mouthwash because who tf does she think she is to go up to Cory (ON HIS FINAL NIGHT) and tell him to stop campaigning? Even though he had already stopped because he knew that he was leaving anyways? All she managed to do was make America cry and for that I need her on the block next week

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | next part

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k words

warnings: explicit language

summary: a lunch that was supposed to take your mind off of work brings about even more stress because it turns out you're the only solution to the one problem you wish you didn't have to handle

PROLOGUE | ❝𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒏❞

There were certain moments in your life that felt like defining moments. Moments that you’d later look back on and fully understand just how impactful they were in the grand scheme of things. 

Those instances were a rarity, but when they would happen, they were painstakingly obvious. It was almost as if you could feel some sort of shift happening. Your life beginning to turn in a specific direction that, as it’s happening, you could never tell if it’s good or bad, but you knew that you’d probably find out sooner rather than later. It was always a weird feeling, a little jarring.

You experienced that exact feeling at lunch with Jessie— your longtime friend and current Director of the movie you were working on as the Production Coordinator. The lunch was supposed to be simple, and it started out as such; the weather in Los Angeles was nice and surprisingly not unbearably hot for mid-April, which made you both sit outside of a cafe that was almost always busy, but they served the best sandwiches so it made sense.

It felt good to have at least a small break from all of the pre-production tasks that had been consuming pretty much every single moment of your last few days. The closer actual filming got, the more hectic everything else seemed to get. 

And it seemed as if that sentiment was proven to be even more true when Jessie told you something that turned the simple lunch into anything but simple. 

“You’re joking, right?” Was your immediate reaction. 

Everything she had said to you had to be a joke because there was no way that she was asking you, or more so telling you, that you’d be Steve Harrington’s assistant for the next three months. 

But, you also fully knew that it couldn’t be a joke because it sounded both insanely unbelievable and way too real to just be some joking story that Jessie cooked up in her mind. 

Steve’s assistant, who was six months pregnant, would be on bed rest for the entirety of her final trimester due to stress. And because of the untimeliness of that situation, she had no time to hire a replacement for the time being; which, of course, included the three months of filming that was set to begin in a week. And that was sadly where you came in because, like most Hollywood actors, Steve could not function without an assistant, and that sent Jessie and the producers that had invested so much in the film into a frenzy because he was now close to pulling out of doing the movie if he didn’t have a good assistant for the duration of filming. 

All of that sounded the perfect amount of insane to be true. 

“You’re the only person that I trust doing this,” Jessie told you, further confirming that all of this was not some sort of sick and twisted joke.

You simply looked at her for a few moments before responding. “He’s notoriously known as an asshole, Jessie.” 

You had already been mentally preparing for having to deal with him in passing while on set, and now apparently you were going to have to deal with him even more than you anticipated. The thought made you want to scream. 

“You’re the only person that I believe will be able to fully handle him,” She said. “And most of the stuff he asks you to do, like getting lunch or coffee or whatever, can be pawned off to some production assistant. But I know that if I just assigned a random PA to him, they’d fold under the pressure because, yes, he’s an asshole, and they’d probably cry at the first shitty thing he says to them. And I know you won’t because you’ve been in this industry long enough and have probably dealt with people worse than him.” 

You hated how much sense that made. But still, you couldn’t accept it all just yet. Your job consisted of you solving problems or trying to stop them before they’d arise, so of course you’d attempt to solve this. 

However, you quickly failed to think of any solution because every potential solution you thought of only led to another problem. 

If you let him quit the movie that would be horrific because production would be pushed back a handful of months and a shit ton of money would be lost. And it also sucked that he was actually an insanely good actor and was probably the perfect person for the role.  

Or if you waited until he found a replacement assistant that met his “perfect standards” or whatever else— which with the way he seemed, sounded like it would take weeks upon weeks— the same issue would happen of filming being stalled and money going right down the drain. 

There really was only one solution to the problem, and it truly sucked that you were it. 

“You can say no,” Jessie told you, putting a pause on your thoughts, and before you could tell her that there was actually no way you could say no, she continued. “But, if you do this, I promise I will make you the Assistant Director on my next movie, which is going to be filming in Europe for six months right after this shoot ends.” 

“No way.”

Jessie nodded at your surprised words. “Yes, I found out about it a couple days ago. The original director they had backed out, so they asked me and I actually really love the script so I said yes. And before they started looking for a new AD too, I told them that I already had the perfect person in mind.” She smiled at you, and hearing how much she believed in you never failed to make you want to cry at least a little bit. From years ago at your first real paid job in the film industry where you were a PA on a movie that she had been the Assistant Director on, she completely saw your potential and never failed to tell you that. “And I know you’ll absolutely kill that job just like you’ll kill this whole being his assistant thing while also doing your actual job.”

That was where you felt it. The shift. That weird feeling hitting you like a ton of bricks as you considered Jessie’s words and let them fully sink in. 

You pushed around some of the last bits of food left on your plate before looking up at your friend. “He knows that being his assistant won’t be my only job, right? That I’ll have a shit ton of other things on my plate during filming.”

“I’ll make sure he knows that,” Jessie said with a nod. “The assistant part of this doesn’t take precedence over you being the production coordinator. That’s much more important.” 

“Okay… Okay, good,” You responded and then after a breath of silence you let out a sigh. “I’ll do it. Of course, I know I have to; there’s really no other options. But, I won’t like it one bit, and I reserve the right to be mad at you for making me do this for, at least, the next twelve hours.”

She laughed at that. “Yes, I fully deserve that.” 

“But, before I allow myself to be mad at you I first have to say that I love you and I can’t believe you think I’m good enough to be AD, and thank you so much.” You said and then took a long sip from your refilled drink that had yet to be touched in the past ten minutes. “I’m experiencing so much emotional whiplash right now I feel like my mind is gonna explode.” 

“You deserve it,” She said and then let out a small laugh. “Not the emotional whiplash. I meant the job. And even if you said no to being Steve's assistant for filming, I obviously would still want you to do this. You’re the only person I could imagine doing this.”

You let her words sit with you as the two of you finished the rest of your lunch, the conversation happily shifting to something that was not work related. And you continued to let them sit with you once you both parted ways and you were in your car. 

You thought about how you knew this would be a moment you’d think back to years down the road because of how much was about to change. 

Once you made it through these three months you’d move onto doing something that you never even imagined yourself doing, but you felt completely ready to take the leap. 

That felt pretty defining. 

Still, though, you first had to survive three months of being Steve Harrington’s assistant, and that sounded like it would be hell.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part!

[dustofthedailylife]

It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn

Chapter 5 - Conclusions

→ All Chapters || → Next Chapter (soon) → Main Masterlist || → Taglist

Summary: You’re a Fatui Agent, tasked with assassinating the one man who three years ago had almost succeeded to shatter the entire organization out of sheer hatred and thirst for vengeance. The best way to get close to someone? You make them fall in love with you - only that you didn’t plan on catching feelings yourself.

Pairing: Diluc x Fatui! Reader (gn)

Chapter Tags: Swearing, mentions of assassinations

A/N: I'm sorry for the cliffhanger I left you all with last chapter oopsie!

Care to explain what a Fatui dagger was doing under your mattress?

The sentence reverberated over and over in your mind, while your brain simultaneously failed to grasp the true meaning of it. You felt numb. Panicked. Hopeless.

What were you supposed to do now? There was no way you could weasel your way out of this mess. You had been found out and now you had to suffer the consequences.

"I've had my suspicions the entire time. That something was… off." He remarks, directing his gaze at the dagger and then at you once more.

"The way you didn’t want me to come with you to your inn room earlier, the run-in with the Fatui at the Tavern not too long ago, now this dagger bearing their emblem…"

Your heart thumped against your ribcage so loudly that you feared everyone in the room was able to hear it. Suddenly you also had trouble breathing as your chest felt constricted. 

All you managed to do were helpless yelps for air. You felt how your knees started to shake until they ultimately failed you and gave in. 

You were tunnel-visioned to the point you were unable to take in anything around you, except for the dagger that was lying exposed on the table. Sticking out like a sore thumb.

This is where it would all end.

This is where you would die.

I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die. 

You kept repeating the sentence like a mantra in your head. You had tried to make peace with the possibility of dying during this mission already when you received it. And you thought you did. Yet the quickly contracting muscle in your chest told a different story.

You should never have agreed to this mission. You knew you weren’t cut out for it.

Adrenaline shot through your system, igniting every nerve in your body and it felt like everything was crashing down on you. The card house you had so carefully stacked up over the past couple of weeks was destroyed by nothing but a slightly shaky move of your hand. 

By nothing but a minor negligence on your end.

Your synapses fired at high speed and the sensory overload caused you to fail to realize that you had started crying as well. Kneeling on the floor with a tear-blurred vision you transfixed your gaze on a single spot of the carpet below you, attempting to brace yourself for whatever it was that was about to come now. 

"Adelinde, leave us, please," Diluc commanded in a stern but somehow still polite tone to which she promptly complied and left the room with haste.

Diluc strode towards you. What in reality were swift and heavy steps, felt like slow-motion to you. As if you saw your life pass right in front of your eyes. Was it too early to say goodbye yet?

But goodbye to what exactly? If you looked at it objectively, you never had anything. No family, no friends, no true home. All you had were the Fatui back in the snow-covered loveless land of Snezhnaya. And if you were gone, who would even miss you?

You were nothing but a chess piece. A disposable pawn in the grand scheme of things.

Sure the Fatui had promised you the seat of a Harbinger should you succeed, but they knew as well as you did that if you failed this mission you would wind up dead. The inevitable outcome.

Subconsciously you had always tried to make peace with the possibility. But now that the situation you always wanted to avoid came into being, you started questioning everything you had ever known.

Ever since you arrived in Mondstadt, you tried to keep everyone at arm’s length. Tried to convince yourself you hated everything. This city. The people. All of it. 

But the truth was, that the hospitality and kindness of the people is something you had never received in your life before.

You were only telling yourself this because you didn’t want to get attached.

But you did. You got attached to all these people, to this land - to your life. And maybe that’s also why you were trying to prolong this mission as long as you could up until now. Because you finally realized it didn’t only have to be cold and bleak like the snowy landscapes back in Snezhnaya. There was more to it.

Why were you thinking about this now? You had no idea. It no longer mattered anyway.

Because the moment you felt how Diluc grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back to your feet your mind went blank.

“I have just received notice that the Northland Bank was able to retrieve the payments for the exported goods successfully.” an overly friendly voice echoed through the cold stone walls of the Snezhnayan church.

Pantalone, the Ninth and wealthiest of the Fatui Harbingers was in charge of all of Snezhnaya’s financial and economic affairs. He was currently stationed in Liyue at the Northland Bank where he took care of all commerce and economy of the Fatui. And while he always wore a smile on his lips and even though his voice always carried a friendly tone, he possessed an aura that radiated deceitfulness. Everyone who knew him made sure to not get on his bad side because there never was a way of knowing what he was plotting.

The man he spoke to knelt on the stairs in front of the altar upon which a statue of the Tsaritsa stood amidst at least a dozen candles and a pile of gifts. He slowly got up and turned around.

“That is good news.” Pierro nodded as he turned around to face Pantalone. "But that's not the only thing you came here for today. This news could've been sent through a courier."

"Perceptive as always." The black-haired man remarked in his ever so overtly friendly tone while pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle and index finger.

"I am indeed here today for something else."

"And what would that be?"

"Hmm." Pantalone hummed, his smile never faltering. "I've got word about a lower-rank agent you've sent to Mondstadt about the matters of dealing with the Ragnvindr boy. I was curious what might've elicited this decision?"

"Are you perhaps doubting me?" Pierro replied with a warning undertone in his voice. The Ninth's facial expression didn't waver for a second though. The conniving grin stayed the same as if it was carefully carved in marble for all eternity.

"Why, of course not. I would never doubt your judgment. Though, I must say I'm surprised you offered them a position as a Harbinger should they succeed."

The silvered-haired man intensely glared back at his subordinate Harbinger. The brief silence that followed Pantalone's words caused the atmosphere in the room to become so thick one would be able to cut it.

“You don’t really believe they can do it either, do you?” The black-haired man inquired with a calculating tone in his voice after a brief moment of silence.

“Do I, Pantalone?” Pierro assessed. 

Pierro slowly walked down the stairs of the altar, looking around the church before transfixing his gaze on the Ninth, folding his hands behind his back. His lips curved into an evil smile before he huffed in amusement.

A waft of cold air suddenly blew their way and the grating of the big wooden door of the church echoed through the stone hall. A Fatui agent returning from Mondstadt bowed his head upon spotting the two men before he strode down the aisle with long and heavy strides.

"Good day, Lord Harbingers," he bowed his head once more.

"Agent. You're right on time. I assume you bear news from Mondstadt?" Pierro inquired with an authoritative voice.

"Yes, my Lord. Our informant stationed in Mondstadt contacted them and we found out that they stayed the night at the Dawn Winery."

"Peculiar," Pierro uttered, donning a half-smile upon seeing Pantalone's eyes widen in shock. Pierro knew what he must be thinking now. Pantalone was assuming this meant Diluc Ragnvindr was dead and they’d have to promote some low-rank no-name agent to a Harbinger seat.  

"And let me guess. The Ragnvindr spawn is still breathing?" Pierro inquired as one corner of his mouth smugly curled upwards.

"Yes, I fear he is, my Lord." The agent replied with a voice that oozed nervousness.

"As expected."

"Oh and another thing, sir…" The agent cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to the ground in awe. "We've been informed that they have been injured. It is to be considered that they might have been found out. My apologies, my Lord."

"Thank you, agent. You may leave now."

The agent quickly bowed once more before almost sprinting out of the church, visibly relieved by the fact that Pierro didn’t seem to be angered.

As soon as the door fell into the lock again behind him Pierro slowly strode a few steps down the aisle before turning around with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"I hope that makes my intentions clearer now?" he poses the question at Pantalone who seemed to get the bigger picture now.

“So, you never believed they were able to pull this mission off.” Pantalone stated matter-of-factly.

“Of course, I didn’t. We’re talking about Diluc Ragnvindr. He killed dozens of agents, lower and higher ranks alike, on his own without his vision. This was a suicide mission from the start. Do you really think I would just offer some obscure lapdog the position of a Harbinger like that?”

“Of course not, sir.” the black-haired man replied without hesitation. “I was just trying to make sure.”

“I sent them to gather more intel about the current situation with the Mondstadt spawn and possibly open a window for someone more capable to finally strike him down.”

Pantalone nodded in understanding and folded his hands behind his back, slowly walking a few steps forward to stand right next to Pierro.

“On the very off-chance, they actually succeed; What do you plan to do with them?”

Pierro took his coat that hung over one of the benches and draped it around his shoulders. Signaling that he didn’t have much to say about the matter. 

Before making his way to the exit of the church he turned his head and sinisterly looked over his shoulder at Pantalone.

“Then we shall dispose of them our way.”

The next thing you knew was being shoved onto a chair with tears still streaming down your cheeks.

Your whole body was trembling in fear and your head felt like it was swimming. Everything was too much and you felt numb at the same time.

Diluc pulled one of the other chairs in front of you before sitting down on it and leaning forward, staring daggers at you.

You didn't dare to look at his face but you could feel his gaze burning holes in your scalp. He must've seen through everything by now and only wanted to interrogate you now to satisfy his curiosity before ultimately finishing you off.

"I'm sorry. I'm– I'm sorry." You whimpered without even knowing what you were actually apologizing for. For trying to kill him? For deceiving everyone? For being a Fatui? Or were you just sorry you were caught? You no longer knew. 

Pathetic.

A disgrace to the organization you belonged to. A sorry excuse for an agent.

"I always suspected that something was off," Diluc remarked in a sinister tone. "There were a lot of things that just didn't align."

This was the part where he would spell your entire plan out to you with a victorious smirk before finishing you off. That's how this always went in the books, right?

Killing your enemy and serving their head on a silver platter to set a sign.

"The way you never wanted anyone to walk into your room. The way you were so hesitant to share anything personal, or that you told me this wasn’t the first time you’ve been wounded. You're also not actually from Inazuma, are you?"

At the latter, you perked your head up in surprise. How did he find that out?

Oh, right. He knew you belonged with the Fatui now.

He just huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"I knew it."

The way you didn't even have to verbally answer his questions was baffling. He had you figured out entirely.

"You're an orphan from Snezhnaya, aren't you?"

Now this had you baffled.

"How–" Your eyes widened in shock as you tried to coax words out of your hoarse throat.

"Well," he began, standing up from his chair once more. "You talk in your sleep."

He slipped the gloves off his hands and put them aside on the side table. Was it so they wouldn’t get stained with your blood for whatever he was trying to do with you now? You looked at him in fear, just waiting for what was to come.

“Additionally, you seemed out of it on the morning I first met you, as if you hadn’t slept all night. And when Charles asked you if you were from the ‘Land of Eternity’ you just looked confused. As if you didn’t know that it was an alternative name for Inazuma. No actual Inazuman would be confused about that name.” He explains rationally with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

He had analyzed you out of the shadows from the minute he first laid eyes on you. He outplayed you completely effortlessly without you even taking note of it.

Not only was he incredibly skilled in combat, but he also had the brain to go with it.

It was not a surprise that the Fatui hadn’t been able to kill him yet.

Diluc walked back over to you again, approaching slowly as tears still kept streaming down your face. 

You guessed that was it now. He had said his part.

Yet when he reached out his hands towards your face you instinctively covered it with your arms and screamed at the top of your lungs. 

"No! No, don't kill me?!"

You were prepared to use your remaining strength to fight him off even if you knew you would never stand a chance.

But at this moment you realized something crucial. Something that slipped your panic-riddled brain from the very beginning.

Your hands.

They were free.

When he pushed you down on the chair he didn't actually tie you to it. He did nothing to restrain you or keep you in place. He didn't lock the door either. You could've run out the door without an issue in the world at any given time.

There even was a box of tissues on the table next to you that you had been too tunnel-visioned to notice. He had put them there before pushing you down on the chair.

Looking up at Diluc's face for the first time since getting back here showed you an expression you didn't expect to see.

Worry. Distress. Instead of the flaming anger you expected to see in his crimson eyes, all you saw was a deep frown and genuine concern instead.

Visibly disturbed by what you just screamed, he sat back down on the chair in front of you. He hesitantly grabbed one of your hands with his and gently squeezed it.

There was no malice in the gesture whatsoever, nor was there any tension in the room either.

He threw you a sympathetic half-smile and wiped away one of your tears with the bud of his thumb.

Stunned by the contradiction of what you had expected would happen, you simply sat there completely petrified. Too confused to move a muscle you kept staring at Diluc who was still caressing you gently.

"What makes you say that?" He finally inquires with his brows still furrowed.

"W-what?" 

"Why would I kill you?"

Was he for real right now? 

Maybe this was some sort of brainwashing technique you hadn't heard of before and you were walking right into his trap yet again. You couldn't be too careless now. One wrong move and you would never leave this house alive again.

Yet despite knowing that, you had no idea what to reply.

You thought that he thought, you were an assassin the Fatui sent for him. Technically, you were. But obviously, you couldn't say that.

Noticing your confusion he picked up the dagger that was still lying on the table next to you.

Is this the part where he would finish you with your own weapon?

"Who gave you this?"

Answering this one honestly was probably the best idea. The emblem was on it and he wouldn't believe just any makeshift lie anyway. Not that it would matter now that he knew, or rather, figured out everything on his own anyway.

"The Fatui"

Now it was out. 

The look on Diluc’s face, as he picked the dagger up and twisted it between his fingers, was hard to decipher. You would say he looked pensive and still worried?

Could it possibly be that he legitimately was worried? There was no way.

"Are they threatening you?"

"What?" You utter in disbelief. So this wasn’t a scheme to get you to admit anything nor did he suspect you were actually a part of the Fatui. Was he stupid?

He saw through you right from the start and that was the conclusion he drew from all this? Maybe he wasn’t as bright as your intel on him stated after all.

And for the first time since returning back to the Winery from Mondstadt you no longer felt hopeless. Maybe you had a chance to get out of this alive after all.

You started to finally feel an ounce of hope bloom in your chest again. Forget everything you thought about earlier, this wasn’t the time to throw the towel yet. You could exploit his trust now.

"Are they threatening you?" He repeated, putting the dagger back down on the table and taking your hands into his once more.

What should you reply? If you would reply with yes then that would be a lie and it could possibly also result in the death of some fellow agents. On the other hand, if you said no it would make you look suspicious. Because why would you be in possession of this dagger then?

Diluc immediately noticed that you hesitated as well which you could tell by the way he squeezed your hand a little tighter again.

You scanned his face while your thoughts raced at light speed once more. You somehow got out of being suspected yourself only to run into the next issue immediately after.

Thinking about it, you would probably have to be egoistic here and go with saying yes. Even if it would end up costing the lives of some agents, the mission and your own life took priority to you. And the low ranks were replaceable.

But the Fatui could possibly see you as a traitor as well if they found out. They seemed to be on edge already because of the fact you stayed the Night at the Winery and Diluc was still alive. 

But either way, the end result would be the same. Either you would die right here by actually being exposed for being an assassin or you would die because the Fatui would somehow find out and think you betrayed them.

And that’s what you went with - the option to prolong your life a little longer for now. So you looked up at Diluc’s eyes with damp, swollen eyes and hesitantly nodded.

He nodded in acknowledgment and pressed his lips into a thin line while still holding your hands. Leaning to the side he grabbed one of the tissues from the box on the table and gently wiped over your eyes with them. 

Both of you sat there like this in silence, apart from some hiccuped sobs that were still escaping your sore throat from crying so much. It appeared like he had no further questions for you. At least for now.

“You’re safe here.” He reassured. “And you may reside here for as long as you wish. In fact, I think I’d feel better if you could stay here.”

Why was he suddenly so committed to this?

You could’ve probably thought of the answer yourself. It was logical. He hated the Fatui and with them supposedly being on your heels, you both shared the same enemy. 

However, moving in would probably be taking things too far. Where would you continue to do your research, the maids could walk into your room at any time and find some compromising things again. Just like today.

Just as you opened your mouth and were about to decline his offer, he lifted one of his fingers to silence you again.

“Before you say anything to decline again. There is an empty house from one of my former employees on the property. You’re free to clean it up and stay there for as long as you like.”

“But I wouldn’t want to endanger you or–”

“Please trust me. I can keep you safe.”

You just couldn’t stay somewhere where someone would be able to walk in without any warning, so maybe you could make staying in a separate house work. It had the benefit of staying close to Diluc at all times while also monitoring his routines and whereabouts, which in turn increased the chances of successfully accomplishing what you came here for.

“Okay.” You ultimately caved. This could work.

Diluc let out, what sounded like, a small sigh of relief, and the corner of his lips crinkled upwards ever so slightly. 

You still wondered why he was so insistent on letting you stay here in all honesty, but so be it. You weren’t one to complain about hospitality at the end of the day. Maybe he also still felt guilty about the wound he had inflicted the night prior, so that was why he was acting this way

“Great.” He uttered with a faint smile still painted on his lips. “I also want to apologize for scaring you. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“No, it’s okay. It was only fair, you don’t know me that well.” You retorted.

“That’s something that can be changed.” He said while looking down at his hands and playing around with his thumbs, very obviously trying to avoid your gaze. Did this mean what you think it meant?

He cleared his throat and got up from the chair with a prominent blush painted across his cheeks.

“Anyway. Dinner?”

Wiping over your eyes once more to get rid of the remaining tears still sticking in the corners, you got up as well with a smile and took hold of one of his hands, which only seemed to deepen his blush.

“Dinner.”

Maybe, things had turned out in your favor once again.

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[azaleavi]

Words

Summary: You get captured by Hydra along with Bucky and they make you do the worst thing imaginable. Say the trigger words.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: knife, blood, language

Author's note: I've had this half written in my drafts for weeks now and she is finally ready!

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

"Longing" you groan as the knife pushes against the skin of your neck, almost breaking it and drawing blood.

"Bucky" you try to speak to him, but the man holding you yanks you by your hair, his name ending up in a painful whine. Bucky wants to walk over to you and comfort you, but he is restrained by the metal around his hands.

"Next" he shouts at you, pointing at the paper in front of you that has Bucky's worst nightmare on it. The trigger words.

He didn't know how it happened. One moment Steve, Natasha, him and you were having a nice day outside, just going around the city and having fun. Then the other you were fighting way too many hydra agents to count and you eventually lost the fight.

They managed to knock out Steve and Nat, but left you conscious for reasons neither of you understood. Until you recognized the words as they placed the paper in front of you. A knife was placed under your chin as a reminder to not try anything and they ordered you to say the words. Obviously you refused, but you got a painful bruise on your cheek to show you what happens when you don't do as they say.

"Rusted" you choke out, tears stinging your eyes, but you refuse to let these people see you cry. Bucky's blue orbs silently tell you that it's okay, he doesn't blame you, but you can't help but hate yourself for the words leaving your mouth. The man pulls on your hair again, signaling for you to continue.

"Seventeen" the third word leaves your lips, the pain in your heart becoming stronger along with it. You don't want to do this, but you also don't want to die.

"Daybreak" you get one word closer to the end, your throat tightening. You stop for a second to swallow your tears as you look at Bucky with so much sadness that his heart breaks for you. He has so much he wants to tell you, but he might not get the chance to do it now.

"Furnace" you read the next word, your heart screaming at you to stop.

"Nine" he closes his eyes so you don't see his tears. He thought he was free.

"Benign" your eyes start watering. You can't watch him go back to his dark past and you can't deal with being the one who does this to him.

"Homecoming" his lips tremble as he tries to give you a smile and you let a sob escape you.

"One" he pulls on the metal bands around his arms, unable to just sit there and accept his fate. It's no use. Even with his super-soldier strength, he can't break free. He slumps back into his chair, defeated.

"Freight car" you cry out the last word. You just doomed all of you. He looks into your eyes, your emotions matching. Fear. Sadness. Anger.

"I'm sorry, Bucky. I'm so sorry" you say between sobs.

He wants to reach out to touch you. To tell you that it’s gonna be okay. That he won’t hurt anyone, not you, not the others. But he can’t. He can’t because it would be a lie. And he would never lie to you. Not now, not ever. Even if it means that the last thing he sees before he goes under the dark spell is the tears falling from your eyes. The sight forever engraved into his mind as it goes dark, into chaos and destruction. The blackness surrounding his consciousness fully enveloping him as he becomes a pawn in a sick game he never wanted to take part in.

"Ready to comply" you watch with fear as he stands up and mutters the words, his eyes never leaving you. The metal opens around his arms, setting him free.

"Tell him to kill you and the other two" the man orders you, leaning close to your face his disgusting breath hitting the bruise on your cheek.

"No" you try to pull away, but he pushes the knife stronger against your neck, drawing blood. You groan and Bucky steps closer, surprising both of you. He is not supposed to move without permission.

"Even if you order him to kill all of us, I would slit your throat faster than he can get to me" the man pulls on your hair, your hands grabbing his wrist to try to get him to let go, but he doesn't budge "And then his little girlfriend would be dead either way. But I like the concept of you dying by his hands" a wicked grin makes it's way onto his face. Anger fills your whole body and you spit on his ugly head.

"I'm not his girlfriend, asshole" you grit through your teeth.

"Try that one more time and you lose your head" more blood trickles down your skin as your lips open in a soundless scream. "Now tell him" he drags you forward by your hair.

"Won't I lose my head either way?" you sass back, but immediately regret it as the butt of his knife connects with your temple. Your head is thrown sideways, but is stopped by his hold on your strands. Bucky takes one more step closer, an animalistic growl leaving his lips. You look up at him, your vision blurry from the pain.

"Bucky" you start, but you get the knife back on your neck which stops you from continuing.

"Take one more step closer, Winter Soldier and she dies" the man threatens and it makes Bucky stop. You don't understand how he keeps reacting to you being threatened. He is supposed to wait for instructions.

"Tell him" the man shouts at you, pressing the tip of the weapon into your skin.

"Winter Soldier" you start, heart contracting in your chest "Kill me" tears fall from your eyes again as the man lets you go. Bucky steps closer as you stand up, your body aching all over. He grabs you by your throat and throws you through the glass wall that's a few feet from you.

You crash through the glass, shattering it. You land on your back, your ears ringing from the impact as you try to get up but the glass pieces digging into your flesh only let you moan in pain. You arch your back up trying to get away from the pain and as you manage to roll out of the shattered pieces you see a pair of boots walking towards you. A familiar pair of boots. Your eyes travel upwards to meet Bucky's emotionless face. It's not Bucky you remind yourself as you scramble to get up, but he reaches you faster than you can get away from him. He grabs you by the neck to pull you to your feet, his fingers digging into the cut on your flesh.

"Bucky" you manage to choke out before his fist collides with your cheek. Your head is thrown to the side and you lift your leg to kick him in the chest. He stumbles backwards, letting go of you and you fall back on the ground. Where is Steve and Nat?

You quickly stand up while Bucky regains his balance and marches forward. There is no emotion in his eyes. No affection. No recognition. You start backing away from him, pleading for him to recognize you.

"Bucky. It's me" you hold you hand up and he takes a swing at you but you manage to get out of the way of his fist. "James" you try with his name, but he keeps trying to hit you, his hands never stopping.

"Stop calling me that" he growls at you and tries to hit you again.

You dodge his attempts, but your body is getting tired, the wound on your neck still oozing blood. You get clumsy and he manages to catch your arm and knee you in the stomach. You double over, spitting blood on the ground, but you don't have time to catch your breath as he grabs your hair to pull you up. You don't have time to think about your actions as you kick him between his legs. His hold loosens on you and you rip yourself out of it and back away. You wipe away the red tainting your mouth.

"Bucky, please" you try again, but he doesn't listen. You keep backing away from him, but you hips meet with the edge of a table. "Shit" you curse as he swings at you, but you get out of the way and his fist leaves an imprint on the metal surface.

You run to the other side of the table, thinking it would hold him back a little, but he simply lifts it up and throws it away with one hand. You lift your eyebrows and tilt your head, impressed by his strength. You don't have time to marvel at him as he is suddenly in front of you and he grabs your arm and twists it behind you. You try to get out of his hold, but he pushes you against the wall, his body flush against yours to keep you in place.

"Bucky, listen to me" you breathe out, groaning in pain as he twists you arm harder.

"I don't know who that is" he interrupts and your heart breaks for him. He shouldn't have to go through this. He deserves so much more than forgetting who he is when someone says a few words in the right order.

"Steve, your best friend-" you find a different approach, but it seems like he had enough of your talking because he flips your around and his hands tighten around neck.

"Stop talking" his grip gets stronger with each word and you feel the air starting to get cut off in your windpipes. You claw at his hands, but it's no use.

He tightens his grip on your neck even more and your mouth opens in a silent scream. You are going to die. You know you are. But you want him to know that you don't blame him. So you tell him your biggest secret. The one that you had been hiding for a few months now.

"I love you" you choke on your words, your lungs screaming for air. "I love you" you repeat as your vision starts to blur. You try to breathe, but his hands prevent the air from entering your lungs. His eyes slightly widen, but he doesn't move.

"Bucky" his name is the last thing that leaves your mouth before everything turns dark, your body succumbing to the pressure.

Bucky Barnes taglist: @toms-spiders @sarcastically-defensive17 @allforkook @buckyswh3re @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @mrsbarnesinmyimagination @leyannrae @bbl32 @wakandabiitch2 @cxddlyash @redcoatgirl @mysweetlittledesire @justreadingficsdontmindme @loveaffaire @livangel2006 @bentobarnes @trickylittlewitch @hallecarey1 @naturalswifty89 @httplayer @silverrmistt @sebsbrokentoe

[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | one

A/N: Here’s the beginning of my new mini-series!  I hope you all enjoy it.  It will definitely be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, so be prepared!  There will be five parts!

SUPPORT MY WRITING HERE: https://ko-fi.com/spine_buster

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                   *     *     *     *     *

Brock Boeser felt like he was at some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, with everybody around the circle introducing themselves and their similar predicaments.  The group was in a big meeting room at the local community centre, and when he walked in, he saw a group of dads playing basketball in the gym.  He sort of wanted to join them instead of being here, in this room, with all these people that he didn’t know talking about what they were going to talk about, but he’d done this back in Minnesota, at his mother’s behest with his siblings, and he was going to do it here, too, in Vancouver, to make her happy and ease her mind and to make sure that he was easing his own mind.  

“Um, hello everyone.  My name is Brock Boeser.  I’m from Minnesota, but I’m living in Vancouver.  And um, I’m here with you all because my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease.”

“Hello Brock,” everyone smiled at him, and he smiled and nodded back.

“So it was your dad that was diagnosed,” the leader, a kind, older woman named Esther who had greeted him at the door and stuck with him until everybody sat down, egged on a conversation.  He knew she was doing it because he was new; everybody in this room probably already knew each other.  A part of him actually wondered if anybody knew who he was.  “When?”

“Um, he—he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2010,” Brock revealed, stuttering it out.  He knew he’d have to be open at these things – open so people could empathize with him, open so he could empathize with others – but it was still tough for him to do so.  “But he—it’s—it’s not just Parkinson’s.  Two years after he was diagnosed, he was in a car accident and suffered a traumatic brain injury.  In 2017, he was diagnosed with lung cancer.  He beat it but then in June it returned to his liver and chest.  In July, he had a heart attack and his heart stopped beating for 15 minutes.  I was with him and—I—it’s—it’s a lot, as you can imagine,” he tried not to start crying right then and there.  Imagine that – first meeting with a Parkinson’s Society of BC support group and he’d bawl like a baby.

“Goodness me, Brock,” Esther said.  “He has support at home?”

“Um, well, money isn’t an issue now, but when I was growing up my mom worked three jobs to make sure we were all taken care of,” he revealed.  “I’d pitch in too wherever I could, obviously.”

“But it’s been tough for a number of years.”

Brock paused.  It had been tough for a number of years.  It had been really tough for a number of years.  He nodded his head.  “Yes ma’am.  I try to take it day by day.”

Esther nodded as well.  “I don’t know if you pray, Brock, but I know a couple of members around the circle do, and, well – you’ll be kept in all our prayers.”

Brock saw a few people nod their head.  Another older woman, probably his mom’s age, clutching a rosary; a Sikh man dressed in a casual suit; a younger woman, probably in her thirties, with short blonde hair.  He appreciated the sentiment.  He knew that people took prayer very seriously – that people suffering took prayer very seriously.  It was, realistically, one of the kindest things somebody could ever say to you: “I’m praying for you.”  “Thank you very much,” he said, nodding his head once.

***

There was an arrangement of cookies at the end of the meeting.  Even after the 90 minutes of everybody talking about their experiences and emotions, they apparently liked to stick around afterwards as well just to mingle.  It didn’t all have to be doom and gloom, he thought.  It didn’t all have to be about Parkinson’s or about sick people or losing your loved ones all the time.  Maybe some people just wanted to talk about the news.  Maybe some people just wanted to talk about sports.  The weather.  Anything.  Anything to make a connection with someone beyond something so tragic.  

After stuffing an entire Fudge-O cookie into his mouth, he looked up to see a young woman staring at him, holding her trenchcoat in her arms.  She was smiling to let him know she was friendly.  He was embarrassed because he knew she just saw him stuff an entire Fudge-O into his mouth.  “Hi,” he said, his mouth still full of cookie, the sound of his voice reflecting that fact.

“You’re Brock Boeser, right?” she asked sweetly.  “You play for the Vancouver Canucks?”

“Yeah,” Brock couldn’t help but smile.  He swallowed the rest of the cookie even though he didn’t really finish chewing it.  “That’s me.  Are you a fan?”

“My step-brothers are more so than I am,” she said.  “But I’m a fan of the team, yeah.  I’m Grace Gillespie,” she extended her hand to shake his.  “God, they’re not gonna believe me when I say I met you.  They’re gonna freak.”

Brock couldn’t help but chuckle slightly.  “Do you—I mean, do you want a picture?  I don’t mind at all.  I’ll sign an autograph on a napkin if you want me to.”

“Well…it’s a bit awkward to ask you at a Parkinson’s Society of BC meeting, but we could go to the Starbucks down the street and I could buy you a coffee.”

Brock was slightly taken aback at her forwardness.  He shouldn’t have been.  Girls came up to him all the time.  All the time.  And they were most definitely not shy.  But he wasn’t exactly expecting it to happen here, of all places.  A bar, sure.  Out with Petey or any of the other guys, absolutely.  But not here.  “Yeah…yeah sure,” he stuttered out.

“Then we should go,” Grace smiled.  She turned to look behind her.  Brock saw Esther picking up a few Oreos.  “Thank you for leading another great session, Esther,” Grace said.  

“Oh you are most welcome Miss Gillespie.  How is Hamish these days?  You didn’t speak much today.”

“He’s been doing fine lately.  His caregivers have been working around the clock for him.  They just work wonders, don’t they?”

Esther nodded.  “They are angels on Earth.  Anyways – we’ll catch up next week,” she said, leaning slightly on her leg to look beyond Grace and to Brock.  “I hope to see you here again next week, Brock.”

“Thank you, Esther.  See you next week,” he said, realizing he made the commitment before he could even realize what he was saying.

***

“I take that was your first meeting?” Grace asked as she set down the two lattes on the table against the window where Brock was waiting.  

“Was it really obvious?” Brock asked.

Grace shrugged her shoulders.  She didn’t want to make him feel self-conscious.  “It was the stuttering that gave it away, at least to me.  I know I stuttered a lot the first few times I came to these meetings.  I wasn’t the most comfortable talking about my dad’s condition to a room full of virtual strangers.  But within just a few months I realized the people in that room are the kindest, most empathetic, most amazing people that I’ve ever interacted with.  So I became a lot more open.”

Brock was transfixed by every word that Grace was saying.  “So you’ve been coming here a long time,” he said.

Grace nodded.  “My dad got diagnosed with Parkinson’s when I was fourteen.  I didn’t start coming here until I was about eighteen, though.”

Brock knew he shouldn’t ask.  He knew he shouldn’t.  But his brain had ulterior motives, and his mouth – well, his mouth listened to his brain, because it apparently needed to know.  “Is your—is your dad like my dad?” he asked.  “Does he have, like, other problems complicating things?”

Grace shook her head.  “No,” she said softly.  “But the Parkinson’s is enough for him.  I mean he was diagnosed just short of ten years ago and he’s already on puréed foods.  It’s not—I mean, you know as well as I do that it doesn’t regularly develop that fast.  But that’s…I don’t know how you do it.”

Brock didn’t know either.  Some days he didn’t.  “I just take it day by day,” he said simply, just like he said in the meeting.  “If I think about it too much…that’s when it’s bad.”

“I hear ya,” Grace said, taking a sip of her coffee.  “But let’s…not talk about this for too long.  Do you like Vancouver?  Do you find it nice?”

Brock appreciated the change in topic.  “I love it here,” he nodded his head, smiling.  “The city’s great.  The fans are great.  My teammates – I mean they’re amazing.  What do you do?”

“I’m a dance teacher at Goh Ballet – little kids and teens, mostly.”

He wasn’t expecting that.  She was drop dead gorgeous, sure – Brock wasn’t blind – but he wasn’t expecting to hear she was a dancer.  “Do you, like, dance in the real ballet?”

Grace snorted slightly at his phrasing of ‘real ballet’.  “No.  I pursued it only up until a certain point.  I was good, but uh, I stopped when my dad got diagnosed.”

“Why?  Don’t they always tell people like us to have, like, an outlet or whatever?”

“They do.  But I loved my dad more than I loved dance.  And I would have rather spent the time that I was spending on dance with him instead.”

He understood where she was coming from, and he wasn’t there to judge her.  “And your brothers you mentioned, did they help too?”

“Oh no no no.  Sorry – I should have specified.  I’m an only child.  Like, the only child between my parents.  But they divorced when I was six and when my mom re-married I gained two step-brothers, Jasper and Theo.”

“How was the divorce?” Brock found himself asking.

“You ever see footage of a nuclear bomb exploding?” Grace giggled as she asked the question.  It caused Brock to laugh too even though the analogy she was making was dreadful.  “It was awful.  The type of divorce nobody deserves, you know?  I became a pawn, basically, and my parents would only speak to each other through lawyers.  Even stuff concerning me.  It was bad.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It was.  But it’s the only life I know,” she said.  “He was lucky my mom ended up marrying another rich guy.  I mean, my mom only marries rich men,” she giggled slightly again.  “That’s how Jasper and Theo became my step-brothers.”

“So your family has money?” Brock clarified.  “What’s it from?  Dad a lawyer or something?”

“Not exactly,” Grace said.  “My dad and his brothers own a private equity firm that started like this,” she pinched her fingers together, “and went like…” she continued, spreading her fingers and moving her hands around her like a bomb explosion.  “Gillespie Brothers Investments.  I’m sure as a Vancouver Canuck you’ve heard of them.  I mean they wanted to buy the Canucks before the Aquilinis.”

Brock hadn’t heard of them, but he now knew he’d have to do some snooping when he got home. “I haven’t heard of them.  But I mean – sounds like they were successful.”

“Three billion dollars is pretty successful to me,” Grace quipped.

“B—Billion,” Brock sputtered out.  “With a B.”

“With a B,” Grace nodded.  Brock had no idea he was sitting across from the daughter of a billionaire.  She didn’t act like a billionaire.  Not like Brock knew what billionaires acted like.  He’d never met one before in his life.  Well, besides Francesco.  “But tell me more about what you like about Vancouver.  What about the nature?  I always kind of fine a good long walk along the Seawall or through Stanley Park really clears my mind from all…this.  What about you?”

Brock smiled.  “I find the white noise of downtown clears my mind.”

***

“You want my number,” Grace said as a statement rather than a question as she and Brock exited the Starbucks.  They were kicked out.  They’d been there for so long that they’d been kicked out because they were closing.  Their coffees had gotten cold.  They hadn’t ordered new ones.  And now they found themselves on the deserted sidewalk, jackets put on hastily, and Grace came up with that.

Brock looked down at her.  They’d been able to look into each other’s soul for the past few hours.  “Of course I want your number,” he said.  There was no reason to hide it.  No reason to deny it.  No reason to have to wait until next week to see her again as they sat around in a circle in a community centre talking about their parents.

He took out his phone.  She gave him her number.  He texted his name to hers so she’d have his.  When that dance was done, she looked up at him.  “I’m really glad I met you tonight,” she said, her voice sincere.

Brock nodded.  “I’m glad I met you too.  I—I really enjoyed this.  And I mean—I needed it.”

Grace smiled, nodding her head.  “I needed it too.”

“D’you—” Brock stopped, trying not to get too far ahead of himself.  “D’you need a ride home?”

“Oh no no, my driver is right there,” she motioned her head towards a black Mercedes waiting by the curb.

Brock hadn’t noticed the car until now.  “Chauffeur?”

“Billionaire dad,” she winked.  Brock understood.  She took a few steps back before smiling one more time.  “Call me,” she said, before flipping her hair over her shoulder and walking towards the Mercedes and getting into the backseat.  Brock watched as it drove off, making a right at the end of the street.

He would definitely be calling.

[sassyhobbits]

Guess I lied “Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.” someone from the Cadre telling this to Fen and him breaking apart and crying and dying I want him to suffer

had to so this one. always happy to write about my boy fen!!! luv him

heres day 4!!!

~~~

“Are you sure you want to make that move?”

“Yes. No. Fuck. What’s wrong with this move?”

“Why the hell would I tell you? I’m trying to win.”

Aelin laughed at the stormy look on Fenrys’ face as his dark gaze studied the chess board before them intently. She knew he was determined to beat her for once. She had been on a winning streak lately.

Aelin settled in her seat before the fire, studying the board before them. It was a beautiful set, something she had bought Rowan for Yulemas the year before. Her husband loved the game, but loathed buying anything for himself. She knew he was pleased to have such a nice set, though he tried to play it casual. They played together at least one night a week. Rowan was terribly good at the game. Three hundred years of practice of both chess and military strategy had made him a truly formidable opponent. Aelin had yet to beat him, though she had been getting better.

Fenrys, however, she beat over half the time. Learning from Rowan had given her an edge.

The male across from her finally picked up a knight and moved it, capturing one of Aelin’s pawns that had been protecting her king. She raised a brow at him. “Really, Fenrys?”

“What? You were too well defended.”

Aelin tutted and shook her head. “Short-sighted once again, my friend.” She reached out and moved her queen on it diagonal, placing it down firmly and smirking at Fenrys. “Check mate.”

A slew of terribly, dirty curses streamed from Fenrys’ mouth as he knocked over his king. He shook his head, studying the board. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve always been good at keeping my schemes to myself,” Aelin shrugged. “That’s all chess is, anyway. Schemes.”

He cursed once more. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Fenrys sighed, accepting his defeat, reaching over to the bottle of wine they had been working through and topping off both of their glasses.

Aelin enjoyed having her friend so close. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide and Lorcan visited Orynth when they could, though they were busy running their own territories. Dorian and Chaol were in Adarlan, Manon rebuilding the Witch Kingdom. Even Fenrys had been traveling until recently. She had truly missed her companion.

They spoke and joked between one another for a few more moments before the door to the parlor opened. Aelin recognized her mate’s scent without needing to look back, even beneath all the sweat.

She sensed his presence as he stopped by where she sat, tilting her head up and smiling at him. His silver hair was in disarray from training with the guards that evening, but his green eyes were bright as he looked to her and then to the board.

Her husband studied it with a general’s intent for a few moments before a smile curled on his lips, looking towards Aelin with pride glimmering in his eyes. Good job, Fireheart, he seemed to say before pressing a lingering kiss to her temple.

Aelin’s nose crinkled at the smell of him. “You, husband mine, are in desperate need of a bath.”

“I agree,” Fenrys added. “My eyes are watering.”

Rowan looked to him dryly, though it held no venom at the younger male’s teasing.

Aelin began asking him about how the training had gone. They had a recent surge of new recruits and though many of them had potential, they were rough around the edges. Aelin knew that if anyone could whip them into shape, it would be Rowan.

Aelin fell into the lull of conversation, and it wasn’t until a while later that she noted a strange quietness coming from across from her. Fenrys wasn’t one to hold his tongue for an extended period of time. She glanced away from Rowan, looking towards the male across from her. Fenrys’ face was somber, staring hard into the fire that made his dark skin glow. His brows were pinched together, lips pressed tight, eyes glazed. Somewhere far away.

Rowan followed her gaze, ceasing his report to study his comrade.

It took a few moments for Fenrys to recognize the sudden silence, blinking away the haunted look in his eyes before glancing towards the king and queen before him, as if he could feel their gazes.

Something in Aelin’s chest clenched. She knew what the look meant, had worn it herself plenty of times. Her head tilted to the side before asking softly, “Where did you go, my friend?”

The smile that slashed Fenrys’ face came just a fraction of a moment too late, confirming that whatever he had been remembering had shaken him more than he could admit.

“I’m just tired. Losing to you takes more energy than you would think,” Fenrys sighed, trying to muster some bravado into his voice, though Aelin saw right through it. “I think I’ll head off to bed.”

Aelin watched her friend warily as he pushed to his feet, nodding a brief farewell before heading towards the door. She glanced up at her husband, seeing a familiar look of concern on his handsome face. It was evident that the White Wolf of Doranelle was not alright.

…

Once Fenrys deemed himself an appropriate distance from where the king and queen sat in the parlor, he allowed himself to let go. His shoulders curved in, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he rested his back against a cool stone wall and hung his head in his hands.

Everything had been going well. He had spent the day assisting his queen with her duties while Rowan worked with the guards. He was fine through dinner, through their game of chess. Maybe it was because he had kept himself thoroughly distracted but… when he had let his mind quiet, even for a moment, he had felt himself drift away.

One moment he was laughing and teasing with Aelin, a smile lighting the queen’s face. The next, he heard echoes of her screams of agony, flashes of Cairn carving her up bit by bit while he had to sit aside and do nothing. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, spiraling down into the darkest part of his memories: Aelin sobbing in that iron coffin, the sight of Connall spilling his own blood, the feel of Maeve’s cold, pale hands on his body.

It happened from time to time. The memories getting the better of him. He always tried to play it off to the best of his abilities, making himself flash an easy smile to hide the vulnerability. He knew that the others suffered from similar afflictions, knew his queen was still haunted by nightmares. There were nights when he would wake to a knock on his door only to find Aelin standing on the other side, eyes hollow in a way Fenrys recognized. Sometimes she would talk about it, others she would just sit silently in his presence. The only person who truly had an inkling of what she had suffered for those two months. He knew Rowan still feared losing his mate, still saw the flash of panic in his eyes when he couldn’t find her in the sprawling palace, even though she was always safe and content. It was just… difficult to shake off those feelings.

And yet… Fenrys never wanted to burden his already burdened friends with his own troubles. He knew they would protest that description. Burden. They wouldn’t feel that way about it but… he did.

Fenrys was lost in his thoughts, all of them dark and swirling like a storm through his head. It distracted him enough that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching until the purposeful scuff of a boot over stone caught his attention.

Fenrys raised his head, finding Rowan standing before him, green eyes studying him carefully. He stood straighter, forcing a wobbly smile to his lips.

“You miss me already?” Fenrys said, though his voice betrayed him, crackling towards the end.

Rowan’s expression turned sympathetic, a look Fenrys had never seen on his commander’s face until he had met Aelin. He stood a step closer.

“You doing alright there, pup?”

Fenrys shrugged, still trying to hold on to some semblance of nonchalance. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Rowan didn’t press him right away, sliding his hands into the pockets of his dirty trousers. “Your quick departure made my wife quite worried about you.”

“Aelin has enough on her plate. She doesn’t need to worry about me too.”

“I’m worried about you as well, Fenrys.”

Fenrys blinked, sure he had heard the king consort incorrectly. Rowan had certainly warmed up since he fell in love with Aelin, but he was still rather stoic most of the time. He saved most of his compassion for the woman he loved. Rowan wasn’t cruel to Fenrys, he never had been. Though he was a massive bastard and a pain in his ass once upon a time but… he had never reached out like this.

It seemed that Rowan took his stunned silence as a cue to continue.

“You try to hide it, but I can see it in your eyes. The pain.” Rowan’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. “I did the same thing for years.”

“Yeah, but you took it out on the rest of us poor soul.”

Rowan gave a dry chuckle. “That I did. But you know what helped me heal?”

“Bedding your stunning wife?”

Rowan smacked him softly on the side of the head. Rightly deserved, Fenrys knew. He was being immature.

“I’m serious, boyo,” Rowan said lowly. “I didn’t start coming out of that darkness until I started opening up. Talking. Confiding in people who knew what I felt and what I had gone through.”

Fenrys rubbed at his eyes before rasping, “I don’t know where to start. I don’t want to burden you. Burden Aelin.”

“Aelin loves you,” Rowan said plainly. “She would never feel burdened if you reached out to her. You’re her friend. You’re my friend too, Fen. We’re always going to be here for you.”

Fenrys nodded, not trusting that his voice wouldn’t fail him. He was grateful for the friends, family, and support he had found in the recent years. This life that he had now… he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

He was silent for a few more moments, simply looking down at his boots and trying to banish the lump clogged in his throat. Rowan, the perceptive bastard, simply cocked his head to the side and met his gaze.

“Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.”

It was with those words that Fenrys broke. The tears began falling freely down his cheeks, blurring his vision.

“There are moments where I forget where I am,” Fenrys confessed. “When I get so lost in the worst of the memories that I fear there’s no way out. I don’t know how to escape, how to be free of it. At times, I feel like I’m drowning.”

Fenrys didn’t bother to try and smother the tears, the shaking breaths he took. He knew Rowan was right. Holding everything in certainly didn’t help. He wasn’t sure if crying in the halls of Orynth would do much either but-

His train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt when he felt arms wrapped around him. Fenrys blinked once, sure he was hallucinating. But no. It was real. Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius was actually hugging him.

He was frozen for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Some older part of him hissed that it was a trick, that the moment he let his guard down Rowan would put him in a headlock as part of a training exercise. But, Fenrys also knew that the cold and calculating commander of his past was no more.

Slowly, Fenrys reached up and returned the embrace.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything, until Fenrys whispered, “Thank you, brother.”

Another few heartbeats passed before Fenrys felt another pair of arms wrap around his torso from behind, the scent of jasmine and ashes tickling his nose. Aelin.

“You were snooping that entire time, weren’t you?” Fenrys asked with a tiny laugh.

“Of course I was,” the queen mumbled against his back. “How else am I supposed to stay three steps ahead of everyone if I don’t snoop?”

Fenrys chuckled lightly, already feeling lighter than he had before. He was a lucky bastard to have such friendship and support in his life. And, although he was still healing, he knew they were as well.

They would find the path to the light. Together.

[novelist-becca]

Won’t you let me in?

Fandom: The Owl House

Relationships: Eda & Luz

Summary: After the events of Separate Tides, Eda and Luz have a talk. Title is from the song “Strange Sight” by KT Tunstall.

AO3

What a day this is turning out to be, Eda thought as the so-called “Golden Guard” approached her and Luz. 

The witch had originally planned to take the money back to the house after checking in on the Selkidomus. 

But then she got caught, and it turned out Luz was on the ship instead of safe at home. (She had expected Luz to follow the cart home after they started driving back to the house) The kid had apparently wanted in on the bounty hunt, once again not knowing what she was getting into. Forget the money that was forgotten in the boiling sea, Luz was more important! Eda had of course questioned her.

“Now why were YOU on that ship to begin with? You could've gotten killed!” 

And then the Golden Chump showed up, and here they are. 

“Hello, criminals!” He said. “What's about to happen should be relatively painless. If you just do what I say.” 

“And why would we do that?” Luz retorted.

“Because none of you can use real magic.” He said, pointing a finger at the both of them. 

Eda narrowed her eyes and pointed back. “You don't know that.” Sure, glyph magic was different, but she won't stand the talk of it not being “real”. They haven't seen Luz in action.

The Golden Guard shrugged. “Maybe not. But I do know you're standing on a plant that eats flesh.” 

On cue, Eda and Luz looked down to see that they were indeed, standing on a flesh eating plant. And just in time, both of them could already feel the thing burning through their shoes. They yelped and lept to the side as the guard just watched. 

Ugh, stupid Golden Guard…, Eda thought. 

“Ahahaha! Okay.” He chortled. “The human will remain a sailor to repay all the money she lost.”

Eda tensed up at that idea. As if she'd allow Luz to become a pawn for the stupid emperor, just for some stupid money! 

Luz needs to be safe at home…

“While the Owl Lady will be arrested, again! For attacking one of the emperor's ships.” 

Luz looked at Eda, surprised. “Emperor’s ship?” She repeated. 

“They're the only ones worth robbing.” Eda replied. At least the kid didn't know. She thought. She supposed Luz wouldn't have gone if she knew this was a setup from Belos. She turned back to the guard.

“Why are you guys hunting the Selkidomus? It's a peaceful creature and you're provoking it!” Eda demanded. 

“The emperor ordered me to slay one. I'm just following orders.” The guard said nonchalantly. 

Losing her cool, Eda glared at him. “Well I'm just gonna smack you around a bit!” She shouted, snapping her arm off. Unfortunately, the Golden Guard was too quick for her, dodging her to the point where she tripped. 

“Leave Eda alone!” Eda heard Luz shout. Then the kid was tossed aside next to her. 

Apparently, the dingus wasn't finished with them quite yet, because he then threatened to dip them into the Boiling Sea, ouch, but then he changed his mind. 

“I don't have to be that mean.” He said snarkily. 

Titan I hate this guy already…

“No one will have to be a sailor or get arrested. If one of you follows those Selkidomus tracks and slays the beast.” He ordered. “Here! I'll help!” Then the guard materialized a sword into the air, dropping it in front of them. 

What is it with the coven and slaying innocent creatures?!

Luz looked at the sword, and back up to the guard, pleading with her eyes. 

The guard rubbed his mask. “Ugh, you're making this difficult. Go, or I drown the bird.” He said, revealing King behind the cage he had. Thankfully, the demon appeared unharmed. 

Eda looked at Luz, seeing her conflicted face. If she had Owlbert with her right now, she would've grabbed her kid and tried to make a break for it, as if the ordeal never happened. 

But of course it wasn't that simple. 

Luz sighed. “Fine.” And to Eda’s alarm, she picked up the sword. “I'll do it.” She said in a low voice. 

Eda reached out an arm as Luz headed towards the cave. 

“Luz, wait!” She pleaded. There had to be a way out of this other than killing! “Luz!” 

~ 

On the way to the area where the Selkidomus was, Eda was trying to disuade Luz from doing what she was about to do. 

“Luz, don't hurt the Selkidomus. We can find another way out of this.” She said. 

But Luz kept walking. “You heard what he said, Eda. If you and King want to be free…” Luz stopped in front of a ditch and jumped onto a shipwreck. “Then I have to do this alone.”

The witch found it hard to ignore that Luz excluded herself from the “being free” deal, and her heart started pounding at the sight of Luz being above a ditch again. She didn't like where this was going at all. 

“What's this ‘alone’ business? Don't you remember?” Eda tried reminding her. “Us weirdos have to-” 

“What? Stick together?” Luz snapped. She looked at Eda, forlorn, almost startling her with the sadness in her face. “Because you stuck with me you lost your magic! You almost got turned to stone, and now you can't even afford your apple blood because you're worried about what I need to eat!” She rambled, looking down sadly. 

Eda stared at Luz, her heart breaking for the girl. She knew Luz was going through some things, but she didn't think it was this bad. Only a week and a half of them being together again, and Luz still blames herself. She should've paid more attention in the last week. Eda tried to find the words to tell Luz that no, this isn't your fault, you can come down from there and we can find a different way to go back home together. 

But before Eda could come up with an answer, the Selkidomus below growled, meaning it was awake. Luz kept her balance on the beam, then looked away from Eda.

“It's my fault all this happened, that's why I've got to do this alone.” She looked back at Eda, smiling. “I'll make it all up to you, Eda the Owl Lady. I promise.” 

Then, to Eda’s horror, Luz let herself fall off the beam and down the ditch. She couldn't help reaching her hands out, as if she could actually catch her. Her heart dropped to her stomach and she couldn't help crying out Luz’s name. 

No, no, NO-

Suddenly, Eda was reminded of that day on the bridge. Her sister tossing Luz aside like a ragdoll, into the ditch, that terrified little girl screaming as she fell, onto the spikes- 

“LUZ!” 

Eda shook herself out of her stupor, reminding herself of what to do. 

Thinking quickly, Eda grabbed a nearby vibe and lept down the ditch to find her kid.

She just got her back, and she'll be damned if she lost her again.

Soon enough, the witch found a safe ledge to stand on and Eda spotted the kid on the ground, preparing to throw herself at the Selkidomus, which was already defending itself. Eda spotted a nearby branch, thick and strong enough to use. She tugged on it, preparing to swing. 

Just as Luz had catapaulted herself in the air with her ice glyph, Eda swung in just in time. She wrapped an arm around Luz, holding her as tight and as close as possible under one arm so she wouldn't be dropped. 

I gotcha, kiddo!

Thankfully they were able to avoid the creature’s jaws and landed safely in a bush. 

As soon as they landed, Luz had tumbled out of Eda’s arms and clumsily sat back up. Eda recovered as well, turning back to the kid. 

Eda pointed a finger at Luz, and she stared back with wide eyes, startled. 

“You think throwing your life away is gonna help me? Well it won't.” Eda said firmly. She needed Luz to hear this. Luz deserved to hear this. 

“You helped me find King’s crown when you barely knew me, you saved me from turning to stone,” Eda averted her eyes from the kid, starting to feel emotional. “And you even got me talking to my sister again.” She looked back up, seeing that Luz was still listening. 

“So…unfortunately for you…my life is pretty great because I'm friends with Luz the Human.” Eda finished, her voice wavering. 

That seemed to be exactly what Luz needed, because now she was looking at her with glistening eyes and a trembling lip.

Eda blinked her eyes hard to keep the tears at bay, and her face got serious again.

Focus, Eda, we need to get out of here.

“Now,” She snapped out of it and grabbed Luz’s face, startling her. “Your guilt-ridden brain is clouding your judgement.” She said, poking Luz’s forehead. “There’s gotta be a way out of this where no one has to get hurt.” Eda let go of the kid’s cheeks and looked around the cave.

Just then, a small noise made them turn around. A baby Selkidomus had approached them. Luz looked at it for a moment, putting the pieces together in her head, then turned back to Eda.

“Eda,” the witch looked at Luz, willing to hear any plan she had right now.

“Do you wanna learn your first glyph?” She asked with a determined smile, holding up one of her light glyphs.

Not for the first time, Eda marvels at just how bright her kid is.

~

Later, Luz and Eda had managed to create a fake Selkidomus out of plant glyphs and made it work by using the light glyphs to fool the Golden Guard into thinking they were fighting the real thing.

The power of theatrics and a bright young mind. 

Moments later, Eda had gotten up and used whatever paper was left to draw more light glyphs on the ground. 

She still remembers the first time Luz casted these glyphs. They were so beautiful, and Eda always found them comforting. And now she gets to draw them herself. It only took a week for her to finally try it, but it was worth it.

It wasn’t long before Luz returned with King safely out of the cage. When she approached, Eda took a ball of light in her hands and glanced up at Luz.

“My first glyph! Did I do good?” If she was being completely honest, Eda felt like a giddy little kid again, learning new magic and sharing it with the people she loved. It felt wonderful.

Luz observed her with a bright smile. “Yeah! You did great!”

The baby Selkidomus returned, quickly worming its way toward Luz, nuzzling her, which delighted the kid as she was hugging back.

“Baby, awwwww!” She cooed, and a part of Eda was relieved to see the Luz she knew begin to return.

“Wait- what is that?!” King asked, alarmed.

“Don’t worry, King, once the mother saw we weren’t a threat to her baby she calmed down.” Eda reassured, patting the baby gently. Then she turned to the mother behind them. “This area is dangerous,” she explained. “You need to move further out, into the sea.” 

Understanding Eda’s warning, the creature nodded. Then something strange happened. It started...gagging. Until it puked up a pile of some gold goop, which Eda recognized to be Selkie Gris.

Mother of Titan, they hit the jackpot!

Luz stared at it with disgust for a few seconds before Eda excitedly pulled her close in a side hug. 

“Hot dang! It gave you the treasure of the sea!” Eda said in excitement, holding her kid with one arm and holding the other arm out to present their prize.

“Gold? ...Tuna?” Luz said in confusion.

“It’s Selkie Gris!” Eda let Luz go and scooped some of the stuff into her hands. “People pay big money for it at the night market!” Seeing Luz’s still confused face, she got an idea. The witch smushed it in her hands and took the opportunity to rub it on the kid’s face. “Ahh, feeelll the money, Luz! Luxuriate it!” She teased. 

“No, no, Eda! Ahh!” As expected, Luz protested and squirmed against the touch, but she was starting to laugh, which is what Eda wanted. 

Eda smirked, taking hold of the kid’s hands as she tried and failed to get away. “What? Don’t like to luxuriate? There’s a whole pile of luxury right here!” Then she grabbed Luz’s arms and swiftly tossed her into the pile, earning a yelp from the girl. “Move over!” Eda said, following suit and landing face down.

“Edaa!” Luz protested, but she broke out into laughter with Eda. It filled the witch with much joy to see Luz laughing and smiling again. She deserved it after the rough day they just had.

With that being said, after a minute, Eda got up and decided it was finally time to head home. Maintaining her balance, she reached her hands out to Luz and hoisted her up, keeping a tight grip on her so she wouldn’t fall. 

Thankfully, the Golden Guard didn’t obliterate her boat, so they had a way back home. Eda used an extra sack she had to bag the Selkie gris so they could take it home. It was significantly lighter than the snails. They would have to make a trip the night market to trade it off soon. Something had finally gone right today!

“You ready to go home?” Eda asked, turning to Luz, who was settled behind her with King on her shoulder. 

“Aye-aye, captain!” Luz said, saluting. 

That’s the Luz I know and love, Eda thought. “Alrighty then, brace yourself!” and she, King and Luz started their way back home.

~

It was seven in the evening, and the trio had made it home. After Lilith had presented her scrying potion, Eda had gone off to order their takeout, leaving Luz alone with her thoughts in the hallway.

...Something Luz really didn’t like doing. 

A lot had happened all in one night, from her and Eda getting ambushed by the Golden Guard, to her being forced to go slay the Selkidomus (knowing she was about to take away a baby’s mother back there made it worse to think about), to Eda talking her out of it. 

In all honesty, Luz felt like she needed to hear those words. Eda was right. She had done so much to help her, and she did seem happier whenever Luz was around. Maybe she wasn’t a burden after all…

She was snapped out of her thoughts when the witch in question came back around the corner. 

“Well, I’m tired. How about you, kid?” She said, yawning. 

“Hungry.” Luz said simply. 

“Don’t worry, food should be here in about a half hour.” Eda replied, ruffling Luz’s hair. Then she noticed a familiar look on her face. “You okay, kid?”

Luz shook herself out of her thoughts. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Eda put a hand on her shoulder. “I know that look. You’re deep in thought.” Luz looked down at the floor. “Do you wanna talk about it? You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” The witch knew it would only make it worse for the girl to keep things inside. And after what happened in the cave, she wanted to know how it got this bad.

Luz supposes it wouldn’t hurt. She trusted Eda. “Okay…” she gave a small nod. 

Eda slung an arm around her shoulders. ‘’C’mon, walk with me.” and the two walked slowly down the hallway. 

“A lot just happened tonight.”

“That’s for sure.” Eda agreed. “I- you really scared me back there, you know?” she said, hand tightening on Luz’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” Luz answered. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Eda. She supposes she doesn’t always consider that endangering herself contributes to that. “I just...wanted to make things right.”

They stopped walking as Eda turned to her. “You don’t owe me anything, Luz. You know that, right?” She said, meeting the girl’s eyes.

“But-”

“No buts. I promise I’m not angry, kiddo, I just hate seeing you like this.” She sighs. “I wish you would’ve told me before things got this far.” Noticing Luz starting to sag, she guides them to sit against the wall so they can talk more comfortably.

“I promise I’m not angry.” Eda repeats softly. “You're just a kid, you really shouldn't have to carry shit like this…”

Luz takes a breath and continues to speak. “I hated seeing you and Lilith have such a hard time with money. And most of the money that we did have was spent on me. I-I thought that if I got a big enough bounty, you wouldn’t have to worry so much about me anymore, and I wouldn’t be such a burden to you.” Luz could feel tears starting to build up. “But I guess I messed that up.”

“Hey.” Eda said, tilting Luz’s wobbling chin up. “Listen to me. Don’t you think like that.” She moved the hand to Luz’s shoulder. “You were never a burden, okay?”

Luz looked at her with teary eyes. “Really?”

“Really. A burden is an unwanted responsibility. But you?” Eda used her thumb to gently wipe away some of Luz’s tears. “I’ll never get tired of you. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. I want to take care of you. You mean so much to me.” 

At this point, Luz is smiling wide with a few stray tears rolling down her face. “Do you really mean that?”

Eda nodded, cupping her cheek. “Of course I do. I told you a week ago that I don’t regret anything. You’re a wonderful kid, Luz. Anyone that calls you otherwise is stupid.” Luz giggles at that. “I’ll pummel anyone that says otherwise.”

Luz hesitantly moves in for a hug, and Eda draws her in easily. “You promise?”

Eda nods, pulling Luz closer. “I promise. It’s okay.” She begins to stroke Luz’s hair a little bit. Then another thought intrudes her mind. Her grip tightens around her kid once more. 

“You really scared me when you jumped down there…” Eda spoke. “I thought I was gonna lose you again.” The memory of Luz falling towards those spikes is never going away anytime soon. The witch felt like her nightmares were coming true. No way in hell does she ever want to go through that again.

Luz nuzzles closer. “I know… I promise I’ll be more careful.” She isn’t sure it’s a promise she can keep, but she’s willing to try. A part of Luz notices that Eda’s becoming more and more casual with touch, but chooses to ignore it.

“Good.” Eda pulled away from the embrace, still holding Luz by her shoulders. “Remember that, okay? I don’t want you talking to yourself like this.” She said, tapping the kid’s head.

“I will.” Before they got up, Luz moved in for one more hug. “I love you, Eda.” Not for the first time, Luz was grateful that Eda made no small effort to just be there for her. She underestimated her.

Eda hugged her back. “I love you too, Luz.”

Then, a knock at the door, and a screech from Hooty.

“Looks like the food’s here! You still hungry, kiddo?” 

“Oh my god, yes.” Luz groaned. 

Eda laughed, stood up, and offered a hand to help Luz up. Unfortunately, the girl stood up too quickly, causing her to stumble a bit.

“Ahhh, head rush, head rush!” Luz murmured. She held onto Eda’s hand.

“You good?” Eda asked with a laugh.

“Yup, yup, I’m good. Just stood up too fast.”

“Wanna race to the kitchen?” Eda offered. “I’ll give you a head start.”

Luz chuckled. “You’re on!”

Yeah, Eda thought, looking fondly at her kid. I still don’t regret anything.

And Luz looked at Eda, seeing her heterochromatic eyes. True, the witch might've lost all her powers, but she didn't lose her love.

[immacaria]

Love Wins

  I speedrun this so I could try to publish it today. I wrote this for your birthday, @vassar177, (In my timezone it’s still it, even though its 11 pm) and I hope you enjoy this. Once again, happy birthday and I hope that you enjoyed your day very much!

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

  Jiang Cheng hummed in his sleep, deciding whether it was worth getting up or not, if it was worth facing the world once again after yesterday. He was feeling absolutely drained after all the fights and screams that filled his day, it was yet another horrible fight between his parents that pulled both him and his siblings into their turmoil without caring that they no longer were in their lives. His sister had tried to appease the fight, tried to do what she always did but this time it was too harsh, too sharp and angry for her to actually do something and Wei Wuxian never actually stepped into them, knowing that it would only worsen everything. So Jiang Cheng did it and pushed his siblings away from the front line. 

  He screamed and pointed fingers, let out what he actually thought about both of them, let out all the times when they dismissed him too quickly, when he only served as a pawn in their fights. Not only that, he pulled all the times were Jiang Yanli had to play mother for two children while being a child herself, all the times Wei Wuxian took the blame for things that were no one’s blame, all the times Jiang Fengmian was too quick to put him in a pedestal and Yu Ziyuan even more to pull him out of him. Told them, no, screamed at them how they let their own children grow up craving for something that they would never have, their approval, and how they had no right to keep pulling them into their fights now. 

  Jiang Cheng hadn’t realized he was crying until Jiang Yanli stepped in and pulled him away from their father, who he was grabbing by the lapels of his shirt and too hadn’t realized. His mother had fallen silent, watching him with wide, shocked eyes that later he knew would turn into something dangerous and aggressive. So he let her pull him away from them, from their old house and their parents, away from the fight and the thunderous expressions. All the way home, Wei Wuxian tried talking with him, distracting him from all the dark thoughts running on his mind, but he paid him no attention, focusing on burying the fight and the thoughts the deeper that he could. 

  “Oh, fucking shit.” He growled, throwing his blanket aside and getting up. Well, now all the thoughts were back and his sleep, completely gone. To worsen everything, today was Saturday, the only day that he and his boyfriend, Nie Mingjue, had all to themselves, and he was being a horrible company even to himself. He stepped into the shower and thought that maybe he could ask for Nie Mingjue to come only tomorrow or, better, next week, even if it seemed cowardly on his part. “Why is life so fucking hard?” 

  Sincerely, if he could just order a pizza and retreat back to bed to watch all the Studio Ghibli’s films that Neftlix could offer, he could call it a day happily. And, at the same time, the only thing he wanted was to bury himself into Nie Mingjue’s chest and never leave again while the man talked about his week and Nie Huaisang’s antics. As the water flow turned cold and shocked him awake, Jiang Cheng decided that fuck it, he wants both and he wants it now. 

  So, he texted Nie Mingjue and asked him to come over sooner if he can and ordered their favourite pizza, brushing his teeth quickly and sliding into comfortable clothes that consisted of a grey sweatpants he stole from Wuxian and a green jersey he stole from Nie Huaisang, who had stole it from Nie Mingjue. After a little cleaning around the apartment, he settled back into his bed, burying himself under his fluffy blanket and mindlessly scrolling through his social media. The pizza arrived quickly and he put it on the bedside table, seeing if Nie Mingjue had seen his message and reading that he was already on his way and bringing smoothies! 

  Gods, he loved his boyfriend so much! 

  The moment Nie Mingjue stepped into his living room, which wasn’t even five minutes after the pizza arrived, Jiang Cheng practically materialized in front of him, hugging his middle and burying his face on his chest. Nie Mingjue chuckled and the sound danced into Jiang Cheng’s ears and already made him relax a little bit more. They kept hugging for some time, just breathing into each other and letting all the stress of the week fall off their shoulders and disappear. Gods, he really did love his boyfriend. 

  “You know, you are the perfect height for me to rest my chin on your head.” Nie Mingjue whispered against his hair, stroking the middle of his back. 

  “Fucker.” Jiang Cheng chuckled, face happily buried and with no intention of moving. “The pizza is getting cold.” 

  “Who is the one holding me back?” He said, starting to move awkwardly and slowly. Jiang Cheng didn't do much to help him, too content to let him pull him. They got to his room sometime after and Nie Mingjue sat on his bed, dragging him with him under the covers while he started Nie Mingjue’s favorite Ghibli movie, Tonari no Totoro, and brought the pizza closer to them, snuggling under his arm. 

  The second movie had already started when Nie Mingjue quietly muttered against his head, chin still resting on the top of his head, the son of a bitch. 

  “Do you want to talk about it?” 

  “About what?” Jiang Cheng said, ignoring that maybe one of his siblings had snitched what happened yesterday to him. Wei Wuxian, probably. 

  “The fight you had with your parents.” He said, starting to massage the side of his forearm. 

  “It wasn’t really a fight.” He sighed, because they were past the phase where Jiang Cheng hid things from him. “Well, it was, but I mostly screamed at them and told them how horrible they fucking were.” He started, pausing the movie right when Howl sent the soldiers walking away from Sophie. 

  “You didn’t.” And there was laughter in his voice. “Oh, I wish I could have seen Madam Yu’s face.”

  “She was shocked and I think, for the first time in his life, Father actually noticed how much I took from Mother.” He tried to hold back a chuckle, sitting up to face him. “Shijie had to drag me away from him.” 

  “Fuck, I really wish I was there. I could have filmed everything for our enjoyment later.” He laughed, loud, thunderous and head thrown back. 

  “I don’t think Mother would have enjoyed you filming the whole fight.” Jiang Cheng crossed his legs, still trying to hold back a chuckle. But the thought of Nie Mingjue walking around the three of them, trying to get the best shots and saying ‘Yes, yes! More anger! More screams! Wonderful!’ was making his job very hard. 

  “I think it would have been a wonderful video. Your brother could even play it at our wedding under the name of ‘That one time that Uncle actually saw how awesome A-Cheng is’.” He moved his hands in an arch as he said the title of the video and Jiang Cheng felt the laughter choking on his throat as he stared wide eyed at his boyfriend. 

  “Wedding?” He whispered, trying to breathe. “You… You want to marry me?”

  “Well, yeah. Not now, maybe, even though I would be fully happy if we married now, but one day I want to marry you, Wanyin.” He shrugged, turning to look at him and, fuck, Jiang Cheng thought that maybe he was suffering a heart attack. “What? Is there piz--” He started, before he was attacked by Jiang Cheng suddenly jumping on him.

  “I love you so fucking much.” He muttered against his lips, arms around his neck. “You sappy.” 

  “Your sappy, and, with luck, forever.” He chuckled, moving his head to the side to let him hide his face there. 

  “You don’t need luck to stay with me, your idiot.” Jiang Cheng swatted at his chest, huffing a breath out before returning to his later spot, pressing the play. 

  “I love you too, my soul.” He kissed the top of his head, resting his cheek on it. “Even more because you’re the perfect height for me to rest my chin on your head.”

  Gods, he hated his boyfriend so much. 

  Actually, no, he didn’t.

[fullmetalscullyy]

royai week day 1 - king’s gambit/queen’s gambit

summary: It was a sacrifice. That was the true nature of this mission. Sending in a pawn to do the dirty work, so he could get the upper hand on the situation from the comfort of his office.

rating: t | words: 3075 | tags: royai, hurt/comfort, undercover missions, concerned team mustang, while riza goes off on her own to be a badass

read on ao3 | read on ffnet

Havoc’s displeasure towards the idea is not vocal, but it is very clearly identifiable in the set of his jaw and the way his arms are crossed over his chest in quiet defiance. Roy doesn’t appreciate the narrowed eyes Havoc thinks he can’t see, but he is inclined to agree with his Second Lieutenant. More than agree, actually. Roy sides with him and his protest, but ultimately it’s not his choice. It’s a gambit she won’t give up, not now that the Lieutenant has set her sights upon it. And not when it can help so many people in the long run.

Perhaps the worst part is it has to be on Roy’s orders for it to work. It’s a good idea, a strategic and tactical one, but it’s on his head if anything goes wrong and also puts one of his subordinates behind enemy lines alone. It’s dangerous. It’s a risk so they can try to gain more control over the situation, and potentially put an end to more suffering. He would never have thought of it alone, but she had. The Lieutenant always had been the best out of the two them at making the tougher decisions. Ones that needed a more clinical view and less emotional attachment to get the job done. Without realising it, Roy could lead with his heart when someone dear to him was involved, but that had no place here. Not at work and not with so much at stake.

Roy hates it, but that’s personal, and is also an avenue he cannot afford to venture down. Not only that, but Lieutenant Hawkeye is a more than capable soldier, and is an adult who can make her own decisions. Professionally, he has to agree with her. It’s a good idea. 

“Are we really going to feed one of our own to the wolves?”

Havoc’s question is quiet. It breaks through the silence they’d fallen into as they studied the map of a compound, a place that was the heart of their assignment. It causes Roy’s stomach to roll into a knot and he sighs quietly to himself. He had started to wonder when Havoc would start to voice his distaste. It was only a matter of time, Roy had theorised.

“That doesn’t sit well with me, Colonel –”

“Lieutenant,” Roy interrupts, starting to grow irritated Havoc would think Roy has assigned the Lieutenant this task heartlessly.

His heart is completely invested in this. More than it should be. 

“It’s a gamble, but based on what? There should be back up going in from the start.” His voice is rising in volume, careening away from the quiet, contemplative silence they’d been in only moments ago.

The office door opens, and the subject of their argument enters the room. She’s heard Havoc’s complaints; Roy knows she has. He can see it in the expression on her face and the way her brow twitches and furrows at them both a fraction, before turning to close the door behind her.

Havoc’s breathing slows as his emotions abate. It’s obvious he didn’t expect her to interrupt or overhear their conversation.

“It’s my choice, Lieutenant Havoc.” Her voice is even and level, but there is a hint of something else to it as well. There’s a tinge of frustration, and rightly so. That’s more than fair. She’s not happy and Roy swallows when he realises it, afraid she’s going to take their nervousness towards the situation the wrong way.

There was never any doubt in her abilities from either of them. This reflex comes from elsewhere. It was concern for a very close friend; Roy knew of the history between Hawkeye and Havoc. They went back to the Academy and had always been close to one another. For him, it stemmed from emotions he should not name. A natural response to those emotions, but Roy also knows he shouldn’t voice or even think of them, for they are dangerous. They could be damning. But damn him, Roy can’t help it. He’d never forgive himself if the worst happened to her because of his orders. He’s already, either directly or indirectly – that was still up for debate between them even after all this time – caused her so much grief and hardship in her life. He refuses to add to any more of it. This mission has the potential to do so, and he is concerned as a friend, as well as something more.

“Hawkeye –” Havoc’s attempt to placate her doesn’t work.

“This will work,” she adds, “and I’m not giving up on it. It’s a simple in and out.”

“It may take months though,” he counters. “All that time with no backup. Can you blame me, us,” he gestures between him and Roy, and the latter wishes Havoc would keep him out of his argument, “for not liking it?”

“It’s not up to you.” Her brows draw together into an offended glare.

Havoc huffs because he knows she’s right. He just cares, like they all do.

Only, Havoc can be more vocal about it though.

Roy says nothing and simply observes. A part of him wishes to leave them to their dispute but he’s their commanding officer. He can’t back down from conflict between two of his officers. He has to resolve this.

“Lieutenant Havoc.” Roy turns his head to face him. He needs to regain control on this conversation, so his tone is even and professional when he speaks. “As Lieutenant Hawkeye has stated, this is her choice. She’s happy to go.”

Havoc says nothing. His lips purse as he looks at his old friend.

Roy turns his gaze towards the Lieutenant. “She’s willing to enter the compound herself so we can advance in our fight against this group.”

He meets her eyes head on, ensuring the contact between them is direct. He wants to convey everything he needs to with one look or speech alone, but the Lieutenant is not a mind reader, and this is a professional environment. So, he will try his best with the limited methods he’s been given. And if the opportunity to discuss his concerns privately arises in the future, Roy will grasp it with both hands and communicate with her as effectively as he can, to reassure her and voice his thoughts.

“I am just as concerned for the Lieutenant’s safety as the rest of the team,” he adds tactfully. “I don’t like the idea of any one of you being sent off to fight a battle yourselves without backup from the team. It’s happened once before.”

Roy pauses and that knot in his stomach tightens as he remembers Fuery being sent to the front in the South prior to the Promised Day. He remembers how they were divided, split up and left to fend for themselves after being such a tight knit group for so long.

Havoc’s shoulders fall and relax as he catches onto Roy’s meaning.

“However,” Roy continues, “if the Lieutenant has no issues with going, we should respect that.”

“I know,” Havoc relents. “I will.” Still, he looks unhappy, but the argument is dropped.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take to help those in need,” the Lieutenant states, “but it’s a controlled risk.” Her tone softens as she joins them and leans over the map, looking down at it. “I appreciate the concern, but this decision was not made on a whim.”

“I know,” Havoc repeats. The fight is gone from him, as well as his displeasure, but his concern is still there. “I know you would’ve thought it through first,” he adds to try and placate her.

“It will work,” she assures. Determination overtakes her expression as her eyes rove over the map and Roy can’t help but wonder what her thoughts are, and what plan she is conjuring up inside her mind.

Her reply leaves no room for argument, effectively ending their conversation.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

His steps need to be controlled as he walks towards the compound, and they are, but he wishes he could do the opposite. Critically he surveys the faces of the people being escorted out. There’s none that spark recognition. People are crying with joy, happy to have been liberated. Others have minor injuries and are being seen to by medical personnel.

The news reached them less than an hour ago of the Lieutenant’s success, but there was no word from her personally yet.

He needs to know… Roy didn’t know what. He needs to hear her voice, at least, over the radio. However that had never come to pass. He needs to see her with his own eyes to ascertain her safety and wellbeing. But instead, he was left searching through the faces of the survivors to no avail.

She walks out from behind the compound gates and Roy feels his breath catch in his throat with relief. The Lieutenant is upright and walking and initially, that’s enough for Roy. His exhale through his nose is long, but quiet, so those rushing around him do not hear. They are hurrying passed the Lieutenant, searching for others in need after she reassures them with a polite smile she’s okay.

Roy is unaware of them though. He shouldn’t be, but he is, because all his focus is taken up by her. The smile he manages to catch a short glimpse of releases all the tension from his muscles.

Then he notices the blood on her beige polo shirt. It looks dark, so it looks old, but Roy can’t be sure due to the colouring of the fabric. He’d rather not see it at all. There’s a tear in the fabric of the shirt as well, right in the centre, where something has penetrated and pierced her skin. The sight makes his skin flash with heat and his heart pounds with contained fury. As the Lieutenant walks closer Roy sees the scratches on her face. They’re superficial, so not too worrying, however they are still there when they shouldn’t be.

She greets him with a nod after all this time. Her steps are purposeful and confident. Determined, even. The Lieutenant doesn’t falter as she approaches.

“We got them, sir.”

The next thing Roy notes is her voice is strong. It doesn’t waver as she speaks despite the apparent injuries.

“And you?” It’s the first question out of his mouth but it’s not completely out of place. Any commanding officer would be concerned for their subordinate after such a long time of radio silence.

“Fine, sir,” she confirms. “My injuries are a result of a scuffle during the final conflict. Nothing to worry about.”

From the look if it, Roy doubts that claim, but holds his tongue.

“The plan succeeded.”

She doesn’t boast. It’s not an ‘I told you so’. It’s simple fact.

The Lieutenant knows he’d never doubt her abilities or capability to get the job done, and he’s told her that already to reassure his and Havoc’s worry comes from a well-meaning place, but she knows he gets more concerned than he should. More than is appropriate. Roy can’t help it. For personal reasons, he can’t – outside of any feelings for her as well. He cares for each and every one of his subordinates. He hates to sacrifice one to fight a battle alone, and to leave a comrade behind, but knows doing it temporarily can sometimes be practical or necessary in order to win a greater war.

Ultimately, the Lieutenant was right. Thankfully, the outcome is mostly positive.

Professionally, he’s grateful the plan succeeded. She has an eye for precision that he doesn’t, so her input was more than welcome for this mission. And it stopped more innocent people from coming to further harm. Personally, he wants to wrap her in a tight hug and not let her go. To dress her wounds and ensure she’s okay. It’s been a month of no contact, of not knowing how she was faring while undercover.

She came back to them though. He remembers that.

“Well done, Lieutenant.”

Before he can praise her further a medic rushes up. She extends a blanket out to the Lieutenant, who stares at it blankly. But Roy sees an opportunity and steps in. He thanks the medic and takes it, unfurling the material as the medic presses forward to assist those who may need medical attention within the compound.

“Here.” His murmur is gentle as he wraps the blanket around her shoulders.

“Sir –”

She’s gearing up to argue but Roy is having none of it. That blood stain doesn’t seem to be growing in size, but he won’t take any chances. Not anymore today where she’s concerned.

“That injury needs looked at Lieutenant,” Roy interjects.

“It’s fine –”

“Not the point.” He hates to interrupt her. His voice turns husky with emotion. Roy would say he’s surprised by the sudden turn, but in all honesty it makes sense.

It’s been a long month.

For that reason, he doesn’t relent on his grip of her shoulders. He steers her over to a free medic and remains close by as she’s treated. One arm crosses over his chest to clutch at his side while the other hand cups his chin in thought as the medic works. He questions her on everything that happened. It’s necessary and a conversation that is needed for the upcoming report he will need to write and sign off on. While he would like her to rest, he knows the Lieutenant is still willing to work. He can see her professionalism in the set of her shoulders even as the medic pulls away her ruined shirt.

In truth, he doesn’t want to leave her side.

It’s been a long month.

Roy knows he shouldn’t look at the injury, but he can’t help himself. It gets a quick glance, and that flash of heat is back, igniting on his chest and spreading right up to the crown of his head, and down to his calves. He grips his chin tighter with his fingers in order to control the sudden bout of outrage and anger towards whoever had injured her. The expression on his face remains neutral, but she catches him staring.

She’s far too perceptive.

He’s uncaring if she notices his reaction though. Besides, he’s sure Lieutenant Hawkeye understands. Roy is sure Riza would do the same thing if the situations were reversed. They’ve been paired together long enough for him to draw that conclusion with relative confidence.

It was a sacrifice. That was the true nature of this mission. Sending in a pawn to do the dirty work, so he could get the upper hand on the situation from the comfort of his office.

Riza Hawkeye was far from a pawn in Roy’s eyes though. In fact, far from it in everyone’s eyes. She was his queen, elevated so far above a simple pawn, and even him. She was the most important piece of the set and she’d sent herself in and gotten the job done efficiently and effectively. There was never any doubt in his mind, and he wants to express his admiration for her work, however now, standing before her, with both of them finally left alone as the medic finishes and disappears, Roy is simply glad she’s back. Everything else relating to the mission can wait.

“Are you okay?” His question is so quiet. He’s asking as more than a professional courtesy. He’s asking personally.

“Yes, sir.” Her expression softens and she nods. The Lieutenant tips her head back against the wall she was leaning against and Roy watches as the fatigue rolls over her like a wave. “My abdomen stings but it’s okay. It’s… Been a long month,” she adds carefully, but nothing sinister or worrying crosses her expression at the thought of her time here.

Roy smirks ruefully. “I had a similar thought.” He jerks his head to the side, towards his car. “Come on,” he beckons. “I’ll drive you home.”

She nods and straightens her spine, standing tall. “Do you want me to fill out a report first?”

He waves off her offer. “No. I want you to go home and rest. You will be debriefed tomorrow.”

“Thank you, sir.”

They’re silent until they enter the car. Once the doors are closed, it’s just the two of them and they’re free to talk about whatever they want. Roy has a lot he wants to discuss, but they didn’t have time. She is no doubt exhausted and probably just wants to go home and clean herself up.

“I’m glad you’re all right.”

Her lips purse as she stares down at her hands, folded on her lap. “You said you’d had a similar thought,” she states, then glances up at him. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get through to you all.”

Roy scoffs lightly. “Don’t be sorry.”

“You were worried, though.”

Slowly, Roy nods. “Of course, I was.” His reply is quiet as he speaks from his heart.

She nods and turns to stare at her hands again.

“Right now, I’m simply thankful you’re okay. I’m glad you’re back,” he smiles.

“I couldn’t leave you to do all the work without me, now could I?”

Her quip is most welcome, and it makes him laugh. The tension he’d held in his shoulders and jaw for the last month feels like it’s being melted away with the joy of the action alone.

“No, you couldn’t.” He turns on the ignition with a warmth settling over his heart. “Let’s get you home. You can get cleaned up while I make you something to eat, if you’d like?”

As he places his hand on the gearstick, a warmth covers his digits. Glancing over, he sees her hand – marred by an old cut and a few grazed knuckles – covering his.

“Thank you.” The Lieutenant’s head has turned and is inclined towards him. In the privacy of his car she offers him a small smile, but it has the brilliance to light up his whole world. “That would be much appreciated.”

Roy turns his hand over and loops his fingers gently around hers. It’s a tiny action – so much less than what he actually wants to do – but it’s something. It’s enough for now. It’s enough until they get into the privacy of her apartment.

“Of course, Lieutenant.” His smile is genuine, and he gives her fingers a final squeeze before letting go. “Always. You’re welcome.”

[echo-hiraeth]

Chapter 2: Survivor’s Guilt

Part of the “Illicit Limerence” series.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Javier is confronted with the stakes of losing an important coworker and friend as the reader gets injured during a chase. But grief and hospitals aren’t really his scene. The reader finds out the extent of her injuries and condition, leaving her shocked to the core.

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of injury, angst and some fluff

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DEA agents were hurt and killed almost daily, that was just the way things were with the cartel. Pablo didn’t care about who they were or what their legacy was, married or not, children or not, to Escobar they were just the enemy’s pawns. Javier Peña was well-aware of this and therefore rarely turned his head when another death within the office was called. He didn’t do funerals, he did women and drinking instead. In a time of war there was no time for grieving, he believed it to be a weakness of the flesh much worse than indulging in the warmth of a prostitute or colleague every now and then. This had become a routine for him and while it ate away at his conscience he never once considered giving up his bachelor-lifestyle. Never until today.

The narco screamed as Javier tackled him to the asphalt, brutally bending his arms behind his back, slapping the cuffs around his wrists. He opened his mouth to yell something out to Carillo when he heard the echo of two gunshots, followed by a cry. As his ears registered the pitch and tone, he made it out to be you. His head shot up immediately, already in desperate search of the source of your whereabouts.

Carillo took the detained from his clammy hands, leaving Javier to find you. Everything went quiet and all he could hear in that moment of utter panic was his obscene breathing and rapid heartbeat. When he rounded the corner, seeing Steve’s back turned to him, a pool of broken glass and legs he could only assume were yours he felt his heart drop. Murphy was frantically babbling into his radio as Javier stepped closer, the blood on the floor sickening.

He stood still next to Steve, watching the way your relaxed body laid in his arms, unmoving. “Is she-“

“No”, Steve replied quickly, beckoning for Javier to take his spot. “Stay with her, I’m getting the med kit from the car.”

He hesitantly sat down on his knees, the glass scraping against the fabric of his jeans as he gently pulled you onto his upper thighs. He spotted the burnt fabric on your vest and thanked his stupid teasing for having secured it earlier. It was as if you were just asleep, eyes closed, a peaceful look settling on your features. That’s what he told himself, she’s just resting, it’s been a long day, she’s fine, just tired.

Usually when you were sprawled out in his arms it was after another heated round of mind-numbing sex, naked and glistening with sweat. He thought of the way you looked then, skin glowing with pleasure, lips curled up in the most mesmerizing smile, eyelids fluttering closed as he trailed his long fingers over your chest. Rather than being covered in each other’s sweat, he found his hands stained with your vibrant-red blood and rather than trailing his fingertips across the curve of your breasts his left hand rested on the back of your head, hair sticking to itself from the mixture of sweat and blood.

It was a horror, the otherwise so lively and feisty woman appearing dead. The more he thought of it, the more he started shaking, panicking, checking for a heartbeat despite hearing your soft breaths. He couldn’t stand the idea of never getting to apologize to you, never having you curled up against his chest again, laughing about something stupid. The mere possibility of never seeing you at that desk again, stuffing your mouth with whatever the kitchen had to offer, completely dropping the “ladylike” act in front of your two partners, it tugged right at his heartstrings.

When Steve returned, putting some balled up spare clothes underneath you to keep them from cutting you up even more, Javier was dead silent and pale with terror. He gave his fellow agent a death glare when he gently shifted her body back to the floor, his arms tightening around you. “We need to get her vest off and check her chest”, Steve commanded, Javier finally loosening his grip, allowing you to lay on the makeshift “bed”.

“Ambulance?”, he breathed.

“Still on the way”, Steve huffed as he carefully undid the several buckles and straps on your vest.

As the two frantic men were bickering back and forth accusing the other one of not being careful enough or being a blatant idiot you slowly came to. A soft whine left your lips as you blinked a couple of times, the bright daylight inducing the absolute worst headache you ever felt. Soon the two of them were hovering over you, asking a myriad of questions while you were just trying to put two and two together. You couldn’t even bring yourself to move an inch, your entire body just aching and seemingly on fire. As you registered the severity of your fall, your breathing started to speed up, the two fussing men not helping you with your oncoming panic attack. Javier rested a bloodied hand on your cheek in an attempt to calm you down, he was whispering something to you, in Spanish, fingers stroking back and forth in a gentle motion. You tried to speak but found yourself unable to, a tear of frustration falling out of the corner of your eye.

“Cariño, quédate conmigo, por favor”, he muttered, “Está bien, la ambulancia llegará pronto.” (Stay with me, it’s okay, the ambulance will be here soon).

He hadn’t been this soft with you in weeks and the longer you stared up at him through your heavy eyes, the guiltier he felt about it. With every blink your eyes struggled more and more to open again, your body urging, begging you to just rest. You were defenceless against yourself, the sustained injuries asking just too much of you, and soon you were out again, breathing steadying once again. Javier bit his tongue trying to ground himself and keep calm as he heard the wailing sirens in the distance. Steve had been taken your vest of by now, lifting your shirt to reveal nasty bruises on your chest, the vest had saved your life. Javier said a prayer right there and then, thanking whatever entity up above responsible for saving you, for letting you stay with him.

When the paramedics took over and removed the two of them from the scene they were in a trance-like state. Steve had been through this before, back in the states he’d lost his partner, which had proven to him just how powerful drugs were. Death was just a part of the job, but losing a partner, that shit was personal.

 How they managed to get to the hospital unscathed was beyond anyone’s understanding, but as Steve sat in the waiting room with sweet Connie holding his hand, Javier was angry. It should’ve been him, he had told you not to go, but you just wouldn’t fucking listen. They didn’t even catch the guy, which maybe wasn’t the worst outcome, seeing how Javier would have absolutely murdered him with his bare hands.

“Javier just sit down, this isn’t helping anyone”, Connie spoke up, clearly having had enough of the man’s continuous pacing. “Why don’t you get yourself a coffee or something, you could be here another couple hours.”

She did have a point, you’d been in surgery for little over an hour and with every passing minute his need to just run off was getting more and more prominent. But he knew that the doctor could walk through those doors any minute as well, so he wanted to stay put, for you.

Upon seeing his partner’s lack of movement, Steve stood up. “How about I go get us those coffees then”, he offered.

Being alone with just Connie, a close friend of yours, made him feel even more nervous. Luckily for him the doors swung open before any kind of conversation could be started. Revealing the doctor that had rushed you away earlier. Your two friends went to stand, politely nodding at the doctor.

“The patient is stable, she suffered a broken collarbone which we managed to fix into place during surgery. She also sustained a concussion and a laceration to the back of the head which has been closed up. And uh she has some contusions among minor cuts over the body, nothing to be too worried about.” Javier and Connie sighed in relief. “But I need to speak to Steve Murphy, he was listed as Miss y/l/n’s emergency contact.”

“That’s my husband, he’s gone to get some coffee, should be back any second”, Connie replied, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Can we go see her?”

“The patient’s waking up just now, so she’ll be out of it for a little bit.” With that he led them to your room, carefully opening the dim room, quickly adding that it had to do with the smack to the head you’d suffered.

Javier and Connie sat on either side of the bed, the doctor quickly leaving the room almost bumping into Steve on the way out. When he introduced himself the doctor whisked him away, presumably to have that confidential chat.

A quiet sob drew Javier’s attention back to the scene in front of him, nothing that Connie had started to cry, carefully holding your hand in hers. “Careful with that, we still need that back at the office, evidence”, he joked, eliciting a sad smile from his friend.

“Just look at her Javi, she must’ve been so scared.”

He looked at the IV’s in your left hand and the several bandages covering your body. “She’ll be alright Con, I promise.”

Steve re-entered the room with heavy steps, head hanging low and he looked at his wife. “Connie, a word, out in the hall”, he sighed.

She quickly wiped at her eyes and left the room, following her husband outside. He was alone with you now and felt incredibly out of place. You were the one to make situations less awkward and insufferable, you were the one to lighten the mood with some stupid joke or story about something back in the States. You, you, you – anything and everything was you, it was like his fucking world revolved around it- her. The poor man wasn’t able to deal with the near loss of you and his feelings, so he did what seemed best to him, pressing a quick kiss to your head and booking it, leaving you alone.

The simple touch had its desired effect, eyes fluttering open just as he walked over the threshold of your room, disappearing into the Columbian night. As you blinked a couple of times, vision somewhat blurry, all you could feel was pain, intense pain from your shoulder. Just as you tried to sit up a bit more the Murphys walked in, Connie quickly rushing over to your side and forcing you to lay back.

“Hey, y/n, hey, you’re in the hospital”, she explained slowly, gesturing at the several wires and monitors.

“Ja-Javier?”, you croaked out, throat completely dry and scratchy.

Steve poured you a glass of water while speaking: “He must’ve left. Listen, I know you’re probably exhausted and all but we need to have a chat.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the absolute bomb Steve was about to drop on you, those three little words changed everything. You – are – pregnant. Normally people would be nothing short of euphoric hearing such a confession, but to you – a woman with no partner and a job in one of the most dangerous places to be – it was a death penalty.

You had stayed in the hospital five more days, fellow agents coming to pay their respects, but you were just in a state of utter shock and frankly denial. You had argued with doctors and nurses, demanding they’d take your blood again and do it right. But no matter how much you protested and wanted it to not be true, you were in fact pregnant.

Five whole days of friends and colleagues supporting and loving you, even a call from your fucking parents at some point, but no Javier. Connie and Steve hadn’t pried for information, prioritizing your recovery for now, but you knew fully well your old friend had his suspicions. They hadn’t told anyone else, and as of yet it was just you, them two and the medical staff that was aware, already way too many people for your liking.

On the fifth day nobody visited, as per your request, you’d be moving in with Connie and Steve for the next couple of weeks, your concussion-induced vertigo and left arm requiring almost constant assistance, or as you saw it: babysitting. So, you’d told everyone to fuck off until it was time to go to hopefully get some time to yourself, time that you could spend in your own head. As you sat up on the hospital bed, half dressed, incapable of putting a shirt over your head, you broke down. It wasn’t necessarily the shirt that made you this upset it was just everything; the accident, the fact that you were pregnant and most of all him. He hadn’t even made an effort to visit you, to check up on you.

Or so you thought. You see, while you were out in that bed, life at the office just continued where it left off, Peña and Murphy still sitting at their desks and going out in the field. Only now they only ever talked about three things; new leads, that new bar downtown and you. Well to be completely honest, Steve didn’t really ever mention you but Javi.. he couldn’t shut up about you, bugging his poor co-worker on the daily, trying to get at least some information out of him. Steve had gotten so fed up one late night that he’d tossed the case files at the other man’s head, telling him to go to that damned hospital instead. After that he stopped asking and was left to brood and mull in his bed, kitchen, shower, basically anytime he was alone. Surely you wouldn’t want him there, considering what terms you were on, but would it be so bad for him to just swing by, talk to you for half an hour or so, see how you were doing with his own eyes? He deemed it best to leave you alone and not give you more of a headache. But by Saturday afternoon, the day you were supposed to be emitted, he couldn’t help himself. He got in his car and just drove there, hastily parking his car as he ran up to your room, stopping at the door as he heard your muffled weeping.

The soft knock interrupted your heartfelt moment, you saw his reflection in the windows, unable to turn your head around. “Can I come in?”, he asked with a small voice.

“Y-yeah”, you answered, trying to cover yourself with your good arm.

He wordlessly walked over to you, quickly gathering the shirt from the floor and stepping closer. “Guide me.” Javier tenderly helped you into your shirt, following your every instruction and checking if he was doing okay every time you winced. When you were dressed he sat next to you on the bed, holding the hairbrush you’d handed him just seconds before. “I-I’ve never done someone else’s hair, are you sure you want to look even more of a mess?”, he joked.

You quietly chuckled, fidgeting with the hair tie in your hand. “Can’t get much worse anyways, just be careful with the ends.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as he brushed through your untamed hair, profusely apologizing every time the brush would get tangled, making the both of you laugh a little. It was a small win, just a sweet and innocent moment with the most dangerous man around, at least to you. He struggled to comb it all back, clearly not used to performing even the easiest of hairstyles. Eventually your hair did end up in something akin to a ponytail, at least he tried. After he zipped up your bag for you and checked the room for anything left behind you tried to slip on your shoes, a pair of tennis shoes to be exact, ones you frequented due to the nature of your job. Chasing narco-men wasn’t exactly ideal when wearing heels, so yes, you lived in flats. He soon got on his knees in front of you, helping you in your shoes and tying the laces for you, not able to watch you struggle any longer. The two of you didn’t talk other than the occasional “does this hurt” and “what now”. He offered to drive you home, but you explained Steve would be picking you up in a bit, informing him that you’d be staying over at their place, but a floor away from his own door.

“I should probably go then – unless you need anything else”, he said, hands in his pockets.

You went to stand, losing your balance a bit and steadying yourself by holding on to the frame of your bed. “Actually, if you don’t mind, can you help me to the entrance, I’d rather wait there.”

With his arm wrapped around your waist, by means of support, totally nothing else, he helped you get downstairs, to the entrance. He’d insisted you stayed inside, telling you about the dangers of being alone. You’d rolled your eyes, reminding him you had worked here just as long as he had, making him jut his hip. It’s then that Steve pulled up out front, quickly walking over to the two of you.

“What the hell is he doing here?”, Steve asked you, eyeing his partner up and down.

“He was just visiting and now he is leaving, see you Monday, Murphy”, Javier scoffed as he patter the man on the back, walking off without another word.

As Murphy helped you in his car he quirked an eyebrow at your messy hair; “Peña do that to you?” You nodded. “What’s that all about?”

“Survivor’s guilt”, you chuckled.

Taglist: @peterhollandkait @pedritomando​ 

[theolympusfiles]

rereading the PJO and HoO - part one: the lightning thief

before i start, all italicized parts are from the lightning thief by rick riordan. they're not my words and these are not my characters. my thoughts are the only thing that are mine :)

• "mom, you're coming too." her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean. "no!" i shouted, you are coming with me. help me carry grover". - the first(ish) appearance of percy's fatal flaw! i love the early establisment, especially because it helps foreshadow to the sea of monsters when fatal flaws are formally introduced.

• "that's -" "pasiphae's son," my mother said. "i wish i'd known how badly they wanted to kill you." - sally is underappreciated. she's smart as hell and clearly took the time to research demigods. yes, she was a little bit selfish with keeping percy out of the loop and not sending him to camp. but can you blame her? she lost all of her family and if she sent percy to CHB at an early age, that most nearly means she won't see him often (he'll attract monsters because he's aware of his status as a demigod and will most likely be at camp full-time). but sally ensured that she knew enough about the demigod world to protect percy because she knew that her selfishness would come with consequences. best mom.

• i was crying, calling for my mother, but i held on to grover - i wasn't going to let him go. - percy's first loss as a demigod and i am broken. honestly, so sad to think of, especially knowing all the losses he'll face in the future books. this line is also his fatal flaw showing once again (refer to first bulletpoint)

• "it (america) is the great power of the west. and so olympus is here. and we are here." - if olympus follows the west, where would the next location be? obviously, america is still a big powerhouse in terms of western civilization but that's not going to last. my bet is south korea but who knows? would love a fanfic on this tbh

• "the truth is, i can't be dead. you see, eons ago the gods granted my wish. i could continue the work i loved. i could be a teacher of heroes as long as humanity needed me. i gained so much from that wish... and i gave up so much. but i'm still here, so i can only assume i'm still needed." - how will it be decided that he's not needed? honestly, can't imagine CHB without him but chiron also deserves retirement

• i started to understand luke's bitterness and how he seemed to resent his father, hermes so okay, maybe gods had important things to do. but couldn't they call once in a while, or thunder or something? - percy has always showed some hesitance when accepting the demigod world, so i wasn't really surprised to see doubts like this pop up, especially with luke's influence. i'd think most demigods feel this way, luke and percy are just the ones who exhibit it the most in the series. i'm really interested in the parallels between the two and i'm looking forward to reading more and examining them

• "during the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, zeus and poseidon had an argument. the usual nonsense: 'mother rhea always liked you best', 'air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters', etc. - despite the fact that the gods are all-powerful beings, i appreciate the petty sibling spats that are mentioned briefly

• "so let me get this straight," i said. "i'm supposed to go to the underworld and confront the world of the dead." "check," chiron said. "find the most powerful weapon in the universe." "check." "and get it back to olympus before the summer solstice in ten days." "that's about right." i looked at grover, who gulped down the ace of heaers. "did i mention that maine is very nice this time of year?" he asked weakly. - this would be perfect for those 30 second trailers

• "gee," i said feigning surprise. "who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a q uest like this?" the air shimmered behind chiron. annabeth became visible, stuffing her yankees cap into her back pocket. - the way he knows her pretty well already, i-

• the truth was, i didn't care about retrieving zeus' lightning bolt, or saving the world, or even helping my father out of trouble. - early on, we see from the get go that percy has a dislike for the gods. it's small mentions like this that really gets me thinking. he never really showed any dislike of the gods when he first arrived at camp (understandable) but he was hopeful for his father. it wasn't until luke planted the seed into his head that these thoughts came to light. i love this little detail, especially as we know that towards the end, luke does seem to think he can turn percy against the gods. his plan backfired a little bit on him in the end but like i said before, the parallels between luke and percy are so glaring. riordan definitely thought it out extensively

• do not be a pawn of the olympians, my dear. you would be better off as a statue - this is said to percy by medusa and again, feeds into his dislike of the gods. i wonder if monsters have some opinion on this. most would probably hate the gods but i wonder what their stance is on demigods. we know that they work with them (see kronos' army). the real enemy for monsters are the gods, the demigods killing them are just pawns to the gods so maybe that's how some monsters see them

• "so, what's your status?" luke asked me. "chiron will be sorry he missed you." i told him pretty much everything, including my dreams. it felt so good to see him, to feel like i was back at camp even for a few minutes, that i didn't even realize how long i had talked to him until the beeper went off on the spray machine. - there's no doubt that percy really considered luke a friend. he wasn't hesitant to tell luke about his dreams, something that he didn't share with annabeth or grover until later on the book. luke was a sort of mentor to percy and it was conveyed pretty well through their interactions, which makes his betrayal even more heartbreaking

• "you think you'll ever try living with your dad again?" she wouldn't meet my eyes. "please. i'm not into self-inflicted pain." - my heart breaks for annabeth and her relationship with her father. i've read most of the riordanverse books and the growth in annabeth's relationship with her family is definitely something i'm looking forward to watch grow as i make my way through the books again

• i looked over at the desk and saw a girl sitting there, also wearing a straitjacket - so i never paid the dreams any mind but now that i think about it, they're really good for analysis. for example, the straitjacket could mean something like the gods are keeping them restrained. maybe i'm overthinking it or have been analyzing text too much in AP english but i think that the dreams are worth some deeper thinking

• i pretended not to see annabeth wipe a tear from her cheek as she listened to the mournful keening of cerberus in the distance, longing for his new friend - i need to see annabeth play with cerberus again D:

• i turned and faced my mother. i desperately wanted to sacrifice myself and the last pearl on her, but i knew what she would say. she would never allow it. i had to get the bolt back to olympus and tell zeus the truth. i had to stop the war. - percy's growth as a character really shines through here. the lightning thief is a pretty short book and the journey they took was less than 2 weeks but despite that percy's grown immensely as a character. his goal was always to save his mother but in the end, he sacrificed her because he knew it was his duty to save olympus and i respect that

• "you have made an enemy, godling," he told me. "you have sealed your fate. every time you raise your blade in battle, everytime you hope for success, you will feel my curse. beware, perseus jackson. beware." - ares cursed percy to be unsuccesful in battle but does his curse ever take effect? i don't recall any mention of this curse later on the series. obviously, percy is the main character and a really good swordfighter but the curse might have affected some battles right? but then again riordan has a lot of plotholes so i wouldn't put too much thought in it

• i knew dionysus must've filled it out, because he stubbornly insisted on getting my name wrong. - i've always accepted the fact that dionysus called the demigods by their wrong name for humor. but what if it's deeper? what if it's a way to put some space between him and the demigods, just as an extra precaution so he won't get attached. or it could be a ploy to showcase that he's more powerful than them and that they are beneath him, which is why he doesn't need to know their name. i like the former headcanon more though :P

• i opened my eyes. i was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the big house, my right hand bandaged like a club. argus stood guard in the corner. annabeth sat next to me, holding my nectar glass and dabbing a washcloth on my forehead. "here we are again," i said. - the parallel

well, that's everything i had notes on. overall, i liked rereading it. i really do miss this series and i'm finding my love for it be rekindled by rereading. i miss the humor of the early books (i could literally make a whole post of underrated lines). the last time i read the series in its whole was when i was 7 and now that i'm 16, i have more thoughts and can analyze the story better. also loved seeing baby percabeth as they're my OTP. i'm excited to continue with the series. to the sea of monsters!

[firerose]

headcannons about each individual member kf the seven as dark?

So I decided to split this answer into seven seperate posts because otherwise it would be too long (I'm having to much fun wit this XD)

I'll post the first one here <3

Ok, here we go <3, Hazel: People expected her to change after Franks death She had lost her boyfriend at fourteen no one expected that to be easy So none said anything when she kneeled over his grave for five whole days and nights Reyna simply brought her food and hot chocolate and mourned with her But if they all could have had a look into Hazel's mind they could have seen the slow death of the sweet kind girl she used to be Thoughts of hate begin to burn inside her She asks herself why Juno who saved Franks stick from burning up as a baby refused to do it a second time. The question makes her storm up to Olympus, her brown eyes hard with anger Her friends are with her, Of course, they want to protect each other now that one of them has fallen Juno awaits them in her usual glory, tall with a cloak around her shoulder and .. jewellery precious metals decorating her arms and neck "Why didn't? Do you save him? Was he just a weapon you did not need anymore?!, hazel shouts out her suspicion and now people, gods and demigods alike begin to worry The queen of Olympus remains silent She sees the hatred in hazels eyes and regrets not answering her grandsons screams for help when he burned in the flames Her silence is Hazel's answer and in her growing rage the necklace on Juno's neck starts chocking the goddess Hazel does not feel remorse, only satisfaction as she hears Junos choking It is Percy's hand on her shoulder that snaps her out and Juno's necklace flys into her open hand "You will never use a demigod like that again I will make sure of that. She says and then with one last glare leaves Things are not the same when shes back at camp Jupiter Everything and everyone annoys her, reminds her of what she has lost They are around her all the time like, Leo who reminds her of Sammy, Jason who made Frank Praetor, Percy who loved Frank like a brother Whenever they talk about Frank she feels the desire to yell at them One time when Jason tries to comfort her once again she snaps "You don't have to do this just because you made Frank Praetor and you feel guilty.", Hazel tells him a bit too harshly and Jason leaves her She feels guilty so she does her best to act as grateful as possible from now on The days are very hard for her That is why she loves the night She hasn't forgotten the power rush she got on Olympus and that is why keeps practising She steals weapons from the night patrols She makes the tunnels under the field of Mars change so that they all lead to dead ends When some of the new Rome's war veterans talk about having seen lost loved ones at night Hazel pretends to not listen She just thanks Jason in her thoughts for telling her so much about the ones that fell in the titan war Hazel disappears two weeks after Frank's death The remaining five of the seven are devastated They immediately go searching for her but even after five months there is no sign of her Other demigods start whispering Even Thalia who visits Reyna often is part of those whispers She doesn't know hazel and Frank well and yet what she has heard reminds her so much of the story of a friend she had once lost He had been left alone with his fate with his insane mother just like Hazel Thalia fears that now that Hazel has lost a loved one she will seek revenge just like Luke once did. Nico and Percy are Hazel's greatest defenders They deny every rumour and says that Hazel just needs time to calm down it's the only thing that keeps them from drowning in their guilt Hazell has gone to her old home in Alaska Arion took her there It hurts to be back but here she is saved from the gods who used her and her loved ones She's so sick of being their pawn The years pass and all alone in this cold country Hazel's heart turns to ice A few old men yell insult her with racist phrases She controls the metal ankers on their ships to impale them She hears screams from her neighbour's house at night and so she breaks the metal lock to get in The man who is beating his wife only has a second to look at her before her senses reach metal and they find it......in his

blood She concentrates hand stretched out and the man chokes to death She leaves without a word There is no remorse in her, if the gods let her sweet gentle boyfriend die why isn't she allowed to kill a few bad peopöe One day she decides to return as thoughts about her past cloud her mind Someone has to show the gods that they can't treat their children like this She returns after ten years but does not show herself to her friends Maybe because she worries that they notice how much she has changed Instead, she decides to try to control the labyrinth just like Pasiphae once did The mist helps her to create new tunnels that lead wherever she wants them to go One day they lead to new Rome She just wants to look at how everyone is doing but when she sneaks near the city hidden in her magic she sees something that makes her furious Her friends have moved on She sees them celebrating with other Romans and greeks They celebrate Gea‘s defeat like it wasn‘t just a terrible unnecessary war they had to suffer through She hates that they enjoy their demigod lives They should have told the gods that they want to live normally away from both camps that endanger their lives Unfortunately, that makes her think of Frank and how he has ripped away from his life, his home country just to serve the gods Hazel feels her rage burning like an active Volcano close to erupting She walks up the hill over new Rome and looks down at the glorious city She could bury it without even trying For a moment she thinks about the lives that will cost but then again what else could make the gods notice their flaws She reaches for all the metals buried under the city She hesitates for a moment but then she thinks about Frank, his sweet smile and with a scream the earth starts shaking Buildings and temples collapse People get swallowed by big cracks in the earth There are screams horns are blowing Mist is rising and People hear voices whisper that this is god's fault They have to be punished for their mistakes It‘s like a storm of fog being thickest at the hilltop Hazel‘s old friends are filled with dread as they have seen those powers before Leo decides to fly directly into the mist together with Piper and Jason Hazel sees them approaching and a soft smile appears on her lips The mist lightens All demigods gasp Leo yells in despair He already blames himself for Franks death and now he sees that Hazel the girl he once loved has gone mad Her once curly short hair now long falls around her shoulders Her once brown eyes glow sickly golden as if the riches of the earth have taken control over her It drives him insane and so he rips out a hammer from his tool belt and attempts to attack her Hazel feels deeply hurt by this and so she moves her hands Leo is thrown of Festus's toolbelt made of metal turning out to be his curse Hazel smashes him into the ground a hundred feet under him Festus claws impale Jason and Piper before they have time to react Hazel feels a sting in her heart but she oppresses it The gods and their quest would have killed them anyway Percy and Annabeth are still in the falling city trying to get as many people out of there as possible They both try to ignore the corpses falling from the sky Percy‘s mind is still refusing that the girl he sees as a sister would do this He knows that she has to be stopped but how is he supposed to do that? He still loves her like a sister despite the lives she is taking Her real brother steps up instead Hazel can feel his presence behind her It makes her lose focus The citizens of New Rome cry in relief when the metals stop resurfacing Their city is in ruins but at least it has stopped Before Hazel can react skeleton warriors jump out of the earth restrain her by grabbing her arms She is furious about Nicos interference and struggles to escape „Hazel please it‘s not worth it just surrender and we‘ll talk about this.“, Nico says while he walks up in front of her. Hazel‘s heart breaks at the tortured look in his eyes and she realizes that she is the reason for it She disappeared She came back and murdered

hundreds She did it for Frank but she suddenly asks herself if Frank would have ever wanted to get justice in this way Would he wanted her to become hateful and obsessed with revenge just for him? As she looks into Nico‘s eyes regret strikes her „I……..I‘m sorry.“, She whispers with tears in her eyes. Nico smiles sadly happy that his little sister came to her senses He stretches out his hand to gently touch her cheek Thunder rumbles and suddenly a lightning bold explodes the hilltop right where the children of the underworld Jupiter feels nothing as he watches Percy, Reyna and Annabeth falling to their knees, sobbing and holding each other Hazel Levesque is just another demigod for him, a girl that could not get over her boyfriend Percy buries Hazel next to Frank all by himself New Rome is rebuilt with the help of the greeks The time goes by and slowly Frank and Hazel‘s names are forgotten Juno would love if they had never existed in the first place Whenever demigods speak of them they do it with anger and the queen of Olympus fears that one day a rebellion will start It's not often that their names are talked about but when they are people always refer to them as „Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang. The couple that died in Storm and fire

[blossom-hwa]

Danger: Obsidian |1| - JUYEON

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 5.1k

Lesson 4: sometimes, it is not your duty or even your right to render judgment. Stepping back does not always constitute cowardice.

Previous: Amethyst >> Obsidian: Part 1 | Part 2 >> Next: Ruby

TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom

Tag list [ dm or send an ask to be added! ]: will be reblogged so this shows up in the tags (links will also be added later)

Juyeon would dearly love to know just how these soldiers and mages keep tracking him and Kevin down.

Seriously. They’ve covered their tracks as best as they can, leaving not a single footprint behind (literal and metaphorical) wherever they don’t have to. Yet somehow, in every other town they end up, either some ivory soldier manages to find them, or they spot someone suspicious looking around who turns out to be on Somin’s side.

At this point, Juyeon doesn’t even care about finding more jewels. All he can focus on is this game of cat and mouse with Somin, where the queen knows how to find them while they have no way of fighting back.

Not very fair odds, but since when has Somin played fair?

(“Never,” Kevin reminds him that terrifying time they were crouched together beneath a trash heap (yes, beneath – not even behind, like in Ember) and Juyeon hissed out the question in a futile attempt at keeping himself together. “Not even when we were kids.”

He remembers all too well.)

In a way, Juyeon has to thank her, though. In the past few months, he probably hasn’t gotten more than an average of three hours of sleep a night (Kevin even less). It might be turning his body into a useless lump of flesh and bones, but at least he doesn’t have the nightmares.

(The nightmares in which Sunwoo stares at him with betrayed eyes and a bloody smile slit into his throat while Mage Han tells him he will never be fit to be king.

On those nights, Juyeon almost wishes for the dream of jeweled roses and mysterious figures to take the nightmare’s place. Then he remembers silver bushes and shades that look too much like Sunwoo to be a coincidence and erases that wish immediately.)

It’s raining tonight. Though Juyeon normally wouldn’t enjoy rain while he’s forced to stay outdoors, if it’s slowing him and Kevin down, it means any pursuants have been hindered, too. He and Kevin throw themselves under a large tree at the edge of a forest, the foliage blocking most of the downpour as they try not to feel so damn cold.

No sleep, Juyeon tells himself, despite his eyelids beginning to drag down. No sleep. No sleep. He needs to say alert in case the guards somehow find them through the dripping rain.

Even then, he almost drifts off, the relentless pounding of water on the forest floor soothing his brain into slumber. Thankfully, Kevin jerks him awake when the downpour slows, pointing up the tree they’re sheltered under. “Let’s go, Juyeon.”

They climb up the tree – Kevin nearly falls twice, Juyeon once – and settle themselves among the large branches. Between the dark and the dense leaves, it’ll be hard for anyone to see them. And even if they do, being up high has more of an advantage than being on the ground.

(Unless you happen to be a certain clumsy Onyx prince who trips over his own feet when he isn’t looking, but whatever)

Minutes, then hours pass in darkness. Juyeon feels his eyes beginning to droop once more.

Then Kevin starts.

In a flash, Juyeon’s wide awake, turning to his friend. His eyes, barely visible in the night, raise the question he can’t speak.

Kevin shrugs. “Heard something,” he whispers, barely audible over the pattering rain. “Probably nothing.”

It might be nothing, but Juyeon peers through the leaves anyway. “Probably nothing” was a mistake they made one too many times when they started out after finding the amethyst. Before then, they had Sunwoo to keep them cautious and in check.

Sunwoo.

Juyeon’s throat chokes. Weeks have dulled the pain, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still exist. He swallows down the lump, though, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

Caution can’t take a backseat to emotion, after all.

After one, two, three moments of silence, Juyeon’s about to relax, about to return to his original position on the tree branch and brush it off as nothing.

Then he hears it, something padding on the damp earth.

Kevin looks down too, back tense. Juyeon risks a glance at his friend. “Be ready to run,” he murmurs, barely moving his lips. A terse nod follows.

A figure, relatively tall and somewhat familiar, slips through the trees. Juyeon frowns. Familiarity rarely bodes well – it usually signals a mage who’s gotten too close one too many times – but this…

Kevin lets out an audible gasp. Before Juyeon can stop him, he’s throwing himself down the tree with none of his usual grace and tackling the figure to the ground.

Castling queens. Juyeon curses under his breath as he begins climbing down the tree. “Kevin –”

Then the figure stands, Kevin helping him up with a blinding, teary smile on his face.

Juyeon almost loses his grip on the tree.

“Jacob,” he whispers. “Pawns and – Jacob.”

The mage grins shakily, his signature gentle smile spread over his face. “Hi.”

. . . . .

With the exception of the day he was broken out of the ivory palace, Jacob has never felt so relieved to see a familiar face – two, actually. Wrapped in his cousin’s arms, he almost breaks down right then and there. The tears start to fall the second Juyeon puts a hand on his shoulder.

It’s hard to tell between the rain and the dark, but Juyeon and Kevin seem to be crying too. They all stand together for a few minutes in silence, at least, not saying anything as rain drips around them.

“How did you find us?” Kevin finally asks. “Sunmi said something about how you could track me, but you were so far away…”

“Yes.” Jacob wipes away the last of the warm tears on his face. “I couldn’t sense you at first, obviously. Even having spent so much time with you, your magic trace isn’t nearly strong enough for that. When the Valkyries came, they told me you were starting off in Castia, so I shifted there first.”

“The Valkyries?” Juyeon’s tone turns apprehensive. “Do you know if any of them escaped?”

His heart stings. It really stings as Jacob lowers his head, closing his eyes against the memories washing through his mind of a single Valkyrie, a single knight, the knight he loved who sent him away.

“No,” he whispers. “I don’t know. They… they told me to leave.”

And he left. It was his duty, his responsibility.

None of that means he had to like it, though.

Kevin holds his hand, squeezes it. The slight pressure of his palm comforts Jacob, a spot of warmth amidst the cold rain.

“I’m sorry,” Juyeon murmurs. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s not your fault.” Jacob tries to smile. “I would be curious too. Anyway, when I got to Castia, you were already gone, so I tracked the traces of your magic that you left behind. And followed the rumors.”

Juyeon groans. “Rumors?”

“Come on, Juyeon.” Kevin nudges him. “After we tore a jewel right off the queen’s neck, you thought there wouldn’t be any gossip about that? Nothing at all?”

Jacob frowns. That doesn’t add up. “You tore a jewel off her neck? I thought it was someone else.”

Uncomfortable silence falls over the trio. Jacob swallows. Sensitive topic. “Sorry –”

“No, it’s fine.” Juyeon swallows hard, like he’s unsticking something from the back of his throat. “I… we had someone with us. His name was Sunwoo. He’s dead now. One of the mages following us killed him.” His fists clench visibly even in the dark. “And then I killed the mage.”

Jacob blinks. His Highness, the kind, gentle, clumsy Crown Prince Lee Juyeon, killed someone? Killed a mage? He almost doesn’t believe it, but the haunted look on Juyeon’s face and Kevin’s downcast eyes tell him the truth.

Forget what he said before about familiar faces. Juyeon and Kevin look the same, have the same lips and noses and bone structures as before. But the memories that haunt their eyes speak of different people, people who have changed in the few months since he last saw them.

Juyeon looks over at Jacob, barely meeting his gaze. It takes him a second to understand why, but the fear visible in Juyeon’s eyes speaks volumes.

He must be afraid Jacob will judge him for it.

A little part of Jacob wants to reel and crumble with Juyeon’s admission. Even as a mage, he’s never hurt anyone on purpose, much less killed someone. But a larger part, a much larger part that has seen and lived through a mere fraction of the Ivory Queen’s horrors, understands her control and the situations she’s created that sometimes force decisions.

Like when he had to leave his Valkyrie behind.

Jacob takes one of Juyeon’s limp, cold hands and holds it between his own. “Ivory mages can’t be trusted,” he says.

The prince’s head rises.

Still squeezing Juyeon’s hand, Jacob nods once, memories flooding his brain of the last minutes he spent in the ivory palace. “Mage Kang was the one who led me out of the dungeon,” he says.

Kevin gasps. “Kang, too?”

“Yes.” Jacob nods, bitterness twisting his lips. “And there was at least one more in the room before I escaped. I don’t know what kind of hold the Ivory Queen has over them, but if it’s strong enough for them to betray the board, then I can’t fault you for killing one of them. No one can. Especially if they forced your hand.”

Silence, save for the slowing patter of raindrops on the grass. Jacob doesn’t care that water is sliding down his face, freezing his skin. The warmth of company, even with these stark confessions, is more than enough to make up for it.

“So what rumors did you hear?” Kevin finally asks, a half-smile quirking his lips that Jacob returns. “Must’ve been some crazy ones, if you were able to follow them all the way here.”

A small laugh leaves Jacob’s lips. “I heard one that you were part of a band of jewel robbers called the Phantom Thieves,” he says, which makes both Juyeon and his cousin snort. “I didn’t have enough underground contacts to get the full picture, but once I found a trail of your magic and followed you to Ember, I heard about scuffles in the forest and was able to trace you here. You move fast.” He smiles, ruffling the red cloak on his back ruefully. “I might’ve caught up sooner if I wasn’t stuck charming this.”

“Why?” Kevin frowns.

“If a mage knew me well enough, which several of them did because I trained with them, they could trace me through my magic if I didn’t try to mask it.” Jacob looks at the prince, whose face is now covered in a stricken expression. “What?”

Juyeon swallows. “Could a mage track us through the jewels from the crown? From magic traces or something?”

Next to him, Kevin gasps. “By the higher orders… that’s how they traced us,” he whispers. “Pawns and kings.”

“You’re probably right.” Jacob holds out a hand. “Let me see them?”

Juyeon produces two gems from his pocket, one blue and one purple. Beneath the faint moonlight beginning to peek out from the clouds, they glitter in the dark.

A soft gasp rises in Jacob’s throat as he takes them, but he keeps it down. The sapphire is set into a necklace, while heavy board surrounds the amethyst. He frowns. “Why are they so…”

“Somin set the sapphire into a necklace, and I cut the amethyst out the back of a painting,” Kevin supplies. He cringes. “Tell you later. We couldn’t detach them, I think they’re bound by magic.”

The jewels hum with energy in his hands. Definitely magic. “I’ll see if I can free them,” Jacob promises. “And the traces are faint, but…” His eyes narrow as he focuses on the amethyst. “A trained mage will recognize even the weakest bits of their own magic. With the skill of the mages who must have torn the jewels from the crown, it wouldn’t have been hard.”

Juyeon nods, outstretching a hand to take the gems back, but Jacob stays fixated on the amethyst. Something about the faint trace feels familiar, awfully familiar.

He closes his eyes, focused on the slight hum emanating from the purple gem.

Oh.

Okay.

“Mage Jung,” he whispers, opening his eyes again. “I recognize this trace. High Mage Jung tore it from the crown.”

Juyeon’s face turns white. “Are you… are you sure.”

Jacob sends a searching glance at his cousin, asking a question with his eyes. Why does Mage Jung’s name trigger the prince so much? Surely it isn’t just the betrayal – it isn’t like he and the mage were extremely close or anything.

Kevin’s eyebrows knit in grief and fury. “He killed Changmin,” he states coldly.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Jacob knew the young gray mage was dead, heard it when he was in the dungeons under the Ivory palace. But to hear that one of the highest mages in the land killed him, one of the most powerful protectors of the balance…

He sits down. His legs definitely don’t have the strength to keep holding him up. “Queens.” He looks at Juyeon, praying he won’t get the confirmation he doesn’t want to receive. “How do you know?”

“A dream,” Juyeon replies shortly. “The same dream that took me on this jewel chase.”

Dreams can be unreliable, Jacob wants to say. Not a single piece of his body wants to believe what his cousin and the prince are saying. But neither of them is known to lie, and if Juyeon was so affected by this dream that he left his kingdom to pursue its message, then it must be true.

“Tell me about the dream?”

Juyeon tells it all, tells of jewel-toned roses and silver leaves and a dead gray mage who passed on his insignia. It sounds unbelievable, even more so than some of the legends Jacob heard as a child, but when Juyeon produces Changmin’s golden symbol from around his neck, he knows it must be real.

“Changmin showed me his last moments,” Juyeon says, subdued. “It was a different mage who actually pulled the knife, a woman named Bom, but Mage Jung… he was there. He might as well have done it, for all he betrayed us.”

Castling queens.

There’s no gray mage. No heir. The Ivory Queen is murderous and power-hungry, and there is no king of the Onyx Kingdom because the crown has been stolen and dismantled.

Everything is so much worse than he thought.

Jacob resists the urge to bury his face in his hands and cry. Instead, legs still trembling, he stands again. Kevin grabs his arm before he can fall. “Okay,” he breathes. “Okay.”

It’s not okay. None of this is okay. But Jacob can’t focus on any of that right now or he’ll start spiraling. He needs to think about the present, not the past, and what he can do to prevent more of this from happening. “Where were you going next?” he asks, tearing his mind away from Juyeon’s revelations. “Did you have a plan, or were you just running from the trackers?”

“Just running.” Juyeon winces. “We couldn’t find any leads after the amethyst. Honestly, we found out about these two mostly by luck.”

Jacob stares down at the amethyst, softly glowing in his hand. “I could try to track Mage Jung’s magic,” he says as the faint hum twists with the magic simmering under his skin. “See if it takes us anywhere. It’d be kind of a hit or miss at first since I don’t have any specific leads on where he is, but if we travel further into the Ivory Kingdom, I might pick up on something.”

Juyeon looks at Kevin, who shrugs. “It’s our best bet,” he says. “Like you said, we don’t have any other leads.”

“Agreed.” Juyeon nods. “But what about the tracking? The rain might’ve stopped them for a bit, but it’s only a matter of time before soldiers or mages find us again.”

A sigh of relief escapes Jacob’s lips. This, at least, he can help resolve. “Kevin can sew the jewels into my cloak,” he offers. “Their magic is probably too strong to completely mask, but the charm in the cloth will subdue it enough that hopefully anyone trying to trace will have a harder time of it.”

Similar relief spreads across Juyeon’s face. “All right. Sew the jewels in tonight, and then try to get some rest,” he directs. “We start moving tomorrow.”

And as the pallor fades from the prince’s cheeks, a familiar sharp-eyed determination replaces his previous blank expression, sending relief washing through Jacob’s mind. This is the Juyeon he knows, the Juyeon who would do anything for his kingdom, no matter how hopeless the situation.

Familiarity springs back into Jacob’s chest, and he gains the courage to smile once more.

. . . . .

It takes a month, but after several dead ends and a few too many brushes with Ivory mages to be comfortable (less than they probably would’ve encountered without the masking spell, but still), they end up in a small, sleepy town, more like a tiny village than anything, at the outskirts of the Ivory Kingdom.

Juyeon’s never been here, not on any of his official and unofficial visits to the kingdom. Even Kevin, whose wanderings have taken him all over the Board, seems confused by this place. But Jacob is adamant.

“The trace is strong here,” he says again, looking pale with exhaustion as Kevin forces him to drink another cup of water. Wrapped in his cloak, he looks much smaller, much frailer than Juyeon’s ever seen him.

Only then does Juyeon realize how much of a toll tracking them must have taken on the mage. He really shouldn’t have made them move so quickly as soon as Jacob found them. It’s just that they were being tracked, and the further away they got, the better it would be.

But now that Jacob’s in this condition?

Juyeon doesn’t regret it, exactly. It’s just that he would much rather be in a different position.

Wouldn’t they all?

For once, Juyeon ends up being one of the first choices to scout the village. Jacob wants to go, but Kevin forces him to stay behind (“First of all, you just spent a month tracking down a powerful mage, so you need rest. Second, if Mage Jung somehow manages to get a whiff of your trace –” “It’s not like you can smell it, Kevin –” “– then we’re fresh out a mage to put the crown back together.”). Jacob only agrees on the condition that Kevin stays behind so that when he wakes up, he can force his cousin to take a nap.

So Juyeon leaves them to their naps and bickering and walks the fringes of the town, careful not to get close to anyone he sees. A small town means less chance of recognition, but it also means a stranger is more noticeable.

There isn’t much. A few houses, a lot of grass, a rolling gray sky. Feels a bit dismal.

Doesn’t exactly help with his mood.

He doesn’t find anything, not on his path. When Kevin takes his place in the afternoon, he has similar luck. Several days pass and Juyeon’s privately beginning to wonder just what Jacob really sensed, but the mage is so sure that this is the place that he has no choice but to comply.

After an hour of skulking around, hiding behind trees or pretending to act natural when someone appears in the distance, Juyeon’s about to give up for the fifth day in a row. There’s nothing here, nothing that he can sense, anyway. Maybe they should start bringing Jacob along. He might be able to pick out something Juyeon can’t because he wasn’t blessed with the gift of magic.

Then he sees a familiar looking building in the distance and has to sit down.

He’s just been punched in the gut. Metaphorically. No one else is here – this area feels even emptier than the forest he and Kevin were hiding in when Jacob found them – but Juyeon still gasps like a fist drove itself into his stomach.

It’s just a shrine rooftop in the distance. Nothing much. But when Juyeon gathers the courage to look over once again, he has to avert his gaze because all he can think of is how the smoke from Sunwoo’s burned body rose over the roof of the shrine back in Ember.

Castling queens, the gray sky even looks like the wispy smoke that floated up. Juyeon can almost smell the faint scent of burning flesh.

He suppresses the urge to throw up.

Finally, he stands on shaky legs, ready to turn away and leave this shrine in the background so he doesn’t have to look at it again. But something clicks in his mind and he stops.

A shrine is where the domain’s head mage stays. It’s the first thing any child of Chess learns – if anything happens and you can’t find your parents, go to the shrine and find the mage.

Juyeon may not be a child any longer, but he’s certainly looking for a mage.

Queens, he’s dumb. This should have been his plan from the start. Slowly, reluctantly, his feet make their way across the grass towards the polished white rooftop he so wanted to avoid.

The shrine looks deserted, at first glance. White stone shines dully in the faint sunlight while wind whistles listlessly through the air. Juyeon isn’t stupid enough to go inside, so he crouches down behind a few scraggly bushes and prays that no one will see his half-dead body between the branches.

Not the best plan of action. He might honestly have better luck entering the shrine. But Kevin and Jacob are waiting for him to come back, so he needs to be cautious for now, at least.

Then a door swings open. A dark-haired boy steps out, probably no older than Juyeon.

Large eyes. A wide mouth usually curved into a smile.

It takes all of Juyeon’s willpower to remain silent and not call out Hwanwoong’s name. What is he doing here? Was he captured? Is there anyone else with him?

Does he have any information about Mage Jung, or has he already disappeared?

Hwanwoong doesn’t stay out long enough to catch Juyeon’s eye, just pokes his head out the door and looks around before heading back inside. But even then, Juyeon’s heart won’t stop racing.

He’s found one of the missing mages, one of those captured by the Ivory Kingdom. Possibly more are trapped inside. If he can just find a way to speak to Hwanwoong, to free anyone captured with him…

Allies are as useful as gems, especially if they have magic on their side.

. . . . .

When Juyeon comes back one afternoon and tells Jacob and Kevin that he saw Hwanwoong, Jacob doesn’t dare believe him. The last time he saw the young mage-in-training was months ago, before the war broke out and he was thrown into prison.

If Hwanwoong wasn’t dead already, he was captured. There is no reason for Jacob to believe that he’s really here in this tiny town and not just a figment of Juyeon’s imagination. There’s no room for hope.

Then Juyeon returns the next day with a strange smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He disappears again as the sun is beginning to set, and after the last rays have sunk below the horizon, two figures approach Kevin, who’s in the middle of telling Jacob they should maybe go looking for Juyeon.

Hwanwoong’s large eyes are just visible in the dying light of the fire Kevin lit.

Jacob blinks once, twice. It’s a hallucination, he’s sure of it – he lost hope of finding another alive and uncaptured Onyx mage when the Valkyries helped him escape. There’s no way this Hwanwoong is real.

Then the mage-in-training smiles, and Jacob reaches forward to crush the younger boy into a hug.

“Hwanwoong,” he gasps. “Queens, I thought I would never see you again.”

“I thought so too.” Hwanwoong laughs, pulling away this time to hold Kevin close. “I heard rumors when we were traveling here, but I didn’t dare believe they were true.”

Juyeon smiles, really smiles, joy glittering in his eyes under the moonlight. “Told you, Jacob. I wasn’t hallucinating.”

Jacob huffs. “Can you blame me?”

Eventually, though, the mood dampens when they sit around the dying coals of Kevin’s fire. The eerie lighting only makes the shadows on Hwanwoong’s face deeper as they move strangely in his eyes.

Jacob swallows. He’s never been the greatest with scary things, and Hwanwoong looks more terrifying than any ghost he’s ever envisioned. It isn’t just the physical shadows – darkness washes across the mage’s young face when Juyeon asks him how he came here, a darkness that mimics the haunted look Jacob’s seen far too often in Juyeon’s and Kevin’s eyes.

Just how much has Hwanwoong suffered since he managed to make this escape?

“I was studying with a mixed group of mages in the Ivory Kingdom when the queen unleashed her… attack.” Hwanwoong stares into the glowing coals. “We were separated. Ivory students were taken somewhere else, I don’t know where, while the rest of us were held in shrines around the capital. My teacher, the head of our group, said that he would help us escape, but when that day came, he betrayed us.”

Jacob fights the urge not to throw up. First Jung, then Kang, and now… “Who was it?”

“Lim Jaebum.” Hwanwoong spits the name with a disgust that feels so out of place on his gentle features. “We fought back against him, but he had backup and we didn’t, and then Geonhak…”

Even in the dim red light of the coals, Kevin’s face is visibly white. Jacob imagines he looks much the same.

Juyeon leans forward, eyes frantic. “Geonhak?”

Hwanwoong breathes a shaky, shaky breath. His fingers tear grass from the ground he’s sitting on. Jacob takes his clenched fist and holds it gently, even as his own hands threaten to tremble.

“Geonhak’s dead.” Hwanwoong closes his eyes for a moment. Breathes again. “He died.”

Jacob can’t stop his fingers from shaking this time.

“After we got thrown into the dungeons, Youngjo and a few others started planning an escape.” Hwanwoong’s face twists with grief and fury. “It might have worked, actually, but someone snitched. I don’t know who it was – if I did, I honestly might have killed them – but they caught the leaders and made us watch their executions.”

Three audible gasps sound around the dead coals. Jacob holds Hwanwoong’s hand in a vice grip. Vaguely, he thinks that the younger boy will be lucky if he doesn’t lose circulation in his fingers.

“We stopped trying to escape then. We just wanted to keep everyone alive, at that point,” Hwanwoong continues, plowing on as though to tell the story as fast as he can without breaking down. “Then they started splitting us up to go to different places, and I ended up here about a month ago with Seoho, Keonhee, and Dongju under High Mage Jung. We were lucky just to be kept together.”

“So Mage Jung is still here,” Juyeon chokes out, looking vaguely sick. He and Kevin grip each other’s hands like they’re the only thing keeping them grounded. “He’s still here, at the shrine.”

Hwanwoong nods. “Yes.”

A tiny fire lights itself in Juyeon’s eyes. “Do you know if he’s hiding something? Keeping something here? A jewel, maybe?”

Slowly, a small smile begins to curve Hwanwoong’s lips. Jacob mentally breathes a sigh of relief at the familiar expression. “He’s keeping a piece of obsidian hidden very well,” the young mage replies, eyes twinkling. Then the glimmer dims, replaced with icy disgust. “It’s encased in flame, though. A mage’s flame.”

A mage’s flame.

Sacred flame.

The fire used to burn bodies, used to send a soul to rest.

Holy fire, unique to every mage, the strongest manifestation of a mage’s magic, a fire that is not to be used lightly and, unless in severe cases, only in the face of death or mutiny against the Board.

And now, used to safeguard a jewel that doesn’t even belong to the kingdom.

Jacob’s on his feet before he even realizes it. “What?”

Hwanwoong nods, fury painting his face. “I know.”

“That’s… that’s desecration,” Jacob says, staring at the mage still sitting on the ground. “Desecration of his own magic, to use the flame in any situation other than maintaining the balance of the Board. It’s almost as bad as –”

Almost as bad as killing a gray mage and a royal in the holiest shrine of the two kingdoms.

Juyeon’s and Kevin’s eyes cloud over. Jacob doesn’t dare to finish his sentence as he sits back down.

“We’ve talked about trying to douse the flame and escape, but we’re not strong enough,” Hwanwoong says quietly, picking at the grass again. “Seoho’s the only one who’s finished his training, and without Youngjo and Geonhak, he’s… he’s had his hands full.” He swallows. “High Mage Jung is too powerful. It’s why I told Juyeon to meet me at night – if I’d gone missing during the day, he would’ve noticed the lack of magic in the air. Asleep, he’s less sensitive.” Hwanwoong’s gaze turns sharp as he looks up at Jacob. “But you have several more years of experience. If His Highness and the amethyst heir can hold the mage back while the rest of us try to put out the flame…”

Jacob doesn’t wait for Juyeon’s approval before he nods. “Yes. I’ll do it.” Then he looks at the prince apprehensively. Juyeon’s the leader, after all – what if he disagrees?

But the prince’s eyes flash with the same furious disgust Jacob feels simmering in his own chest. “It’s a decent plan, the best that we’ve got right now.”

Kevin nods sharply. “I agree. Even if he didn’t have the jewel, he’s done too much for us to let this go.” His face is hard, a complete opposite of the usual gentle and teasing gaze Jacob is used to, but he can’t find it in his heart to care. After all, he agrees.

There will be no mercy, not even for former mentors. A traitor is a traitor, after all, in the eyes of justice.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for Jacob to not go feral and kill everything bc my man is on the verge)

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Not Perfect (JJ Maybank x reader) pt. 3

Summary: JJ Maybank is the one who makes sure your kook lawn is immaculate. Your family may look perfect just like the lawn from someone looking from the outside in, but it turns out you and JJ have more in common than you thought.

!!warning: This story talks about abuse through out, so if that’s triggering please don’t read. This is strictly fiction. THERE IS A PART OF ABUSE IN THIS SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION IT IS MARKED WHERE IT STARTS AND ENDS 

Masterlist: Not Perfect 

A/N: Sorry i didn’t get this out yesterday. I was able to go home from the hospital yesterday and was exhausted. Also, I think i proof read this after I typed it up but I don’t remember?? I don’t feel like doing it now. So, if there is any mistakes please ignore them. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy! xx 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: OPEN {CLOSED}

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural (I’m only up to season 2, so please don’t request something with spoilers)**

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix):

John B Routledge

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

When you awake the next morning, your head is pounding. And the smell around you, it was not your usual strawberry smell. It was musky, like some guy’s cologne. You peep out of one of your eyes. You were in an unfamiliar room in a stranger’s bed and it looks like a stranger’s shirt. You grip at the shirt looking down at it, “Oh god, what the hell happened last night?” Wincing you sat up, grabbing your head. Hearing voices outside the door, you froze, eyes wide.

“She’s been passed out all night. Should I wake her?”

“I’m sure she’s just hung over, JJ.”

“JJ?” You face palm your forehead, “Oh shit..” You groan, throwing the covers off you, looking around for your phone.

JJ quietly opens the door, careful not to wake you but he sees you’re already up, looking around the room. “Uh… good morning.”

You jump, facing him, “morning…”

He can tell by your face, you’re frightened, “We didn’t do anything last night.” He holds his hands up in surrender, “You vomited all over your shirt last night and I changed you.”

You glanced down at his shirt and then back at him, “Oh god.” You groan, “What time is it?”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking the time, “It’s almost 2:30.”

“2:30?! Oh god my dad’s going to kill me. I um.. I need to go. Like now.” Looking around, “Where the hell is my stuff?”

“It’s by the door,” He motions behind him, “I can take you home, if you’d like.”

You nod, eyes pleading, “please?”

He nods, stuffing his hands in his shorts, “John B already left for work though.. so you’ll have to ride on the back of my bike.”

~

You fixated yourself behind JJ on his bike, “You sure this is safe?”

He chuckles, nodding, “Yes, just..” he clears his throat, “wrap your arms around my waist.”

You slip your arms around his waist, tightening your grip, “I’m trusting you, Maybank.”

He glances over his shoulder at you, “I won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”

You knew he was probably just being reassuring to help calm your nerves of getting on the back of his bike, but the statement felt more sincere than anything.

~

When you two pulled into the driveway of your home, there were cop cars everywhere. Police standing in your yard and your parents on the front porch talking to a couple.

“What the hell?” You get off the bike as JJ stops and turns it off. He follows you to the pathway that led to your house.

“Y/n! Oh god.” Your mother steps down the front porch, running to you and engulfing you in her arms.

“Sweetie we were so worried about you.” Your dad explains, hugging you and your mother. He can’t help but give a ‘if looks could kill’ look at JJ. You’d rode in on the back of his bike and had been with him.

“Well, I’m fine.” You say, pulling away to look at them. Your mother is holding your cheek, looking you over, making sure you’re not hurt.

JJ clears his throat, “I’m going to get going.”

Your mom and dad look at him, your mother’s eyes darting back to you, “What were you doing with him?” That’s when she sees the t shirt, which is clearly not yours. “y/n y/l/n. Oh my lord! Get yourself inside this instant. I can’t believe you were with the trash last night!”

You step back from her, looking at her like she’s crazy, “What? Mama, he’s not trash. He’s a decent human being.”

“who took advantage of you.” Your dad says, he’s motioning a police officer over.

“What are you doing?” You ask, looking at your dad.

“He’s not going to get away with this honey. You just tell the officer everything he did to you.” Your mother says, running her hand over your hair.

“Oh my god! No.” You shake your head, pushing her hand away, “He didn’t do anything! We didn’t do anything!” You look at JJ then your parents.

“Honey, you don’t have to lie to us.” Your father looks at the officer, “You need to arrest him. He’s the one who had my daughter last night. And it seems he took advantage of her as well.”

JJ holds his hands up in defense as the officer’s reach for him, “Okay, hold up, I didn’t do shit!”

“He didn’t do anything!” You begin to panic as the officer grabs JJ.

“Son, don’t make this any harder for yourself.” The officer explains. JJ’s eyes are wide and looking at you.

“Stop it!” You grab the officer’s arm, “he didn’t do anything to me. You can’t arrest him.”

The officer looks at your father then at you, “Ma’am. It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Your father grabs your arm, pulling you away from JJ and the officer, “Let the officer do his job.”

“I didn’t do shit man! Come on!” JJ argues, as the officer starts to drag him away.

You rip your arm from your father’s running to JJ, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I’ll get you out of this, I promise.” You pull away to look at him and he nods, the officer pushing him into the cop car, slamming the door.

You turn to face your parents, anger all over your face, “What the hell is wrong with the two of you?! He didn’t do anything wrong!” You push through the two of them and storm inside, slamming the door.

~THIS NEXT PART DEALS WITH PHYSICAL ABUSE, PROCEED WITH CAUTION AND DON’T READ IF TRIGGERING~

“you think you can disrespect me like that?!” You dad screams. After the last cop car pulled out of your driveway, your dad had barged into your room and yanked you out of your bed, throwing you into the nearby wall. You knew this was coming, it was just a matter of time.

“He didn’t do anything!”

He sends a kick to your side, causing you to cry out in pain, the wounds from before not fully healed, “You don’t disrespect me like that!” He yanks you up from the ground by your hair, pushing you against the wall, his hands grip at your throat.

“Please.” You gasp for breath, gripping at his wrists, your eyes pleading.

“You’re an ungrateful bitch.” He spits, back handing you, “you’re to not get involved with trash! You hear me?!”

You sob, nodding.

He leans to your level, gripping your neck once more, making you look at him, “The Cameron’s will be here this evening and you WILL be on your best behavior. You WILL interact with Rafe Cameron so we can close the deal. You understand?!”

You whimper, nodding, “y-yes.”

He sends another punch against your face. He stands, composing himself. “If anyone asks, that boy was the one who did this to you.” He pushes his hair back as you sob on the floor of your bedroom, before stepping over your body and out of your room, slamming the door behind him

~ ENDS HERE ~

Your father and Ward Cameron had been at each other’s throats for years, for power and wealth. However, the last couple of weeks, things had changed, and new business deals were made. You were to woo Rafe Cameron and get close to him, to help your father close the deal with Ward. That’s what you and your father argued over yesterday before you went storming out of the house. You didn’t want to do it. You didn’t want to be a pawn in one of his games.

This wasn’t the first time your father had beat you. It all happened when he lost everything years ago. Your father made a deal with someone and it ended badly, causing him to lose everything. He took his anger out on you and has since then. Even when you guys moved to the OBX to start over and he started making money again, he took his anger and frustration out on you in any way possible.

Your mother knew of the abuse, she’d helplessly watched a few times, but she couldn’t do anything. She was a coward, wanting to live this luxurious lifestyle and in return she allowed her daughter to be beat. You hated your mother for it and you hated your father, but you were the perfect family. You had to be the perfect daughter and play along. Get good grades. Don’t party. Don’t drink or do drunks. Be a good girl. Your family had to keep their reputation up as this perfect family. However, your family was not perfect. There’s no such thing as perfect. It was all just an act.

~

When you finally had calmed down, you pulled yourself off your bedroom floor and made it to the bathroom. Your lip was busted, a new bruise forming around your eye. You slowly lifted your shirt, whimpering at the motion. The new blue and purple bruises covering the faded bruises. You slowly dropped the shirt before making your way out of the bathroom. You needed to help JJ. He was in this mess because of you.

~

When you arrived at the police station, everyone turned their heads at your new look. They knew too, but your father contributed enough to the police force that they turned the other way. You stepped up to the front desk, “JJ Maybank, he was brought in an hour ago.”

The lady types into her computer, shaking her head, “He was released as soon as he arrived.” She looks at you.

“Oh.. okay. Thanks,” You walked out of the station, looking around. You knew he hung out with John B Routledge and headed toward John B’s.

~

“So, wait, he arrested you?” Kie asks.

JJ nods, “Yup! Thought I had taken advantage of her.” He rolls his eyes, plopping down on the couch.

“That’s messed up dude.” Pope says.

“And then they just released you as soon as you arrived?” John B asks, “Why? I mean why go through all the trouble just to let you go?”

JJ shrugs, “I have no clue, man. But some shit is going on with her family. Her dad’s fucking psycho.” He does the crazy motion with his finger, “He’s always giving me this evil look. Anytime I see him.”

“sounds like it.” Kie leans back on the chair.

JJ looks down at his blunt, rolling it in his fingers, “I think he beats her.” JJ looks around at the pogues.

“No. There’s no way.” Pope says, “I’m there every week and never suspected it.”

“Plus, they’re perfect.” Kie adds, “I mean anytime they go out, they’re this perfectly happy little family.”

“Yeah but you guys don’t know the signs. I do.” He sighs, standing, “The way she changes when he’s around or when he touches her in anyway. I do the same thing around my father.” He mumbles, “Plus, what she said last night about what her dad did to her behind closed doors. It’s just sketchy dude.”

“JJ you can’t make that assumption though. She was drunk,” John B says, “I know you’ve been through hell, but she’s living a completely different life than you. Her family’s rich and perfect. She’s a kook. There’s no way her dad’s beating her.”

“I guess things aren’t always as they seem, huh?”

The pogues all turn around at the voice and are shocked when they see you and your appearance. The outline of your father’s fingers over your throat were starting to show. Your lip busted and your eye bruised and swollen. Their eyes are wide as they stare at you.

“Oh shit.” Pope says, slowly standing.

JJ takes in your appearance and all he wants to do is throw a punch through the wall. He slowly steps passed John B to get to you. He can see your eyes filling with tears as he steps closer. He doesn’t say anything but gently wraps you in a hug. He hated when he was right.

Obx taglist:  @emmalvei-blog​ , @tregua-oca​ , @weirdbiwitch​ , @losers-club6​ , @treestarrrrrrrr​ , @omgwhattheeven , @normatural​ , @lreincarnationl​ , @laurenron​ , @junkiemuppettxx​ , @beth-winchester21​ , @divcrdown​ , @timotaychalabae​ , @moose-squirrel-asstiel​ , @tangledinsparkles​ , @prejudic3​ , @lanarichards5  @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ , @fratboystark​ , @nas-marie-loves-u​ , @sunwardsss , @annedub​ , @jellyfishbeansontoast​ , @turtlee-says-rawr​, @fanficscuziranout​ , @wellthathappened2 , @write-from-the-heart​ , @louisolos , @outrbank​ , @sunset-d-rive , @family-buisnes​ , @traumaflavouredjuulpod , @http-cherries​ , @k-k0129​ , @mileven-reddie​ , @eclecticpuppyhollywoodhumanoid​ , @cinnamon-roll-seth​ , @teamnick​ , @rockyyc77​ , @ellojustafangirlhere​ , @sataninsatin​ , @lordsagittarius​ , @helplessquotess​ , @katerosexx​ , @kiarasgold​ , @thee-sex​ , @sunshinemadds​ , @ceruleanjj​ , @nikki082489​ , @ilovejjmaybank​ , @laubluered​ , @lcil123​ , @notmcchkn​ , @ceruleanjj​ , @fangirlvoice​ , @maybebanks , @lolitstiana​ , @danicarosaline​ , @obx-beach​ , @katiaw2​ , @hardyxlove , @kaelyn-lobrutto24 , @obxmxybxnk , @lasnaro , @thedarkqueenofavalon​

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​

[pearl-blue-musings]

Perchance to Meet pt. 5

...hey...how yall doing??

Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x fem!Reader

Warnings: some angst, assault although slight it’s still there, be careful of the company you keep

Part 6

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sports festival came and went in flash, despite not being able to see as well as he would have liked. Aizawa was incredibly proud of his students, regardless of how unorthodox and rambunctious they all were. Heck, he even found a potential protégé from the general studies course that he couldn’t wait to tell-

Oh that’s right.

The extra key that was thrown at him weighs heavier in his pocket as Present Mic helps him walk away from the sound booth. It’d been two weeks since he’d last seen (Y/n) and heard from her. The man isn’t surprised, he did use all the stops to make her leave, break her in a way that only those close to her had the ability to. Did he mean all the words he had said to her? Hell no. He had been trying to put her first, something new and unfamiliar in his life, but the safety of his students and his job as an underground hero came first. And she knew that. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

He’s doing his best to act like everything is okay, which isn’t hard for the stoic man to do. But those closest to him know how much he’s really hurting. Aizawa figured moving on to the sports festival was not only best for the school but for his students and the well being of others around him. He knew it would be a tough decision; placing the woman he loved more than anything behind his career and livelihood was a choice he never thought he had to make.

He didn’t even hesitate to put his own feelings aside for the good of everyone else. He didn’t hesitate to hurt the one person who fell into life and fit into it so easily; did it like it was nothing.

The tears he doesn’t shed are the most painful ones he feels within his heart. And that feeling will keep nicking at him until he does something or they fade away. He silently hopes for the latter.

**********

It was hard seeing him on every television. The U.A. sport festival was a sight sorely to be missed. (Y/n) knew that he taught class 1-A so it was nice to finally see them, but why couldn’t she had been there with him? Why couldn’t she have been there to support and celebrate his students like she wanted to do? Frustration evident on her face as she quickly turns the tv off in her apartment.

She hears a scoff behind her and remembers that Kona decided to help around the shop that day. “Hun, staring holes into the tv isn’t gonna let him know you’re angry.” She hmphs at her friend and abruptly turns off the screen.

“You’re lucky I invited you up here.”

“I wasn’t gonna let you sit and mope around forever. Not when I know we need to talk about a certain someone who’s been visiting the store almost once a week.”

“Can we not talk about him as I just saw my ex on television?”

Kona laughs and shakes his head, “I mean, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone so…” He eyes his superior smugly, knowing full well that she has considered it. A throw pillow catches his face by surprise as he now tastes cloth and velvet on his tongue. Kona growls at (Y/n) and flicks her off as he moves to her kitchen.

He hears her sigh from the couch as she sinks lower into the cushions. “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it… It’s just,” she pauses as her eyes begin to sting with threatening tears, “Shit.”

Warm tears are falling freely down her face as the hurt settles in again. “Fuck, I’m sorry for crying again,” she feels Kona hug her awkwardly from behind the couch and hears him shush and coo her. It’s hard for him to not want to cry too when he feels the sobs shake her body.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. You’re hurt, and that’s not okay with me. I honestly didn’t think he would be there…” He trails off trying to gauge her emotional state at the moment. “Fuck, (Y/n) I had no idea you loved him that much, sweetie.”

She merely nods, knowing that’s all she can do at the moment.

“Hey,” he whispers, “why don’t I take some of the load off of you for the next couple of weeks?”

She turns quickly to face him, shock and awe in her eyes. “No Koko you can’t. I’ve got to work here and at the bar and-“

“And I don’t give a shit.” He snapped out that last part to notate his seriousness.  “You’ve worked harder than anyone I know.

“Take a break.”

********************

Hizashi Yamada does his best to not show his true and underlying emotions. He’s done his best to keep up his loud persona around his best friend in order to have some sort of normalcy. He knows normalcy won’t ever happen again, not with all the villain attacks and personal life issues that keep showing up. Hizashi can see in those dark pits Aizawa calls eyes that he isn’t okay.

But now that he sees him on television with their principal trying to keep the peace about one of his own students getting kidnapped, it’s more than obvious shit has hit the fan.

The blond knows all too well that his friend won’t open up about his choice to be alone. The choice he made months ago that has affected almost every aspect of his life but won’t readily admit it. Sure, his hero work, teaching, and side lessons with Shinso have been going exceptionally well but he’s not the same man he was a year ago. Hell, even five months ago.

Present Mic is fully aware that the kidnapping of one of his students broke him. Correction, it broke him down further. For his years of teaching experience, Aizawa has never had a student kidnapped and taken from a school sanctioned event, never had to apologize for it on national television, and then going to each students’ home to apologize and ask more of them. His best friend is stressed out, without anyone to go to that isn’t enamored in his world or another hero.

Moving into the mandated school dorms was just another nail into the rickety and unstable mind that was Aizawa Shouta. He’ll never admit to it, but having all these changes happen in such a short time is taking a toll on him. The bags under his eyes have somehow become darker and more bruised. Hizashi isn’t sure of the last time his friend had shaved or properly slept, considering he did what he does best.

The overly tired man throws himself into his job, his students, and his hero work. To anyone on the outside he was back to himself, giving 110%, doing the most for the best outcome and doing it all with his signature stoic face. And he’ll push. He will push and push farther deep into his heart and soul the feelings he wants kept.

That he loves her, that he misses her, that he fucked up… But he will always do what’s right and what’s best for those around him.

When it came time for another break from the norm, Aizawa’s students along with the other first years of U.A., were set to go get ready for their provisional licenses. Even when he ran into Ms. Joke, usually he’d play into their “will they or won’t they” dating banter but couldn’t find it in himself to do it fully. He wanted to focus on his class’s success, fathoming their struggles thus far and understanding how important this all is to them.

He doesn’t mention how he had wanted to do this with (Y/n) but blows that thought away.

It’s for her safety, he thinks, it’s for her safety.

Hizashi knows that Aizawa misses (Y/n) and what she brought to his life without him knowing the full affects of it. He frowns, something rare to occur, as he thinks over the events of the last month or so. Now he’s really hoping that she’ll come back or that Shouta will come to his senses before things take a drastic turn.

*********************

“Kai, I can’t thank you enough for helping me out and being here. I know you’re not the biggest fan of crowds.”

(Y/n) had been suddenly called to bartend a private party one night, which is not her usual sctick. However when she realized she was called for by name, her mind reeled at who could’ve done this and filled with panic at the thought it might be another stalker. But when she had finished preparing the bar and was met with yellow golden eyes, her mind calmed.

“It’s not just crowds, it’s touching people and their quirks. I know you understand.”

She gives the man a hearty smile as she prepares sets of drinks for his cohorts. The addition of the plague mask was new to her as he had always worn a regular mask upon entering her store. Regardless of that weird nuance about him, (Y/n) continued her duties as a bartender and caregiver. The young woman doesn’t normally close because of her pulling double duty, but when her manager mentioned the extra money in this who was she to say no?

Keeping up with Kai throughout the night kept her sane, despite the strange aura his posse or gang or whatever gave her. She figured it was better to not use her quirk based on the company Kai keeps as a way to save her soul. Kona’s words are still fresh in her mind, despite them being from months ago. Sure, she’s considered Kai Chisaki as a possible rebound, but she didn’t want to hurt someone or be hurt in return. Besides, he told her about Eri, he helped her with both of her business money wise, and was kind; she’s not going to acknowledge the eeriness of personality that she couldn’t get a grip on.

The night presses on and the private party starts to wind down. “Alright friends, it’s 1:45 meaning it is now last call for drinks! Get them before I decide for you and the club closes.” Hoots and hollers are heard after her words which cause her to giggle at their antics. Unbeknownst to her, light gold eyes don’t leave her body. His glove clad hands pick at the fabric of his jacket and gloves as his mind wanders. He knows this woman keeps Eri happy, and if Eri is happy he gets what he wants. He also knows that this club has a back alley that is hidden from most prying eyes and knowing this woman is just a bonus.

Does he have feelings for her? No, he just knows that she is a good pawn in his plan. Which makes things harder as the night comes to an end.

Chisaki takes his mob at the end of the night and leaves the club. They head out to the back where they are meeting a client to exchange a new batch of quirk enhancing blood bullet and quirk eliminating, or balancing in his opinion. He’s proud of this particular batch, Eri was most responsive and useful all because she had some of her favorite books from her favorite person.

It also didn’t hurt that she was more obedient after their run in with some new and upcoming heroes.

The brunet hates waiting. He thinks of ending his clients life as the minutes tick by in the dark of night. His thoughts rub rampant as his impatience grows by the second. He’s suddenly nudged on the shoulder by Hari Kuruno, his only trusted friend, who alerts Kai of the incoming company. The deal goes without a hitch until Kai speaks up.

“You kept me waiting longer than I would’ve liked. A balance must be put in place.”

He then walks up to one of the client’s underlings, and uses his quirk on them. Blood splatters everywhere as his eyes are unchanging and intense. The whole scene is gruesome but Chisaki rationalizes that it is necessary to establish order and punishment.

However, in the midst of that he was unable to hear the back door of the club open and close.

A shrill and disgusted scream is heard by him and his men and they immediately turn toward the source. Golden eyes narrow at the interruption and scowls, if they could be seen, adorned the faces of his cohorts. He can see that the woman he had been keeping tabs on is shaking and conflicted. She’s seen everything, the exchange, the blatant murder; there’s even some blood on her cheeks.

“Chronostasis.”

All he had to do was say that name and (Y/n) suddenly felt immobile and deathly sick. What the fuck did she just see? There’s no way he’s a terrible person, no way… But she can’t deny what she saw. Her eyes dart left to right as she sees and feels no means of escape. A cold gloved hand grips her cheeks and forces her to look at the man who currently holds her fate.

“I, I won’t say anything I swear, just please let me go Kai!”

“That’s Overhaul to you.” He doesn’t even flinch or react to her crying or her huffing, as he continues to hold her face.

“I guess you’ll get your wish, you will be able to see Eri again.”

Darkness envelopes the young woman as she loses consciousness and her body is taken to an undisclosed location.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @kiribaku-queen @cupcake-rogue @shinsouskitten @prk-pyo @therealwalmartjesus -taglist is open-

[peaky-gray]

Save Yourself

Pt. 2/?

A/N: here is part two! i hope you enjoy; constructive criticism, questions or comments are greatly appreciated and welcomed. let me know if you want more!

Listen while you read.

PART ONE

SERIES MASTERLIST

Jolting awake from your slumber to the sound of persistent banging on your front door was not the most ideal way to start your morning. Rushing to the door in just your night dress, you opened it to see a concerned Polly Gray.

“Where the fuck have you been? You missed our meeting last night and you were nowhere to be found!” An angry Polly was not a fun Polly and you had completely forgotten your weekly meeting for tea with her last night.

“I’m sorry Pol, it completely slipped my mind. I was with Bonnie and wasn’t thinking, a lot was going on.” Polly perked up at the mention of Bonnie, “The Gold boy? What were you doing with him?”

Not wanting to have such a conversation on your doorstep, you ushered Polly inside to the kitchen table. “Yes, the Gold boy. It’s silly really, but I had gone for a walk in the woods and he was there, I was probably near their camp and didn’t even know it. He kept me company and walked me back home. I was quite a mess last night.”

Polly, ever the concerned mother, questioned you, “Everything alright? Is it Michael, still nothing from him?”

You scoff, “It seems most of my problems these days are caused by Michael. I’m just so angry. It’s been three months with absolutely nothing. If it weren't for him sending you postcards, I would think he was dead. I don’t understand how everything we had can just slip between my fingers like it wasn’t even there to begin with. I just got so overwhelmed last night that I had to get out of the house.”

“Oh Prudence, Michael may be my son but he is a fucking moron for putting you through this. I’m not happy with him, I can promise you that.”

Softly smiling at Polly, you nod, “I would think you would be mad at me, considering my hatred of Michael right now.”

“Well, between you and I, you are my favorite and Michael is stupid to let you go. But darling, if my son doesn’t make you happy, don’t settle for it. He’ll realize he messed up eventually.” Polly had always been protective of you. When you both met, you were shy and timid, shying away against Michael anytime she spoke to you. Over the years, she became a motherly figure to you. Polly was many things to many people, and to you she was warm and kind, but not afraid to speak her mind or scold anyone. 

Fiddling with your fingers, the absence of your engagement ring suddenly hit you all at once, and Polly noticed, like she notices everything. Glancing down at your hand, Polly chides, “Where is your ring?”

Apprehensively, you told Polly. “Um, I told you I was a mess last night and I couldn’t stand it any longer. I threw it in the street. Probably not my best idea.”

“Well, I can’t say I blame you. I’ve done worse.”

At that, you and Polly both laughed. It was nice to laugh with her, or anyone for that matter, after so many weeks of upset. You knew Polly would always be there for you, no matter the status of yours and Michael’s relationship. 

Polly left shortly after your conversation, leaving you in a silent house. There was no work to be done, neither at the house or your actual job at the office, Tommy telling you to stay home the day prior. Since Michael’s absence, your workload increased slightly, but you always got it done with time to spare, sometimes the next day's work was complete as well. As much of a prick Tommy could be, he cared. He knew how you felt when Michael left, protesting the fact that you had to stay. Tommy kept you in Birmingham to keep the business afloat in case any issues arose in America with Michael. You were Tommy’s insurance policy, because in Tommy’s book, Michael was untrustworthy. 

Unable to sit at the kitchen table any longer with tea that had gone cold an hour ago, you changed clothes and grabbed a coat and stepped outside. This time you were prepared for the temperature. Walking over to the same street you were with Bonnie the night prior, you knelt down to look for your ring. You knew even though you were done with Michael, you would regret throwing the ring, like you feel now. With each minute passing without finding the ring, your movements became more frantic, you had to find the ring. 

“Prudence?”

Startled, you turn around to find Bonnie, yet again saving you from your own emotions. 

“What are you doin’ in the street, dove?”

Standing up and dusting yourself off, you explain, “I’m looking for my ring. I shouldn’t have thrown it yesterday and now I can’t find it anywhere.”

Bonnie reaches into his pocket, pulling out just what you were looking for. “This ring, yeah? After I walked you home, I came back here and picked it up. I figured your brain would catch up to you and you’d want it. Here.”

Taking the ring from Bonnie, you smiled up at him. “Thank you! You have no idea how thankful I am. I wasn’t thinking yesterday. I tend to let my emotions dictate my actions, I should work on that.”

“No worries, I’m happy to help you. And, I don’t think that’s a bad thing, you’re passionate. That’s what makes you you. Now, you look a little panicked, is it time for another walk? I know a good spot and you’ve got a coat this time.”

“You know what, I think it might be. Let’s go Gold.”

Arriving at a more picturesque clearing in the forest than the one you were at yesterday, you immediately felt at peace alongside Bonnie. You didn’t know one place could ease such distress until now, it took your breath away. It was surrounded by trees, their branches protecting those who stood under them. Despite the cooler temperature, the clearing was still lush with green life. 

“Beautiful isn't it? This is where I come to think, it seems to do a good job of clearing your head. It’s kind of my secret spot so I’m trusting you with it.” Bonnies said to you with a smile. 

“I wouldn’t dare spoil a place like this. It’s gorgeous. Thank you for trusting me with it, Bonnie.”

Bonnie leads you to sit under a nearby tree, holding your hand as you lower yourself to the ground. 

“What’s troubling you today, dove? Do I need to rough somebody up for you? I am a boxer you know.”

Laughing at Bonnie’s remark, “No, no, nothing like that. I’m just lost. I thought by this time I would be happily married to Michael, creating our own life but here I am in a city that no longer feels like home, and an empty house, and the inability to get through the day without crying at least once. I feel broken. And now I’m burdening you with my issues, so-”

Bonnie cuts you off, “You could never be a burden to me, Prudence. I’ll always be happy to help you in any way I can. I want to get to know you better, both to help you and I enjoy your company.” 

 “Why are you being so nice to me?” You couldn’t help but question him. He’s been the nicest person you've met in a very long time and you were dreading an ulterior motive. 

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’ve always been kind to me; the only one of the Shelby’s who actually looked at me as a person rather than a pawn in a game that I'm still unaware of playing.” He answered as easy as breathing, like the answer was obvious; he didn’t want anything from you. 

You scoff breaking the miniscule tension, “I’m not a Shelby.”

Bonnie laughs, “Good thing then, innit?”

“I suppose so.”

As the conversation died down, you both relaxed against the tree you were sitting under. Maybe you and Bonnie could help each other, more than you know.