#poor woman needs a support group she was reaching out to me and my mom like we were her LIFELINE on thanksgiving

[jinxpologist]

shoutout to my aunt who seemed genuinely more excited that i’m converting than i am and was like “oh i wish i could convert i’ve thought about it” and her husband was like “lol not in this family you can’t” and for a single moment i wanted to attack him with my teeth like a rabid dog

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Sorry for your lost - Part I “I will grieve”.

Serie Masterlist here || Part II|| Read on AO3 

Summary: When your wife Natasha passes away in a car accident, a part of you dies with her. It takes a few months of mourning for your psychiatrist thinks the best alternative is for you to join a grief group. And there you meet Wanda Maximoff, and learn to live again.

Warnings: (+16) mentions of death, panic attacks and anxiety, grief, self sabotage, mentions of abusive family background, mutual attraction, explicit consent, therapeutic conversations about death, self-deprecation, healthy methods of coping with grief, possible triggers about anxiety, hurtful behaviors, domestic wanda.

Chapter warnings: Heavy angst, death.

Author’s notes:  Hello readers! I'm finally back to posting something, but I disappeared for a good reason, I was writing three new series. And here is the first of them. I really enjoyed this work and it's something I've been trying to write since I watched WandaVision, and only now I've managed to put it into words. I am not finished yet, but there is only one chapter left, so your reading will not be affected. Pay attention to the warnings, and good reading!

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be tagged) 

@mionemymind​ / @abimess​ / @stephanieromanoff​ / @yourtaletotell​ / @tomy5girls​ / @justagaypanicking​ / @thegayw1tch​

//-//

Chapter One - I’ll grieve.

You wished you could go back to sleep as soon as you opened your eyes. The sound of your alarm buzzed loudly throughout the room, and after putting it on snooze mode at least four times, you finally got annoyed enough to grab it and throw it across the room. But the sound continued.

Letting out a grumble of dissatisfaction, you pushed the comforter off you, and sat up in your bed. Your room was a mess, but you just skipped through the clothes on the floor to reach the phone, turning off the alarm through the new crack you made in the screen.

"Honey, are you up?" you heard your mother's distant voice calling you through the door, probably from the living room or the kitchen. "Don't forget your therapy today."

You sighed impatiently, running your hands through your hair. The damn group therapy. 

Grumbling lightly, you forced yourself to take a shower, not wanting "poor hygiene" to end up on your progress report card. 

A while later, when you were finished, you went into the kitchen. Your mother was using her laptop on the counter, and just waved at you.

"Are you going to take me?" You asked her with your hands in your pockets. Your mother took her eyes off the screen to evaluate the sweatshirt you were wearing, and you rolled your eyes at her disapproving expression. 

"You know, you could try driv-"

"Mom" You cut her off in earnest, your heart racing momentarily. You don't drive. An she knows. Your mother sighs, putting her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"It was just a suggestion dear." She retorts as she stands up, reaching for her car key on the key rack exiting the kitchen. "But I'm busy with the store, you'll need to take the subway next time."

"Thanks for the support." You grumble as you step out in front and your mother lets out a wry chuckle.

You frown and let out a dissatisfied exclamation as you step outside feeling the sun's rays on your face.

"You're not a vampire, cut the drama." Mocks your mother by pushing you lightly to get you out of the way. 

You grumble  as you walk to the car. And when you are sitting on the seat, your mother is starting the vehicle and she asks:

"Are you sure you're not going to eat anything?"

Looking out the window, you just mumble that you're not hungry, and she shakes her head in disapproval before you back the car up. You don't speak any more on the way.

//-//

Your mother dropped you off in the parking lot of a gymnasium where the therapy group would be meeting. You sighed as you got out, and thanked her for the ride and the money she gave you to eat, even though you probably weren't going to use.

Resisting the urge to run away, you forced your feet to walk toward the place.

There were a few people at the door, but you didn't smile at any of them, entering the place with your head down and your hands in your pockets. 

And then a woman greeted you, and put a little sticker with your name on your shirt when you gave her your papers. 

Then she signaled the way you should go, and you ended up on the gymnasium court, where there was a wheel of chairs, and a table with food and drink, and several people scattered around, who you thought were part of your therapy group. 

Sighing impatiently you made your way to the bleachers of the venue, hoping to be alone until the session started and you could leave.

Fortunately it wasn't long before the leader signaled for everyone to sit in the circle, and you sighed as you stood up. You ended up with one of the chairs on the far left opposite the therapist, which could be bad since he would see you clearly.

"Thank you very much for coming." Said the therapist smiling gently as his gaze roved over everyone in the circle. You kept your gaze on your shoes. He made a noise with his throat. "Who would like to start today?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, but then someone was speaking. You forced yourself to come back to reality and pay attention.

"[...] and this is my fourth week around here." Said a woman in a leather jacket. You noticed the army lanyard around her neck. She was talking about an accident when you got distracted again. Lightly poking your eye with your finger, you tried to focus again, letting out a low sigh. And then the therapist was talking again.

"We have new faces today." He said and you felt your heart speed up. You absolutely did not want to talk in front of strangers. "Why don't you share with us, miss?"

You raised your gaze to meet that of the therapist, smiling gently at you. The rest of the group looked at you as well. Taking a deep breath, you began to wiggle your fingers on your leg.

"I don't... I've never been in a group." You say clumsily. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you wish to say." He answers with a smile. You swallow the urge to tell him you didn't want to talk at all. Realizing your lack of response, he is quick to add. "Why don't you tell us why you are here?."

You let out a dry laugh. 

"I really didn't have much choice." You retort wryly. The therapist looks slightly surprised, but makes no mention of interrupting you. You let out a sigh before clarifying. "My psychiatrist, she...she didn't approve of my social ratings. She wanted me to talk to other people. People who... went through the same things I did." You count staring at the floor. When you look up again, the group still waits for you to continue, and you sigh, running your hands through your hair. "I haven't... I... I haven't talked to other people outside of my family in six months. Not since..."

You move your head, sniffling slightly as you straighten your posture. The therapist clears his throat.

"You just need to share whatever you are ready to tell us." He says gently, you nod slightly feeling extremely vulnerable. "But remember that this is a safe space. There is nothing to fear here."

And then he is talking about methods of easing the guilt, and dealing with the pain and you were distracted again. You would like to go back to bed. It must have taken a while, but the session is finally over.

The group dispersed around the room, and you went toward the therapist's desk to have him sign your schedule. He smiled as you approached.

"Miss Y/N/L, I was happy to hear that you would be joining us today." He said greeting you with a handshake. You nodded, taking the paper from your pocket. He chuckled, but accepted it. "You know, I'd like you to try to have a partner in the group, it's recommended for cases like yours."

"What do you mean cases like me?" You ask snidely, but he doesn't care.

"Doctor Harkness gave me your chart." He explained as he signed the paper you gave him while you frowned. "Extreme Social Anxiety in the first few months of treatment. Tendency to complete isolation, introverted..."

"Yeah I know my problems, buddy." You interrupt him with irritation. "You don't have to list them for me."

The therapist gives a lopsided chuckle, and holds out the signed paper to you. But he adds with a serious look:

"I'm here to help you, Y/N." He says. "Don't forget that."

You don't respond and take the paper, turning toward the exit. 

//-//

Your week passes slowly and tortuously. Which is surprising because you barely get out of bed. And then it is group therapy day again, and you are making a new crack at your cell phone screen.

Your mother greets you with a pat on the back as you enter the kitchen, and she is walking past you toward her own room.

You know you have to take the subway today, and you are trying not to think about it too much. As you are walking out the door, your eyes pass quickly over your car key, and you think you have a flash of memory, but you shake your head quickly, pushing the thought away. And then you walk forward.

And you are late for the session, because you can't take the bus to the station, since your feet simply didn't obey you. But that's okay, you don't really care.

You weren't the only one who was late. When you went to enter the door, a red-haired woman bumped into you, also running to get in. She smiled slightly as she apologized, and you just made room for her to enter first.

"Sorry Stephen." She said to the therapist as soon as you two entered the gymnasium, "I had an emergency with the kids."

The man just shook his head with a smile, and waved for you both to sit down.

"And why were you late today, miss Y/L/N?" He asked you. You shrugged your shoulders.

"I didn't wanna come." You retorted and the group giggled, and the sudden sound startled you slightly, but you just sat with your arms crossed. 

"Do you want to try again?" He retorted with light humor in his voice. And you bit the inside of your cheeks. And then you looked down at the floor.

"I couldn't get on the bus." You confessed next. Stephen looked at you tenderly, though, and you didn't like the feeling of your chest heaving slightly.

"And why do you think that happened?"

You shrugged, uncomfortable. 

"I don't know. I... There were too many people." You said embarrassed. And then you started twiddling your fingers, feeling all eyes on you. "I just... I knew I'd have to say hello to the driver, and the conductor. And then I would pass strangers in the hallway, and one of them would sit next to me. And I just... I couldn't."

Stephen nodded slightly in agreement.

"It's okay, Y/N. " He stated. "No one is judging you here."

You let out a dry laugh, and Stephen blinks in surprise, which spurs you to explode.

"Everyone is judging me, Doc." You say through gritted teeth, swinging your leg. "It's as if I can hear the gears in people's brains forming opinions about me." You state with a sigh. "Like my mother for example. She...she...acts like I'm past the time of mourning." You explain with tears in your eyes. "Like there's a limit, and I'm extending her goodwill. Because it's been six months, and she doesn't want me to be sad anymore. But guess what? I don't know how to move on!" You state angrily. "I can't! If I don't miss her, what's left for me? If I don't... God, I can't do this."

And you stand up, wiping your tears away, and walk out of the gymnasium, heading for the restrooms. You feel your heart racing, and it's hard to breathe. 

As you rest your hands on the sink, your brain starts to wander back to the day of the accident again. You choke, because it feels like you're sinking again. You see the water rising through the metal of the car. Your hands on the steering wheel, and then on the seat belt. You shake your head, pushing the images away, and rush to turn on the faucet in front of you and pour the water on your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears. And then there is someone entering.

"Are you okay?" Stephen asks and you nod lightly, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you stare at him through the reflection of the mirror. "I gave a break to the group, wouldn't you like to walk with me?"

"I'm not good company right now." You grumble but he smiles, nodding slightly as if to repeat the invitation. You take a deep breath before turning around.

You walk silently and slowly to the outside of the gymnasium, and then he is speaking again.

"You were very brave today."  He comments, and you let out a dry laugh. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I panicked today." You say. " It doesn't sound very brave to me."

Stephen smiles guiding you through the gymnasium entrance toward the parking lot.

"You talked about a trauma to a group of people." He says. "That takes a lot of courage, even if you don't believe it."

"I don't believe in anything." You grumble, but Stephen doesn't mind your hostility. He stays with his friendly posture.

"I would like you to accept my request from before." He said after a moment. "About a group partner."

You let out a sigh.

"I don't even know what that means." You retort with slight impatience as you reach the edge of the parking lot. You notice the garden a few feet ahead of you.

"It's like a therapy buddy." He explains with a smile. "We encourage socializing here. That's why Agatha recommended this group to you."

"Oh, of course you do. Agatha is a bitch." You wryly wipe your hands across your face. Stephen laughs lightly. "How does that work anyway? Do I have to hold someone's hand? Exchange friendship bracelets?"

"No, it's much better." He says with a chuckle. "You talk to that person. You exchange experiences with them. You learn to trust somebody else again."

"My god, it looks like a fucking Disney movie." You retort with irritation and Stephen lets out a laugh. And then you let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders. "Okay, I'll do it. I have nothing to lose, and it seems that neither you nor Agatha will leave me alone if I don't agree."

"We want you to feel better. Don't take this as a punishment." He says, guiding you back to the gym. You nod slightly, thinking that it really does feel like punishment anyway.

//-//

You see Agatha the same week. Your appointments have been switched to monthly meetings instead of weeks as they were at the beginning of treatment, and while you appreciate the familiarity of seeing her, you can't help but feel irritated with her.

"Someone's grumpy." She comments as soon as you sit down on the couch in the room, to which you roll your eyes.

"You are always so very tender, Agatha." You mock as you cross your legs, hoping the time will pass soon.

Agatha laughs lightly, finishing tidying up a few things on her desk. And then she gets up and sits down in the armchair a few feet in front of the sofa where you are, carrying a small notebook in her hands.

"So, why don't you tell me how your your first two sessions in group therapy went?"

You let out a dry laugh.

"Like Stephen didn't tell you everything." You sneer and Agatha just smiles, waiting for you to speak. You let out an impatient sigh, before stating wryly. "It was amazing, doc. It only took two sessions for me to have a panic attack, so thank you for that."

"Why do you think that happened?"

You squeezed your eyes.

"I have no idea." You retorted. "I'm not the doctor here." Agatha laughs lightly, and then opens her notebook and starts writing something. You sigh impatiently. “Really, you're going to start that again?”

"If you don't talk, I write." She states simply, and you roll your eyes, shifting on the couch uncomfortably.

"Agatha, I just... I couldn't get on a bus, okay?" you tell her, and she closes her notebook to look at you attentively. You take a deep breath. "There were a lot of people. I don't mind walking anyway. It helps me think."

"You don't mind walking eight blocks?" She asks with a slight irony. "That's pretty athletic of you."

"It's weird that you know my address off the top of your head." You play lightly, and she just laughs, straightening her posture. 

"Why don't you just tell me what you want to tell me?"

"Why don't you ask me what you want to ask?"

Agatha blinks slightly in surprise, and then she shakes her head slightly, opening her notebook again. You sigh.

"Okay, sorry." You say, and she looks at you for a moment before closing the object again. I... I thought I was drowning again.”

"Are your nightmares back?" She asks seriously, and you deny it with your head.

"I feel too anxious to sleep." You tell. "And then I black out from exhaustion in the night or in the morning. I don't dream anymore."

"Have you been taking your medication?"

You sigh.

"Of course I have."  You say. "I don't... I'm having trouble keeping my mind still. Like the first few months, you know. Everything seems so noisy now."

Agatha nods slightly, becoming thoughtful for a few moments. 

"I know it may sound strange to hear that, but that means you're getting better." She declares and you frown in surprise, then let out a dry laugh.

"How is my peak anxiety a good thing?"

She opens the book again, but before you can ask what you said wrong, she is reading.

"The first day you were here, you said you felt like you were empty." She narrated and you swallowed dryly. "During your first two months, you continued to describe that you felt like an empty shell. And that you no longer had any dreams, thoughts, or opinions. Without your wife, you said you were no longer here."

You felt your eyes fill with water at the mention of her. But you swallowed your emotions. Agatha turned a page, and read for a few seconds, and then looked at you.

"With your history of anxiety, your mind was remarkably quiet after the passing of your wife." She says. "But now that you're on medication, and therapeutic treatment, plus you're socializing even superficially with the world again, you're starting to feel things again. That's progress."

You look away from her, nodding slightly, trying to believe her words, and trying not to be so terrified at the thought of learning to live again. Without Nat.

You choke slightly, holding back a sob, and then Agatha hands you a box of tissues, but you refuse with a nod, wiping away the tears that have slightly escaped.

"What do you want to talk about now?" She asks after a moment. You take a deep breath, still trying to calm yourself.

"Last week I took a cold bath." You count. "It was snowing."

Agatha blinks in surprise at the information and then lets out a giggle.

"You want me to write it in the book don't you?"

You laugh, wiping away the last of the insistent tears. You just hope Agatha could help you.

//-//

You hate coffee. But you barely slept last night, and now you need to stay awake during the group meeting, so instead of walking to the chair in the corner like you used to, you detour your way to the food and beverage table as soon as you arrive at the gym.

There are a few members around, but you don't look at them, just sidestepping as you extend your arm to the coffee bottle. You pour some, and as you touch the cup, you notice. It's cold.

"Hey sorry about that." Said a girl you thought was named Val or something, as soon as she saw you touching the cup. "We mixed up the shifts yesterday and nobody made new coffee."

You rolled your eyes, picking up the cup and throwing it in the trash. Then you forced a wry smile on the girl and walked outside. 

It was cold, but you are boiling with rage. It was just a damn cup of coffee, you thought as you closed your eyes and tried to reduce your anger. Just coffee. 

You stumbled with fright when Stephen called out to you.

"We'll get started in a minute." He said looking at you curiously. You just nodded, following him after a few seconds.

You bit the inside of your cheek when you noticed the same coffee girl as before, now sitting where you usually sat. The universe was testing you today. 

You just sighed, twiddling your fingers inside your pocket, and walked over to one of the free chairs.

After Stephen gave the briefing, he asked if everyone was all right, and the group lied in unison. You were almost asleep when he called your name.

"I would like to choose your partner today." He says and you feel your heart racing as you straighten your posture. "But I want to know if you have any preferences."

You blink in confusion, and roll your eyes.

"I don't know anyone here, but I'm sure they will all hate me equally, doc." You tried to joke, but Stephen only looked at you with concern.

"No one does or will hate you." He says and you swallow dryly, looking away as you mumble that it was just a joke. Stephen pauses momentarily before continuing. "You know that everyone here has their own experiences of loss and they are unique in their own way, even if they have similarities." He begins and you just wish he would speak soon who your partner is at once. "Usually we don't put new members together, but with the release of one of our members, the number ended up getting odd." He explains. "Anyway, I'm sure you and Mrs. Maximoff will get along very well together."

You frowned slightly at the whole explanation. Then you looked around the group, and realized that this Maximoff woman was the late redhead from the previous session who looked at you curiously. You looked away from her to Stephen.

"Thank you, doc." You said with a slight irony and Stephen just nodded smiling.

"Partners are grieving companions ladies." He says. "We will assess your progress at each session, and then switch partners once the necessary improvement has been achieved."

You grumbled in understanding, and looked away to your lap. When Stephen began to ask about the stories, your mind wandered to the departure time.

And when the session was over you wished you could go to sleep. But Stephen made a slight movement of his head in Maximoff's direction, and you understood that you should talk to her.

Ignoring the urge to show Stephen the middle finger, you just sighed as you got up from your chair and lazily walked over to the woman at the exit. She was talking to a man, and you were even more anxious to address not one, but two strangers.

"Hi." You greeted awkwardly, and both of them turned to you with mild curiosity. 

"Hey, you're Y/N, right?" Said the man with a smile as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bucky. James Barnes actually, but everyone calls me Bucky." He said and you shook his hand, smiling awkwardly. Then he quickly pointed at the woman.  "And this is Wanda Maximoff, your grief partner."

"Hi." Wanda said shyly as she offered her hand to greet you. You accepted as clumsily as she did.

"Sorry, I don't know how this works." You say. "Should we exchange numbers or something? Or is that just a therapy thing?"

Bucky gives a little chuckle.

"Oh believe me, they'll know if you're not making it work." He counters. "My first partner was Sam Wilson and we wanted to jump on each other's necks whenever we saw each other. And then Stephen asked us to move in together." He says and you blink in surprise. "We're married now, but that's not the point. I guess I'm getting off topic..."

"Bucky." Wanda interrupts with a smile, and he smiles half-heartedly as well. You frown, annoyed by Bucky's story. You didn't want to marry anyone. "I guess we'll make it work, I hope you don't mind having the company of two tiny restless creatures on our walks."

You look at her with confusion and then you understand, smiling shyly.

"No, it's okay." You say. "I like children."

"Really?" She asks in surprise.

You nod slightly. "Unlike adults, they tell the truth."

Wanda seemed to be thoughtful, but then Bucky lets out an exclamation.

"As group guide, I have to pass the to-do list to you ladies." He says pulling a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a sheet of paper and hands it to Wanda. "Partners need to develop these habits of socializing and coping with grief together. And yes, there is a test."

You sigh impatiently, tucking a loose string behind your ear. 

"That sounds fun." You mock lightly making them smile. 

"Anyway, good luck to you two." He says tenderly. "And Wanda, call me if you need help with Tommy. I know a good therapist."

You frown slightly, not understanding what he is referring to, but you prefer to stay out of matters that are none of your business. And then Bucky kisses Wanda on the cheek in farewell and waves to you smiling before leaving. You switch foot weights when you are alone with Wanda. Talking to other people is not exactly your strong suit these past few months.

"So..." You start clumsily when she turns to you. 

"So." She repeats equally embarrassed. You then clear your throat and rush to pull your cell phone out of your pocket and hand it to her.

"Give me your number." You say. "That way we can arrange...whatever this is." 

Wanda smiles weakly as she accepts the device, and you ignore the curious look when she notices the cracks in the screen. A moment later she hands the cell phone back to you.

"I gotta go." She says. "I need to pick up my kids from school."

You nod slightly and force a smile to say goodbye, and Wanda copies your movement before leaving.

You stare at your cell phone next, noticing the slight anxiety in your stomach as you read the contact "Wanda Maximoff" on the screen.

//-//

By the weekend, you are miserable. Just like the first few months.

You spilled some tea under your bed, and when you went to clean it up, you ended up taking the objects that were lying there. And then you found a crumpled piece of paper.

It was your farewell speech. The words you wrote down to speak on the day of the funeral. The paper you pulled out of your pocket when you got home from the ceremony and probably fell under the bed when you collapsed on the floor from crying so hard.

Suddenly your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe. But you didn't want your mother to worry, so you concentrated on remembering the exercises your therapist had taught you.

And when the room started to get too small, you left.

But because it was cold and rainy, you had just taken a hot shower and had decided to brew tea before you finished putting on a sweater, you had bent down to pick up your socks, and the liquid fell on the floor. 

You went outside without your shoes, and your mother let out a worried exclamation when she saw you standing outside, staring at nothing.

"Honey?" She asked walking out the door after seeing you through the kitchen window. "Honey, what is it?"

You didn't answer. Your face was wet. Your mother's hands wrapped around your shoulders, and she gently pushed you inside, worried that you would end up getting hypothermia.

"I'm fine." You gasped as she led you inside, but she just shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, honey." She retorted making you frown. "You're not."

"Mom."

"Sit down." 

And then there were blankets around you, and socks on your feet. And your mother was in the kitchen, on the phone, but everything seemed stuffy. You began to be absent again. Thousands of memories flashing through your eyes.

An image of yourself on that living room floor, laughing while your girlfriend had her arms wrapped around you. Your mother was pouring a glass of wine for each of you, and you were happy to tell her about your engagement.

Then an image of you running across the room, trying to dodge the tickles your father tickled you while you laughed.

Then a puppy in your hands on the floor. You looked at it fondly, laughing at how cute it looked. 

Looking down, you saw a hand on your thigh. It was your wife's, the ring on her finger. She smiled at you. You were happy because that was the day you told your mother about the house purchase.

You gasped slightly when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder suddenly.

"I need you to tell me three things you can see." It was Agatha. God, you should have been out of reaction long enough for her to get here. Wiping away your tears, you took a deep breath, trying to reason straight.

"I... I..." You started, but your brain didn't seem to obey you. You took another deep breath. You could see the carpet, so you told her so.

"Two more." Agatha asked tenderly, her hand caressing your back from top to bottom. 

"The... table." You replied crying. "I can see the table."

"That's right, honey." She said. "Just one more now. Tell me what else?"

"My feet." You add breathlessly. "I can see my feet."

"Now breathe with me, okay?" She asks. "Like I taught you."

The exercises help you to calm down again. You apologize for scaring your mother, and for making Agatha drive to your house, but neither of them is upset with you. You feel exhausted, but the doctor wants to talk to you after she accepts the cup of coffee your mother offers her.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She asks as you sit on the covered porch, fluffy pillows around you.

You lower your gaze to the floor, sniffling lightly.

"I found my grief speech." You count. "Under my bed. The next minute I was outside."

Agatha sighs.

"You ready to talk about the accident."

You raise your eyes quickly, frowning, because it wasn't a question.

"W-what?"

She takes a deep breath, crossing her legs.

"It's suffocating you." She clarifies. "You need to talk or these attacks will happen again."

"I-I don't..."

"It won't be today." She interrupts with a tender smile. "Tonight you need to sleep. But we won't prolong this any longer. You need to talk about it, even if it’s only to scream."

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your tears as Agatha takes one last look at you before getting up. She murmurs that she will see you on Monday, but you don't look at her.

//-//

You don't sleep well on Sunday. And it's definitely because you can't stop thinking about your appointment.

And it goes well for the first twenty minutes. Agatha doesn't pressure you, and agrees to hear about your week, without mentioning the incident on Thursday.

There is a pause after you have told her about the dog barking noise in the early morning and then you know it is time to speak up.

"I was driving." You say softly suddenly, ignoring the feeling that your throat wants to close up. Agatha has her hands folded in her lap as she listens to you. "She...she was sleeping in the passenger seat." You swallow dryly, trying to count and not get caught up in the memory again, your heart racing. Talking is almost like going back there. "I looked at her for a moment and I got distracted... and then... we just..."

You only realize that you are crying because tears fall on your hand. You blink, sniffling. Taking a deep breath, you continue.

"We fell into the water, and Nat...she just...I couldn't get her belt off." You gasp breathlessly. "The water just...kept coming up around us. And she looked at me, and... she just shook her head like she knew what was going to happen." You tell between sobs. Agatha's eyes water, but she doesn't interrupt. "I just...she pushed me. She pushed my hands away and she told me she would follow me. And god... my dumb brain believed her!" You confess angrily. "She told me she was right behind me! And I swam out and when I came up she wasn't with me."

You shut up, not being able to tell anymore through the sobs. You can't even see the office clearly because of the tears.

It takes a moment for you to speak again, your head down.

"When I swam back, the car was completely covered with water everywhere" You recount. "I...I was going to dive again.... I wanted to get her out of there. But the people who saw the accident jumped in after us. And they pulled me out of the water. And I kept thinking that if I hadn't been distracted, she...she would be...."

"No." Agatha interrupts by offering you a tissue. "Natasha had a stomach injury, don't you remember?" She counters and you gasp, the words echoing in your brain. "That's why you couldn't remove the belt."

And then you were remembering clearly now.

Soft music echoed in the car as you hummed the tune and drove to your friends' house. Your wife mumbled softly beside you, making you smile as you watched the sleeping figure. The red hair in front of her face.

"Hey sleepyhead." You called softly, looking away from the track for a moment. "We're almost there."

Nat muttered in agreement. You bit your lip, thinking she looked beautiful. And then you heard a noise, and a white light in the window. You barely had time to frown when the impact threw your car off the road.

Your body tensed immediately as you sat up, looking around with desperation. The car was sinking fast and you turned to Nat.

A wound on her forehead was bleeding, and she was clearly disoriented as you touched her hands. You hurried to unbuckle her belt, but it was jammed tightly in her waist, and you gasped in shock at the wound.

"N-no." You grumbled, trying to move the metal, but Nat gasped in pain, pushing your hands away. You could barely breathe in desperation. Your feet were freezing, because the water was already at your ankles. "Babe, move please. We have to get out."

Nat advanced toward you, taking off your belt. You tried to touch her, but she pushed your hands away again, intending to guide you out.

" Sweetheart, go! Open the door! " she commanded and you shook your head, the water on your knees. Nat forced a smile, the tears in her eyes made your stomach turn. "Don't worry love. I'm right behind you."

As you opened the door, the water moved all the way into the car, and you held your breath Nat repeated the words "I'm right behind you" one more time. And then you swam out.

When you reached the surface, you were alone.

Sobbing, you couldn't say anything else to Agatha, and she proceeded to stroke your back, trying to soothe you with words of affirmation.

"I need you to remember some things honey." She says tenderly. "You couldn't have helped Natasha. She got stuck. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened." Agatha whispers to you, and you sob. "Remember the investigation, okay? The police said that the driver of the truck was drunk and hit your car after he fell asleep. It wasn't your fault." Agatha says trying to remind you. You gasp, countless memories flooding your head at once. "Say that for me, will you?" She asks and you gasp. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

You sob, burying your face in your hands. It takes a moment, but you repeat the words.

"It wasn't my fault." You whisper breathlessly. "It...it wasn't my fault."

When you leave therapy that day, you feel different.

You think that it is the healing process that is beginning to work. You still have a long way to go, but you have the feeling that a weight has been lifted off your back, because you have started to believe your own words. You could not have saved Natasha.

There is still a deep sadness in you, but you still buy your favorite drink on the way home, and try to stay in the living room for a few hours before going to your room when you are inside.

[multismileee]

911 4X13 COMMENTARY (LITERALLY WHILE IM WATCHING IT) - this is going to be pretty long

The first call about the Bridezilla was so funny, the way that Buck just give out random information about makeup while everyone else is just staring at him like of course he knew that, the way Chim was ready to walk forward when they were doing the SPARTCUS moment, Hen holding him back, and Eddie’s “Good luck with the wedding” with a small thumbs up LMAOO 

Omg no, I hope that Hen’s mom is okay.

I’m glad they brought back Vanessa Marano, I love her.

David, Michael, May, and Harry playing charades... don’t touch me, they are so cute.

Uh oh, Bobby acting weird. I think he relapsed and started drinking again which would explain the need for the shower. 

Hahaha Hen’s mom not being a fan of any of the exotic food is so funny

OH NO, SHE COLLAPSED!!! Please, she better be okay.

I know this is not important but the way Hen matched her mask to her outfit... Icon 😍

SOMEONE HOLD ME BACK, THIS DOCTOR ABOUT TO GET THIS HANDS RATED E FOR EVERYONE.

The blatant racism is disgusting, I’m so glad that 911 is talking about this and how the doctor is clearly dismissive because she is a black woman and omg the comment on her weight ugh disgusting.

Eddieana gross, sorry I will never like them together.

Christopher is so adorable (also he looks so much older omg) and Eddie wanting the sofa to be perfect for the mystery guest, awww.

CARLAAAAAA YES I MISSED HER!!

Aww no Carla’s dad :(

“it’s easy being with her” yes because that’s what it should be like when you’re dating someone (I am totally being sarcastic if you cannot tell)

Carla is such a queen, “Make sure you’re following your heart, and not Christopher” AHHHHH, please manifesting an Eddieana breakup scene.

Aww the two cakes for the two birthdays they missed with Carla, I’m so soft!!

Omg the way he glances at Ana and Christopher like he’s thinking about Carla’s words :0

Oh no, Maddie is definitely not okay. She seems tired and just very withdrawn :(

That call was intense, I feel like there’s more to Charlie and the women that meets the eye.

I knew it, his shirt smelled like bourbon. Unless this is a whole misunderstanding, but it seems unlikely.

I knew something was off with Bobby during the pileup in episode 11 and that it was going to come up again.

Charlie and Christopher talking is so cute aw.

Suspicious, I have a bad feeling about his “mom”.

YES I LOVE HEN AND CHIM MOMENTS, their friendship is so cute.

Omg small backstory moment about Chim and his mom?? we love to see it.

Hen and her med school buddies trying to figure out what’s wrong with Hen’s mom is a scene I didn’t know I needed but I’m so glad we got it.

Omg not her collapsing again, and it being really bad. Let’s hope she didn’t rupture it because I cannot deal with Hen’s mom dying.

Jee-Yun is adorable, but I hate hearing her cry

Omg nooo Maddie probably thinks she’s a bad mom because she feels like she can’t help Jee-Yun stop crying and she already had doubts that she was going to be a bad mom because of her parents :( Buckley parents, if you see this, I despise you,

Hen going off on the doctor, period as she should.

“we” THE AUDACITY. How dare he try to take any credit for something he missed because he didn’t want to listen to the patient and that a group of med students caught in 5 minutes.

Chris wanting to give things away to help Charlie aww stop they are so cute.

Look I was never the biggest fan of Ana, she’s nice but seemed kind of bland as a character but she’s really pulling through this episode.

Yesss Ana, thank you for realizing something is up with this woman.

Poor Athena, she’s trying to be supportive but Bobby is being distant anyways :(

YAY HER MOM IS OKAY, LET’S GOOOO!

“I won’t be here forever” If this is foreshadowing Hen’s mom’s death, I am going to cry.

Omg no, She’s poisoning him with EYE DROPS!!! What in the world is wrong with her. I knew there was a reason they focused on the cabinet but I couldn’t figure it out.

I’m sorry but Charlie calling because his “mom” is choking due to the eyedrops is instant karma.

Uh oh, Athena following Bobby.. this never ends well. Um who is she????

Thank goodness they found out that Charlie was being poisoned.

Omg nooo Maddie, you’re an amazing mom. She needs to go to therapy :(((

THE DRUNK DRIVER?? Oh that makes so much sense, Bobby can feel for her.

Communication problems between Athena and Bobby, omg I hate it.

“Who said this marriage is working” I knew it was coming and it still hurt.

MY HEART DROPPED WHEN EDDIE GOT SHOT. I KNEW IT WAS COMING BUT OH MY GOD.

Ngl I kinda thought that the “mom” was the shooter but I was wrong.

Can I just say that the way Buck froze is such a clear contrast to the last time (in Eddie Begins) when Eddie was buried, that time he was screaming and clawing the ground hoping to do something. In this episode, he froze and it was like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

If Buddie not canon then why have the 45 second shot of Buck and Eddie staring at each other, why have the camera focus on Buck’s reaction, why have Eddie reach out to Buck before he passes out?? Maybe i’m just a clown but it’s all adding up for Buddie canon.

Overall, I am an entire mess after this episode. I haven’t even watched the promo yet but I am terrified for the finale. Everyone is such a mess omg.  Also, I am currently in English class, watching and commenting on the episode instead of paying attention lmao.

[thewritewolf]

After the End Chapter 11: Take A Break

Chat Noir pays a visit to someone near and dear to him.

First | Previous | Next | Last

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Chat Noir - or, more accurately at the moment, Astro Chat - flew between the low Jura Mountains. They weren’t nearly as high as the Swiss Alps, but they did let him know that he’d finally crossed the border into Switzerland. It wouldn’t be much longer before he reached the facility.

Not for the first time, he was grateful for Ladybug’s insistence not only on rediscovering how to make the transformation potions on her own, but making so much of the stuff that even after blasting through their resources in the final battle he still had enough of the space cheese for things like this. It was definitely useful - after all, Adrien could hardly be seen on a Parisian train bound for Switzerland when he was supposed to be somewhere in Italy. Although the English tabloids insisted that he was in their country, forgetting that Adrien had an identical cousin.

As for Chat Noir - well, Astro Chat’s suit blended in perfectly well with the cloudless starry night, especially after some alterations to remove some lime green highlights. There was probably only one, maybe two people in all of Paris who might notice that he was gone tonight.

Instead of reassuring him, however, that fact only caused him to frown.

“Claws in.”

Plagg’s bright green eyes appeared in the dark. “You gonna be okay, big guy?”

“Yeah… she’s been getting better, after all. She even recognizes me! Well, most days at least.” Adrien gave Plagg a smile. “And its good to see her again after thinking she was gone for so long.”

“Like seeing a ghost,” Plagg commented. “You sure you want to do this?”

“I have to, Plagg.” Adrien opened his jacket and his kwami flew into his inner pocket. “She’s my mom. I can’t just pretend she isn’t around somewhere.”

He walked onto the main path that lead into the facility, a long term hospital of sorts. Finding it had been a godsend for Adrien - a place that specializes in people waking up from years-long comas? One specifically dedicated to restoring mental and physical wellbeing? It was almost too good to be true. With all the progress she had made so far, it had been worth every euro sending her here. And really, what else was he going to spend a dirty fortune on anyway?

Eventually he made it through the checkpoints and entered through the front door. One of the nurses at the front smiled warmly at him when she noticed him. He placed his hands on the elevated desk.

“Hello, Adrien.” She began checking something on her computer. “Late night visit again?”

“You know how it is,” Adrien said with a sigh. “If any tabloids caught me here, they’d probably start going after my mother.”

“Which is exactly why we have guards.”

“True, but I’d rather not cause you guys any trouble if I can avoid it. You already do such a good job - I don’t want to make it harder.”

“That’s very sweet of you.” The nurse finished whatever it was she was doing on her desktop. “It looks like you’re in luck. Emilie is in therapy right now. Do you need me to take you to her?”

“No, that’s fine.” He gently tapped the desk. “I know the way by now.”

Adrien followed the twisting corridors mechanically, his thoughts back in Paris, split between recent discoveries and the battle that had changed everything for him. What had his father done that had caused him to be immune to the miracle cure? Was it the same thing that turned him into a giant monster? And who had helped him do it? Because now he was almost certain that he’d gotten help - likely from these “Gentlemen” mentioned in his records. But they didn’t appear often. He was working with little more than the whispers of a dead man.

It would have to be enough. He didn’t have any other choice.

Those depressing thoughts took a backseat when he entered the little therapy room where his mother was seated in front of a woman in a lab coat. The doctor glanced at him and gave him a nod before turning back toward his mother.

“Alright, Emilie, we’ll stop there for now. It looks like you’ve got a visitor.”

“Adrien?” She turned toward him and gave him a radiant smile as she held open her arms. He eagerly hugged her, crouching down so she could reach around his back while she sat in her wheelchair. “It's so good to see you sweetheart.”

“Same to you, mom. How’re you doing?” His eyes darted between her and her doctor.

“Every day she can walk a little further, Adrien.” Doctor Lara had learned early on not to call him Mr Agreste. “She’s making phenomenal progress given how long she was in her coma, but it will still be some time before she can walk without support. Mentally… well, she is improving but prognostications are harder given the non-mundane origin of her affliction.”

“Thank you.” He shook her hand as the doctor stood. “I really appreciate everything you’re doing, I know it can’t be easy.”

“Just doing our jobs.” She smiled and walked out of the room, leaving Adrien alone with his mother.

He took the seat the doctor had just left. “So… how are you doing?”

“My memories are still… fuzzy and there are holes in it. Like a bunch of moths built a nest in my closet and ate away at my gala dresses.” She winced. “Sorry, dear. Poor analogy.”

He forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Now, my memory may not be what it used to be, but I believe the last time you were here, you were filling me in on your time in high school...?”

His mother always did have a talent for changing the subject, even before everything that happened. But, if she wanted something to talk about to get her mind off her recovery, then Adrien would happily oblige her.

Besides, it didn’t take her long to get tired again. Barely half an hour had passed and she was looking ready to fall asleep. She’d take naps throughout the day to counter it, but that just lead to her being up at all hours of the day. Eventually she’d need to fix her sleep schedule but for now it wasn’t as pressing an issue. Especially since he could visit her under the cover of night.

Eventually he managed to pull the topic into more dangerous ground - Gabriel and his side practices. Getting any leads had been a large part of the reason he’d made this trip now, second only to checking in on his mother.

“Mom?” Emilie turned from the window she had been staring out while listening intently to him and looked him in the eyes. “Have you ever heard of some people called… the Gentlemen?”

His mother frowned and he braced himself for the moment he was expecting - that she either didn’t know anything or that she had forgotten what she had known. This was a shot in the dark for him, a desperate grab for any possible leads. Who else besides Gabriel’s wife would know the intimate details of his business?

Well, besides Nathalie. But she… wasn’t around any more for questioning.

He was pulled out of those morbid thoughts when his mother responded.

“That definitely sounds familiar.” His eyes widened, which went unnoticed by Emilie as she tapped her chin and looked off into the distance. “I seem to remember something about the Boutonnière Noir?”

“What was that? Some kind of group or…?”

“It was a place, but…” She began to glare, annoyed. “I can’t remember where it was! Or even what it was, to be perfectly honest. But it definitely had something to do with them. Maybe it had something to do with an academic too? Someone in your father’s line of work, I think.”

She put her fingers to her temples, rubbing them gingerly. He put a hand on her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, mom. That’s already way more than I had - I’m sure it’ll help.”

“I’m glad, dear.” She gave her a weak smile. “And as much as I would love to keep talking, this has really taken it out of me.”

“Of course.” He stood up after giving her another hug. “I’ll let the nurses know you’re ready to go back to your room.”

“Thank you, sweetie. Come back soon!”

Adrien looked back at her from the doorway and offered a smile. “I’ll do my best!”

[trulivin]

Family Troubles

A/N: Here’s another one finally! (I finished it last night and thought I would be really busy today, BUT I’m free now so I thought it would be good to post it!) To the nonny who requested, I hope this is what you were looking for! Honestly, I don’t know how I feel about this. I’m not saying it’s bad, but I just, I don’t know. I say that about everything I write don’t I lmao. I don’t know if I built their relationship good enough. Please send feedback, comment, like, etc. I do hope you enjoy though! I love writing! It’s so fun! Thanks for the request!

ALSO, this contains another sensitive topic. Mental abuse is real! I’ve experienced it. If you ever find yourself being manipulated by someone that causes you to doubt yourself or anything of that nature, speak up! Mental health is just as important as physical health! Reach out and get the help you deserve because no one deserves to be manipulated into thinking you are worthless! All love!

John B x Reader, Outer Banks

Warnings: Mental Abuse

*This isn’t my gif. Credit goes to original owner*

The Pogues. A term Y/N found dear to her heart. Her best friends. Her biggest supporters. The family she was always looking for. Whenever she was with them, all of her troubles seemed to fade away. They could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. 

And then there was John B. The best type of friend a girl could ask for. Y/N had known him longer than the two had known JJ. Her father and John B’s, before he went missing, were the best of friends automatically making their children become friends. Y/N had spent every waking moment with John B since she could remember. 

As the two got older, there was a point when John B became more than a brother to Y/N. And at some point, John B realized Y/N was a pretty girl. But, as their group went from two to five, a certain rule popped up: no-Pogue-on-Pogue macking. 

Y/N never really minded it. She was still one hundred percent convinced John B still saw her as his sister, and she refused to ruin their lifelong friendship over some silly crush. 

Kie, JJ, and Pope saw right through the girl, on the other hand. They honestly didn’t care if Y/N and John B got together. It would even be a relief to them so they wouldn’t have to put up with the constant longing looks from the pair. Not to mention the subconscious touchy shit that makes JJ gag. 

JJ would constantly bring it up to John B too. Yet, he would, as JJ would say, deny, deny, deny. 

But, regardless of John B and Y/N’s feelings for one another, the Pogues were always having a good time. 

Except when Y/N had to go home and face her real family. 

She never knew why she went back. John B was living without his father and seemed to avoid DCS fairly well. Why couldn’t she?

Yet somehow, she’d always wind up back in her tiny house on the Cut. 

It wasn’t that her home situation was horrible. It just wasn’t great either. After John B’s dad disappeared, Y/N’s father left her and her mother to fend for themselves. For awhile, Y/N and her mom wouldn’t even speak to each other. Y/N never knew why they didn’t speak, but then a week later, a stranger was caught leaving her house in the morning. After that, Y/N’s mother had finally started speaking to her again as more and more men would be caught leaving the house in the morning. 

Sadly, Y/N’s mother had changed. She would lash out at Y/N, telling her how useless she was and how Y/N should be helping her poor mom make money so they could eat. Y/N would take in every word her mom would say and try to explain she was doing little things to help out. The jobs were sporadic but it was something. 

Their arguments would usually result in Y/N storming out of the house, but then getting a call about thirty minutes later from her mom, saying  how sorry she was for saying all those things. She’d go on and on about how Y/N was such a great daughter and how she loved her so much. 

So, Y/N would always come home with the slightest hope that her mother was alright and meant what she said. But, the same thing would happen a few days later, and Y/N would find herself in tears as her mother screamed at her for being incompetent like her father. 

John B had a faint idea that home life for Y/N wasn’t very good. He could read her like a book after all. He could tell something had happened when the crew would be hanging out and Y/N was oddly quiet, but whenever he asked, she would just brush it off. Even Kie, JJ, and Pope could tell when something was wrong, but instead of pushing her, they left Y/N alone. John B, however, thought she shouldn’t be left alone and felt as if she was battling with something mentally. 

His suspicions were confirmed when he heard the little jabs her mother would give towards her daughter that Y/N didn’t even seem to notice. 

John B had swung by Y/N’s place to pick her up on the way to one of Kie’s family Kook events. While he was following Y/N around her room getting her stuff together, her mom had come in. “Where is it you’re going this time?” Y/M/N asked. “An outdoor movie thing that Kie invited us to,” Y/N replied, shoving stuff in her bag. 

“Total Kook stuff, Ms. Y/L/N,” John B added with a small smile. The woman just narrowed her eyes. John B dropped his gaze, slightly confused as to why Y/N’s mother was acting so weird. She had always been so kind and welcoming. 

“When will you be home?” she asked. 

“I don’t know, Mom. Late,” Y/N answered with an irritated ring. 

Y/N’s mother scoffed, “Just like usual. While I’m stuck at home slaving away.” 

John B saw Y/N roll her eyes before standing up straight and facing her mom. “What do you want me to say?” Y/N snapped. “That I should stay here and find someone else who will pay for sex?” 

John B’s gaze shot to Y/N’s at her statement. He didn’t have the slightest idea as to what was going on. 

“Save it, Y/N. I don’t want to hear it. Just go out with your stupid friends. They’re just as useless as you are,” her mother retorted. John B refused to look up at the arguing mother and daughter. 

“Are you kidding me? You’ve known John B for his entire life. You, and I quote, ‘absolutely adore that kid’, and you’re going to act like you hate him!” 

Y/N’s mother glared at her child and Y/N rolled her eyes. 

“Whatever. Let’s go,” she said, grabbing John B’s hand and shoving past the woman blocking the door. John B heard Y/N’s mother let out a breath and follow them down the hall. Y/N marched straight to the van with John B trailing after her, still shocked at the scene that had just unfolded before his eyes. 

As they were about to drive off, Y/N’s mother came outside and called in a kind voice, “Be safe, Y/N! I’m sorry!” John B noticed Y/N’s face contort in pain before she shot her mother a small smile. 

As if a switch flipped on in John B’s head, he realized what was happening. And he didn’t like it one bit.

“So,” he started slowly and felt Y/N’s gaze on him, “You’re seriously not mad at her anymore?” “What?” Y/N asked. “Who says I was mad?” 

John B really couldn’t really believe what he was hearing. 

“You were just arguing with your mom,” John B replied.

“Oh, that. That wasn’t arguing. Just a normal day in the Y/L/N household,” Y/N let out a strained laugh. John B looked at the girl with concern swimming in his eyes. “Y/N,” he said softly, “Does your mom do this a lot?”

“What call me useless, incompetent, stupid, but then says she loves me? I mean I suppose,” she mumbled. John B’s jaw clenched. “That’s not right,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road. “She still loves me,” Y/N said defensively. 

“She says she does, but--” John B started but was cut off.

“Just drop it okay?” Y/N snapped, “I’m fine. Everything is fine.” 

John B glanced at Y/N and saw her looking out the window, signalling that this conversation was over. He didn’t like it, but he kept his mouth shut anyways. 

Ever since that day, John B tried talking to his best friend and show her how abusive her mother really was. But, Y/N refused to listen to him. She didn’t want to hear it because she wanted to believe she still had her mom after her father left. 

Until one day, Y/N finally heard all of John B’s concerns in her mind. 

Y/N had just gotten back from a day out with the Pogues, and her mother had already brought a new guy home. The teenager walked in on her half naked mother and stranger on the couch. “Oh god!” Y/N shouted, covering her eyes. 

“What the hell?” the guy shouted at her mom. “Who is this?”

Y/N’s mother glared at her daughter and gritted her teeth, “This is my daughter.” 

“You never told me you had kids! Geeze how old are you?” the man said, shoving Y/M/N off of him and grabbing his clothes. “Wait, don’t!” Y/N’s mom called after the guy who was storming out. 

Y/N still stood there in shock. She wasn’t prepared for the storm that was about to enter the home. As soon as her mother came back in, she started screaming. 

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Y/N’s mom shouted. 

“I live here!” Y/N snapped back, her temper rising. 

“You little brat! You are always coming around when you aren’t wanted!”

“Mom! How was I supposed to know you were having someone over?” Y/N said. 

“Oh don’t play dumb,” her mother rolled her eyes, “You never approved of what I did. You’re just trying to sabotage me! All I’m doing is trying to help keep a roof of your head and food on the table! You don’t appreciate anything I do for you!”

Y/N was so confused. “You’re making no sense!” she screamed trying to hold back her tears of anger. “I appreciate everything you do! I was helping Heyward with grocery deliveries today! I was tipped big! I was trying to help!” 

“You never do anything helpful! All you do is go out with your stupid little boyfriend and friends! You’re the most worthless person I have ever met!” her mom screamed.

With every insult she spat at her daughter, Y/N felt a knife twist in her heart, and John B’s words echo in her head. Your mom may not be physically abusing you but she still is abusing you. Y/N, you need to get out of there. 

“God, you’re the worst daughter someone could have asked for! You worthless piece of shit! Are you listening to me?” Y/N’s mom screamed, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. Y/N shrunk back in fear. “I wish you were the one who left instead of your father,” Y/N’s mom hissed. 

Y/N felt as though a boulder had crushed her heart. Tears flowed down her face as she shoved her mom off of her. Her mom’s face immediately fell as she realized what she said. “No, sweetie, I didn’t mean it,” her mom tried touching Y/N’s arm, but the girl jerked away. 

Y/N had a look of horror written across her face. How could she do a complete 180? Y/N thought to herself. 

“Y/N, baby. You know I didn’t mean it. I love you.”

“No you don’t,” Y/N cried, backing away from her mother. “You’re sick. I’m sorry your husband left you, but that’s no reason to take your pain out on your child. You’re supposed to protect me! I lost a father too! But you, you just act like a complete idiot!” 

“No, sweetie--” Y/N’s mother started.

“I wish you were the one who left! Better you than Dad!” 

And then Y/N ran. 

She didn’t know where she’d go, but she knew she just needed to go anywhere but her home. Y/N let her legs carry her subconsciously and somehow wound up on the porch of the Chateau. Sobs racked her body as she collapsed on the ground.

John B opened the door expecting an animal or burglar but looked down to see a sobbing Y/N. 

“Hey, hey, what happened?” John B said immediately, scoping her up in his arms, bringing her inside. 

He went to set her down on the couch, but Y/N clung on to him and cried harder. John B sat down with her in his lap, a hand wrapped around her waist and head as he let her cry. John B knew what happened. He knew something like this was coming. Her mother must’ve said some awful thing and Y/N must’ve finally seen what was really going on. 

“Shhh,” John B soothed as Y/N cried harder. “Whatever she said to you is a lie. You’re worth it. You’re worth something,” John B whispered in her ear. Y/N seemed to quiet a bit at the sound of his voice so John B continued. 

“You’ve always been perfect, Y/N,” he said. John B didn’t really know where he was getting these words from. He never admitted his feelings for Y/N to JJ, but now, now he just knew he couldn’t deny it any longer. She needed to know that someone still loved her. 

“You’re always putting everyone’s happiness first, so when she says you’re useless or incompetent, she’s wrong. You’re a selfless, beautiful girl.” 

Y/N’s heart began pounding out of her chest as she listened to John B’s words. 

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” John B continued, “but she doesn’t love you. She’s not your family anymore. You have other people who love you. JJ, Kie, Pope. And me.” Y/N had stopped crying at this point. Does he mean it more than a friend?

“I,” John B hesitated, “I love you. And I think everyone has known that except you.” 

John B fell silent after that, holding his breath. He had no idea what Y/N would do. Y/N slowly lifted her head off of his chest and looked up at him. John B’s eyes were full of concern, but a little apprehension. He was waiting for her to say something. 

Instead, she leaned up, pressing her lips to his. John B instantly kissed her back. The kiss was sweet and slow. Y/N felt a warmth spread throughout her body as his grip tightened around her frame. She finally felt at home. Never in a million years did she think she would be kissing the boy who put sand in her hair as little kids. 

When they broke apart, Y/N’s mouth quirked up, “I love you too, John Booker Rutledge.” John B grinned and pulled her back in for another kiss. She moaned quietly as he bit down on her lip causing his hands to grip her waist a little tighter. Soon enough, Y/N found herself straddling John B. 

Her hands found the bottom of his t-shirt and began tugging at it. However, he quickly grabbed her wrists to stop her. “Wait, wait,” he said, pulling away. Y/N pouted a bit. “We aren’t doing this right now.” “Why not?” Y/N whined a bit. 

“You just ran away from home,” John B replied. 

“So?”

“Y/N,” he said with a stern voice, “You need to tell me what happened. Now is not the night for us to be ignoring this and you know it.” 

Y/N contemplated his words for a moment, but reluctantly agreed. They resituated themselves to where she was laying on his chest while his arm was around her waist again. 

“Well,” Y/N started slowly, “I came home and found my mom with another man. The man flipped out cause I guess my mom lied about her age and about having kids. And then she proceeded to blow up at me. Kept telling me how I was trying to sabotage her work and how I was worthless. The usual nonsense you know.” 

John B nodded in the dark and gave her a squeeze telling her to continue. 

“And,” Y/N paused, “and then she said she wished it was me who left instead of Dad.”

John B’s heart sank. “But then,” Y/N continued, “It was like she flipped a switch. She claimed she didn’t mean it and that she loved me. I didn’t believe her this time so that’s when I ran.”

Y/N shifted so she could look at the boy. John B had a mixed look of anger and sadness on his face. “Y/N,” he started, “you’re not going back there.” And for once, Y/N listened to him. “Ok.” John B was slightly surprised, but mostly relieved she didn’t try to defend her mother. 

Y/N laid back down and closed her eyes as John B started speaking again.

“You don’t know how much you are loved. Especially me, but the group. JJ would fall apart if you weren’t here, and Kie and Pope, you know how much they care about you. Don’t let anyone tell you you are nothing because you are far from it. I promise you. You are worth everything to me. Promise me you won��t ever doubt yourself,” John B said. 

Y/N smiled in the darkness. “I promise, John B.” He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her even closer as she finally drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning, the two were woken up by a very loud voice. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” JJ smirked. Y/N curled into John B’s chest mumbling something about killing JJ for waking her up. 

“Leave them be JJ,” Kie’s voice snapped softly. “Thanks Kie,” John B groaned, slinging his arm over his face to block out the sunlight. 

“Let’s go, we’ll meet up later,” Kie said before John B heard the porch door open and close. 

“Congrats man,” JJ added kindly before slipping outside after Kie. “I love you,” Y/N mumbled before her soft snores filled the room again. John B grinned like an idiot and whispered, “I love you too my sweet girl,” before he slipped back into a comfortable sleep.

_____________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed! More fics coming soon! And feel free to send in requests! Xoxo

[lifeistooshorttowasteyourtime]

Weasley Love: Part 6 - What future could be

Chapter summary: being a young adult in a world threatened by an impending war is definitely terrifying and it must also be added the fact of becoming independent. The Weasley twins are very clear about what they want and work hard for it, (Y/N) must manage to be the owner of her future outside of Hogwarts next to a successful partner.

>previous chapter / next chapter   //   SERIES MASTERLIST

Warning: mentions of death, a slap and *spoiler* sorry if you like Percy

*****

(Y/N) opened a box and smiling looking inside “I think you didn’t actually want me to open this box” she reached into the box and pulled out a piece of underwear smiling.

The twins looked at her and burst into laughs before approaching her.

“You’ve seen most of mine” George shrugged taking the underwear.

“And I don’t have anything to hide” Fred took the box to move it into the dorms.

She chuckled and sighed leaning on a wall, looking around the small but warm living room. George observed her before going to her and wrapping his arms around her, kissing her temple “what do you think?”.

“It’s amazing that you have become independent and I think this house is great for the two of you”.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit small or old?”.

“No!” she wrapped her arms around his neck “I mean, you might paint it and maybe change the main door, but besides that, I really like it. And the fact that is above the shop is a winning situation” she smiled before kissing his lips softly.

George sighed and pulled away his head slightly “you know what it would be a winning situation? If you were here too” (Y/N) frowned titling her head and he pulled away, taking her hands in his “what I mean is, why don’t you move in with us?”.

Her eyes widened surprised, they hadn’t talked about living together even though that summer they had spent almost all the time together. Fred appeared in the living room and crossed his arms with a small cough. George turned around and smiled at his twin knowing he had his full support.

“I…” she started, looking at the brothers and moving away from the wall “but, this is your house. I know you were looking forward to living alone, I would be a bother and break your dynamic” said the last thing looking at Fred who shrugged.

“I’m up for it as long as you keep your love activities at night as quiet as possible” (Y/N)’s cheeks turned bright red, making the oldest twin to burst into laughs “come on, I don’t mind at all having you here. Although you might regret having me as a roommate”.

“Fred…” George groaned before looking at his girlfriend “love, listen, we really want you to move in, we’ve been talking about it. But just if you want it. If you don’t, that’s perfectly fine too”.

“It’s not that” she smiled at him and put her hands on his chest “I would love to, but I think it’s not fair, I can’t pay rent. And don’t tell me I wouldn’t need to, you know I wouldn’t live here for free”.

The twins looked at each other before Fred spoke up “well, you could put that dream of yours on work” George titled his head looking at his brother “you could negotiate for us with suppliers, some are from other races and it’s a bit complicated for us to communicate, and it wouldn’t be a job like being in the shop, you can combine it with that course of yours”.

“Have you been thinking about it?” George asked surprised at which Fred shrugged with a smirk.

The youngest twin looked at his girlfriend that was looking at Fred with squinted eyes, thinking about the proposition “I think it’s a fair deal until you find a job”.

(Y/N) sighed and nodded mumbling “it could work”.

“So…?” George started to ask with a huge smile.

The girl looked at Fred with a raised eyebrow “are you sure you don’t mind me around here being lovely-dovely with your brother?”.

Fred laughed and shook his head “it would be just like in school so…”.

She laughed and looked at George who was staring at her, waiting for her response. (Y/N) sighed and nodded “okay, yes. I would love to live and work partially with you”.

The redhead cheered happily and took her face between his hands to kiss her, making her laugh against his lips.

“Okey, okey, okey, too much love and it’s not for me” Fred said jokingly and went to them, wrapping his arms around the couple.

The both of them laughed and (Y/N) looked up at the oldest twin with a bright smile. Fred smiled back and kissed her forehead “I must warn you that I’m not friend of picking up after my things”.

“I don’t care much and, besides, I’m not going to put a foot in your room so…”.

George chuckled and Fred smirked hugging them again while yelling “roomies!”.

*****

“… and they go to sleep quite late but I assure you that they are eating well and resting”.

Arthur Weasley nodded with a small smile “it reassures me to know that you are around them to check they take care of themselves and not just work. I am really proud of them, really, really proud, but I worry too”.

“It’s perfectly understandable Mr. Weasley” she looked ahead, seeing the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes that made her smile “although I wouldn’t worry to much, your sons know what they are doing. They are amazing. All your children are”.

The man smiled brightly “thank you for your kind words, dear”.

She shook her head and the both of them walked to the shop, having a bit of trouble to step into it because of the people there. It was usual since the inauguration.

George saw her in the moment she appeared through the door and he approached with a frowned, followed by Fred.

“Weren’t you going to use the Floo network?” he asked when he reached (Y/N).

“Hello to you too” she smiled and kissed his cheek “don’t fear, I’ve come with someone really special”.

George looked over her shoulder to see his smiling father.

“Hello dad” the twins said in unison making (Y/N) chuckle.

The four of them went to the counter where the brothers talked with his father while the young woman attended a couple of wizards.

“…and what is it about the Floo network?” Arthur asked frowning a bit.

The three of them sighed and George wrapped his arm around (Y/N) who was the one to reply “since things are getting a bit… unsafe, we decided I would come from the course in the Ministry directly home by the Floo network”.

“I see, that’s a very reasonable plan. I’ve seen most of the shops has already closed… What a pity…”.

George went to attend the clients while Fred turned to his father “do you want to stay for dinner, dad?”.

“Oh no, no. I wanted to see you both AND give you something” he took a package from his bag “food from mom”.

“Yay!” Fred cheered taking the package “I’ll send her an owl when we close the shop”.

“And meanwhile I will take this upstairs” (Y/N) took the package “I have to do some translations so I must start now before dinner time. See you and my father for tea tomorrow?”.

“Of course, darling. See you tomorrow”.

The girl kissed Mr. Weasley’s cheek and squeezed George’s arm with a smile while passing by him and going to their house.

Two hours later the twins appeared in the house, Fred going to the shower after ruffling (Y/N)’s hair in his way. George laughed seeing her trying to tame her hair and kissed her lips “are you going to stay up all night again? I should worry this is going to be like OWLS’ time” he took a sit next to her on the sofa.

“No, don’t worry. I’m not going to skip meals, I promise” she sighed, putting away her homework and let herself fall, putting her head on his lap. George caressed her hair with a smile and she snuggled against his stomach with a sigh.

“I… I have a proposition” she looked up at him curiously “we’ve been working nonstop, barely having time for ourselves and… I think we should truly spend time as a couple. Now that we are out of Hogwarts and we can truly spend time together, I don’t want to stuck in a routine. And, with everything that is going on, I just… want to enjoy with you”.

(Y/N) took his hand from her hair and brought it to her lips, kissing the back of his hand and fingers while looking up at him “I completely and totally agree”.

George smiled and leaned in to kiss her “I’ll pick you up tomorrow” kiss “and I’ll take you somewhere I truly like” kiss.

“Where? With how things are going…”.

“It’s near my parents, it’s a place I used to go with Fred but I haven’t taken you there yet. If we see something strange, we can run there, it’s pretty close”.

“But, haven’t your parents put a protective charm around so just your family can go through it?”.

“Yeah but you are in that list too, I told my mom to give you permission”.

(Y/N) pouted playfully and wrapped her arms around his shoulders pulling him closer and kissing his neck mumbling ‘I love you’. He laughed and sought her lips, kissing her softly while talking about the date of the following day.

*****

“I don’t think is safe anymore, I know they’ve been tracking my trips”.

(Y/N) and the rest of the students were shocked and angry about the decision of their professor to end the course abruptly. But she had her reasons, fear the main one. They all left the room, barely with a goodbye when the professor disappeared. The girl walked towards the fire places to take the Floo back home when she heard a conversation that called her attention because of a familiar voice.

“… if she has ended that poor of excuse of course, it’ll be something” followed by obnoxious laughs “and their students should be watched too, who know what they had been learning”.

She clenched her teeth and turned to the group and marched towards them “don’t you dare talk about her like that” the men turned to her and, the one who has talked, stared at her condescendingly “you know nothing, you are just a group of arrogant, conceited, ass-licking of a worthless minister”.

“How you dare…?” one of them say, but the redhead stopped his co-worker, taking a step towards the girl.

“And do you think you are in position to teach us anything? Someone who needs to keep ‘studying’ after school, that says a lot about you, or that you get the crumbs of a jokester who doesn’t know anything but be a clown”.

(Y/N) didn’t think. She just acted. And her hand slapped Percy Weasley’s cheek with force, making his glasses to fall. Three wands, from the other men present, raised to her but she kept staring at Percy that looked at her outraged. She took a step closer, almost being chest to chest although she had to look up.

“You don’t deserve to have the Weasley surname, you do not deserve the family you have. When you find yourself alone because of something as absurd as ambition that it will take you nowhere, remember my words, you are a disgrace”.

Then she turned around and left quickly even though the men yelled after her. She took the Floo network and landed at her empty house breathing hastily. She threw her bag on the floor and let herself fall on the sofa, trying to calm herself. She hadn’t spoken that much at Percy, ever, but she couldn’t stand how he treated his family in favour of the Ministry.

Suddenly the main door opened abruptly with his hand in his hand and walked to her agitated “are you okay?” she frowned “we've heard a thump from the shop”.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just thrown my bag on the floor” explained with a sigh.

George frowned seeing her with a defeat face so he crouched in front of her and caressed her cheek “I’m going down to tell Fred, but I’m going to go back and you are going to tell me what has happened” she was going to protest but he took her face and caressed her cheeks, wiping away a tear she hasn’t realized that had fallen “give me five minutes”.

She nodded with a sigh and he kissed her forehead before leaving. It was more than 5 minutes, but because George wasn’t alone. Fred sat on the floor in front of her while George sat next to her on the sofa.

“Have you closed the shop?” she asked frowning.

“Don’t worry about it and spill it” Fred said staring at her.

“I… I might have slapped Percy across the face”.

The twins looked at each other with widened eyes before looking at her. Looking down, she explained them everything, from the abruptly cut in her course from the argument with their brother.

“… and if your mom ever knows, she’s going to hate me”.

“Don’t worry about mom and I don’t think he would humiliate himself telling how you’ve put him in his place” George said with a smirk.

“I would have paid to se his face” Fred laughed “thank you sister, really”.

She shook her head with a small smile.

“And now what is going to happen with your studies?” George asked caressing her arm.

(Y/N) shrugged and pressed her lips into a thin line before speaking again “right now, I don’t really care. She has a point, you know? I’ve seen people coming and going in the Ministry and they didn’t seem that friendly… It’s actually getting a bit scary” she looked at George “my dad wants to go away with my grandma”.

“And are you going with them?” Fred asked looking at her.

She looked at the oldest twin and shook her head “no, I want to fight when the time comes”.

Fred smiled at her while George seemed worried but didn’t say anything and just hugged her to him, which she responded snuggling to him with a small smile.

*****

George approached (Y/N) that was sitting with Bill and Fleur, the three of them with sad smiles while they talked between them. In the moment they knew about the attack on Hogwarts, and the death of Dumbledore, (Y/N) hadn’t left the engaged couple’s side for too long, worried about Bill but also Fleur, wanting to help her and Mrs. Weasley to take care of the oldest of the siblings.

“I’m sure you two will look amazing” (Y/N) said softly to the couple.

“You too” Fleur smiled at her “you are really pretty”.

The girl blushed and thanked her shyly. George sat next to her and kissed her head before greeting his brother and future sister-in-law “what were you talking about?”

“The wedding” Fleur answered smiling brightly, she was looking forward to spend the rest of her life with Bill “after all of this, I want to hold to the happy things”.

“Couldn’t agree more” (Y/N) nodded and leaned on George “have your parents already gone back to the Burrow?”.

“Not yet, they are waiting for you two” said the redhead to the couple “but don’t worry, they are talking with McGonagall”.

“But we should already go” Bill spoke up and they all stood up “will you come for dinner?”.

“Sure” George accepted for both.

They said their goodbye, Bill kissing (Y/N) forehead, before reuniting with Molly and Arthur. George and (Y/N) just started to walked down the aisle, greeting some people, stopping to talk to some of them. They reached Ron and Hermione who was crying on the boy’s shoulder while he caressed her arm. Ron looked up at them and (Y/N) waved with a small smile without wanting to interrupted.

They met Ginny halfway the aisle, seeing Harry walking away by himself. (Y/N) hugged the girl with a sigh and kissed her cheek “how is he?”.

“He doesn’t want to talk about it, it’s understandable” Ginny swallowed “guys, this is the start. This is the start of the war and I’m afraid for him, for all of us”.

“If we stay together, we’ll end him. And Harry won’t be alone in this” (Y/N) tried to encourage her, squeezing her hand while talking.

Ginny nodded unconvinced and the three of them walked to Fred that was talking with a some of Gryffindors and stayed there with Lee and Angelina for a while. (Y/N) and George were hand in hand and she hugged his arm, leaning her head on it without truly listening to the conversation.

A bit later, an owl appeared and offered (Y/N) a letter so they all kept silence while she read it. She sighed deeply and smiled “my dad and grandma are safe in Italy now”.

George smiled and kissed her head. She smiled up at him and saw by the corner of her eye Professor Lupin and the Auror Nyphadora Tonks, which was a talented and funny witch. A surprising but fitting couple. She bit her lip and made a decision, going to them quickly and leaving a frowning George behind.

“Professor, may I have a word with you?”.

“I’m not your professor anymore, (Y/N). You may call me just Lupin” he said with soft voice.

She smiled and nodded “Lupin and Tonks, I want to join the Order”.

George stood by her side and stared at her surprised but she kept looking at the adults that looked between them.

“I know the danger but you’ll need all the help you can now, right? Please, I want to help”.

Lupin looked at George who smiled softly at his girlfriend. It was Tonks who spoke up “we will talk with the rest, but consider yourself inside fellow Hufflepuff” she winked at her “talk soon, then”.

The Auror took Lupin’s arm softly and the both of them said their goodbyes.

(Y/N) turned to George and looked up at him a bit nervous about his reaction to her suddenly decision. But he just smiled at her and put her hair behind her ear “so… The Order”.

“I feel I’m doing nothing and I really want to fight”.

He sighed and hugged her to him “my brave Hufflepuff”.

She chuckled and hugged him back tightly “but I’m really scared”.

“I would be worried if you weren’t… But as you’ve said Ginny, as long as we are together, we will win”.

The girl nodded and pressed her cheek to his chest, looking up at the castle that had been their home, the place that had seen the birth their relationship, filled with memories and laughs. The place where it would all end even though they didn’t know yet.

Tag list: @the-romanian-is-bae​ @allaboutsml​ @girl22334​ @nikkipea​

Notes: well, just two chapters left. It might take me a bit to write them since they are going to be emotional and I want to do it justice. Thank you!

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan 

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Or on FF

Tagging:  @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook @itsfabianadocarmo

Chapter 6: As You Wish

Emma wasn’t waiting for Ruby to get back to her room. Not at all. She was simply staring at the door in case anyone interesting walked by. At least that is what she told herself. She had spent the last hour convincing herself that she didn’t care what Ruby and Killian were up to. She could barely stomach the guy at all and if Ruby wanted to deal with his bullshit, who was she to stop her.

She peeked her head out the door and peered down the hall.

“Help you with something Emma?”

She jumped and grabbed her heart. “My God you scared me.” Graham was standing behind her with a grin across his face. “Um no, I was just waiting for Ruby to get back from…” She paused and bit her lip. “The cafeteria.”

“Bit late to be eating don’t you think? It’s almost lights out.”

Emma panicked. She didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. “Female issues.” She said with a shy smile. “Chocolate make the cramps go away.” She cringed at her own words and he put his hands up in front of him.

“Say no more.” He backed away quickly and continued down the hall.

“Ugh.” She groaned just as she heard voices coming from the other end of the hallway. She ran back into the room and jumped into her bed, grabbing a magazine, and holding it up in front of her, quickly flipping it again so that it was right side up.

“Thanks again Ruby, you really are a very sweet lass.” Emma rolled her eyes, staring down at the magazine.

“Well, you know what I said earlier, you come find me, anytime.”

“Goodnight, Love.”

“Night Killian.”

Emma felt like vomiting. It wasn’t that she cared about Killian and Ruby doing whatever they were off doing together, she didn’t. Not entirely. Maybe she was just lonely. That had to be what it was. She’d felt alone since getting to the island.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true either. She and Jefferson had become like kindred spirits. He had a way of making her laugh that made her feel free. She hadn’t felt that way in such a long time that she found herself looking forward to hanging out with him. Not that she didn’t think he might have a screw loose, or maybe even two. But he was very sweet to her and she enjoyed the attention.

So maybe it wasn’t loneliness that had her seeing red when Ruby walked into the room, her cheeks flushed, and her clothes still covered in sand. “Looks like you had an interesting evening.” She said dryly.

The girl looked down at her clothes, brushing them off with a giggle. “Oh yeah well, we were um…”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I don’t care to hear the damn details.”

“I was right about one thing though.”

Emma looked up from her magazine. The girl stretched her hands apart and mouthed ‘big dick’. Emma shook her head, her insides fuming as she gritted her teeth. “Don’t care, Rubes.” She tossed her magazine to the ground and rolled onto her side, pulling her covers over her head. “Turn off the light when you are done, please.”

She didn’t sleep well that night. She told herself it was because in the morning she would have to go to another group therapy session, but she knew that wasn’t entirely the reason for her foul mood. Looking over at Ruby still sleeping in her bed, she got up and quietly dressed for the day, sneaking out to grab some breakfast before their session. She didn’t feel like spending the morning listening to her roommate talk about Killian or the size of any of his damn parts.

She grabbed her tray, a short stack of pancakes and bacon, before settling into a seat in the corner of the cafeteria. It was quiet and she was grateful to have a moment to collect her thoughts before she had to deal with the entire group again. Apparently therapy patients were not early risers because she continued to be the only person in the room for thirty minutes. However, as soon as she heard his voice, she started gathering her plates and stood from the table, watching as Ruby and Killian entered the room, both laughing about something stupid she was sure he had said.

She threw away her garbage and walked toward the door. “Something I said again?” He joked loudly as she approached the exit. She paused for a moment and turned back toward him, extending her middle finger, before continuing toward the hallway. She didn’t know why she was being so childish, but it felt good.

She was still early for group, but she didn’t know where else to go so she made her way to the room and sat in an empty chair around the circle.

“You don’t get any bonus points for being early.” She looked up to see August enter the room. “But I’m glad to see you came back.”

“Ready for round 2 of my interrogation.” She said mockingly.

“We haven’t really had a moment to chat.” He looked around the room. “Seems now is as good a time as any.” Emma shrugged, looking apprehensive. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for last session. I want you to know it wasn’t personal.”

“Really? Because it felt personal.”

“Look I’ve been here four weeks now, I get it. It’s not easy coming from a life you know to somewhere like this where you are forced to face the darkest shit about yourself. It’s not always fun looking that deep.”

“Or having someone tell you who you are when they don’t even know you.”

“Fair point, Emma. But have you ever had anyone just tell it to you how it is, no bullshit, no sugar? Because that’s where you gotta get to here. You have to rip the bandage off and let it bleed.”

“That’s graphic.” She scowled.

They heard voices and looked up as the others entered the room. Ruby coming in and plopping down in the seat next to her. “You got up early.”

Emma shrugged but smiled at her.

Killian took the seat directly across from her, his dark eyes meeting hers as Dr. Hopper walked in with Will and Jefferson.

“Looks like the gang is all here.” Will joked, taking the seat on the other side of her. “Mornin’ beautiful.”

Emma scrunched her nose, watching him from the corner of her eyes. “Um hi.”

“Alright who wants to go first today?”

“I will.” Ruby volunteered and Emma happily turned to her other side to watch her roommate speak.

“My Grans is coming to family day this time. I’m really excited to see her.”

“That’s great, Ruby. That’s a big step. You didn’t think she would come last time we talked.”

“Yeah, I guess she’s still upset with me. Disappointed, but she’s willing to come support me.”

“How are your phone calls going with her?”

“Good, a bit short still. She doesn’t want to have to talk about all the um, men, I’ve done around town. Apparently, I have a fan club that comes looking for me at the diner.”

“Is it just you and her at home?”

“Um yeah, she took care of me for as long as I can remember.”

“Your parents are gone?”

“Dad passed when I was five, mom didn’t handle it well. She wasn’t around much and then it was just me and Grans.”

“So, you grew up without a man in your life?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Do you think not having a father around might have led to an unhealthy obsession with men?”

She shrugged. “I guess. It’s not like I sleep with men because I want my daddy if that’s what you’re thinking?”

“Sounds to me like daddy issues is a common theme in this room.”

Emma glared at August. “Again, with that shit? Can a woman have self-esteem issues without you automatically assuming it has to do with a man?”

He held his hands up in front of his body. “Truce, please continue.”

“Anyway, in the beginning I liked being with them because they bought me alcohol. Treated me nice, bought me things. But then I just found that I wanted to please them, almost like I needed to, like it made me high anytime I was offering sexual favors.”

“I wish I had a sex addiction.��� Will announced and every laughed. “Sure, sounds like a better way to get high.”

“Sex addiction is not a laughing matter, it’s very serious. It leads to unhealthy relationships, low self-esteem, depression.” Their therapist tried to explain.

“That about sums me up.” Ruby said with a shrug, a frown on her face for just a moment before her mask took over again and she plastered the smile back on her face.

“I don’t get how having sex is somehow a serious issue.” August rolled his eyes and crossed his arms against his chest.

“You know, you may not take it seriously, poor little rich girl, got drunk, had sex with a man who beat the shit out of her, took too many pills, and ended up here. Sex addiction seems stupid to you but try living with it every day. When the only way to feel good about yourself is if you please someone else.” Ruby had tears on her cheek and Emma reached over to take her hand.

August sighed. “I’m sorry Rubes, you’re right, it was wrong of me to say that.”

“I don’t need your pity. Or yours.” She pointed to Will. “Maybe yours, cuz you’re hot.” She winked at Killian and Emma flushed.

“Ok thank you for sharing today, Ruby.” Archie interjected thankfully before Ruby could continue her shameless flirting.

“Emma, why don’t you share something today.”

Emma sighed deeply. “I uh, not sure where I’m supposed to start.”

“Let’s talk about how old you were when you first started drinking.”

“I probably started when I was 14. I went to a party with a Neal.”

“And Neal is your boyfriend, correct?

She looked at her hands. “Um, yeah, he’s my boyfriend. We met when I was twelve and he was just always around.”

“Was he upset by your drinking?”

She laughed. “Not at all. Neal actually made me my first drink.”

“Are you and Neal the same age?”

“Nah he’s a couple of years older than me, so he was 16 when we went to our first party together.” She caught Killian’s eye and looked away.

“Emma, would you say that Neal was an enabler for your addictions?”

Emma flinched. “No.”

Her therapist squinted his eyes. “When did the drugs start?”

Her heart was starting to beat a bit harder in her chest. “I would say a couple years later. Maybe 16 or 17?”

“And where did you get them from? Was Neal part of the drugs as well?”

“Um, he had a dealer we would buy from.”

“Bloody hell.” Killian swore under his breath.

“What’s your problem?” She shot back at him and he glared back at her.

“Just seems like a real swell guy giving fucking drugs to a 16-year-old.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s none of your damn business.”

“Apologizes, M’lady.” He bowed his head toward her and she felt the anger building inside her.

“Why are we apologizing at all? Killian has a point.” August interjected and Emma’s head snapped in his direction.

“Aye, he has a point.” Will mimicked.

“I’m the one in rehab, not Neal.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like he had a hand in getting you here. Did he even try and stop you when you started drowning?”

Emma bit her cheek, her knee bouncing in front of her. “Neal tried. He’s a good guy.” She lied. She knew they were right, but that was none of their damn business.

Killian snorted in disgust.

“I think I’m done sharing for today.” Archie nodded and turned toward Killian.

“Killian, why don’t we move to you since you seem eager to talk today.”

Emma smirked when he looked up at her. “Serves you right buddy.”

“Alright.”

Emma noticed how quickly his demeanor changed.

“When did you start drinking?”

“I was in a band.” Emma snorted and then covered her mouth. He peered through slanted eyes in her direction before continuing. “I’m just saying, it was different circumstances. I wasn’t a 14-year-old rich girl who could have anything she wanted.”

“I beg your pardon.” She scowled.

“It’s different, princess. I had nothing. We practiced in a broken-down garage with instruments we got from a pawn shop. My dad wasn’t around much and when he was, he was passed out drunk, my brother practically raised me. And when I wasn’t with Liam, Rob and I spent a lot of time writing songs and drinking.”

“Hypocrite.” She mumbled.

“Besides,” He said loudly. “We were just kids messing around. I didn’t start abusing alcohol until much later.”

“What do you think brought that on?”

Emma studied his face. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so invested in his story or why she cared at all.

“I guess it was probably all the pressure I was under to perform. The band was touring and as soon as the tour ended, I was expected to start filming a movie, I had just gotten engaged, and everything seemed to be spinning out of control.”

Engaged? Now that’s something she didn’t expect.

“Most of the time all that pressure comes from within, man.” Jefferson laid a hand on Killian’s shoulder.

“I guess, I mean the money I brought in was more money than my family had ever seen. At first it felt good to be able to provide but after a while, everything I did became about making sure that money kept coming in instead of just doing what I loved.”

Emma studied his face, looking for any sign of deception as he spoke, she found none.

The room got quiet and Archie finally spoke. “Ok you guys did great today. Let’s pause here and congratulate Emma and Killian on completing one week of rehab. Great job.”

Everyone clapped but Emma could only sigh. She’d only managed to get through one week. She didn’t feel like she had gotten anywhere, instead it was like she was frozen in place.

The group stood and broke off into smaller discussions. Will and Jefferson talking about the next visit to the gym and Killian and Ruby whispering in the corner, probably making plans for another roll in the sand, she thought.

She slipped out the back door while no one was paying attention and went in search of her refuge. It wasn’t until her feet climbed the hill under the pier that she let out a large breath. She sat down on the sandy embankment, watching the waves coming in and out with the tide.

“Permission to enter?”

She saw him standing at the edge of the pier, rays of sunshine brushing his hair. “Does my answer matter?”

“Of course, it does, Swan.”

She groaned. “What do you want?”

“I came to apologize.” He stood at the bottom of the embankment. “For earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Which time.” She spat and then looked back at him; disappointment plastered across his face. “Sorry, habit. It’s fine. Seriously.”

He tentatively climbed the hill and sat down beside her. “I did not mean to make disparaging remarks about your boyfriend, Neal correct?”

She didn’t want to talk about Neal. She just shrugged and stared at the water. They sat in silence for a what felt like hours. It was comfortable, yet she couldn’t explain why.

“I started doing drugs when I met Milah.” He spoke softly.

“Is that your fiancé?”

He nodded sadly. “Aye.” He looked over at her and she noticed immediately that the bravado was gone.

“Is she coming for family day?”

He looked toward the ocean and released a deep sigh. “No.”

“Oh.”

“Can I tell you something?” Their eyes met and she nodded silently. “It was a car accident.” Her brow furrowed, not understanding him. “I had been drinking.” He paused, swallowing hard as if he was admitting something that was more for his benefit and not hers. “A lot. Milah and I got into a fight the night of my movie premier. I was angry and she was yelling at me. The road was wet, and I lost control of the wheel. I didn’t even see the truck.”

Emma swallowed. Oh my God. What was he saying? Her mouth was dry, and she didn’t understand why he was choosing to share this information with her.

“That’s how you lost your hand?” She finally spoke, hardly at a whisper.

He nodded sadly. “That was only part of my punishment. I lost everything I loved that night.”

Emma came to a slow realization for what the implication of his statement meant. Milah couldn’t come visit him for family day because she was no longer here.

“Killian I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize, that’s my burden not yours.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know.” He whispered. “You called me out for lying previously. No one else even batted an eye.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me.”

“Well now I’m not. And now you can admit the truth.”

She stared at him confused. “The truth about what?”

“Neal. It seems to me that he’s been there throughout your entire beginnings and yet here you are, alone. Where was he?”

“I fail to see how that is any of your business, but if you have to know, he’s waiting for me at home. He’s always been supportive of my recovery.”

“I see, so no one can lie to you, but you can lie to yourself. Seems quite cowardly.”

“I beg your pardon. Do you think because you chose to share something with me that suddenly that makes us…” She glared at him. “What? Friends?”

He stood and started to walk down the hill. She jumped up and chased him through the sand. “Did you think pretending to open up to me, telling me your secret was going to get you in my pants. Was Ruby not enough for you?”

He turned on her. “First off, Ruby is a much better friend than you are even capable of, but you can be sure, love, I have no intention of getting anywhere near your pants.”

“Good, because I have no interest in you.” She glared with her arms crossed.

“Nor I you.” He yelled.

They stared intently at each other, time standing still, fire burning in his blue eyes. He put his hands in the air and turned. “Forget it, Swan, I’ll leave.”

“Just stay the hell away from me.”

“As you wish.” He bowed, turning back toward the center, and jogging away.

She wanted to scream but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she fell back into the sand and cried. He seemed so sincere just five minutes earlier. It infuriated her that he could so easily get under her skin. She didn’t want to admit that he had seen through her, that he was right about Neal without even knowing the full story. She hated him for being right about anything, but she hated him more for being right about her. She was a coward.

Why was he trying to connect with her anyway? He was already having sex with Ruby.

It had never occurred to her that maybe he was just reaching out for someone to share his experience with. Besides, he did come to her in private, he wasn’t like August, going after her in front of everyone else. And how did she repay that? She yelled at him. Accused him of divulging something so personal with her in exchange for sex. It angered her that she may be in the wrong.

After all, she was the one who had kissed him. Perhaps he wasn’t interested in her at all. He had never made any attempts to kiss her since that day. And now she was pretty sure he hated her. As Emma walked back to the center that evening, she realized that even in rehab she was a complete and utter screwup.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

The Four Seasons

The Four Seasons is one of my mom’s favorite movies, and I’ve definitely seen bits and pieces of it before, but have never sat down to watch the whole thing. It’s a 1981 film starring Alan Alda and Carol Burnett that concerns three wealthy married couples who take vacations in spring, summer, fall, and winter, and the trials and tribulations that their lives (and as a result their friendships) go through. Now that I’m a wise, learned married woman myself, does this film impart lessons about marriage that I can resonate with 40 years later? Well...

I will say yes but with a big ol’ asterisk next to it. Some lessons about marriage are universal. And some are based on pressures and expectations that just really, really make me glad I’m not straight. Let’s dive in.

Some thoughts:

Alan Alda wrote, directed, and starred in this! What a triple threat. 

I do love that the men are all cooking and the women are in the living room talking about their work. Coming from a family that observes the strictest of gender roles at family gatherings, this is the most welcome and refreshing thing I’ve ever seen.

I have always wanted to make those cellophane noodles, and I think it’s because I saw them in this movie when I was a kid! It’s always nice to discover your roots with things like that. 

Why would you jump in the lake WITH the bread? Save the bread, man!

The primary conflict starts early - one of the friends, Nick (Len Cariou), wants to leave his wife, Anne (Sandy Dennis), and I can appreciate this so much more now that I’m married. I understand what it would mean to be married to someone for 21 years and to then say “I can’t do this anymore.” I understand Jack’s (Alda’s) frustration with Nick, but I also sympathize with him - no one should feel trapped in a marriage that doesn’t make them happy. I understand most of all Kate’s (Carol Burnett’s) reaction to the news: turning to her husband and simply saying, “Hold me.”

I love Ginny (Bess Armstrong) and her being impressed by Nick for being an estate planner. She is so in awe over him because she “never met anyone who knows so much about actuarial tables!”

Why would you ever want to vacation with 6 people on a sailboat? There isn’t even enough room for 2 people, let alone 6! And only one person knows how to sail? This is a dramedy but it could just as easily have been a straight up horror movie.

And what kind of sociopath would or could have sex - repeatedly - in said sailboat where the other two couples can hear them all night? Seriously, this feels like a weird fetish vacation or something, like something out of Hostel.

I cannot believe they crammed 4 people in the back of that Mercedes and made poor Ginny sit on Nick’s lap the whole way. Do none of these people believe in adequate accommodations???

This movie passes the Bechdel test handily, because this group of female friends really cares for and looks out for each other. They talk about their relationships, sure, but they also talk about their emotional upheavals and the state of their friendship. I’m especially pleased to see this kind of female friendship and support from a movie that was written and directed by a man. It’s sad but true that this sort of thing is real damn rare.

Nick denying his daughter’s feelings and trying to coax her into smiling is so cringey I want to die. 

God I feel so bad for Lisa,Nick and Anne’s daughter (played by Alan Alda’s actual daughter, Beatrice Alda!). She’s clearly so depressed and no one will offer her the dignity of just listening to her or just being with her. 

I’m also getting some pretty strong ladygay vibes from Jack and Kate’s daughter Beth (played by Alan Alda’s other daughter, Elizabeth Alda). Nothing comes of it, but there are vibes, man.

I absolutely adore Carol Burnett, and when she reaches her breaking point and finally goes off on Alan Alda, it’s incredible. She’s such a gifted physical comedian but at the core of it, she is so fantastic at digging into the emotions behind the physicality - the anger, the frustration, every ugly, twisted thing every woman is shamed for letting show, she uses it. “When I’m perfect, I cease to exist!” If that doesn’t cut to the heart of every Type A woman I’ve ever met when they feel overshadowed and overlooked by men, I don’t know what does. 

The women in this film are so terrified of becoming obsolete to their husbands, in large part because Nick left Anne, and while obviously that’s a real thing that a lot of couples go through, it just feels so completely foreign to me to even consider as a woman married to another woman. Like, what if your whole deal from the time you got married is that you would grow and change together and not feel like it’s inevitable that you would trade each other in for younger models? How about that, guys? Do you want to try that instead?

Why does anyone go skiing? It looks like literally the least fun activity in the world. You’re cold, you’re wet, you keep falling down, and if you’re not careful you’ll break like every bone in your body. 

Oh man this turtleneck and glasses guy is really murdering “Strangers in the Night” on the saxophone. I have never wanted to go to a roadhouse more than one where that guy is the house musician.

I also think it’s a beautiful thing that in this movie, Jack is the one who wants everyone to open up about their emotions, who expresses feelings, who wants his friends to talk about everything. That is such a rare gift, to see a man, arguably the leader of his friend group, take that role in his relationships. 

Ginny is given a lot of humanity and is allowed to be more than just “the other woman,” and ultimately her emotional outburst as well as Jack’s is the emotional catharsis that is needed in any relationship when tensions build until they break. 

Did I Cry? No, but I did feel moved by the emotional honesty at work here. It’s really a movie that’s a love letter to friendships and to romantic relationships in equal measure, and that’s not something you see every day. 

I’m so impressed by Alan Alda and his vision for this movie. I wanted to be friends with these people. Their doubts and fears and foibles and anxieties are relatable, even if some of them are steeped in some very rigid gender roles. I highly recommend this movie for its humor and warmth - it’s hard to pass up Alan Alda and Carol Burnett under any circumstances, but these are particularly good ones.  If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[no6secretsanta]

Our Voyage

For @secretagentfan​

You said pirates and magic and my brain went “YES”, and then I tried to add as many of the other things you mentioned that were possible within the story. Then things got a bit out of control—and by that, I mean this wasn’t supposed to be this long, but at some point it had a life of its own I couldn’t do much except try to type as fast as I could. It’s my first time writing an AU, ever, so I hope you enjoy this little universe that was born thanks to your prompts. It’s been a rough year, I think we deserve some adventures and boys in love as a treat. Merry Christmas! and Happy New Year. (It really is a long read, so get comfortable <3)

~ @aoicanvas

***

Shion wakes up to shouts coming from above. He must have fallen asleep reading, trying to decipher some of the most obscure passages of the book that’s supposed to guide them.

The sixteen years of his life spent in the Blessing didn’t prepare him for any kind of confrontation. He would like to think that the four subsequent years in the Pious Ward had hardened him —and yes, in some ways they had— but nothing could really prepare him to hear Rikiga’s voice coming from the main deck, shouting “PIRATES!”. 

His mind halts to stop.  

He looks around the small storage room he is cramped in. Barrels and crates would certainly provide a good hiding spot. But to what end? What if they found him? 

Standing up, at least, seems like a good place to start. He picks up the book to hold it against his chest, and there isn’t time for much else before he hears footsteps approaching.

“I’ll take this one,” says a voice he doesn’t recognize, right before a woman walks into the room. The first thing he notices is the sword she holds in one hand; the second, the ridiculous feathered hat that obscures her face. The poor light in the room, coming from a lonely candle on the table, isn’t helping either. “A scared little mouse!”, she says, bringing him out of his stupor. “Everyone’s on the main deck, darling, you’re missing out. Follow me outside and don’t try anything funny, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

Shion speaks before his brain processes the words.

“Like what? You’re the one with the sword.”

The woman looks taken aback for a split of a second. But quickly replaces it with a sharp smile. “You’re right about that, which is an even better reason for you to do as I say. Come, we have business up there.” 

Shion forces himself to walk towards her, slowly, even though all his instincts scream at him to do something. 

And then, he passes right in front of the candlelight. 

The woman freezes.

The moment lasts only a heartbeat. In an instant, she lifts her sword until the point almost grazes Shion’s chin. 

“Wait,” she says, and there is a strange change in her voice. “What’s your name?”

Shion swallows, hoping his voice hasn’t deserted him yet. 

“Shion,” he answers, not expecting the woman to curse under her breath, sword dropping to her side as she rubs her forehead with her free hand. 

“This is just my luck.”

“I’m sorry? Did I do something?”

“Plenty,” she drawls as she points the sword at Shion again, only with considerably less enthusiasm this time. “I’m looking for a certain book. Nondescript, written in Laidoan. Wouldn’t it happen to be what you’re holding right now?”

Shion instinctively hugs the book tighter to his chest. That is, apparently, all the answers she needs.

“Great! This is—great. Excellent,” she continues with fake cheer. “I’m assuming you know Laidoan? Of course you do, that was a stupid question. Now—”  She takes a step to the side, making a grand gesture with her sword towards the open door. “You’ll get out and go directly to the deck, understand? And don’t even think about trying anything funny. It wouldn’t go well for you.” 

Shion doesn’t know how he gets his legs to move. He’s scared but somehow, he walks past the entrance, down the narrow hallway and up the steps to the deck. He can hear the footsteps of the woman behind him. And once he reaches the top, he can see the rest of the crew. They are all kneeling down on a line, their hands behind their backs. Except Rikiga who’s lying on his side and holding his arm close to his chest. His hand is stained red with blood. Drazh, his first mate, is in a similar condition on the other end of the line. 

“Rikiga!” Shion calls, his body moving towards him before he can even think. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” says the woman behind him. He feels something cold and pointy against the back of neck.

“But he’s hurt! He’s—”

“Nothing vital. He’ll be fine, little mouse.” There’s a pause. Shion stays very still, distantly noticing how his breathing is coming raggedly and his chest feels tight. “Go to him, but behave.” 

Shion doesn’t need to be told twice. He almost trips the few steps that take him to Rikiga. He kneels by his side, never letting go of the book. “Rikiga, are you—?”

“Fine, Shion.” Rikiga winces, and looks toward him. “Fucking pirates. They never get close to this route, I didn’t think—”

The woman stands in front of the defeated group and clears her throat. Shion takes a second to notice the ship that’s stationed right next to theirs, and the armed strangers that surround them. At first glance, the woman doesn’t look particularly strong or remarkable. Shion could immediately point out at least three others that look like the personified version of the evil pirates that show up in cautionary tales. But the woman projects an unmistakable air of confidence and command.

Another individual he doesn’t recognize comes up from the stairs that lead to the crew’s quarters. “Nothing there, Eve,” he says to her. “The usual.”

She nods and sheaths her sword in a clean movement.

 “Well, my friends, we find each other in an uncomfortable situation. See, I never meant to hurt any of you, but seeing as you were so rude when we approached, it couldn’t be helped,” she says with ease. Now, under the light of the sun, Shion can make out her sharp features and dark blue hair. Something in the back of his mind stirs, but he’s too worried to pay attention. “As I very cordially tried to tell you before, I came here to pick up something I’ve been looking for. Now, I have to be fair to my crew and to the dedication they have put in supporting my efforts today, so they will be taking any of your belongings they find of their liking. We’ll leave you with enough provisions to last until you reach the closest port.”

Rikiga tenses by his side and Shion can hear him mutter curses under his breath. The woman—Eve, looks towards them and her mouth tilts in something that’s close, but not quite, a smile. 

The minutes after that seem to stretch indefinitely. Eve orders someone from Rikiga’s crew to show two of her comrades to the cargo hold. Shion doesn’t know how long they take, but after that they make a few trips carrying provisions to the upper deck. Rikiga is almost shaking with anger by his side. 

“We thank you for your collaboration,” she says after all is done, taking a graceful bow that’s way too deep to be taken as anything but an insult. “I only need one thing before we leave you to your journey.” 

And then she points at him. 

Of course she does.

Shion stiffens, feeling suffocated both by the sun shining above and by her keen gaze. “Little mouse, come forward.”

His legs feel numb after being in the same position for so long. He almost stumbles once he gets to his feet. Rikiga mutters something but his heart is beating so loud in his ears he fails to hear him. 

He does as she asked, approaching but keeping what he thinks is a safe distance. He’s gripping the book so hard his fingers hurt.

“You seem very attached to it,” Eve says. Her voice is suddenly quiet, almost a whisper. 

“It’s important to me.”

“You have studied it.” 

It’s not a question. She mutters the words with unwavering certainty, but Shion nods anyway. 

There’s a moment of silence, and then many things seem to happen at once. Eve grabs his arms and drags him to her side, announcing they’ll be taking Shion back to their ship. Rikiga tries to stand, shouting at her to let him go, now, and Shion tries and fails to go to him when one of the pirates unsheaths his sword in a silent  thread. 

“Colin, don’t,” she calls out. The pirate stills, and Rikiga manages to stand, eyes narrowed.

“Why the hell would you take him? He knows shit about sailing and it’s only going to be another mouth to feed. Just take the damn book and leave us be.” 

She grips his arm a little tighter and Shion is sure that would register as painful in any other circumstance.

“Rikiga, is alright. It’s—your arm, please, Rikiga. I’ll…” he pleads, feeling his words tangle like vines as they leave his mouth.  

She doesn’t let him continue.  “We’re in need of another carpenter” she says, and points at Rikiga’s arm, “I can deal with that in a few minutes. If you care so much about the little mouse, come with us.”

Shion doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but Rikiga’s agreement is certainly not it. There’s defiance in his voice and Shion is both thankful and terrified for him. She gives Rikiga time to talk with his crew, and they both get a chance to pick up a few their things under the watch of one of Eve’s comrades. 

Crossing the gangplank to the other ship doesn’t feel real. They’re guided below decks to the cargo hold and a woman they didn’t see before comes to treat the wound on Rikiga’s arm. 

They sit silently on top of wooden crates in a poorly lit corner and Shion can feel his stomach drop when the ship starts moving. A few individuals come and go, carrying the supplies they took from Rikiga’s ship. 

Only when they’re alone again, Rikiga speaks.

“Shit, Shion, I never thought we would ran into fucking pirates. They never wander into this route. Not that I know of. Here’s supposed to be safe, there’s usually patrols from port Daahl, what’s your mother gonna say—”

“You had no way of knowing,” he says, trying to sound calm “And my mom doesn’t even know I’m here, Rikiga,” he reminds him, trying not to let that thought weigh him down. Despite the four years that have gone by since he last talked to his mother, no part of him has come to accept that. 

It’s the main reason behind his decision to go into this journey. 

“But eventually she will. I just don’t like the idea of Karan finding out her son got kidnapped by pirates when he was under my watch.” He must see something in Shion’s face, because his voice loses some of his edge after that. “Don’t go losing hope on me now, Shion, you still have the book in your hands after all.”

Shion sighs. He’s right about that. 

“Tell me if you need something for the pain. I brought a few things that can help with that,” he says.

Rikiga shakes his head. “I won’t be drinking any weird tea with shit-smelling flowers.”

That gets Shion to smile. 

It feels weird, like his muscles forgot that’s something he can do. 

“It’s not that bad. I can mix it with something else to help with the smell and the taste.”

“When we were young, your mother said something like that to help with a hangover and I shouldn’t have believed her,” he grumbles, squinting his eyes.

“Well, this certainly isn’t the same, and mom was still learning back then, I’m sure.”

Rikiga lets out a small chuckle. “Still learning? By then she was already the best herbalist around, stealing patients from the local physician. Wonder why she didn’t follow up on that path after.”

Shion shrugs. He doesn’t have an answer for that.

“Oi, did you bring you things to help you sleep?” Rikiga asks, inspecting the bandages on his arm. 

“Azahal. Yes, it’s with all the other supplies.” 

“And you have enough, right? No risk of running out?” 

Shion suppresses a shiver. That’s something he has gone through before and he hopes he never has to again. “It should last. But now that we’re here—I don’t know. I hope.”  

Rikiga looks like he’s about to say something else when they hear footsteps coming down the stairs. He doesn’t recognize the person that approaches; they definitely weren’t among the crew that boarded Rikiga’s ship. 

“Shion,” they say, “the captain wants to see you. Bring the book,” and without another word they turn around and leave. Shion stays sitting there, frozen for a second until Rikiga pats his shoulder and mutters a quiet “Go”.

So he follows them, trying to ignore the stares he can feel on the back of his neck. The person guiding him stops in front of what can only be access to the captain’s cabin. They open the door and unceremoniously push Shion inside. 

He stumbles, and immediately hears the door creaking as it closes behind him. 

The room has enough space to fit a nice bed on the far end and a desk in the middle. There are windows that illuminate the room with warm sunlight, sending slanted beams of light that  hit the dark wood of the floorboards. 

He doesn’t let his eyes wander for long. 

Eve is standing next to the desk, fingers drumming on top of it. Now that she doesn’t have a hat on and there’s no imminent threat of death to him or any other, he lets himself really see her. 

And it knocks the breath out of him. 

Her eyes, they’re just like—

But it can’t be.

Then, Eve’s shoulders drop slightly and she waves a hand in the air, her fingers dancing in a pattern that’s too precise to be casual. With a final flick of her wrist, her imagine shimmers like a mirage, shifting and blurring. Shion resists the urge to rub at his eyes but can’t help taking a step back.

It takes less than a second. Her hair shortens and changes to a lighter hue. Her coat and clothes stay the same, only shifting from a deep purple to a plain black with no ornaments. Her features turn a bit more pronounced; pointed jawline, high cheeks and thinner lips. 

Same eyes. 

They are like a storm, he had told him, over four years ago. 

“You—” Shion chokes on the words, his eyes scanning his face. It’s him, there’s no doubt about it. He looks older, of course. Taller and sharper, somehow. A far cry from the boy he kept hidden in the Golden Library’s basement for weeks, back when he still could walk the streets of the Blessings freely.   

“Shion—”

“How did you—? Are you…” 

He halts, struggling to remember what he wanted to ask. 

Nezumi, Nezumi walks around the desk and rests his arms on the back of the tall chair. Shion feels something hot and ugly bubbling up in his chest.

The ship must be veering to the east, because the sunbeams dance across the room, changing their position. One of them lands on the side of Nezumi’s neck, shining on the strands of hair that fall freely from his ponytail. 

The part of Shion’s brain that got over the initial surprise thinks beautiful, and it’s really not fair, not with the hurt and the anger eating him up from the inside.

“If you want to know how I did, here’s the answer,” Nezumi says, pointing at a couple of parchments rolled on top of the table. “I’ve learned a few more tricks since we last saw each other.”

“I don’t care about your tricks!” he spits out, unable to keep his voice level. “For the Gods above, why didn’t you say anything? I thought someone was going to die—” He takes a sharp intake of breath, his heart hammering in his chest. He remembers the fear, acutely, like a sickness spreading in his veins. “And you hurt Rikiga, my friend, and Drazh, and they only got into this for me and now—”

“I did not mean them any harm,” Nezumi says firmly, and Shion thinks he sees his fingers tightening on the back of the chair. “But they retaliated, and my crew has the right—”

“Oh, shup up,” Shion cuts in. “They retaliated? You are pirates that boarded their ship! Of course they’d retaliate, in what world that wouldn’t happen?” He holds onto the book tightly with one hand and clenches the other in a fist to keep it from trembling. “What are you doing, Nezumi?”

Nezumi’s eyes scan his face quickly before dropping to his side.

“Looking for that,” he says, pointing at the book.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but that’s all you’re going to get.”

“But, really? A pirate? Nezumi—”

“I will save us both time by telling you that the judgement of a pampered kid from the Blessings has no value on my ship,” he interrupts, and Shion recognizes the steel behind his words. 

It seems the years have only served to fortify it. Still, that’s not fair. 

“I haven’t lived in the Blessings for a while now.”

“I know.”

He’s stunned into silence for a moment, feeling strangely cold. Like someone submerged his bones in a frozen lake.

“How?” he asks, after a few beats. 

Nezumi looks down at the desk, eyes shifting briefly towards the rolled parchments. But he says nothing.

Shion feels nauseous. 

“Why do you want this?” he manages to ask, lifting the book.

“Nothing of your concern, Shion.”

Shion nods. There are still words burning in his throat, but there are also tears threatening to fall from the corners of his eyes and he feels like all the anger has left him hollow and aching. 

So he says nothing, only turns around and walks to the door.

“Where are you going?” Nezumi’s voice rings clear and sudden.

“To see Rikiga,” he answers, reaching for the handle. “He needs healing.”

And then he leaves. 

Nezumi thankfully doesn’t try to stop him. 

Shion ignores the stares he gets as he descends to the cargo hold. Rikiga is exactly where he left him and the relief is visible on his face when he sees him arrive. Shion drops down on the wooden crate next to him and only realizes there are tears streaming down his face when Rikiga calls his name worriedly and threatens to go kill Eve right that second. 

Shion feels like he should explain. 

So he tries, as best as he can, wiping away the angry tears and breathing deeply. It’s not a long story, at least, and Rikiga already knows the important parts. The parts about how, when he was sixteen years old and a star student at the Golden Library, he helped a stranger escape from the Crown Guards and led him to the basement. How he took care of him for almost a month, as best as he could, stealing infusions and medicine from his mother’s shop to help with his wounds. How he sneaked away to keep him company, even after he learnt why he was being pursued, knowing he could be accused of treason if anyone found out

Which was exactly what happened at the end. 

Rikiga got most of that story from him the night his crew went drinking to the tavern where Shion was working near the docks, right after they somehow connected the dots and realized Rikiga knew Karan from years past. 

It’s been a little over a year since that conversation, so it surprises Shion that Rikiga still remembers all the details. And he’s grateful, because it means he only needs to fill the blanks he avoided before. 

Rikiga is frowning by the time he finishes. 

“So… Nezumi is Eve,” he says, slowly. 

Shion nods, closing his eyes. 

“Well, he’s an asshole. He didn’t deserve your help back then, that much I can tell.”

A part of him wants to agree with that, but it’s a hopeless endeavour. 

He doesn’t regret his decision and he knows, with strange certainty, that he never will.  

There’s silence after that and Shion wonders if Nezumi will call for him again any time soon. 

Idly he realizes he doesn’t even know if Nezumi doesn’t mind Rikiga knowing about his whole double identity deal, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

It is then that another set of footsteps can be heard approaching from the stair. Shion looks up and finds Nezumi walking to a corner and dragging a small round table to where they sit. 

“Put your arm there,” he says dryly to Rikiga, pushing then a crate to sit on. 

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Rikiga,” says Shion, with his eyes trained on the rolled piece of parchment that Nezumi is carrying, “just do it.”

Rikiga grumbles under his breath but does as Shion requests.

Nezumi places the parchment on the table and begins undoing the bandages on Rikiga’s arm. 

“Does he know?” Nezumi asks, looking sideways at Shion as he finally reveals the wound. 

“Yes.”

Nezumi nods, asks Rikiga to stay still and unrolls the parchment. 

There are old runes written along its length. Beautiful swirls of fresh ink he doesn’t comprehend. He presses the parchment along the wound and RIkiga, to his credit, doesn’t even wince. 

There’s a pause and for a moment Shion wonders if Nezumi is regretting this, if he’s just going to walk away and leave them in the cargo hold for the rest of the journey. In the candlelight, Nezumi’s skin looks oddly pale, and Shion notices how stray hairs curl on his temples where sweat has gathered. 

Then, there’s humming. 

Shion recognizes the melody. It’s the same he heard years ago, when Nezumi was finally strong enough to reach into his power. 

The runes on the parchment low with a soft blue light. Shion hears a surprised gasp coming from Rikiga but his eyes are glued to the process. 

It’s been so long. Sometimes, he thought maybe it had all been a dream. 

Nezumi’s humming turns into a quiet song. The melody rises and falls like the waves they ride and as the runes shine brighter, it changes, until there’s a harmony of voices coming from only one person, a cadence of times old that lives again.

A song woven with magic.

The same magic that’s been forbidden in the Sixth Kingdom for two hundred years. The same magic that would’ve gotten Nezumi captured and executed if Shion hadn’t run into him that night. 

The glowing symbols twirl and slide off the parchment, following the cadence of the tune. They disappear under Rikiga’s skin and, for a moment, there’s a glow that expands from his elbow to his fingertips, almost as if his blood was alight. 

Then it dims until it becomes nothing. Nezumi pulls his hands away, slowly, and the parchment is turning black at the edges, an invisible fire burning it until it turns to ashes. 

Where there was a wound, now there’s only a scar, it’s texture and color a stark difference with Rikiga’s skin in the candlelight. 

“Well, shit,” Rikiga says a little breathlessly, stretching his arm and pulling it close to his face to squint at it. 

Nezumi stands up and shakes the ashes from his lap, keeping his eyes down. 

“Inukashi will come in a moment to show you around and give you your duties,” he says, turning around and walking to the stairs. “They’re the boatswain so follow their orders and don’t try anything stupid.” 

Shion stares, swallowing down his urge to thank him, and ignoring the uneasiness that creeps up his spine. 

***

When Inukashi shows up, Shion recognizes them as the person who led him to Nezumi’s quarters before. They look no older than eighteen and Rikiga sputteres indignantly, refusing to take orders from someone than young. 

However, it’s not like they have much of a choice. 

Elyurias is the ship’s name and most of its crew are young sorcerers or apprentices, but whatever their powers are, they keep it to themselves. A few older members are also among them, but they don’t seem to hold any special position of authority. 

When Shion is asked about his knowledge on sailing he is tempted to repeat what Rikiga had said before they took them. But he bites his tongue and mentions that he can cook and knows enough about herbalism to threat a few ailments. Inukashi waves a hand dismissively. There’s a cook on board already, so he’s designated as cabin boy and there’s that. 

On the third day on the ship, right before sunset, Inukashi says Nezumi wants to see him. 

And he wants him to bring the book. 

Shion has kept it carefully tucked away with his belongings. He didn’t have much hope for no one ever getting into his things when he wasn’t around. Trust is not a word he can use here just yet, especially because the sleeping quarters for the crew are shared spaces where there is rarely any privacy. 

But until now, much to his relief, no one has touched any of his things. 

So he picks it up and, for the second time since he was brought here, goes into the captain’s cabin.

Nezumi’s cabin. 

The sun is already low on the sky when he steps inside and there are some candles lit around the room to keep the shadows at bay. 

Nezumi is standing behind the desk, looking down at a map spread on top of it. His hair falls loose down to his shoulders, framing his face when he lifts his head as the door creaks open. He’s wearing the same long black coat, and an expression that betrays nothing.

As soon as the door closes behind him. Nezumi speaks up. “How’s your friend doing?” 

He inhales. 

This is going to be fine. 

“Rikiga better. Thank you,” he says almost in a whisper, approaching the desk. 

He knows this conversation is one they need to have, but he can’t be blamed for not looking forward to it. 

Gingerly, he places the book on the desk. Nezumi’s gaze falls down to it. 

In the relative silence of the room, his breathing seems too shallow and too loud. Shion feels his skin itching with uncomfortable anticipation. 

“Nezumi, I—”

“Save it”, he interrupts, finally meeting his eyes. As always, they are beautiful, like the sky in a storm, but there’s also a strange shine to them that feels out of place. “Let’s make this absolutely clear and put both our cards on the table, since we’ll be working together for awhile. I am indebted to you still, we both know that. So, to even the escales, I’ll share whatever we find with you. Any secrets, any treasure or answer, any proof; it will all be split between the two of us first.” He stops and takes a breath. “We’ll both get what we want, for whatever we need, and we’ll be free to go our separate ways after that. I can take you and your friend to a safe port where you can find transport back to the Sixth Kingdom.”

Shion should feel relieved. It’s what he needs, it’s objectively the best case scenario. 

It’s the closest thing he’s going to get to an apology.

But his brain is hung on a single word.

“Indebted?” he repeats, trying and failing to read Nezumi’s expression and the small smirk that starts forming on his lips at the question. “What are you talking about? You don’t—if this is what you think I was trying to get at before, you’re sorely wrong.”

“I know that,” he says, straightening slowly to move the chair and take a seat. “But it doesn’t what I just said.”

“But why… you know that’s not why I did it, right? That I wasn’t trying to get some kind of favor from you?”

And that actually makes Nezumi snort and roll his eyes. “You still understand so little, Shion. Going out to the open seas and risking your life to face the perils of a sailor’s lives might have been the best decision you have taken.”

“And you’d be one of those perils in this hypothetical life lesson?” he shoots back. 

Nezumi’s smirk widens a bit. 

He recognizes many things there, things he got accustomed to, for a while. The smugness, the confidence and the convictions steeled by a life of unfair trials and cruel puppeteers. 

“Why, of course I am! What other role could I have but that of the antagonist force in your life? I’m certainly not a hero or a martyr,” he fakes a shudder, and Shion had almost forgotten he had a penchant for theatrics. “I’m the captain of a pirate ship, that would not suit me well at all.” 

“You’re not an antagonistic force,” Shion says, taking the seat in front of the desk and placing his hand on top of the book. “You want the same thing as I do, and you’re not looking to take it from me. Moreover, you want to share it justly, right?”

“Congratulations on your listening skills, that’s exactly what I said.” 

Shion ignores the first comment and sighs, letting his shoulders rest against the back of the chair. 

The past four years feel like a heavy weight on his back.

“Do you have a location?” he asks, pointing at the map spread on the desk. 

“If I had, I wouldn’t have gone after the book” he answers. “How much of it have you read?”

There is no point in lying and, the thing is, that despite everything, despite the fear and the hurt and aching in his chest when he thinks of the danger everyone had been in, he believes him. 

He has a feeling he always will.

So he tells him what he knows.

The book, as it turns out, is a journal. An account of the only person who supposedly found one of the three Secrets of Old. The Singing Waters, the Fire’s Call and the Gifted Pearl were all said to be gifts from the gods, one of the five blessings they had bestowed upon their children long before the six kingdoms were born. Some said they were magical objects created by the powerful sorcerers of ages past, when the first pacts were made with creatures of the Fey and power in humans was still raw and new. 

But the discrepancies regarding their origin didn’t matter much. They were legends, inspiration for countless storytellers to give their heroes a goal and a purpose. An example for the priestesses to describe the grace of the gods. Despite that, there were those who seeked them. Those who thought had found proof solid enough, and embarked on the path to find them

The Singing Waters to heal, the Fire’s Call to destroy and the Gifted Pearl to create. That was the simplified description. Shion had spent most of his last years at the Golden Library researching and studying the Singing Waters, not because he believed them to be real, but because there was enough evidence to think they were based on a real and powerful healing source that old civilizations had used and that had somehow gotten lost through time and war. There were enough accounts to point to that conclusion. As far as he knew, his professor back then was the most knowledgeable man in the Kingdom on the subject, but even though the Golden Library was the best place to conduct any research, they still always seemed to be one step behind, no matter how much new information was acquired. 

That’s why, when Rikiga showed up with the book during a warm summer night after one of his short trips to close ports, Shion had thought nothing of it. It was a common occurrence since Rikiga had taken to bringing him back books from his journeys after finding out he used to work and study in the Golden Library. 

When Shion finally got around opening the book and realized it was written in Laidoan, an old tongue spoken only in a handful of places by few individuals, his interest was immediately picked. He then discovered the Laidoan was different from the one he had studied, an archaic version of it, mixed with influences from other tongues he wasn’t so familiar with. There were coded passages too, which did nothing to deter his determination. 

It took him over three months of studying and translating with the few resources he had, to figure out that what he had in his hands was an account of an individual who had found the exact location of the Singing Waters. 

Then, it took a little longer for him to really believe it. From all he knew, it could be a lie, a fantasy, but it seemed too elaborate and it matched many of the things he had learned in his studies. From what he had been able to decipher, there was a first location that needed to be found that would point to the final destination. All the passages regarding that first location were particularly obscure, mixed with a heavy tint of Bressen, an old dead tongue he was not familiar with. 

He had no one to tell this except for Rikiga, who had listened with an incredulous and amused expression until he realized Shion was, in fact, not messing with him. So Shion had decided to go with Rikiga on his next trip to Port Daahl, where the Scribes Archive of the third Kingdom was located. He hoped to find books on Bressen that would help him understand what he was missing.

Now, as he recounts what he has learnt from the journal and breaches the subject on Bressen, a smile curls Nezumi’s lips. He moves to rest his chin on his palm.

Shion stops mid sentence. The sun set a few minutes ago, and in the candlelight Nezumi’s eyes are similar to endless pools of turbulent water.

“What?” He asks, regaining his voice. 

“I would call it fate if I didn’t know how ridiculous a notion that is and how pleased a priestess would be with that kind of statement.”

“You… that’s not really explaining anything”

“Shion,” Nezumi starts, leaning forward. The light softens some of his features and sharpens others. He lookes like a cat before jumping to catch his prey. “Sarasse kh’ilss.”

There is an eternity encapsulated in the second that follows. 

A breathless moment. 

It reminds him of the first time he saw Nezumi using his magic, when he was once again strong enough to reach into his power in a dark basement corner, with ink stained fingers and an ancient song spilling from his lips. 

“You—is that…”

Nezumi’s smile widens. It is a real smile, dancing in his eyes.

“Bressen. I’m familiar with it.”

“You speak it?”

“No, I think no one does these days. But I can understand it in written text. It’s been a long time since I studied it, but I’ll remember enough, I’m sure.”

Shion swallows, trying to ignore the staccato of his heart. 

“What did you said, earlier? Arasse…?”

“Sarasse kh’ilss. It means ‘in fortune’s wings’, a sort of parting sentence.”

Shion merely nods and his hands shake a little when he finally reacts and stands up, almost knocking the chair behind him. He flips through the pages as quickly and carefully as he can. “Here,” he says, walking around the desk to stand next to Nezumi, placing the open page in front of him. “Can you understand this?”

Nezumi’s eyes widen a fraction for a split of a second, but he quickly turns his gaze to the book. 

They spend the next hour working on the first part of the cipher. Nezumi can read a few words in Bressen, but same as with the Laidoan, it’s an old version of it, and as both tongues mix and weave together in riddles neither of them can immediately make sense of.

But somehow, at the end of it, they manage to put together a phrase. It’s not even in the beginning, but still, it’s something, and Shion sees his exhilaration reflected on Nezumi’s eyes and he forgets, for a moment, what led him to this point and why he’s even set on this goal. Instead, he remembers memories long locked away, of late nights shared reading behind discarded bookshelves, of the stillness brought by the approaching footsteps of a librarian working late hours. Of a younger version of himself, leaning against Nezumi’s shoulder as he picked up the sentence right where he had left off, voice soft but unwavering. 

Then the door opens and Inukashi enters the room with no preamble, walking straight towards the desk.

Nezumi leans back a little. “Inukashi, I think I’ve told you you should knock first.”

“I thought I told you I don’t care,” they say, eyebrows raising. “Why, am I interrupting something?” 

“Since you asked so nicely, yes, you are,” Nezumi says, and Shion would very much like to understand the significance of the look they exchange then. He feels the sudden need to press something cold against his forehead. 

“Too bad. It’s late.”

“We are—”

“It’s late, Nezumi.”

Shion is close enough to him that he can almost feel him tense by his side. And that’s—odd.   

He knew Nezumi to be defensive. That’s something that obviously hasn’t changed, but the situation is still… he can see where Nezumi’s is holding his quill a little too tight, and he can also see when he drops it and pushes a rebellious strand of hair away from his eyes. 

“Shion,” he says as he closes the book with care and locks it away in a drawer. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

Shion leaves. The book is safe behind him and the key of the drawer where it is kept rests in his hand; the metal cold against his palm as he grips it firmly. 

And they do continue the next day. And the day after that. It’s a slow progress, and Shion still has to tend to the duties Inukashi and other crew members have for him. But it doesn’t bother him. He likes to keep busy and it’s good to do something with his hands, the waves crashing softly against the ship and the sun high in the sky. 

It’s usually late in the afternoons when he goes to Nezumi’s cabin, and they spend two to three hours finding meaning in weird passages, putting together symbols and ancient words as the temperature drops and the candles are lit. 

Until Inukashi shows up and Shion leaves the room with the same key in his hand. 

He wonders why Inukashi always comes at the same time. Why Nezumi’s expression closes off every without fail.

He wonders, but says nothing. 

In the meantime, the crew seems to slowly be warming up to his and Rikiga’s presence. He suspects in Rikiga’s case, it’s partly because he actually knows what he’s doing, after years on the sea, and partly because he likes to drink and sing merrily and doesn’t mind placing bets on card games he’s sure to lose. 

In Shion’s case, it starts with one of the younger crew members, who haltingly asks him if he knows of something he can do to help with the itching on her arms. Warily, she agrees to show him, and Shion is grateful to recognize it as a fairly common skin allergy. Not for the first time since he left with Rikiga, Shion’s glad he followed his instinct and stuffed half of his bag with all the herbs, potions and supplies he had.

So he prepares a balm for her and tells her to let him know when she needs more. A day later an older man comes to him with the same problem. He swallows his surprise and offers the same solution. After that, the navigator shows up with a stomach ache. Then, the rigger complains of a strong headache from working too many hours under an unforgiving sun. The carpenter working with Rikiga asks him for something to alleviate muscle cramps, and Rikiga himself gives in when he wakes up one day with a bad, bad hangover. 

At some point, it stops being a surprise and, little by little, he learns all their names, and they learn his. 

***

They’re half a day away from Fawaris, a coast city from the Second Kingdom. 

In the first hour of the morning, when the sun is slowly rising from the east and bathing everything with the promising colors of a warm day, Nezumi places strips of parchment all around the perimeter of the ship. On the bow, the forecastle, the main and the quarter deck, the masts and the crow’s nests. Different crew members are tasked with holding them in place. It seems like something they’ve done before, because they move with the confidence of a practiced routine. 

Still, everyone’s attention is on Nezumi when he kneels in front of a bigger piece of parchment in the middle of the main deck and starts singing. 

There’s something almost ethereal about listening to him singing out in the open. He had only seen this in poor lit rooms, the song always a quiet melody crafted for a small audience. Now the rhythm reverberates on the ship, and the winds carry it to every corner, the harmonies raising like the sea. 

He can see the glow in the different parchments. It brightens with the song and dims as it ends. 

And then the edges of reality seem to blur. All around him, small details change. The masts shorten, the bowsprit grows, the sails change their size and color and the wood that makes Elyurias looks darker and older. 

It’s a different ship. 

Shion would bet the name painted on the hull has changed too. 

Nezumi straightes on the center of it all as a wind picks up and scatters the ashes of the parchments used. “Welcome to the Shy Mistress, everyone”, he says, taking a bow before walking towards his quarters. 

Inukashi speaks up, silencing the claps and laughter that had erupted at the mention of the name. They call those who’ll go with them to get supplies and assign tasks to those who’ll stay on the ship once they reach port. 

“Good show,” Rikiga says, standing behind him.

Shion almost jumps out of his skin.

“I didn’t know something like this was possible” he admits once his heart feels a little more under control. 

“Do you think he can do that to another person? Turn you into a horse, maybe?”

Shion laughs, trying and failing to imagine what kind of horse would suit him.

“Oi, Shion!” Inukashi calls, approaching them. “You can go to the town once we dock, so if you wanna look around for whatever it is you need for reading time, go ahead. And, here,” they say, as they rummage through a leather pouch and pick up a closed bag from it. Once he takes it, he realizes it’s heavy with coin. “Don’t give me that look, it’s mostly copper pieces. In case you need to replace all the plants and shit you’ve used to help all the idiots around. Just remember to be back before morning. And you,” she turns to Rikiga, who is trying to step away inconspicuously, “you’ll be coming with me, Colin and André. I need you to carry some stuff.” 

Shion doesn’t need to be told twice. 

As everyone goes back to their positions while the Shy Mistress continues on her path, he goes to find Elena, the cook.

“Hey, Elena?” he calls out when he finds her rummaging through open crates in the cargo hold. “Are you going? To Fawaris, I mean.”

“You bet,” she says, moving to open another crate. “It’d be nice to have some fresh vegetables even for a few days. And fruit. It’s expensive as hell over here but Nezumi won’t say shit if I make some sort of pie after he finds out.” 

Shion chuckles, something warm spreading in his chest. He had shared Karan’s blueberry pie with him once. Nezumi had devoured it. 

“If that’s the case and you have enough time, would you show me some shops? I’m running low on some of my supplies.” 

“Sure. You wanna continue spoiling them, uh? At this rate they’ll end up going to you for every minor inconvenience,” she turns to him and blinks rapidly, inflicting a different pitch on her voice. “‘Shion, I stubbed my pinky with a table, would you kiss it better?’ Just wait, I’m telling you”. 

Shion laughs and helps move a crate aside to pull another from behind a pile. “I just like helping them if I can.”

“I know. There are a couple of herbalist shops here. I can’t vouch for their quality, but I know their location. Is there anything in particular you need? Or just a bunch of herbs?”

He hesitates for a moment. “Um. Azahal. That’s… maybe harder to find.”

“It doesn’t sound familiar. What is it?”

“It’s like… like toronjil, or similar, in some aspects. But stronger. It’s native to the Sixth Kingdom and doesn’t grow well in other locations, usually,” he explains, carefully removing a bag of grain from the crate as Elena counts. 

“Uh. I guess we won’t need more of that. Help me close this.” 

He does and, for a moment, thinks the conversation is over. 

His mistake. 

“And why do you need that? The stronger thing?”

“Ah,” Shion mumbles, stalling. “It’s—I need it to sleep.”

“Is that the thing you put on that tea each night?”

“Yeah.” 

“Isn’t toronjil good enough for that too though?”

“No. I mean, yeah but—not for me,” he says, resisting the urge to wring his hands. “Azahal it’s the only thing that works. It’s a condition, I guess. Sleeping problems. My father used to have it, from what I’ve heard. Mine started a couple of years ago.”

“Uh. That sucks.”

“A bit.”

“And it doesn’t have any bad effects? Like, I don’t know, making you see flying puppies or something?”

Shion smiles in spite of himself and notices that Elena is looking at him carefully. She’s more observant than he thought. 

“It’s—no. It could, if prepared incorrectly. But my mom perfectioned the distillation process. I get really tired and disoriented for an hour before actually falling asleep, but that’s all. It’s the lesser evil.”

“Damn, good thing you were born in the Sixth Kingdom then.”

Shion shrugs. “I was lucky. Azahal can be hard to come by there too. You know how… well. The law’s against magic there—”

“I know. We all do.”

“Right. Ah… the authorities use azahal as a measure of protection when they—” he stops, licks his lips, “when they capture a sorcerer.” He looks sideways. Elena is looking at him with a frown. “Another of its uses is the suppression of the power in magic users. It’s the only thing that doesn’t have a bad side effect and allows them to conduct… interrogations. In a—a safe way.” 

“Well. Fuck.”

Shion feels a bit sick. The interrogations are safe, yes, for everyone involved except the sorcerer being questioned.  

“Yeah.” 

“Does Nezumi know about this? About you having this thing, I mean.”

“No, why would—”

“I don’t know, Shion,” she sighs, and takes a seat in the crate she just closed. “I’m not a sorcerer, but my wife is. As are many around here—that’s the main reason why we stick together. Nezumi is the one with the fancier tricks, and the cleverest of us all. And if I was him, or any of the others, I’d like to know that I’m travelling with someone who regularly uses a crazy plant that could suppress my power just like that.” 

“But—it’s a different preparation and—”

“Not the point, Shion.”

He looks away. “It didn’t even occur to me, Elena. I don’t… I don’t usually talk about this. It’s just—it’s for me. I would never use it on anyone here. Least of all Nezumi, he—”

He feels a hand on his shoulder. Elena is looking at him with a small smile, her eyes warm in the candlelight. “I know. I won’t tell anyone, Shion, just thought I’d mention it, you know? Now,” she straightens and ruffles his hair, “stop looking all worried. It’s not a good look on you.” 

After that, it’s a bit of a long walk back up to the main deck.

He wanted to ask Nezumi something before they docked. He still wants to, but now there are spider webs of doubts clogging his lungs and his hands and feet feel like they’re made of lead. 

Still, he ends up in front of the door of the captain’s cabin. It occurs to him he’s never called Nezumi “captain” and wonders if seeing his reaction is worth the try. 

He inhales, exhales, knocks and waits. 

No answer. 

“Nezumi?” he calls, knocking again. He turns and takes a step to look around, scanning through the crew members working on the main deck to see if he spots Nezumi among them. No luck. 

He bites his lip and tries the handle. It gives a soft click when he turns it. He opens the door slowly, peeking his head in as he scans the room. 

The light of the morning enters through the circular windows and expands in golden halos that give everything the appearance of a dream. Maybe that’s why it takes him a second, as he steps in and closes the door behind him, to notice the figure sitting behind the desk, slumped forward. 

Something coils around his heart and tugs painfully.

“Nezumi?” he calls, forcing his feet to move. He’s probably asleep.

He keeps his hand steady when he places it on his shoulder, and swallows down a sigh of relief, when he notices he’s breathing.  

Then ,he sees the bottle of spilled ink on top of some papers. They’re all ruined, whatever they had, and Nezumi’s hand, still loosely holding a quill, is stained black.

Suddenly, he stirs under his touch, and Shion squeezes his shoulder softly. “Nezumi, hey, you should go to your bed if you’re this tired.”

Nezumi straightens slowly, his movements sluggish. He turns to look at Shion through bleary eyes. There’s color high on his cheeks and his skin glistens under the light with a sheen of sweat. 

Only then Shion registers his breathing seems short and erratic.

“What—” Nezumi is saying, looking disoriented. 

“I think you fell asleep on your desk”, Shion explains, voice heavy with worry, placing a hand on Nezumi’s forehead. He’s burning up. 

Nezumi frowns slowly before turning to look at his desk. He must notice the mess immediately then, because he stands up way too quickly, forcing Shion to back up a step and knocking his chair on the process. 

He curses under breath, pressing his ink stained fingers against his forehead.

“No, no, wait,” Shion hurries forward, catching his wrist and pulling his arm down. “Don’t—just… look.”

Nezumi does, as Shion quickly takes off the thin scarf he sometimes uses around his neck.

“Shion—”

“You’re sick,” he interrupts, focusing his attention on dragging the fabric across Nezumi’s forehead. The ink slides off easily, thankfully. Then he moves to clean his open palm. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m not sick, Shion.”

“Bullshit.”

His voice sounds rough. Quiet in the golden light of the morning. Shion cleans his fingers, one by one. On his peripheral vision, he notices Nezumi swaying momentarily in front of him. He almost drops what he’s doing to steady him, but before that, Nezumi leans forward, pressing his forehead on Shion’s shoulder. 

He can feel his breathing on his neck. At least it feels a little more regular now. 

“I’m just tired. The spell. It takes a toll.”

Shion stands very still. He hasn’t let go of Nezumi’s hand. 

“You are too warm, Nezumi. This is not just tiredness.” 

An exhale against his neck. The coil around his heart is still there again, tugging painfully. 

“Living people are warm,” he says. 

And Shion wants to laugh, wants to push him away, wants to hold him closer. 

He does none of those things.

***

He doesn’t find azahal in Fawaris, but he wasn’t really holding onto any hope for that. Thanks to Elena, he does find one good herbalist shop and buys more than enough to have supplies that will last for a while. 

He also finds a book on Bressen, which is what he was going to ask Nezumi about, but instead ends up using his efforts to convince him to drink some water and go to bed. 

They leave the port the next day, and that afternoon he feels trepidation crawling up his spine when he knocks on Nezumi’s door. 

Nezumi does appear to be okay. He even humours Shion and lets him press his hand against his forehead, smirking up at him the whole time. Shion ignores the way his heart jumps and pushes the memory of Nezumi leaning against him behind a smile. 

“It was really tiring then,” he says, giving him the key so he can open the drawer where the journal is kept.

“Magic is complicated. I didn’t tell you everything about it back then,” he says as the lock clicks open. 

“I thought you had. I asked you plenty of questions.”

“Yes, but I didn’t trust you enough to tell you everything.” 

Shion pauses. Nezumi is opening the book in front of them.

“I thought you had.”

“Had what?”

“Trusted me.” 

Nezumi meets his eyes for a beat.

Shion gaze doesn’t waver. 

“You were naive.”

Shion shrugs. “Perhaps,” he concedes, and decides this is as good a time as any. “I got something that might be helpful.”

He picks the bag with the book and takes it out, handing it over to Nezumi.

“A book?”

“On Bressen”

The reaction is immediate. He picks it and flips it open in one motion, going through the first pages and then skipping right to the middle. 

“Fawaris?”

“Yes. I thought it might help us with—”

“Perfect,” Nezumi cuts in, and when he looks up his smile is bright and open and Shion feels a bit unsteady on his feet. “Look, there’s a list of the declensions, even the ones that got merged with the years.” 

Shion walks around the desk and moves a stool to sit at Nezumi’s side. He reads the first sentences and something catches his eye. “Isn’t this the one that keeps showing up? Here…“ he points, pulling the journal so it’s side to side with the book. “It’s the same. Here too.”

Nezumi laughs at his side and the light of the sunset catches on his hair.

He looks lovely.

Shion forces himself to look away. 

“I think we might figure this out,” Nezumi says, pulling a blank parchment open and picking up a quill.

Shion’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“I think so too.” 

Two hours later the night finds them with all they need, all the words and sentences connected. The cipher is no longer a mystery. 

Still, it doesn’t make sense.

Nezumi paces the room with a parchment in his hands, reading it under his breath over and over again. Shion stands leaning against the desk, just watching him.

“Maybe we got something wrong,” Nezumi says. 

“No,” Shion replies. “We checked. It’s all… it’s all there.” He rubs his eyes, thinking, trying to think. It feels like there’s something just at his fingertips, always sliding away at the last possible second. 

“But it doesn’t… what is this supposed to mean?”

“Maybe that’s the whole point. Something meaningless, or something that only the author could understand.” 

Nezumi stops pacing and just looks at him. In the silence, the sound of the parchment crinkling under his grip feels too loud. “Where’s your optimism now, Shion? Because we could use some of that now. Maybe it would work a miracle for us, who knows, might be worth the try.” 

Shion walks up to him. “You’re being unfair.”

“Am I? And you get to decide that?”

“Yes,” he remarks, taking the parchment off Nezumi’s hand, thankful when he doesn’t resist and just lets it go. “Have you cast any spells today?” 

Nezumi looks momentarily thrown aback.

“What?”

“Spells. Maybe you’re tired,” Shion says as he turns and goes back to lean against the desk. “Because of magic and all of that.”

“I didn’t know you could be sarcasting.”

“Yes, well, maybe you’re rubbing off on me.” 

“But it doesn’t suit you.” 

Shion, for once, decides to ignore him. Nezumi is very much like a temperamental cat when he’s in a mood. “Maybe we’re looking at this from the wrong perspective,” he says, frowning. 

“How so?”

“It says, ‘in the Siris, find the sky above the tallest grass’. We know the Siris was a temple.”

“A temple that’s probably been underwater for a long time.”

“Do you know…?” he bites his lip, thinking, trying to remember, trying to keep reaching. “Laidoans. What was their religion like?”

“Uh,” Nezumi walks towards him, frowning. “They—I think their pantheon looked a lot like… a mix from Fey and the Gods of the Blessing.” 

“They adored the Fey?” Shion questions, looking up at Nezumi. 

“Yes. From what I know. Many of their high priests were sorcerers who had pacts with powerful creatures from beyond.”

In his mind, something clicks. 

Shion looks back down at the parchment so sharply he’s sure his neck might hurt the next day. 

“Temples to the Fey, Nezumi, they were different.”

Something in Nezumi’s expression clears. 

His eyes widen a fraction

“Towers,” he says. “The Laidoans loved towers, we know their cities were full of them—” 

“And their temples were no different.” Shion cuts in, excitement growing until he almost feels his hands shake. 

“Shion,” Nezumi adds, and he’s smiling again, his eyes alight. “Gardens, the word in Laidoan for temple is alk’naan and it means garden.”

“So ‘the tallest grass—’”

“The tallest tower in the Siris,” he completes. “It’s a poor excuse of a metaphor, but it makes sense” 

Shion can hear his heartbeat loud in his ears. He’s still holding the parchment in his hands and Nezumi is standing right in front of him, the storm in his eyes holding so much it threatens to spill and drown him. 

“It must be,” he answers in a whisper, breathing out shakily. 

Nezumi’s smile changes suddenly and he leans in, crowding Shion against the desk. 

“You look distracted.”

Shion holds the parchment against his chest. He feels his cheeks heat and wonders how much can Nezumi notice in the candlelight.

“I am.”

Nezumi moves his hand, slowly, and threads his fingers in Shion’s hair. He closes his eyes and remembers. Nezumi did the same thing the night before he had to run away. Carded his fingers through Shion’s hair while he was reading until he fell asleep with his head on his lap. That’s how they found them, right before the escape. 

When Nezumi speaks again, his voice is soft but clear.

“At least, this means we’re not going to where Siris is located for nothing.”

Shion decides not to say anything, lest the multitude of words in throat choke him. After a few seconds, Nezumi steps back, straightening.  

“When will we get there?” he asks finally, thankful his voice is even.

“Three days. Possible four. Gives us time enough to prepare.”

***

André and Val are the best swimmers in the crew, according to Inukashi, so it’s lucky that they volunteer to dive to the ruins with them. They shed the clothes that would only weigh them down and Shion resents the chill of the morning wind as it hits his naked back when they gather at the bow of the ship. Nezumi is the only one who looks mostly the same. Only his boots and coat are gone.

Before he can say anything, Karina, Elena’s wife, appears with Inukashi at her side and casts a spell on the four of them to allow them to breathe underwater. 

A minute later, they jump overboard. 

Shion panics each time he inhales and doesn’t choke on the water. He does his best to focus on following Nezumi and the others, forcing his heart to slow down. 

Luckily, the temple is not too deep under the sea. The waters here are shallow and clear, and the light that filters through still reaches the seafloor and the space around it. 

They spot the ruins easily. 

At a distance, it looks like a mass of darkened stones covered in different forms of sea life. They circle the top of the ruins once and just then Nezumi, with a gesture, instructs their companions to spread out and around, keeping a perimeter around the tallest tower. He dives towards it and Shion follows. 

The topmost chamber is wider than Shion imagined it would be. Wide arches where windows or stained glass were probably placed make for an easy entrance. Immediately, Nezumi points up. The vaulted ceiling is still intact.

Almost at the same time, they start swimming towards it. It doesn’t take to spot what they’re looking for. 

Carved on the stone in the center of the ceiling is a strange array of symbols and lines. Some of them connect with the others, some don’t. Shion looks at Nezumi with a question on his lips. 

Nezumi smiles at him and gestures to Shion to wait awhile. He nods and moves back a little, keeping an eye on their surroundings until Nezumi turns around and nods once. Together, they push themselves out of the chamber through the arched windows, where they wait for the others to see them. 

And just like that, it’s done. 

He’s almost certain that when he saw Nezumi’s expression upon finding the carvins, ther was recognition in his eyes. 

He grins and kicks his legs to push himself forward when he sees the others quickly swimming ahead. 

But then—

Paint shots up his right leg, as something cold and sharps digs and pulls. A silent scream leaves his lips; just bubbles in the water. 

He turns wildly, trying to kick whatever has got a hold of him. He manages to make contact with something solid and for a moment, he’s free. In that split of second he manages to see the shape of a reptilian creature, a blur of dark green scales, elongated limbs and sharp claws. 

It’s fast. And Shion isn’t a particularly good swimmer. 

This certainty grips him with fear and he barely moves out of the way in time when the creature slashes at him with his claws. Pain blooms in his chests and he kicks, trying to swim upward as he’s grabbed and pulled down again. 

He tries to look in the direction where Nezumi and the others should be, but everything is spinning and he can’t distinguish up from down any longer. 

Somehow, he manages to break free once more, turning so the creature is not at his back this time.. He has a split second to regret that decision, seeing with stark clarity the instant the creature curls back to strike at him with its longest claw pointed not to slash or grab, but to pierce. 

He won’t make it. 

However, the pain never comes. A shadow falls between him and the creature and the blow pushes them both back. 

Shion struggles to remain upright and out of the corner of his eye he sees the light reflecting on a blade that gleams right before going into the neck of the reptilian monster. 

His heart catches up with what he’s seeing before his brain does, seizing painfully in his chest. 

Nezumi.

He’s holding onto the creature as he continues to push his sword in, twisting it as a dark substance darkens the water around the wound. The creature trashes, mouth opening to reveal sharp, curved teeth that aim to sink into Nezumi’s shoulder. But he’s quick to dodge, and suddenly there’s Colin, holding the creature from behind and sinking a knife into his side. 

It probably lasts only a couple of seconds, but it seems like hours go by before the creature stops moving and they let it go. It sinks down to the ocean floor, it’s mouth still frozen in a silent scream. 

Nezumi turns to him and Shion feels a flood of relief so overwhelming it threatens to drown him very much like the sea should, if there wasn’t magic bending the rules of the universe for him.

They swim up to the surface, and as soon as they break it Nezumi calls out.

“Shion is hurt! Ropes, quick!” 

It doesn’t take long before the four of them are back on the main deck, breathing hard and surrounded by worried eyes and a very upset Inukashi. 

Rikiga is at Shion’s side, hovering over Karina, who’s inspecting his wound. 

“What do you mean an Arkraa? What would one of those be doing so far from his colony?” Inukashi is asking to whoever might be brave enough to answer. 

Much to her indignation, Nezumi ignores her and turns to look down at Shion, leaning against the main mast with his clothes still dripping salt water.  

“How bad is it?” he asks, his voice sounding raw and dry. Shion immediately tries to find his eyes. “Does it need healing?”

“No, I don’t think that’d be needed,” Karina says. “It’s not a deep cut, and this one here looks worse than it really is.”

“Like hell it does!” Rikiga protests. “It’s all red and swollen—”

“I’m fine, Rikiga,” Shion cuts in, hating how raspy and strange his voice sounds. He looks at Nezumi, finding his gaze at last. “I’m fine.” 

“Good,” he says. “Good.” 

Then he staggers, and falls down. 

***

When Inukashi lets him in, Shion feels cold to his bones. He distantly remembers Elena convincing him to get out of his damp clothes and Rikiga throwing an extra coat on his shoulders when he kept shivering. 

“What—” he licks his lips. His throat feels dry. “How is he?”

Inukashi leads him to the side of the bed with a tight expression on their face. They look as tired as Shion feels.

“Look for yourself,” they say.

Shion does.

His surprise renders him silent for a minute. 

Nezumi lays on his bed, forehead damp with sweat and a tight expression on his face. He’s shirtless and there’s a bandage around his torso, covering the place the Arkraa’s claw pierced through. And all around it, Shion sees a spider web of white scars, shaped in lighting-like patterns. The marks stretch outwardly, expanding to his navel and wrapping around his sides, reaching up to his chest until they almost curl around his shoulders. 

There’s a soft knock on the door that startles him out of his reverie. 

Karina steps in, holding a basin full of water and clean strips of fabric. When she approaches, Shion has half a mind to step aside and help her move a stool next to Nezumi’s bed. 

“Inukashi,” he starts, as he sees Karina clean Nezumi’s forehead and check his bandages. “What is that? What’s… what’s happening?” 

Inukashi sighs and drags a hand down their face. “He didn’t want you to know.”

“But—”

“I don’t give a shit about that now. But I’m gonna sit first,” they say, going to the desk in the center of the room and flopping down on the chair. 

Shion follows, reluctantly, his eyes going back to Nezumi’s still form every few seconds.

“I’ll keep this short because this idiot,” Inukashi says, waving a hand in Nezumi’s direction, “should be the one answering all your questions, not me. Look, the Singing Waters is not the first of the three Secrets that Nezumi tries to find. First, it was the Fire’s Call. And guess what? He found it. A few months ago. He went in alone and came back with those white scars forming right around here,” they explain, placing a finger a few inches above their navel. “And it would be fine if they were just scars, but they kept spreading and he kept getting weaker.” 

Karina walks up to them, looking back at Nezumi over her shoulder. 

“From what I’ve been able to gather,” she says, “there’s something about whatever it was the Fire’s Call did to him that makes his power react… badly. Think of it as some kind of poison, the magic in him sees it as dangerous, directly opposed to it, so it tries to destroy it. The problem, the poison has already seeped in too deep.”

“As a result,” Inukashi continues, “his power is burning him up from the inside.” 

Shion looks at them both. He heard them, but the words keep repeating themselves in his mind, over and over, and he can’t bring himself to understand. He doesn’t want to take that truth in his hands and hold it. 

He feels it might burn him too. 

Fire’s Call, he thinks. Destruction. 

A realization downs on him. “That’s why you came, each night,” he says.

“Yeah,” Inukashi concedes, sighing. “I checked to see how much the scars were spreading, since I didn’t trust him to tell me the truth if I asked.”

“What happens when—” Shions starts. Clears his throat. “What happens when he uses his magic? Or when he gets hurt?”

“We think it accelerates the process,” Karina says. “Under normal circumstances the power of a sorcerer wouldn’t react instinctively if they’re wounded. Magic diminishes to preserve itself if the user it’s too weak. But this poison forces it to react violently, and when magic it’s used, the poison reacts back, starting a chain effect.”

Shion is thankful the empty chair is close by. He grabs the back of it, gripping until his hand hurts. 

“When we went to Fawaris… he—?”

“Looked like death warmed over afterwards?” Inukashi interrupts. “Yeah, that’s why. I told him not to waste energy in such a big fucking spell. We had enough supplies still, with what we took from Rkiga’s ship and some rationing, we could’ve managed. Do you think he listened?” 

Shion remembers the fear he felt when they caught him, after he helped Nezumi escape. Remembers the dread that settled in his stomach when they read his sentence after the trial, casting him out of the Blessings and prohibiting any contact with his mother and anyone from his life. Remembers the distress running in his veins when he saw Rikiga hurt on the deck of his ship. 

All of it feels like nothing compared to what he’s feeling now. 

Still, he forces himself to speak. 

“So now, until he heals, the chain reaction wont stop.”

Karina nods. Inukashi looks away, their lips tightly shut. 

“Is no one else on board able to heal him?”

“We don’t know what will happen if we add someone else’s power into the mix. It’s not… it’s not worth the risk”, she says, sighing. “I’ve been thinking of a way to suppress his power; it wouldn’t make any difference in the long run, but in situations like this, it’d give us enough time for his body to find some balance and for me to accelerate his natural healing with a spell—”

“What,” Shion interrupts, hearing his voice distantly, like he’s in a dream. “what did you—suppress his power? That would help?” 

Inukashi and Karina exchange a glance. 

Shion feels his heart in his throat. 

“Well—”

“Karina,” he says, his voice sounding alien and distant. “I can do that. I have—there’s something I can prepare. Would that help?”

***

It takes both Inukashi and Rikiga’s insistence to get him to leave Nezumi’s side. Elena half threatens him to get him to eat something and Karina watches him like she expects him to collapse at any second. 

But, weirdly enough, he doesn’t feel tired. Or hungry, or sleepy or… anything. 

Once he had picked up the azahal from his supplies and started preparing the tincture needed, a strange numbness had taken over him. It brought him an alien sense of calm, a quiet settling in like the sea before a storm. 

He wasn’t sure how long it was going to last. 

Inukashi is the one who finds him later, and they don’t need to say anything because it’s all too clear in their tired smile. 

Shion rushes back to the cabin, breathless before taking the first step, and doesn’t bother knocking before steeping in.

Nezumi is sitting up on his bed, head tilted back and lips pursed in something close to a pout. His eyes, trained on the wooden beams of the ceiling, turn immediately to Shion when he hears the door opening. 

“Shion—”

The calm dissipates like seafoam on the sand. He feels frayed at the edges, about to burst with something that chokes him as he tries to speak.

“You—you idiot,” he says, approaching the bed as he lets the door slam shut behind him. “Why didn’t you say anything?! I was—I thought you were going to die, Nezumi.” 

And he must notice the irony of hearing those words, so similar to what he said to him right after he dropped the visage of Eve in this same room. 

But thankfully, he says nothing. He only looks at Shion with clear and focused eyes. 

An incoming storm. 

“This is why you want the Singing Waters. You need them.” 

“Yes. I do.”

It surprises Shion a little, how clear his voice sounds. How certain.

There’s also the fact that he wasn’t really expecting an answer.

“You could’ve told me,” he starts again, trying to bite down on the hurt that breaks his voice at the end. “Everyone in your crew knows. And I’m not—you don’t have to trust me, Nezumi, but I would’ve understood, I would’ve helped—”

“You did help,” Nezumi interjects. “We found the location. I already gave Inukashi the course to follow.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because of this,” he explains, waving a hand in his general direction, leaning back to stare at the ceiling once more. “Because I knew you’d get like this. Worried. Distracted.”

“You didn’t tell me because I care? For the Gods above, Nezumi, if that worries you so much, you should’ve never brought me along in the first place.” 

Nezumi says nothing to that. He sees him gripping the sheets by his sides in tight fists, his jaw set firmly.

Shion waits in the silence, feeling the anger seep out of him in slow waves, all the tiredness kept at bay for hours coming to replace it. 

He rubs his eyes and looks at the window. The sun is setting in the horizon and the sound of waves sets a calming rhythm that his heart aches to follow. 

“Thank you,” he says at last. “For saving my life. That creature… I wasn’t fast enough, and I thought—” He shakes his head. It doesn’t matter now. “But don’t do anything like that again. I know you think there’s this… debt between us, but you can’t take that risk just to balance the scales, or whatever idea of it you have in your mind, Nezumi. Just—I don’t care. Forget it ever happened. I’m sure you would’ve found a way to survive an escape on your own anyway. You were stronger than me even then—” 

Nezumi’s eyes snap to him and Shion’s words die in his mouth.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he says, supporting himself with his hands to sit straight. Shion resists the urge to reach out to him and help. “I would’ve never survived that day if you hadn’t found me. I would’ve been lost, in more ways than one, if we hadn’t crossed paths. This was… this was never about a debt, Shion. I’m not trying to repay you because I know that no matter what I do, it would never be enough. But I can’t stand aside while you’re getting hurt, I can’t, I’ve done it long enough. Don’t ask that of me.”

Shion can feel his heartbeat in her fingertips, in his ears, in the tremor of his breathing. 

It is almost funny, he thinks, that it took for both of them to see the eyes of death for their walls to finally crumble completely.

“I’m allowed to hope,” he says, finally, thanking the heavens his voice doesn’t shake.

Nezumi turns his face away and closes his eyes.

“I hate this,” he mutters.

“What?”

There’s a beat of silence before the quiet answer: “Caring.”

Shion needs to sit down. He settles for clearing his throat instead. “It can be quite uncomfortable at times.”

“Do you think one can give it back, somehow?” Nezumi asks. 

“No. I’ve been told it’s not exactly a fair deal.”

And at that, and last, Nezumi smiles for a second. “Do you think they’ll accept it?”

“Accept what?”

“The Singing Waters. In exchange for your old status.”

Shion tries and fails to form the same question at least twice.

“How do you—?”

“A deduction. It wasn’t hard to guess, Shion.”

He gives in and takes a step closer to the bed, sitting at the end of it. Nezumi glances at him briefly. 

“I don’t care about… ‘my status’, as you call it. There are things that I miss about it, yes, but I’m not looking to get my life at the Blessings back. I just—” he sighs, looking down at his hands. “I haven’t seen or talked to my mom in four years, Nezumi. And just as I’m not allowed to enter any of the districts save for the Pious Ward, she’s not allowed to leave the Blessings because of me. I know she lives comfortably there, and she has her shop and her clients, but I’m… I’m selfish. I want to see her, to know that she’s alright. And I want her to know that I am too, because she used to worry so much back then, and now I can’t imagine—” 

“Good thing we have a destination, then,” Nezumi says, and when Shion turns to look at him, his gaze is already on him. Piercing and intent. 

Something about setting the course rings in his mind. 

“You—I thought… ”

“The carvings on the ceiling were old runes. The Fey used it to mark a group of islands they considered sacred. I know where to go, and we’re not that far away.”

He stares. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Nezumi reaches out and Shion, without thinking, reaches back and takes his hand. “We’ll find it. You’ll take it back to them and you’ll see your mother again. And then you’re going to give me some of that pie that she makes, the one you brought to me back then.”

Shion laughs, and there are tears in his eyes, but Nezumi doesn’t mention it.

“Okay,” he says. “okay.”

***

It shouldn’t be surprising that their final destination is in a cave on an island in the middle of an archipelago called Sailor’s Graveyard. They anchor the Elyurias out of the reef range and use two smaller boats that are easy to maneuver around the treacherous rock formations of the outer ring. 

It takes two long hours before they finally reach a spot safe enough to leave the boats and easy for them to approach. The island vegetation is lush and vibrant, seemingly untouched by human life. They marvel at its beauty, but only until the heat starts to make the air feel stifling and the humidity makes their clothes cling uncomfortably to their skins. 

Rikiga, who refused to let Shion go without him, helps clear the path of vines and long branches that make it impossible to move easily. Still, it takes them another hour before they find the cave. 

Inukashi, Rikiga and André, reluctantly agree to wait at the entrance, and Shion and Nezumi slowly descend. 

The air inside the cave is pleasantly cool. Shion sighs in relief as Nezumi walks a few steps ahead of him, sword in hand.. 

“Do you think this will be dangerous, too?” He asks, making sure for the twentieth time that he’s carrying the bag with the two bottles they’ll most likely need. 

“I doubt it. The Fire’s Call is about destruction, I should’ve expected it,” Nezumi answers, stopping for a second before they take a turn. “The Singing Waters are the opposite but… I guess we can only wait and see.” 

It takes a couple of minutes for Shion no notice that something’s off. At first, he can’t pinpoint exactly what, but as they keep moving forward, the feeling persists. 

And then it dawns on him.

Caves are supposed to be dark. But neither of them has had the need to lit a torch. And even though it’s dim, there is a light that’s enough for his eyes to see everything around.

Finally, he looks up.

“Nezumi?” he calls softly. 

“What is it?”

“Look,” he says, pointing.

Along the curved cavernous ceiling, there’s a thin series of cracks that emanate a soft glow. And they continue, expanding towards the direction they’re taking.

“That’s a sign if we needed any,” Nezumi says, fingers tapping on the hilt of his sword. 

“There’s writing here, I think.”

And there is. Along a ridge on the rock, a series of symbols are carved. 

The glow comes from them too. 

“Those are Fey in origin.”

“Can you understand their meaning?”

“Possibly. These are similar to what I use for my spelles.” He moves closer to where Shion is and, in silence, inspects the symbols for a moment. “It’s… something about humility. And patience.”

“Nothing about the Singing Waters?”

“No, not that I can see.”

So they move on, and it’s less than a minute before the tunnels open up to a wider chamber. 

Without saying a word, they stop at the entrance. There’s a soft melody that echoes in the space, a sound like rushing water and shining stars and winds blowing against open sails. The glowing cracks that line the top of the tunnel expand and multiply in the chamber, forming an array of lines that stretch from the entrance to cover all sides of the cavern walls and converge on the opposite point, where a thin stream of water emerges from a fissure on the rock, hitting the side of a concave platform and then running down to disappear in a crevice on the floor.

It seems so simple, for something with so much significance. Even so, Shion feels his breath catching. It feels sacred. Unique.

Nezumi clears his throat at his side and Shion looks at him. He seems to shake himself briefly, and he wonders if maybe whatever presence is instilled in these walls is affecting him too. 

“Shall we?” Nezumi asks, and takes the first step forward. 

Shion follows him in. They walk the twenty feet that are between them and the small stream. The melody is all encompassing now, still soft, still quiet, but surrounding them fully. It feels weird to speak.

“Should I…?” Shion asks in a whisper, looking at the glowing lines all around them.

“Yes. It’s… better not to  linger too long.”

“Right,” he mutters, fumbling for the first bottle. He holds it with trembling hands and gets closer to the crevice where the water comes from. He glances at Nezumi over his shoulder. 

He stands close behind, his hand tight around the hilt of his sword, shoulders tense. “Go ahead. I’m right here.” 

He places the mouth of the bottle under the stream, and watches with fascination as it trickles down and slowly starts to fill it. 

“There’s an inscription here,” Nezumi says in a whisper, and Shion can hear him taking a few steps back “On the top. Just like the runes before. It’s—it’s in Laidoan” 

“What does it say?”

There’s a brief pause.

“Uh… roughly, something like ‘a gift in a hundred turns around a star’” 

Shion hums quietly, seeing how finally the water reaches the brim. He straightens and turns to look at Nezumi, quickly picking the cork from the bag to close the bottle.

“It sounds like a proverb, an adage of sorts,” he says, finally looking up to find Nezumi staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Shion—”

“Nezumi, what’s—”

“Shion, the water, it’s…”

He turns. The stream has been reduced to a slow trickle. Small droplets that fall silently on the rock. 

Until it stops. 

Shion breathing stops too, but it’s quickly trampled with confusion. 

“Did you do something?” Nezumi asks. 

“What—No, of course not, I only… it was fine, just seconds ago, I didn’t…”

Nezumi’s expression falters. Shion feels his chest constrict as a panic settles in.

No. No, no, no, no. This can’t be. This can’t be. 

His mind races to find an answer, an explanation, anything— 

But then he hears Nezumi’s soft laughter. It’s a broken thing, a melody from a forgotten instrument. 

Almost painful.

“Nezumi?”

“Oh, the Gods are cruel”, he mutters, head hanging low. His hand flexes around the handle of his sword, shaking it idly from side to side. “Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, what were we thinking?”

“I’m not… Nezumi, I don’t understand.”

Nezumi finally looks up. His eyes are dull and his expression forms an imperfect smiling mask. 

But upon looking back at Shion’s face, something breaks. The mask falls, slowly, easily, leaving only an odd blend of anger and resignation. He shakes his head and waves his empty hand at the inscription.

“Humility and patience, the runes from before. And now this, ‘a gift in a hundred turns around a star’. What a load of bullshit,” he spats, and realization starts to dawn on Shion. “One time in a hundred years. One chance, one dose. I bet there’s a shitty life lesson they intended to impart from this.”

And it makes sense.

He hates that it makes sense. 

He’s frozen on the spot, still holding the bottle with the Singing Waters in his hands. It’s just then he notices the melody around them has stopped. 

Nezumi curses under his breath, turns around and starts walking away. 

“Where are you going?” Shion asks, still unmoving.

“What do you mean? We’re getting out of here. There’s nothing left.”

“But—”

“Don’t—” he bites out, turning sharply to look at him. “Don’t do this, Shion. There’s nothing else. Let’s leave.”    

He doesn’t want to give in. 

But he forces himself to take a step anyway, and then another, and he follows Nezumi out of the chamber and back into the tunnel. 

As they walk, the lights on the cracks at the top start to dim. 

Shion wants to scream, he doesn’t want any more signs, does need more. It’s enough hurt and enough injustice to bear. 

Nezumi’s voice cuts loudly through the silence.

“We have enough supplies to make a journey straight to the Sixth Kingdom. Without detours and changing Elyurias appearance to use trade routes, we should be there in less than three weeks.”  

“What are you talking about?” 

“You need to go back to your life, and to your mother, and I need to repay some favours. My crew—”

“Wait. Wait.” He stops. A few steps ahead, Nezumi stops too. “This is not… I’m not taking this,” he says, lifting the bottle. The soft light from the cracks above makes its surface shine. “Nezumi, you need this.” 

“You need it too.”

“You can’t compare that. You can’t,” he says, walking up to him until they’re right in front of each other. “Don’t ask me to stand aside and watch you get hurt, you said that, to me. The least you could do it’s to return the favor.” He pushes the bottle against Nezumi’s chest, holding it there. “I won’t take this. I won’t, not if it’s the only thing that can keep you alive.” 

Nezumi looks from his eyes down to the bottle. He can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breaths.

“You’re so stubborn,” he says then. “You have a life to go back to, Shion. I’m a sorcerer and a pirate—in most places, my existence is a crime. But you… you could do so much. And this—” he stops, placing a hang above Shion’s, where’s he holding the bottle against his chest. “This is a possibility you deserve.”

“You’re not listening,” Shion says firmly. “I won’t take this. Not if by the end it means I’ll never get to see you again, even if it’s by chance. That’s the only possibility I want to keep.” He takes Nezumi’s other hand and, when he doesn’t resist, places it under the base of the bottle. He leans in, resting their foreheads together. “If you don’t take it, I’ll just drop it all on the sea at the first chance I get. I bet that will make some fish really happy.” 

 Nezumi huffs a weak laugh. “You’re an idiot, Shion.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been told.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“No. But it’s not like you’re giving me much of a choice.”

At that, it’s his turn to smile.

**

Back in the ship, after toasting to his enemies and downing the Singing Waters in one go, Nezumi falls asleep.

At first, Shion panics. He and Inukashi rushe to steady him as he sways in place, the memory of him collapsing after the attack in the underwater temple still fresh for them both. But as the minutes go by and Karina inspects him, it seems he only has fallen to a deep slumber. 

They check his white web of scars and, slowly, they seem to be retracting and fading.

This time around, Inukashi doesn’t try to pry him from his side. They bring him food and keep him company at times insead. 

Twelve hours later, Nezumi opens his eyes. 

“Nezumi,” he asks, quietly, as if his voice could somehow affect whatever outcome they will get. “How do you feel?”

Nezumi looks at him and reaches out a hand. Shion catches it immediately. “Cold,” he answers, sitting up without letting go. “How long—?”

“Half a day,” he says, looking down at their hands. He moves his fingers gingerly until he can place them on Nezumi’s pulse. His heart beats steadily. “The scars from Fire’s Call have been fading.” 

Nezumi merely nods before leaning forward until his forehead rests on Shion’s shoulder. He exhales, slowly, and says nothing for a long time.

Shion’s throat feels tight. 

“I’m still here,” Nezumi mutters, finally. Shion squeezes his hand once and turns just enough to kiss the crown of his head. His hair is silky under his lips.

“You are.”

“You’re still here, too.”

Shion smiles. “Yes.” 

“Tell Inukashi I resign. They can be the captain now. I want to rest for the rest of this journey.”

Shion chuckles. His eyes are starting to sting. 

“They’ll hate you if you do that.”

“Mmm.”

“What about… you power, Nezumi, do you still—?” 

“Yes,” he says quietly, still leaning against Shion. “It’s with me still. It’s—it really worked, Shion. It really did.”

“I know.”

“But—Shion. Your life, and your mother—”

He squeezes his hand and raises it up to his lips to place a soft kiss on his knuckles. 

Nezumi stays very still. 

“We’ll find another way. I’m sure we will.”

After that, for a long time, neither of them moves.

***

They’re less than a week away from the Sixth Kingdom.

The journey back has been blissfully uneventful. Shion has devoted more of his time to help Elena in her duties, and is helping her with the inventory in the cargo hold when a sound of footsteps descending down the stairs startles them both.

The surprise only increases when they see Nezumi coming towards them, holding a… a flower? And Inukashi following close behind.

“Shion!” Nezumi calls, and his eyes seem to be lit from the inside. It’s the same look he had when they broke the cipher in the journal in what seems ages ago. “Look.”

And he holds the flower. 

The flower in question is, well, it’s a pretty flower. Big, with wide purple petals, vibrant even the dim light of the room. 

“Uh,” he says, confused, looking at Inukashi and Karina in turns. “Thank you?”

Nezumi laughs a bit… hysterically, and for a second Shion thinks ‘oh, he’s lost it, the cure was fake’. 

“Shion, please, if I wanted to give you flowers you’d get a bouquet, with asters for your name. No, listen, this is—Inukashi, why don’t you tell them?”

“Because you won’t shup up! Gods above, you do love listening to the sound of your voice, don’t you?” 

Shion still hasn’t recovered from the word bouquet when Inukashi starts telling their story. 

“Listen, while I was waiting with the others outside of that creepy cave I decided to wander for a bit, alright? Because I was getting bored and thinking way too much for my liking. So I follow this path around the creepy thing for a while and then I see this patch of beautiful wildflowers, and it seems fair to keep at least one, as a memory, because this stuff is supposed to be legendary and maybe it’ll cheer me up if I get to be old and cranky, so—”

“It’s been two weeks Shion,” Nezumi interrupts, handing the flower over to him. “Just look at it.”

“Didn’t you find it weird?” Karina asks Inukashi, her eyes on the soft looking petals. 

“Why would I? I mean, some plants are weird as hell, right? I didn’t really pay it any mind until Nezumi saw it minutes ago and started asking questions.”

“There’s a difference between weird and unnatural, Inukashi,” Nezumi says.

“I’m no expert, alright?”

Shion listens to them distantly, staring at the flower in his hands. It looks freshly cut, overflowing with life still. 

“Nezumi, do you think—?” he asks, not daring to finish the sentence. Not daring to hope.

There’s finally a moment of silence.

“I don’t know, Shion. But if it’s like this because of its proximity to the Singing Waters source, then it’s worth a try. Can you do it?”  

The distillation process his mother taught him years ago, the one he’s been using infallibly since then, repeats itself in low whisper in his mind, over and over again. 

“Yes,” he says finally. “Yes, I can.” He looks up. Karina is smiling at him and Inukashi ‘oohs’ in surprise.

And Nezumi— 

Nezumi looks happy. His eyes alight with warmth and something else that Shion doesn’t dare to name. 

***

The request for an audience with his former professor in the Blessings takes three days to be processed. It’s just enough time for Shion’s nerves to steadily rise until he feels sick just thinking about it.

It doesn’t help to know that Nezumi and his crew are docked at the port of the Pious ward, the ship’s appearance changed once more to look like a merchant vessel. It still doesn’t negate the fact that there are a bunch of sorcerers and pirates stationed in a city where magic can be punished by death. 

Very calming thoughts indeed. 

He finally enters the Blessings feeling the weight of his old life dragging his eyes to all the corners he used to be familiar with, noticing the changes and the things that remain the same. It seems like it only takes a second for the guards to escort him to the office of his old professor and he closes his eyes to pray, to any deity that might be listening, so his words won’t betray him now. 

The man that one taught him and guided him sits at the end of a long room, surrounded by books and years of accumulated knowledge. His hands are clasped on his desk, his face unreadable. 

Shion can’t tell what he’s thinking, or what he thinks of him now. He remembers he vouched for him and his words during the trial, but in his eyes he’s probably still a traitor to the beliefs of the Kingdom. 

He approaches the desk with steady steps and fetches the glass vial from his pocket, placing on the desk gingerly. 

“Master,” he says, bowing his head respectfully. “I bring to you the Singing Waters, in hopes this might alleviate the transgressions of my past.” 

***

It’s only fitting that, a week later, the sun is setting by the time he reaches the docks in the Pious Ward and finds his way to the ship. 

The door of the captain’s cabin is half open when he gets there. He stops outside for a moment, taking in a shaky breath before stepping inside. 

Nezumi is standing next to his desk. Slanted beams of light come through the window, catching on his hair the side of his neck.

This time, when he thinks beautiful, the word blossoms painlessly in his chest. 

“How did it go?” Nezumi asks.

“It’s—they approved it. There’re a lot of questions they want to ask, still, but… it worked.”

Nezumi’s shoulders drop slightly and his mouth curves upward. “What about your mother?”

“That’s part of it. I think… I think by the end of the week I’ll get to see her.” 

He feels breathless. Nezumi drops his gaze for a second.

“She’ll be happy.” 

“Yes.”

A pause. Nezumi looks up. “And you?” 

“What about me?”

“Are you happy?” 

Shion smiles even though something in him hurts. “Yes. But I would be happier if you could stay.”

Nezumi chuckles, shaking his head. 

“I was afraid you would say something like that.”

“Afraid?” 

“Mmm… because, you see—” he says, taking the three steps that keep them apart. “It’d be foolish to pretend I wouldn’t like the same thing.”

Nezumi’s palm presses against his cheek and Shion leans into it. Closing his eyes. 

The Gods are cruel, Nezumi said back in the cave. Shion’s inclined to agree now, as the warmth of the afternoon slowly fades to give room to the night.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, afraid he’ll choke on the words if he doesn’t let them go now.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye” 

“Who said anything about a goodbye?” Nezumi asks in a whisper. Shion opens his eyes to find his gaze already on him. “I’ll return. I have some business to take of and a crew that needs me, but I’ll be back.”

Shion frowns, if only to mock him a little. 

“Isn’t that what all the sailors say?”

Nezumi laughs, and leans in to place a kiss on Shion’s forehead. “But I’m a rather unique sailor, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Shion whispers a soft yes against Nezumi’s lips. He leans into him, hoping a kiss could linger indefinitely, relishing the feeling of fingers gently carding through his hair. 

“I’ll be back,” he whispers once more against his lips. “I promise.”

And Shion knows this to be true, the same way he knows the sun will rise again and the stars will shine this night, he knows. 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

*** 

Coda

Three months later, he sits on an empty bench on the docks of the Pious Ward, holding his winter cloak close. Back at home, Karan waits with a blueberry pie and a lit fireplace. Rikiga is probably already on his way.  

Here, he waits with an open heart and happiness blooming in his chest. 

The cold wind blows softly and the waves crest and crash gently against the pier. There are ships in the distance, some approaching, some leaving. 

He’s not sure how he notices it, but he does, instantly. It’s not the same ship he grew accustomed to, but he wasn’t expecting it to be. 

He walks up to the edge of the pier, needing to be sure. 

A few minutes later, he’s able to make out the name of the ship, painted with swirling letters on its side. It’s written in Laidoan and it reads “Aster’s kiss”. 

He laughs, the cold forgotten, and even though the waves drown the sound, he knows he holds the happiness of a promise fulfilled. 

He’s finally back. 

[captainjimothycarter]

How about modern Steggy meeting at Pride? Both bi, but that's not why she's there, she's there cause her young child is trans and she's not letting them grow up ashamed of this ("Even if it does turn out to be a temporary questioning 'phase', I won't let them ever be ashamed of being who they are."). Cause like 10 year old Carter child who's a little antsy to be there, Peggy with bi-pride tipped curls, and Steve with the trans flag painted on his cheek

OP YOUR MIND!! They would fiercely protect the Carter Child, not that Steve thinks she can’t do it, but he’s downright feral at times when it comes to kids in danger. This might not be what you had in mind, so I do apologize. This got ahead of me is quite long.

--

“Ignore them,” Bucky breathed in Steve’s ear, tugging on the blonde’s hand to get him away from the protesters that are somehow legally allowed here. This was borderline abuse if you asked him. Sure, freedom of speech but it was quickly cut off when you yelled at children and elderly people for being themselves. 

Steve growled under his breath and tugged his hand away from Bucky’s, careful not to touch the drying trans flag painted across his cheek. Natasha would be furious if he messed up her work. Or touch the chalk-dye of the flag in his hair.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, despite Bucky didn’t look like he’d believed him. The guy stood out like a Christmas tree, literally with the bi flag colors wrapped around the metallic arm and shining bright enough to land a plane. “Just go find Clint, I’m going to walk off. Need to cool down.”

Before the man could say a thing, Steve was stomping off, in midst of the crowd to get away from his rightfully worried, best friend.

The last he expected was when he emerged from the other side of the crowd was to be tackled-hug by a ten-year-old child with bright hazel eyes, a buck-tooth grin, the same colors in his hair dyed on their hair, and wearing a shirt that read, ‘i’m the trans kid your parents warned you about.’ 

Steve fell to his backside to avoid instinct-wise to protect himself, an arm wrapped around the kid to prevent any of them from being trampled over by the crowds rushing from one stand to another.

“You’re Captain Ameria!” The kid sat upon his chest, still bright-eyed, kneeling rather painfully. “You’re Steve Rogers! I did reports about you.” They were actively bouncing up and down and Steve was doing his best to school the pain the sharp knees caused. 

“I am,” he grunted. “Can we keep it to a whisper, son? It’s a secret.” He pressed his finger to his lips to indicate hush, hush until he saw the kid’s eyes widen and go glassy. “Oh no, no. Hey, hey, did I say something wrong?” He sat up and the kid latched on, imitating what Steve imagine what it was like to hug a Khola.

His arms wrapped around the kid and gently held them close, kissing their temple in a show of calming them down. What could he say? He still had parental instinct installed in him from his mother. 

He could feel the kid’s sobs against his chest, feel their fingers dig into his shirt, refusing to let go while he tried to calm them down. If anyone noticed Captain America clinging to a sobbing kid, no one stopped to say a thing.

“Michael?! Michael!” 

A breathless woman with flushed cheeks, the same brown eyes, and her hair dyed in the bi flag colors scrambles to them. She drops to her knees beside them and slides the last few steps, looking from her child to Steve.

“I-I don’t know -” Steve breathed, a panic looked etched on his face. “They tackled me and I-I fell and-and accidentally said son, a-a force of habit and they started crying. Did I say the wrong thing?”

The woman’s eyes lit up with recognition as to who Steve was before her face softened, tenderly laying a hand on the back of Michael’s hair and stroking it out of the way. “No,” she breathed. “No, you said the right thing. The perfect thing for them to hear. They ideologize you and always have. I guess seeing you here is...well, overwhelming. Michael, love, we got to let the Captain go.”

Slowly peeling away from him, the kid sniffles and rubs at their face, smearing the flag’s paint without realizing it. His face is flushed and eyes red, with tears still in them. He looks almost ashamed as he climbs from Steve’s lap to his mom’s. He could hear the murmurs of an apology.

“Hey now,” Steve breathed, fully sitting up now. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” He can’t help himself in tossing the guy’s hair and wiping away a stray tear. It makes the kid smile, at least. “You were just excited and overwhelmed, there’s a big crowd here today, huh? And I guess...me calling you son didn’t help did it? Just burst that bubble.” When the kid flushed, Steve just gave a helpless smile. “When my ma first called me Steve, I cried so hard I managed to throw myself into a panic attack.”

“I bet that did nothing to help the asthma,” the mother muses, giving Steve a fond smile. At Steve’s surprised look, she shrugs. “I might be a Brit, but I grew up on your story, Mr. Rogers. I’m Peggy, by the way. This is Michael.” 

Steve shakes their hand and nods. “No, it didn’t. Managed to give myself a nose bleed too. It’s good to meet you two. Here, let’s get up before we’re trampled.” Getting the pair off of the ground, Steve brushes the grass stains off of their clothes out of habit. “I take it it’s your first pride?”

“For both of us,” Peggy muses, kissing her embarrassed son’s cheek. “Michael wanted to go to his first pride since coming out and I wasn’t going to tell him no. We’ve already been yelled at by them.” The tone alone tells Steve well enough who them is.

“Tell me about it. I’ve already gotten into two screaming matches before my friends had to drag me away.”

“That was you? Crickey, no wonder people looked nervous. Well, yes they’ve called me quite a few names already. Child abuser. Pedophile. Rapist. Disgusting, barbaric group.” She sets Michael down and hugs him close to her frame. “Even if this is a phase, I don’t care. I’m going to support and love my child regardless. They do not deserve to be ashamed of themselves.”

Steve’s eyes fall to Michael whose still staring up at him like he’s the moon and stars and it makes him both antsy and warms his heart. “I wish I had that line of thinking,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Not that I’m ashamed of who I am, anyone with the right knowledge can research about me, history can’t erase that forever, but...the backlash one could’ve received in my time...it leaves a mark on you.”

It was a struggle in his mentality. Steve supported, openly every LGBT organization, spoke out against protestors, and haters. Donated large, marginal amounts of money, but when it came to speaking about his struggle and making an ‘official’ public remark? That’s when he backed out. 

“But Mr - Captain…” Michael sputtered, tugging on Steve’s shirt.

“Steve.”

“S-Steve.” He was still breathy from the crying spell but his excitement to get to call his obvious hero by his name was etched into his face. “There are lots and lots and lots of people who would be happy to know that you’re like us too! You might get people mad at you but then they weren’t fans of you in the first place if they don’t support your decision. I know lots of my friends would know and  be happy to know that you’re a-a-a trans guy like me!”

Well, what in the hell could he say to that? He looked from the smart kid up to his mother who just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “He’s right, you know?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I do. I think you’re right, Michael, I shouldn’t hide who I am. Been asleep far too long and I think I got work to do to fix this mess.” He paused for a moment, reaching into his jeans to hand Peggy a business card [Tony’s idea] with a hologram of himself in his uniform and saluting, his name and personal number on the back.

“Call me tonight? I want to talk to you about this. I have to go.” 

His eyes flew to something past the pair and Peggy’s neck craned to see over the crowd, clicking her tongue as she spotted what Steve had seen. 

If it was just her, she’d help, but Michael was here and perhaps didn’t need to see his hero fighting a bunch of bigots. He was still quite sensitive to violence, the poor thing. 

“Okay,” she agreed, scooping her son up and tucking his head into her neck. “You go do that.” She paused to kiss his cheek. “And be safe, please.” 

--

That’s how, two days later, Steve finds himself standing in the very park Pride had taken place, on the portable stage with his team behind him. He still sported a black eye, almost healed but the remains of a yellow bruise were still there. His ribs ached from being kicked, but he was still standing. It was on the news for days how Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and Clint Barton ruthlessly attacked a bunch of peaceful protesters.

Peaceful, my ass.

They didn’t see the symbols they carried, the signs, the proud man who stood in front of them? Steve wasn’t standing in 2013 anymore, he was in 1943 and standing before a german officer, wearing the same grin on his face. He knew his choices, the power of his voice, and money, and knew them well. He also knew what the other side of Steve’s fist felt like against his jaw.

“They were Nazis,” he tells Tony over dinner, rolling his eyes. Peggy’s on speaker between them, having just gotten done lecturing him. “I don’t give two shits what the media says.”

“Language,” Peggy muses, though Steve can hear the smile in her voice. “I have a son.”

“Whose asleep,” Tony interjects. “Cursing is allowed when the kidlets are asleep.”

“Says you.”

Steve rolls his eyes at them and downs the rest of his beer. “Pepper is gonna smooth it out, anyhow. I’m not making some public statements on how sorry I am ‘cause I ain’t. Don’t show up to an event and not expect a backlash. They’re lucky that’s all we did was break a few bones. Maybe it’ll teach ‘em next time. Besides, they attacked us. We gave them clear enough warning not to touch us.”

They had formed a barricade, protect those Pride Idiots from charging inside while the cops did nothing. Even Tony had to call in a few suits and help, Pepper immediately on the scene with her trusted news crew. 

“I ain’t worried about it,” He continues, shrugging.

“Spoken like a true American,” Peggy teases, making Steve flush. “So have you given any thought to our earlier conversation?”

Tony’s staring at him from across the way, Steve’s started to nervously play with the end of his binder. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Yeah, I have. I’ll call you with the details.”

Taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves, Steve’s eyes scan the crowd. He knows there are a few of those Pride Boys out there, but he can’t make them out. He doesn’t care to. They wouldn’t dare to attack a stage when Captain America stands in full uniform and his team behind him. Pepper had brought out her news crew again, live broadcasting this emergency meeting, as well as a few other news sources. 

She’s smiling at him from the side, giving him the thumbs up.

Steve’s eyes fall to Bucky whose gotten up with Clint and stood beside him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “About time you’re doing this, though you owe Dugan 50 quid for this,” Bucky teases, leaning up to just barely kiss Steve’s cheek in a public display of affection. “I’m proud of you.”

Clint’s beside them, towering over Bucky, holding the life out of Bucky’s flesh hand and pulling him close. His head tilts to the side and signs to Steve, asking if he’s ready. 

Steve nods, his eyes finally falling to the two people who got this started. Peggy Carter and her son. Michael runs up to him from the side of the stage when they arrive, climbing onto Steve’s shoulders like he’s always belonged there. Steve can’t help the laugh he lets out as he grips Michael’s legs around his chest to keep him secure. Peggy, for her own sake, smiles as she stands beside Steve, Bucky moving over to let her get closer.

“Alright,” He sighs into the microphone, perhaps too close. “Let��s get this over with.” He pauses, counts his heartbeats, feeling them in his throat. “It goes without saying, who I am and whose in my company, but I think we need to make some personal facts clear in the light of recent news.”

He stills and takes in a sharp breath, eyes scanning the vast crowd before he feels Peggy’s hand on the small of her back.

“My name is Steve Rogers and I am a transgender guy.” There’s a mixture of stilled silence and gasp throughout the crowd, followed by intense murmurs. Yet no one raises their hand or shouts questions. Pepper has these guys whipped. Good.

“That might come as a surprise to some of you and regardless of your personal opinion, I do not care. Let me restate that, I do not care if you support me or don’t. I want one fact and one fact made clear, if you decide to attack me, my friends, or anyone for being who in the hell they are, no amount of legal fear and paperwork will stop me from doing what I think is right to rectify that situation.”

“I was thankful to have heavy support during my time serving, before, and after, and even waking up here. It was recently brought to my attention as to what me coming out officially could do for the young LGBT youth and I am only sorry it’s taken this long for me to realize it.”

“To be fair,” Peggy muses. “You’ve been a little busy.”

Steve laughs, unable to help himself. “A tad bit.” He squeezes her to his side and presses a small kiss to her temple. “Now,” he speaks into the microphone. “If anyone else is curious, I’m bisexual too. And in this recent news, my team and I have gotten together to design a program to help the LGBT youth seek the sanctuary they deserve. This means after school programs for all ages, cafes, safe bars, book stores, all opened 24/7 to offer them help. There are homeless shelters in place that will help the youth kicked out, programs we’re establishing to help with anything from name changes to hormones, to funds to get back on their feet. Counseling as well for any who wish to seek it. Adoptive parents who figuratively would want to ‘adopt’ and assist the youth.”

“Who’s paying for all this?! It sounds like -”

The reporter, someone in the midst of the crowd, that Steve can’t see is instantly shut up when Clint charges off the stage and heads in his direction and pulls the man up to his feet by the collar of his neck. 

“Who in the hell do you think is?” He snaps. “I wish these programs were around when I was a kid, then maybe I wouldn’t had destroyed my body using makeshift binders that hurt me. These kids, adults, whatever will get the help they need. If you have a problem with it, then I suggest you shut the hell up.”

“Thanks, Clint,” Steve breathes, jerking his head at Bucky to go get his boyfriend. “In a better sense of words, I am. Now, any questions?”

There’s a hell of a lot of questions that go over Steve’s head. 

When did your name change? What’s in your pants? Did you have surgery? Did you have bottom surgery? Is that kid yours? Are they paying you to say this? 

There’s plenty of statements too, raging from support but more often protest and the second it gets rowdy, it’s put to a stop when Natasha and Tony are strolling around the crowd. 

Bucky and Michael are right - this is a long time coming. The youth, the people of today deserved to know who Steve truly was. Not that he’s ever denied himself. They deserve to know that he would do anything to protect them, even if it involves a few legal cases of punching a Nazi here or there.

Michael was certainly right, the youth of today deserved to know who had their back, and how proud he was to come home one day and run straight into Steve’s arms while his mum was at work, to tell him how he stood up to his bully and made sure the substitute teacher called him by his real name and how he got to tell them that his new dad was Captain America.

[twiceblackvelvet]

Blame

Pt. I, Pt. II

June 2nd, 2022. 14:32 PM. Busan.

“That’s a wrap everyone, thank you!”

The booming voice of the director echoing throughout the set. Lighting rigs are taken down by the many production staff on hand. The few extras needed to walk in the shot background shuffle out of sight without speaking a word, grateful for the opportunity to be working, and not willing to do anything to risk their position here. You can see the hunger for more in all of their eyes and the envy they feel towards those with speaking roles. None of them have caused trouble, something the former male lead should learn from.

The first few weeks here had been tortuous but finally, Joy has completed the filming of her first acting job since the split of Red Velvet, without murdering the god-awful co-star initially hired which is an accomplishment. The role of a mistress seeking revenge against the man who murdered her father just seemed too good to pass up on. However, had she known it would come with dealing with by far the most pretentious man to exist, she might have thought twice.

The first few days it was plain sailing. Everyone just got on with their jobs and kept things moving along. But then, trailers needed to be made bigger and fine foods had to be stocked inside every day. The final straw being a request for an assistant solely to hold water bottles close by the actor. To say Joy was annoyed would be an understatement. So, she confronted the man for his poor behavior and put him in his place. Respect should be earned not just given, and this man had earned zero.

After being showed up in front of everyone, things spiraled quickly into ruining scenes on purpose just to make shoots run late or purposefully blocking the camera with his body during close-ups. Eventually, the director settled on replacing him with another actor, far better both in the talent and attitude department. The firing caused a setback in the schedule, but luckily everyone worked twice as hard to finish within the allotted time-frame.

To finally be rid of this experience feels like a breath of fresh air. Not that she didn’t enjoy portraying what most would deem the “bad” character for a change, it just became difficult to do so when a real-life villain was haunting the production.

“Hey, the director has arranged a wrap party, are you going?”

Eunseo, a petite woman in charge of the third camera who everyday likes to inform Joy she owns all of Red Velvet’s albums asks. Her toothy grin is remarkably unpleasant as the question escapes her mouth. However, Joy has gotten used to her overexcitement over the small pleasures in life.

“Sure, I just need to grab my things from the trailer and I’ll get my manager to drive me straight there.” A lie. A very obvious yet unnoticed lie.

“Great, I’ll see you there.” Eunseo latches her arms firmly around Joy’s neck, although, she barely reaches because of her lack of height.

Joy quickly squirms her way out of the smaller woman’s arms and gives only a smile in response before scurrying away to her trailer, not daring to allow her a second chance at grappling her neck.

Unlocking her phone as she gets closer to the spacious trailer she’s spent the last few months getting used to, a few notifications appear about her upcoming drama, which she subscribed to the alerts for. If the former male lead tries to tarnish her name despite his own actions being the issue, she wants her team to be on the case of fixing it immediately. A few missed calls from her sister and mom, likely wondering how long they need to keep babysitting Haetnim whilst she’s out of Seoul. But finally, some texts from an unknown number that she deletes without reading. If it’s anyone or anything important, they’ll contact her manager.

Getting closer to the trailer, the door appears to be slightly ajar. Joy stops in her tracks, trying to think back to whether or not she locked it before heading to the set. She’s certain she did, however, with the excitement of the final day looming over her, she thinks it’s possible this slipped her mind.

Not willing to risk a masked assailant, however, she shouts inside first to see if anyone responds.

“Hello, is anyone there?”

Silence is all that follows. Not trusting this, she asks again in a more threatening tone.

“Hello? I’m calling the police if you don’t come out!”

A small chuckle is all that can be heard, but there’s no one in sight. Fed up with the not knowing, Joy steps inside of her trailer attempting to use her phone like some kind of weapon. The last person she ever imagined being sat inside of her trailer, however, is there in all of her glory as made-up and ready for the runway as ever, despite her “normal” life now.

“Irene?” She asks, as if unsure of whether the older woman before her is real or just a figment of her imagination.

“Joohyun. It’s Joohyun now.” Adjusting her shirt as she speaks, Joy can tell that she’s nervous to be here, with her, for the first time since the day they parted as members. “Nice trailer, I can see you… decorated.”

There’s clothing thrown on the floor with little to no care, a reminder of their days in the dorm, everyone making a mess, and no one in the mood to clean up after themselves. However, if Joy had known that Joohyun was dropping by, she’d have attempted to at least make it slightly presentable. She does still mean a lot to Joy.

“Um… What are you doing here?” The bluntness to Joy’s tone being something she didn’t mean to let out, however, her voice naturally shows that she too is on edge.

The pair look at each other for a few seconds before Joohyun stands and attempts to leave. However, Joy places her arm up onto the door frame to block her path before she can whisk back out of her life as fast as she has re-entered it.

“This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.” Sadness drips off every word Joohyun speaks, her eyes averting to the ground.

“Come on, sit back down. I’ll make us a drink and you can tell me all about it.”

Joohyun desperately wants to escape, but Joy has always had a way of roping her into things she’s not so sure of. So she sits. They drink, something that is far too stiff for both of them to handle, however, it helps the words flow from Joohyun’s mouth and Joy’s ears do a lot more listening than they’re used to nowadays.

She tells Joy all about the offer from Dongchul and how she’s considering stepping into the acting world, about her garden that has become a haven where she can let all of her thoughts out and about how her parents’ smiles have become the thing that makes her heart feel alive now.

Joy has always found Joohyun beautiful, so has anyone lucky enough to lay their eyes on her, however, seeing her happy like this makes her feel that her own actions regarding their group splitting are justified if Joohyun is enjoying her new life this much. Joy desperately hopes to feel the same way one day about her own.

“How about you? Do you keep up with the others?” Joohyun asks and breaks Joy from her own inner monologue of life. “How are they all?”

Joy hesitates in answering Joohyun’s innocent question. She knows that her former leader is not trying to stir up any negative feelings by asking about the others, yet, sadness is all Joy can feel when she thinks about the state the group has erupted into.

“I don’t speak to Seulgi, she stopped speaking to me that day,” A frown replaces Joohyun’s smile from seconds ago at this. “Yeri and I hang out sometimes, she’s just as busy as I am. We check in with each other when we can.”

“That’s good, you two were always close. Annoying, but close.” Joohyun adds, “What about Wendy, do you see her still?”

Confusion etches across Joy’s face. Granted Joohyun is yet to reveal whether she has kept in touch with anyone, she figured that she would have at least saw the news on the internet or television.

“Well that would be difficult, given that she’s in America now, did you not know?”

Joohyun almost chokes on her drink at Joy’s words. America? Why would she move there? Why did no one tell her?

“No, when did she move?”

“She left about two months after the split.” If Joohyun thinks this is the only bombshell awaiting her about her former members, Joy has yet another shock in store for her. “So, you don’t know about the singles clash then, I guess?”

Placing her drink down onto the table, Joohyun shifts her body closer towards Joy’s, unsure of what she’s talking about.

“Singles clash? No?”

A deep sigh leaves Joy’s body. Dealing with her awful co-worker had also been made more difficult by the decisions made by two of her former members. Interviewers desperately wanting her to comment on what ended up being a situation blown out of proportion, but a stressful one to deal with. Fake smiles were plastered on and rumors of a feud swiftly denied by both her and Yeri on behalf of Seulgi and Wendy.

“Seulgi got to debut solo two months ago, SM did their first thing right in years and went all out for her, the whole works,” Joy can see Joohyun’s mental cogs shifting trying to figure out where an issue comes into play here. “But Wendy released her first solo song in the US at midnight, an hour before Seulgi’s showcase here.”

Suddenly, everything makes sense. But surely this was all coincidental? Joohyun thinks but doesn’t verbalize as Joy is in before she can.

“Wendy insists that she had no idea Seulgi’s debut was that day but, I don’t know. It turned into a messy situation and fans didn’t know which to support. Seulgi still topped the charts, but it can’t have felt good to have her thunder stolen from someone who was once her friend. She already blames us for the disbandment, this just added fuel to the fire.”

Joy’s hand’s motion between the two of them as she speaks.

“She blames me?” Joohyun asks softly.

Joy pauses and recalls that Joohyun missed the blow-up from Seulgi in the office that day having left before it happened. She decides it’s best to stick the knife all the way in and tell Joohyun everything instead of trying to spare her with a lie.

“Except for Yeri, she blames all of us.”

pt. iv

[ninadewitt]

Colour me Curious Part 2: Monday

Just another Ben Solo High School AU! 

Warnings: Swearing 

The only thing worse than a regular Monday, was the first Monday back after the winter break. It never mattered how long the holiday was, you just never felt rested; Christmas created the perfect opportunity for drunk family members to strangle you for information and force their, unwanted, opinions down your choked throat. The holiday was made worse by the pre-celebration preparations, where your mother would go on an intense cleaning spree creating a (Y/L/N) house reformation. Everyday household items such as the straighteners were deemed too offensive to be allowed to be within two miles of a guest. Therefore, your mother took it upon herself to move them to a nondescript location, without informing you that she was doing so, just to save you the embarrassment of having to explain to your relatives why you owned such a perverse item in the first place. Over the years you had gotten used to this strange behaviour and just let her be, but this time she had forgotten where she had hidden the appliance. So, when Monday morning came around and your, normally gloriously crisp locks, were stuck in a bun looking like a tumbleweed had made a home atop your head, it made an already shitty day into one that included some equally shitty hair. Thanks Mom!

And so, you sat at the lunch table with your group; Finn, Rey and Poe, shifting your hair around hoping to keep it in order, at least until the end of the day, and at the same time, actively trying to avoid being dragged into one of Poe’s daily school football rants. Although, one of your best friends he was a bit of a hot head regarding the sport, and ever since Kylo joined the team, with around a hundred pounds more muscle and an extra 8 inches in height, challenging him for captaincy, he became even more insufferable than usual. Finn usually listened intently, his doe eyes fawning over his ‘friends’ passion but even now he seemed a bit sick of listening to Poe’s anti-Ren speech, yawning and rolling his eyes.

This continued on until Rey eventually threw her hands up in the air and smacked them dramatically on the table, gritting out “Poe, please stop, my head is going to explode if you mention Ren’s ‘bad attitude and poor tactics’ one more time”

“All I’m saying, is that if a guy disappears for years, he can’t just come in expecting to be Captain, it just doesn’t happen, right (Y/N)?” For some reason he smacked your shoulder confidently while smirking at you, expecting some support.

“Oh please, as if she’s gonna be on your side, (Y/N) is the biggest traitor here, giving the Big Emo, ‘stalker’ eyes, every time he walks past. Haven’t you guys noticed how she’s become a massive book worm recently, hanging around the library, where Kylie spends all his spare time?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” the boys looked at one another and then back at you, with curious looks on their faces.

“Rey! What the fuck, why is this about me now? I have not been giving him ‘stalker’ eyes” and in an attempt to defend yourself, you sacrificed your last chip, chucking it at her with immense force and scrunching your brow in a way that let her know that you were pissed.

And Rey being Rey, was willing to challenge that look. picking the chip up from the table, looking you dead in the eye and crunching it, signalising that she did not give a fuck. “I can’t listen to football talk anymore, and if I have to sacrifice you to make him stop, I will. Sorry (Y/N) nothing personal.”

Sometimes you really hated her.

 Watching the silent chip filled stand-off that was occurring between the two of you, Finn, wanting to avoid being covered in lunch meat before his fifth period Trig, attempted to diffuse the situation

“So, who watched the Witcher over break?”

  “I did, it was great, loved Geralt” You replied, eager to change the subject but unfortunately, it looked as though you weren’t going to get out of this mess yet.

  “Of course you did, your love of Ren has exposed your cave man kink, you love an angsty man” Poe teased, apparently, he decided he didn’t want to be on your team anymore and high-fived Rey, forgetting their past beef as she joined in, deepening her voice and widening her shoulders:

  “Hm fuck, (Y/N), I love you, be Mrs Ren”

  “I’d die for you (Y/N), I’m ignoring you to keep my heart safe”

  “you like it when I grunt, I’ll show you a grunt”

  It was at this point that you regretted munching down all your chips with such haste, and noticing the unfortunate lack of ammo you, instead of attacking the duo, proceeded to flip both of them off and dig your head into the table, with your bun whacking it dramatically in the process. However, this seemed to only give the pair more confidence:

 “I only ever hunt for my own food and I kill my prey simply by raising my left hand threateningly, I can provide for our family (Y/N).”

“By the grace of my goth training I will not be seduced by Coldplay.”

 When the bell went off, you practically skipped to biology, moving away from the trio, still holding up your middle fingers, as Rey and Poe practically crawled to class, wheezing the entire way. It was Monday lunches like those that really made you thankful that none of your friends were interested in bio, with both Rey and Poe focusing on Physics and Finn avoiding sciences as though they were the plague. Its not that you didn’t love them and their bantering, but sometimes when you were in a mood, like today, it was hard not to get a bit salty about the whole situation and just need a break.

A break to work on your Solo experiment. It was on the walk to class when you thought about whether Kylo would acknowledge you today, that you realised that maybe Rey was right about your stalker eyes. But now was no time to back down. You knew that with Kylo it was all about consistency, he was like a jittery animal; jump at him and he will almost definitely run for the bushes and avoid you for life, but if you approach him slowly, letting him gain some familiarity, maybe throwing in some “sksksk-ing” as though he were a cat, he might let you in. So, in that logic you assumed that if you popped up around him now and again, he might realise that you mean no harm. Or he would avoid you further, only time would tell.

Reaching the class room and plonking down in one of those high-up science stools you began to ponder; why did science feel the need to make its seats absurdly tall. They were those types of seats that were, normally, exclusively used at hipster ice cream parlours or smoothie bars. They always made sitting down so uncomfortable, giving you absolutely no back support and your knees would consistently knock off the metal bar of the desk leaving an unflattering gum stain on your jeans, for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s why everyone found science hard to grasp, because they spent the whole period trying to contort their bodies in a way that would make sitting comfortable.  It was during that very intelligent inner monologue that Kylo stomped in and plopped into his seat, on the other side of the class, crunching his knees under the desk. You could practically hear his six-foot frame groan at being pushed into such an awkward seat. That couldn’t be comfortable you thought, before diverting your attention from the dark prince to Mrs Barr, ready to be riveted by some spores, fungi and bacterium. Delicious.

And all was going swell up until the end of the period; your notes were tidy, you only lost interest a couple of times but you seemed to understand what she was getting at, then she started talking about the next assignment. Partner work was the first issue with the task. It wasn’t ideal but you always knew that Jess would be willing to group up, but then, issue number two, Mrs Barr pulled a fast one and said that she would be picking the pairs. Well, fuck. Finally, for issue number three, what did the woman do? She only went and paired you up with Kylo, just before sending the class away, to go figure out in their teams what they were going to do their projects on.

To some people this would have been a godsend, but when you saw his gaze latch on to you and his frown deepen, you couldn’t help but want to crawl into a hole and die. Yes, you wanted to get him to be your friend again and yes, you suppose this would help, but you wanted the reconciliation to be done on your terms. Your slow and steady pace. This caused the process to go from a crawl to a sprint and quite frankly, it was probably going to give you whiplash. And if that didn’t Kylo suddenly being right in front of your face would. Somehow despite his large stature, he could move incredibly quietly if he put his mind to it. It made you wonder if he stomped down the hallways for theatrical purposes, maybe you could ask him when he stopped staring daggers at you. But it didn’t look like he would anytime soon.

 “Oh, Hi, Kylo” you stuttered out to him, tilting your head up as far as it would go, he was much taller up close.

 “We are gonna need a study space, my house is empty, Leia’s working. So, assuming you can walk ten feet without falling we can work there.”

 Wow, maybe Poe was right about him lacking some social skills.

“Yep, that’s fine” you replied in a less friendly tone than before, sure you wanted him to be your friend, but you weren’t going to be a doormat.

 “Fine, four o’clock, don’t be late.” And with that he stomped away in a cloud of rage.

 Well, maybe you made a mistake in wanting to be his friend again. You supposed you would find out after school.

~This cool Kid wanted to be tagged and you can be too @shockwavee (But Idk if I’m doing it right)

[chiefnooniensingh]

I Won’t Hesitate (for you) Chapter 12

Chapter 12: What is lost will be found (when the truth hunts you down)

In this chapter: The truth.

A/n:  Oh my god guys. Here we are. I'm so nervous about this chapter because I am equally excited and nervous about your reaction to it! After this, there's only an epilogue left. Enjoy, and please let me know what you thought of it!

As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don't know if I would've finished it without you guys!

@hmd23 guessed it, last week's chapter title was from Third Eye Blind again. Congratulations!

Can anyone guess this week's?

Also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

January, 1934

Liz Ortecho, now 23 and wise beyond her years, entered the little cabin she had rented, a newspaper clutched in her hand. They were living just outside of New York, trailing a ghost that refused to be found.

They’d travelled all across the country; starting from New Mexico, they went to San Diego, Sacramento and Seattle, travelling north past the Canadian border, even going so far as Calgary, before returning to the States to follow even the smallest hints of Rosa’s killed.

Five years they’d searched. Five years of barely any food, finding work wherever they could, and constant disappointment. They’d built up a steady network of informants, through a mix of bribery, good Samaritanism and flirting, but apparently Rosa’s murderer instilled fear in the hearts of men. Not many were willing to sell him out. Those who were, quickly dropped off the radar after that.

Liz knew she was being watched. She’d seen the shadows in the corner of her eye, the unremarkable cars in her rear-view mirror. She knew, if she ever got truly close, she’d probably end up dead. But she was determined and so were her travel companions. Rosa’s killer needed to be unmasked, taken off the board, or he’d kill again.

“I have news and you’re not going to like it!” Liz announced as she entered the tiny living room. The other two women immediately joined her at the table. Liz smacked down the paper, pointing at a small article, accompanied by a picture.

The immigrant man Sheriff Valenti had had to let go because of lack of proof. Looking fancy and happy, standing next to an absolutely gorgeous blonde young woman. “That’s him,” her friend said, her voice shaking, “that’s Rosa’s killer.”

“I’m pretty sure, too, yes. Sheriff Valenti was never able to get any proof, but…he’s the only suspect we have. Either we cross him off the list or we get the bastard. Either way, we need to find him.” Liz looked at the picture, her face hardening. “And he just made it extremely easy.”

The headline read:  Oil Mogul Noah Bracken (33) and noted event planner Isobel Evans (25) tie the knot in Malibu.

Liz looked up at her companions, who looked back with the same determination on their face. “Alright, call everybody. Michael, Kyle, my dad…” She felt her lips pull into a sardonic smile. “We’re going to plan a murder.”

Maria and Mimi DeLuca nodded, heading off to pack up their stuff and call the cavalry. Maria had grown up with Rosa, had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. Mimi had taken care of Rosa, and Liz when she came along, for years. When news reached them of Rosa’s disappearance, Mimi had wanted to return immediately. Mr DeLuca’s illness prevented that. When Michael called another few weeks later to tell them Rosa’s body had been found, just days after Mr DeLuca’s own passing…something broke in Mrs DeLuca, and she was never the same again.

Both were extremely determined to hunt down and kill the monster who killed that little girl.

Present day, 22nd of October, 9PM

Alex was standing in front of the passengers that had occupied so much of his mind for the past three days. He looked over all of them, and he wondered why he hadn’t seen it before, why he’d missed all the little things that could’ve tipped him off. He wondered if he was getting rusty.

They were all sitting in the dining carriage, their chairs moved to face Alex, who was standing with his back to door. He had always been able to command a room with just his silence, and now, too, people were waiting for him to speak.

“Thank you for coming,” Alex began, his eyes locking with each of them in turn. Isobel Evans, Max Evans, Beth and Arthur Otto, Kyle Vale, Maria and Mimi DeLuca and…Michael Guerin. All of them liars. All of them trying to hide themselves from him. But the jig was up, the curtain had fallen, and Alex could see clearly now. He continued. “I have a decision to make. I need to decide what to tell the police when we arrive in Paris tomorrow. And I was hoping you all could help me.” He saw the surprise on Michael’s face, and most of them exchanged worried and confused looks.

“We all know there was a murder here on this train. I have been working relentlessly to find out who did it, and after three days of hard searching I have narrowed it down to two theories. I will lay out these two theories before you now.”

Several people shifted in their seats, others smoothed down their clothes. Alex couldn’t help a small, half-smile that played around his lips. “My first theory is as follows. In 1920, Noah Bracken kidnapped and killed Rosa Ortecho in revenge over a workplace dispute with her father, Arturo Ortecho.” Alex let his gaze fall on Mr Otto, who blushed and lowered his eyes. “Rosa was loved by many, and her death instilled a rage in the hearts of those who loved her, none more than in the heart of her sister, Liz Ortecho.” His eyes moved over to Beth, whose eyes were already filled with tears. “So, presumably when she turns 18, Liz sets out to find her sister’s murderer, aided by her sister’s best friend Maria, and the latter’s mother and the Ortechos’ former house maid Mimi DeLuca.” Beth, Maria and Mimi all looked at each other uneasily. “Somehow they find out who Rosa’s killer is. Maybe they saw him on a train. Maybe they read about him in a newspaper. It doesn’t really matter how; they find him anyway. So they bring in the cavalry; Rosa’s father, still grieving for his eldest daughter; Kyle Valenti – ” Kyle shifted in his seat but kept his eyes steadily on Alex, though Alex could see the tears forming in them. “ – the son of the Sheriff who tried to find Rosa’s killer and failed, killing himself with shame of it – ”

Alex took a deep breath and turned his eyes on Michael, who looked at him with clear eyes and an expression of love and acceptance on his face. “ – and finally, Michael Guerin, the boy who took care of the Ortecho sisters when he couldn’t take care of himself. Six people, who all loved and adored Rosa, who all wanted to see justice for her death, a justice the system would never give them.”

“Rosa was the brightest star on this planet,” Liz burst out, tears falling freely down her face now. “She was happy when things got tough, when dad had to work long hours, when mom died. She loved and laughed and lived and that monster took her away from this world.”

Alex merely acknowledged this outbreak with a simple bow of his head, then continued. “So they devise a plan. A plan that would bring them justice for Rosa, that would – if carried out properly – help them get away with murder. It soon becomes clear they can’t get close to him. Noah Bracken has transformed himself from illegal immigrant to an oil mogul; rich, powerful and, in almost every sense of the word, untouchable. So they approach his wife. Isobel Bracken, née Evans, who may have already figured out who her husband really is…”

“He had a box,” Isobel whispered, her voice hoarse, her eyes hard and filled with disgust. “A box filled with newspaper clippings and writing. He boasted about killing that poor girl. Kept track of what the police knew. Disappeared when he needed to. I had unknowingly married a monster.” Max put a hand on hers, and she trailed off again.

Alex continued again, as if he had never been interrupted. “Isobel, having figured out who her husband really is, realizes nobody will believe her. Noah Bracken is rich and powerful, surely he would never harm a child? So when Rosa Ortecho’s loved ones show up with half a plan, she knows the only way out is through; she has to kill her husband. She knows someone in the police department of Roswell, someone with access and credibility and skills. Her own brother Max. This is also presumably how the two siblings find their long, lost brother; by planning a murder.”

“I couldn’t believe it when we suddenly were face to face,” Max muttered, glancing towards his brother. “After searching for so long, to find him in the middle of this awful tragedy.”

“So now the group is 8, and they need a plan. A plan that can help them get away with murder. A plan so intricate that even the most brilliant minds would have a hard time finding the truth.”

“Such modesty,” Michael muttered with a small smile, and despite everything, the group chuckled.

Alex smiled, too, but continued. “And then, a window of opportunity. Noah Bracken has a meeting in Istanbul with other big oil companies, and Isobel manages to convince him that they should make this a little holiday. Fly to Istanbul, spend a few days there, and taking the scenic route back; the Orient Express. A little…second honeymoon, as it were. What reason would Noah Bracken have to doubt his loving wife? She’s an exceptional actress and has not once slipped up in her façade of loving him, though she has known, at that point, for a long time. So, they come together to plan the perfect murder.”

Alex started pacing slowly up and down the dining carriage, his leg already twinging, but biting through the pain, nonetheless. He needed to get through it, he needed to know their reactions to his theory. “Isobel has her own income from her business, so she buys out an entire car on the Orient Express, two for her and her husband, and 6 for the remaining group. Michael gets a job at the Compagnie, getting himself stationed aboard the Istanbul-Paris line. There needs to be a minimum appearance of foul play. Coincidences is where they hope to confuse and befuddle anyone who tries to look closer. Simply coincidence that Isobel’s brother is on the train. Simply coincidence that the Ortechos’ house maid and her daughter are on board. Coincidences hide facts more completely than people think. This group of avengers realize this.” Alex looked at all of them in turn. Liz was still silently crying, with her head on her father’s shoulder, who in his turn looked stricken, almost sick. Mimi and Maria were sitting straight-backed, staring right at him, almost challenging him to continue. Kyle stared at his hands. Michael merely looked at Alex, an expression of pure wonder and awe on his face.

It almost made Alex falter.

“They needed a weapon that would also be a coincidence. The knife Michael always carried with him, because it reminded him of his first great love.” They locked eyes and for the first time, a single tear escaped Michael’s eyes. Alex’s heart ached. “And so they plan, first finding the perfect time to commit the murder. Kyle has medical training, and he knows that cold decreases body temperature faster than usual. So the time of death needs to be when the train passes through the coldest regions; the Alps. The decreased body temperature will not only throw off the time of death to a time that coincides with a brief stop and will provide alibis for them all. For who is awake at 3 the morning? Isobel starts taking sleep medication, weeks, maybe even months in advance, complaining of insomnia to her doctor who is fooled – again, she is a terrific actress – so that she cannot be the murderer; she was asleep, heavily medicated, so how could she possibly have killed her husband?”

Alex stopped for a moment to prop himself up on a table, unable to take the twinge in his leg any longer. “And so, on the morning of the 19th of October, 6 seemingly random people board the Orient Express, pretending not to know each other, knowing they are stepping into a closed environment with a murderer. In the evening, either Isobel or Michael put a sedative in Noah Bracken’s evening tea.”

“I did that,” Isobel said, her voice strong. She looked hardened and sure of herself, a stark comparison to the shocked and traumatized girl Alex had seen that first morning. “Michael brought the tea, but I put the Barbital in his drink. I knew if he woke up at any point, he would be able to fight back and win. He was a terrifying man, Mr Manes.”

Alex inclined his head. “At 4AM that night, everybody sneaks towards the Brackens’ cabin. Every one of these people has a reason to want Noah Bracken dead. So instead of just one person committing this murder, the knife Michael brought exchanges hands. This has the added benefit of thoroughly confusing any coroner examining the body, because not one of the stab wounds has the same depth and patterns. So every single one of the hurt and grieving people takes a stab at Noah Bracken’s chest, ending his life like he ended Rosa’s, justice finally done, Rosa’s spirit finally at peace.” Alex took a breath, examining the faces of the people in front of him. Liz and Arturo were quietly sobbing, Max holding Liz’s hand tightly. Michael’s face was wet as well, but a small smile played around his lips, too. Kyle was white as a sheet, his face taut with emotion. Maria and Mimi were holding each other’s hands tightly, their knuckles turning white. Isobel just stared at Alex, an open challenge. Alex let them all absorb the information he had laid out so far.

After a minute or two, he cleared his throat. “Now there was one thing none of them counted on. Passenger number nine. The unknown variable. I believe they tried to fill it with someone they trusted, a Miss Cameron. But she never showed up, so the cabin was given to a man who had already tried to get a ticket to Paris, but failed. Me. When the group realized a renowned private detective had somehow gotten aboard the train and straight into their meticulously planned out murder, I believe they panicked. Maybe they tried to blow the whole plan off, to try again at a later date. But they knew this was their one shot. So they went through with the plan. I think Michael was supposed to be my distraction, an actual coincidence that we had known each other in a previous life. He’d always been rather good at that, and maybe he was supposed to be that again. And it worked. For a while.”

“In the end, it was you who distracted me,” Michael said, with a shrug. “Long enough to understand that you are more important to me than anything in this world.”

Alex’s heart twisted in the best way, but he ignored it and continued on. “The group tried everything to throw sand in my face. The fake identification papers were a stroke of brilliance. The broken timeclock. Even stabbing Liz. I presume that was your doing, doctor Valenti.” Kyle inclined his head. “I still don’t understand the placement of the half-burned newspaper clipping, though – ”

“ – that was Noah’s doing,” Isobel interrupted, shrugging. “When he realized you were on board, he burned all his memorabilia he always carried with him, so you couldn’t inadvertently catch him. You scared him, Mr Manes. And my husband didn’t scare easy.” She gave him an impressed smile.

Alex inclined his head towards her slightly. “In the end, I realized I should’ve seen it before. Should’ve realized who each and every one of you was. I think Michael’s distraction worked beautifully. If only it had worked a little longer.” He let a silence fall, the group digesting Alex’s words slowly. Michael reached over and squeezed Alex’s hand. Alex squeezed back.

The silence stretched between them all, as each tried to compose themselves. After a few minutes, when even Kyle had lifted his head to look Alex in the eye again, Alex pushed himself off the table and went back to the middle of the room, facing all of them. “It’s the most plausible theory I have, it is true. But it is not bulletproof. While I have uncovered every identity, I have not a single shred of proof.”

“You said you had another theory?” Michael said, sharpest of them all, the love of his life, and Alex smiled.

“I do. After I lay out this theory, each and every one of us is going to have to make a choice. A choice that we will have to live with, one way or another.”

“Share it with us, Alex,’ Liz said, wiping her nose on her sleeve and looking up at him, trust in her eyes. She trusted him still, after all this.

Alex inclined his head. “Noah Bracken was murdered at 3AM when we were stopped in Vinkovci. An unknown assassin slipped on board this train while the conductor was making his scheduled telephone call, killed Noah Bracken in his sleep and locked the door to incriminate his sleeping wife. Then he slipped out through the window, which he left open, and disappeared into the night.”

A stunned silence fell in the dining carriage. Everyone was staring at Alex, then at each other and then back at Alex. Alex knew it was the simplest theory of all the ones he’d run through his head, and the one that had the least chance of ever being proven wrong. “Are you…are you serious?” Isobel said, leaning forward and staring up at Alex. “That’s…that’s your other theory? After you spend 20 minutes explaining your first one?”

“The simplest theories are often the truest, Ms Evans,” Alex said with a small smile that made Michael chuckle. “Every investigator knows this.”

“But in this case…” Liz started, but Alex held up a hand.

“In this case, I am faced with a choice. A choice of what I will tell the French police that will be waiting for me in Paris. If I choose option 1, you will all go to trial for murder. You may get off, since the theory I have is merely a theory. But your lives as you know it will be over. I will have to live with putting the man I love and good people to whom bad things have happened, behind bars.” Alex swallowed thickly. “If I choose option 2, you all walk away from this, and we will all have to live the rest of our lives knowing the truth. You will have to live with blood on your hands. And I will have to live with letting murderers walk free.”

Alex put his hands in his pockets as he looked at all of them. They were all looking at him, scared, afraid of his judgement, of his choice. But Alex shook his head. “I cannot make this decision alone. This is going to affect all of us. So we are all going to make a choice. And whatever we decide, that decision will haunt us for the rest of our lives.”

A stunned silence followed that. Alex looked at them all in turn, ending on Michael’s face which was filled with love and hurt and fear, mixed with just a tiny hint of pride.

“So,” Alex said, “what’s it going to be?”

[nexttrickanvils]

FE3H Fic: Falling for You

Title: Falling For You

Characters: Claude Von Reigen, F!Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Edelgard Von Hresvelg, Sylvain Jose Gautier, Mercedes Von Martritz, small cameos from a few FE: Fates characters

Ships: Claude x Byleth, background Sylvain x Mercedes

Notes: Modern!AU

---------

The first thing Claude thought was: “Did anyone get the number on the bus that just hit me?”

“Sir!? Sir!? Are you alright!?”

The second thing Claude thought was: “...Oh...”

He stared up at the bespectacled blue haired woman looking over him with concern on her face.

“Sir! Do you need me to call someone? Do you know where you are? What...”

Claude groaned as he finally sat up and gave the woman a carefree smile.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. No need to call somebody and if it’ll make you feel better, we’re at the Garreg Mach Public Library.”

She sighed in relief and smiled back.

“Good.”

The blue haired woman offered her hand to Claude and helped him up. She then turned to a group of young kids. Guess she must have been a teacher or something.

“Kana?”

One kid in particular, a young boy with messy silver hair stepped forward and stood next to his teacher.

“Now Kana, what do we say when we bump into someone?”

The boy looked up at Claude with big fat tears in his eyes.

“I’M SORRY MISTER! I DIDN’T MEAN TO! I GOT EXCITED AND...”

“Hey, hey no need to shout little guy, we’re at the library. And don’t worry, I forgive you. Just make sure you listen to your Teach okay?”

The boy let out a sniffle and an “Okay.”

He went back to his little group and took the hand of a red-haired girl a couple years older than him.

The teacher looked back at Claude, “Once again, I am so sorry for my student...”

“Come on, you don’t gotta apologize too. Believe me, if you want to hear some horror stories about hyper kids, just ask my mom about my childhood.”

She gave a small chuckle and Claude felt a slight heat in his cheeks.

“Nonetheless, they are my responsibility. So I shoulder some of the blame.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. You should get back to your job instead of worrying about me.”

She nodded and turned back to her group, “Alright everyone, now where we?”

Claude watched with a smile as the kids and their teacher walked off to the library’s kids section. 

He quickly returned to what he was doing before and yet as the day went on, he kept thinking about the blue haired woman.

She seemed nice, hells nicer than some of the teachers he grew up with. Those kids are lucky to have her.

Not to mention, if Claude had to be honest, she was kind of cute and that laugh…

Claude shook his head, what was he doing? It’s not like he was going to see her again.

...Though he wouldn’t mind that… maybe get to hear her laugh again…

…

“...I picked a bad time to realize I have a thing for girls in glasses didn’t I?”

===

Telling Dimitri and Edelgard about what happened was probably the dumbest thing Claude could have done.

Dimitri’s reaction wasn’t too bad, supportive and was even willing to help out if needed, but Edelgard… Claude can’t remember the last time his friend laughed this hard.

“...You done?”

Edelgard’s laughter started to slow down and she finally took a few breaths.

“M-my apologies, Claude it’s just…hahaha... it’s just funny to think that you, Claude “I don’t believe in hokey stuff like Moon Signs and Soulmates” Von Reigen of all people would fall in love at first sight.”

“Hey I did NOT “fall in love at first sight.” I’m just curious about her and want to see her again. Get to know her better you know?”

“That… sounds an awful lot like love at first sight.” Remarked Dimitri the Traitor

Claude glared at them both as he took a swig of his drink.

The blonde smiled and continued, “To be honest, it all does sound rather romantic.”

“Except for the part where you were knocked over by a toddler.” Added Edelgard

“I did not get knocked over by a toddler… I think the kid was in kindergarten.”

At that, Dimitri let out a laugh that he tried very hard to hide. Claude said nothing as he went back to his drink.

“All joking aside, what was her name? Perhaps you could look her up online...” asked Edelgard

At that, Claude nearly choked. 

Shit! He never got her name!

Claude smacked his head against the bar and even though he couldn’t see them, he could feel the disappointed expressions on Dimitri and Edelgard’s faces.

...Well okay maybe disappointed isn’t the right word but they are judging him.

===

At some point last night, his friends did actually give Claude some good advice.

Most of the local schools had photos of their staff on their websites and without knowing her name, this seemed like the best and “least likely to get the cops called on him” way to find her. 

So he grabbed his phone and a notepad and sat down at his favorite coffee shop. This shouldn’t take too long right?

...Too bad no one told him that there was a whole lot of elementary schools in Garreg Mach. Claude knew this place was a big city. He’s lived here for a good few years now and he swears he keeps finding new old places. 

But did this city really need this many elementary schools!?

“Not really how I pictured spending my afternoon” Claude muttered as he scratched out Saint Cethlean Elementary & Middle School off his list. At this rate, Mystery Teach will have retired by the time Claude found out where she worked.

After scratching out six or maybe seven more schools from the list, Claude took a glance around the coffee shop; the place was starting to get a little too crowded for his liking. Maybe he should head out and take a break. Maybe do some people watching near the old Monastery.

However just as he stood up, he spotted a familiar someone at the counter.

“Here you go Ma’am, have a nice day!” “Thank you, you too.”

No way… there was no way…

Except there was no mistaking that blue hair or her voice.

...Claude wasn’t exactly a religious man but he couldn’t help but mentally thank whatever god or goddess seemed to be listening to him.

He waited until she stepped out of line before taking a deep breath, putting on his most charming smile, and approaching her; being very careful not to startle her.

However before he could reach her, the crowd in the shop seemed to shift and Claude found himself stuck.

“Hey! ‘Scuse me! Tryna get through!”

Claude tried his best to get through the crowd but some people were just way too stubborn and pushy for their own. Before long, Claude found himself falling forward out of the crowd.

‘Okay I’m taking back the thanks to any god or goddess listening, cause they’re obviously jerks and are laughing at me.’

Claude stood back and tried to look for around for the woman. Soon he spotted her through the window, walking away and chatting with a short haired blonde woman. The blonde seemed familiar somehow to Claude but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

As for who she probably was, she was likely Teach’s co-worker or just a friend… or even a girlfriend.

It was that thought that made Claude realize: What the hells was he doing?

Is he really so desperate that a smile and some basic human decency is enough to make him act like an idiot tripping over himself?

He didn’t even know her name, for gods’ sake!

Claude sighed as he picked up the things he dropped and headed out of the coffee shop.

====

Claude had hoped to spend a nice quiet evening hanging out and drinking with Dimitri and Edelgard.

Unfortunately this was not to be because when he arrived at their usual spot, Edelgard looked like she was ready to strangle someone and Dimitri was in a friendly(?) headlock by a loud drunk with bright red hair. It took Claude a minute to recognize the guy as Sylvain, one of Dimitri’s friends.

He took a seat next to Edelgard and shot her a sympathetic look. “Long night?”

“It’s only been an hour.”

“So what brought Sylvain here?”

“Apparently he’s getting married to Mercedes.”

If Claude had a drink, this would be the point where he’d spit it all over the counter.

“Wait. Sylvain is getting married. OUR Sylvain?”

“Do we know any others?”

“...So...”

“Dimitri called Mercedes to come pick Sylvain up. She was just getting off work when he called so hopefully she’ll be here soon.”

Claude looked at the thrilled drunk redhead and could hear him gushing about his fiancee and how she’s one of the few people who could see the “real him.” 

Meanwhile poor Dimitri is just nodding along and adding the ocasional “I know” and “I’m very happy for you.”

“Never thought Sylvain of all people would get married.”

“Well I suppose this week has been one for miracles. Speaking of: how is your search for your true love going?”

Claude decided to ignore the “true love” comment and explained to Edelgard that he gave up.

“Give up? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t realize how many schools I had to look up and I kind of had an epiphany that I was acting like a creepy idiot.”

“I see.”

After a few more minutes of trying to talk to his friends over Sylvain’s ramblings, Claude heard the sound of the bar door opening. He looked over and his eyes widened.

“Mercedes? I almost didn’t recognize you.” remarked Edelgard

The blonde giggled as she showed off her short hair.

“Do you like it? It was starting to become a bit of a hassle to take care of it and I thought it was time for a change.”

THAT’S WHY SHE SEEMED FAMILIAR, Claude just didn’t recognize her with the new haircut.

Upon hearing Mercede’s voice, Sylvain released his death grip on Dimitri and stumbled over to her.

“BABY!” he shouted as he fell into her arms

“Hello to you too dear.” Mercedes said with a smile

She then turned to the three, “I hope Sylvain didn’t give you three too much trouble.”

“N-not at all. He merely wanted to let us know about the engagement and celebrate. Congratulations by the way.” said Dimitri

“Let us know when you figure out a wedding date alright?” said Edelgard

Mercedes nodded.

“We will, thank you. I’ll be taking him home now. Good night everyone.”

As Mercedes started to walk towards the exit with Sylvain’s arm draped around her shoulders, Claude stood up.

“Hey wait Mercie!”

“Hm? Oh, Claude. What is it?”

“This… might be a weird question but… do you… happen to have a co-worker who’s a… woman with blue hair and glasses?”

===

“Okay so let me get the story straight. You were at the library, one of the kids that Mercie watches over knocked you flat on your ass and you fell in love with her co-worker when she checked on you?”

Claude glared at Sylvain, “Aside from the “falling in love part,” yeah you got it down.”

So it turned out that Mercedes was co-workers with Mystery Teach in an After-School Program. After Claude explained his situation, Mercedes offered to let Sylvain drive him to the school that she worked at to meet her co-worker, Byleth. 

Gods did it feel good to FINALLY have a name to work with.

“You know… since I’m picking up Mercedes, if both girls are up for it, we can do a double date right away.”

“Just shut up and drive.”

The two stayed quiet for the rest of the ride (though not for lack of trying on Sylvain’s part) until they finally arrived at the school.

Claude could hear the kids further down the hall, guess Mercedes and Byleth weren’t off the clock just yet. Thus he and Sylvain sat down on a nearby bench.

He chuckled and Sylvain looked at him curiously.

“Oh just… sitting out here kinda makes me think of my own school days. Like I’m waiting for the Principal to come out and lecture me for releasing a stink bomb in the gym.”

“Whoa, really?” Sylvain asked with a laugh

“In my defense, it wasn’t supposed to go off at that moment; the casing was just badly made.”

The two made small talk as they watched parents come in and out with their kids.

Claude always liked people watching but he’d never seen such… interesting characters.

Like the guy who looked like he stepped out of a comic book, his wife who looked like she could bench press DIMITRI, and their kid who looked like the dad’s sidekick.

Then there’s the father+daughter duo wearing toy fox ears and making, he’s assuming, fox noises as they went down the hall.

A few more minutes passed by when a little voice shouted out, “Hey Mister!”

Claude turned to the voice and saw that same silver haired boy who ran into him.

“Oh well look who it is. You doing alright kid? Listening to your Teach, I hope?”

The boy, Kana, he thinks Byleth called him, nods and smiles.

“Uh-huh. Are you here to see Ms. Byleth?”

“Heh, aren’t you a smart kid. Yup, just here say hi to her.”

“...Are you marrying Ms. Byleth?”

Claude’s eyes widened as he let out a choked noise and Sylvain let out a laugh.

“Kana!”

Approaching them all was a friendly looking guy with silver hair, a woman with red hair that Claude could only describe as “fluffy,” and a slightly older red haired girl.

“Hi mama!”

The little boy rushed into his mom’s arms and was lifted up. The woman sighed and faced Claude and Sylvain.

“I’m sorry, I hope he wasn’t bothering you.”

“N-nah, it’s… it’s fine.” Claude said, trying to hide the red on his face

The redheaded woman nodded and started to walk away with her family while the boy waved good-bye to Claude.

“Bye-bye Mister!”

As soon as that family was out the doors, Sylvain shot Claude a shit-eating grin.

“Smart kid right?”

Claude said nothing as he glared at him.

A couple more families came and went and Claude was starting to nervously tap his foot on the floor. The longer the two waited, the more chances Claude had to overthink.

Did Byleth even remember what happened at the library? Would she just stare at him blankly if he tried to explain who he was? Would she think he was some stalker?

Thankfully before Claude could further give himself a panic attack, two women stepped out from one of the rooms.

Mercedes… and Byleth.

Sylvain of course practically jumped off the bench and ran over to greet his fianceé while Byleth stood to the side and watched the two in amusement.

Well… now or never. Claude stood up, took a deep breath, put on his most charming smile, and approached her; being very careful not to startle her.

“Hey Teach.”

Byleth turned to him. At first she looked confused but a spark of recognition quickly lit her eyes.

“Oh, it’s you, the man from the library. Are you doing alright? No bumps? No dizziness or anything?”

“I told you before, I’m fine. You don’t need to call a doc or anything. The name’s Claude by the way.” he replied with a laugh as he offered his hand

“I’m Byleth and sorry about that. The double checking’s become a force of habit. My roommate can tell you plenty of stories about me slipping into what she calls “Teacher Talk” to her.” She said as she took his hand and shook it

“Heh well maybe if you got the time, we can sit down for a drink or some coffee and you can tell me all about it?”

Byleth gave him that same smile that he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“I’d love to.”

[im-whatchamccallit]

Their Girlfriend isn’t Close to Her Family Anymore// Got7

Request: heyyy could I plz request a got7 scenario where their girlfriend isn’t close to their family anymore and he supports her? Thanks you 🙏🏻🙏🏻💙💙

Pair: Got7 x Reader

Genre: Angsty, slight fluff

Warnings: Oof. Mentions of alcoholism, abuse, abandonment, and death. Nothing too crazy though. Also, it’s long. As fuck.

Words: 4.46k

(A/N: First off, yay! I’m back! Second, I wasn’t sure if anon wanted the whole group or one member so I just did them all so it’s like a scenario/reaction kinda thing.)

Mark

The day was fairly silent as you and Mark continued to clean around your apartment. Well, you were cleaning as Mark sat on your sofa watching television, when, suddenly, your phone began to ring from the coffee table in front of him. You trusted one another enough to go through each other’s phones and even answer phone calls. So, when he saw the words ‘Mother’ appear, he immediately answered, partially from his instincts but mainly because this would be the first time he’s met her, even if it wasn’t in person.

“Hello? (Y/n)?” The woman’s voice was shocked yet relieved, causing him to smile at the way she said your name in a loving way.

“I’m Mark, her boyfriend.”

“B-boyfriend?” Her pained voice confused him. She was your mother, surely you told her about him, right?

“Mark! Who is it?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the pan you were scrubbing profusely as he approached you, placing the phone to your ear with a small, “it’s your mom”.

In that moment, you felt sick to your stomach, your glove covered hands dropping the scouring pad as you turned and pressed the end call button bitterly, hanging up without another word before returning to your previous chore.

Mark had never seen you like this. Your cheeks puffed out and lips pursed together angrily as you took your frustrations out on the poor pan that was overly clean, almost being restored to its original silver color.

“Why did you hang up on her?” He finally asked, watching you carefully as you rinsed the cooking sheet and place it onto the nearby drying rack.

“My mother and I aren’t close.” You said bluntly, hoping that’d be the end of the discussion as you tossed the gloves onto the side of the sink, trying to walk by without making eye contact with Mark.

“Maybe you would be if you actually talked with her.”

You froze, a bit hurt and angry at how true his words were. But how can you explain that you could never rebuild a relationship with the woman that left you to raise yourself since you were 5? That the only times you ever saw her, she was drunk and angry or passed out from a bender? That even once she got her life together, you could never see her as anything other than an alcoholic mess?

“Not everyone can be best friends with their parents, Mark. Some of us don’t get the privilege to say we even have parents. And if I’ve been doing just fine for the past twenty years without her, why do I suddenly have to be the bigger person just because she feels guilty for the shit she caused?”

You hadn’t realized your eyes were glossed over, burning as you took in a shaky breath to keep yourself together. Mark felt bad for not knowing these things about you, assuming it was just the distance keeping you from visiting home, having you insist on being with him and his family every holiday or just staying at your apartment alone rather than being with her. The worse part being that, whether you saw her again or continued to ignore her, it’d hurt you.

You don’t flinch at the sudden feeling of arms around you, your head instantly pressing into the side of Mark’s neck as he held onto you.

“I’m sorry, (Y/nickname). But I think you should talk to her, just for some closure. Whether you see her again or not is your choice and I promise I won’t bother you about it anymore.”

Jaebum

Jaebum held onto your hand and you sniffled loudly, choking back tears as you stood over her coffin. The woman before you was your grandmother, yet she raised you since the day you were born, never once treating you any differently just because she technically wasn’t your mother. But she was the only mother you’ve ever known. Your father had passed not long after your first meeting, and the day you met your real mother, you made sure it was your last. She didn’t even deserve the title of a parent.

Even with all the problems you faced, all the times you cried over the years of pain and conflict you felt from your family’s dysfunction, Jaebum stood by you and listened, being understanding and compassionate when you needed him most.

He sighed sadly and leaned forward to place a small kiss to the frail, lifeless body, pulling back just enough to see her greyish features.

“Thank you for raising an amazing daughter.” He spoke lowly before standing to level with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to guide you to your seats when, suddenly, a loud scream was heard, your heads turning to the entrance in shock.

“We told you, you aren’t allowed here!”

“I’m here to see my fucking mother. Get off of me!” You could feel your grimace grow as you watched (Y/Mother/N) push through the line of people coming to view your grandmother’s body, her feet stopping her just a few steps away from the casket but, intentionally, right in front of you.

“(Y/n),” She breathed, opening her arms to embrace you but you just took a step back.

You weren’t sure how to react. Part of you wanted to turn away and ignore her, but part of you wanted to punch her and whoever told her the location of the funeral. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the right to see her mother one last time, it was the fact this was the first time in years she had thought to do so.

“You have five seconds to leave or I swear I’m calling the cops.” You growled, Jaebum lacing your fingers together to remind you that he was still there and that her presence shouldn’t and won’t affect you.

“I just wanted to see her. And I wanted to make sure you were alrigh-“ You flinched at the way she reached out to touch your hair, your hand instinctively reaching up to slap it away.

“I’m alright. I have been ever since you abandoned me.”

“I didn’t abandon you. I had to figure myself out and get my life together. I was always going to come back for you, (Y/nickname), and I did.”

“I wish you never came back.” You admitted, your face stoic as you watched hurt flash over her features.

“And your five seconds are up. Leave.” Without another word, you turned and let Jaebum silently drag you to your seats, his eyes staring at you with concern as everyone tried to return to their mourning, despite the interruption.

A stray tear rolled down your cheek, your hand practically squeezing Jaebum’s as you stared ahead. He couldn’t tell if it was still your grandmother’s death or your mother’s arrival upsetting you, but he knew it wasn’t the right time to bother you on it. Instead, he brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to it before relaxing at the small sigh you released, your head resting onto his shoulder as you continued to mourn the loss of both your mothers.

Jackson

“I’m nervous.” You giggled as Jackson continued to lead you through his apartment, his hands covering your eyes as you weaved about aimlessly.

“Okay, close your eyes for me.” You nodded at his instructions, your eyes clenched shut as he stepped away. You listened closely to the shuffling and footsteps, Jackson’s warmth at your side once more as he eagerly stared at you.

“Okay. Open them now.” You anxiously opened them, excited to see what the random surprise was considering it was neither of your birthdays nor your anniversary.

But, as soon as your eyes opened, your smile fell. You watched the computer screen as your parents stared at you silently with tear-filled eyes, unsure of if they should speak first or you.

This wasn’t the first time Jackson’s did something like this. He invited you on tour with him and, when you landed in your hometown, he made sure you stopped by your parent’s home.

He knew you never forgave your parents for disowning you when you ran away from home at 16 to study abroad against their wishes, and, once you realized they had made up lies to other family members to save their own reputation, it solidified your hatred. He understood your anger. But to cut off your family completely? He thought that was impossible. Family meant everything to him and, considering how your parents were willing to mend things, he was hoping you felt the same.

But, from the way you angrily stomped to the laptop, slamming it shut before glaring at him with the deepest scowl he’s ever seen, he knew your feelings haven’t changed.

“You keep doing this shit and I’m sick of it. I told you I don’t want to talk to them and you keep doing this crap, every single time! Are you stupid? Is that why you’re doing this? Or do you just hate me that much that you want to hurt my feelings?!”

Sure, your words hurt. You had never exploded at Jackson like this, it was actually shocking to him, but you need this. Years of built up anger finally flowing forth as you screamed at him, your voice cracking every so often as anger turned to sadness, sadness turned to defeat, defeat turned to hurt, and the cycle restarted from there.

He waited until you finished, watching you sniffle loudly as your sleeve cladded arm swiped over your tear-stained eyes.

“So, you never want to speak to your parents again? You never considered fixing your relationship and, if it didn’t work, you could at least say you actually tried?” Silence.

You stared at one another trying to find some response but neither of you said a word, your eyes leaving his face as you thought the question over, uncertain of if this is how you’d want things to be forever, even though you were doing fine on your own all these years.

“You don’t have to tell me. But your parents gave me their phone numbers, emails, and new address. If you ever want to fix things, tell me, and I’ll be by your side the entire time. If not, I get it, and I’ll support you 100%.”

Jinyoung

You stared at the annoyed male through your laptop’s screen, his eyes focusing on anything but you. This was your third time this week calling him and, each time, he seemed more distant than before. You had planned to call him whenever Jinyoung wasn’t home, giving you time to repair your damaged family before you decided you wanted to introduce him to them, but your father, with his cold gaze stuck on his television that produced the only sound between you two, couldn’t care less about that.

To add insult to injury, Jinyoung was home early, moving quietly in case you were sleeping in for the day. He could hear light talking, most of the words muffled from the distance, but it was clearly in an exhausted tone. Your exhausted tone. Jinyoung was never one to eavesdrop but you also weren’t the type to open up to him about everything that bothered you. Maybe you were talking with a friend? Maybe your conversation would help him understand why you were so upset the past few days.

When Jinyoung was close enough to hear you clearly, he stopped, his eyes peeking through the slit of your bedroom door where you sat in front of your desk, a man he’s never met staring at you grudgingly.

“Can you hurry up and talk? I have somewhere to be soon.” He spoke, his frame shifting as you cleared your throat, finally having a chance to have a real conversation with him for the first time in years.

“I just think it’s time we talked about everything. I don’t want one of us to die, knowing that our relationship could have been better or that we let it stay as bad as it is.”

“You’re the one that let it get bad, (Y/n).”

“That’s not true!” You protested against his words, pausing for a moment to collect yourself before continuing.

“You’re my father, and it kills me every time I try to talk to you because you never want to speak to me, especially when I’m the only one trying to fix our relationship.”

“You only called me once your mother ran off to marry someone else and you had no one to raise you. You weren’t worried about our relationship when you said you’d rather live with her after the divorce-“

“I was 8. An 8-year-old girl needs her mother, I always tell you that.”

“They also need their fathers but you obviously didn’t need me, right?”

You swallowed back a sob as you were trying to find the words to explain yourself, but you couldn’t. He was just as hurt as you, maybe worse. From the day you were born, even now, he was excited to have you in his life, but to think you didn’t want or need him in yours was too much to bear.

“I have to go.” He said, breaking the tense silence, your body perking up as you finally noticed your lack of words.

“Dad? Dad!“ Your voice cracked slightly as you tried to continue the conversation, but your screen returned to its regular background, your face contorting in a mixture of pain, anger, and sadness as you finally broke down.

Jinyoung has seen you cry only a handful of times, but he’s never seen you cry over something so deep and personal. He felt awkward. How was he supposed to console the girl sobbing loudly at her desk, head buried in her folded arms as she quietly said “I’m sorry” to someone who was no longer listening?

You didn’t hear the bedroom door open but jumped at the feeling of a warm hand on your back, your red eyes meeting Jinyoung’s sad ones as you quickly stood and wiped away over a decade’s worth of tears.

“When did you get home?” You asked quietly, already knowing the answer by the way he silently wrapped his arms around you.

Jinyoung was never one to pry into your personal problems, especially when he felt it was too soon to address, but he knew being there for you was enough until you were ready. And you couldn’t help but tear up once more at the fact, holding onto him for dear life as if he were your lifeline.

Youngjae

“My parents should sit at a table right next to us.”

“Obviously.” You laughed as you watched the wedding planner place the small yellow figurines with name tags onto their spots on the large layout of the wedding hall you rented.

You and Youngjae were only two weeks away from your wedding and things were seemingly falling into place. Everything was perfect. Your wedding dress was even finished on time, now waiting patiently in the bridal shop until it was time to head out into Mokpo. Nothing could ruin this for you.

“Is this a free space?” Youngjae asked, pointing to an unoccupied table right next to the one you two would sit at, the one your family should be at.

“Actually,” Your eyes widened as you watched the wedding planner sort through her binder, checking between the pages and the layout before searching her bag for extra figurines.

“This table should be reserved for your parents and sister, (Y/n).” Both pairs of eyes fell on you and you could feel yourself shrink into the sofa you sat on, your body strangely warm with embarrassment as you slowly unclasped your hands from your lap, revealing the three yellow figures you took while they were busy talking, hoping they’d ignore the small displacement.

For years, you had problems with your sister. She was always the favorite, the one your parents ran to first to help while you struggled in the background. You don’t even think she’s lifted a finger once in her life. It wasn’t until she ruined your high school graduation party that you finally said something, pointing out how your parents allowed her to act so carelessly and all they could do was clean up her mess as if they caused it. She was an adult-child. But, even at that moment, with years of anger coming out, your parents blamed you for feeling that way. You should have been “just like her” and maybe you would’ve been treated better.

Even after they humiliated you, you forgave them, taking some time away by studying in Seoul, making a home and career there for yourself while still trying to keep your relationship with them present. You even invited them to your wedding. So, to have them suddenly call and say your sister was getting married that same day, her waiting until you announced the official date to state the same to your friends and family, was the ultimate slap to the face.

“Are they not coming?” Youngjae finally spoke up, your unknowingly tear-filled eyes finding his as you shook your head sadly, a tense silence taking over.

“How about I come back tomorrow and we can finish this up?”

“Yes, please.” You ignored the two as Youngjae helped pack away her materials, guiding her to the door with a promise that you’d have everything sorted out for her by tomorrow evening before shutting the door, leaving you in a stilted silence.

Youngjae was always considerate of your family problems, even encouraging you to talk to them and invite them to your wedding, but the way you sat silently, mentally beating yourself up for thinking they’d ever change to finally show you some kind of affection, made his heartbreak.

He took his seat next to you, trying to find the words to say to make things better but you interrupted him with a small chuckle, your head shaking in shame at your own stupidity.

“My own parents don’t care enough to come to my wedding. It’s like I don’t even have a family at this point.”

“You have my mother and father, and my brother and sister too.”

“That’s your family, YJ.” You sighed deeply, rolling your eyes in an attempt to hold back any tears you felt may fall.

The warmth of Youngjae’s hands enclosed yours as he held them gently, causing you to turn and give him your full attention, his expression soft yet serious.

“I knew how your family was and I made you invite them anyways and I’m sorry. But, you don’t need them. In two weeks, my family will officially become your family, I’ll be the greatest husband you could ever imagine, and Coco will be our baby.”

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, amused at the thought that Mark would even consider letting you have Coco full time, but mostly pleased by the idea of actually having loving parents and siblings, whether you were related or not. Youngjae probably thought it was a small gesture but it was big enough for you. And he’d do it a million times again just see you smile.

BamBam

BamBam knew you had issues with your mother’s side of the family, he just didn’t think it was this deep. He sat against his bed, two of his cats pacing around him in circles before laying down by his feet, his eyes too focused on you marching throughout the room with your phone pressed to your ear, a hand running through your hair in frustration as the elderly woman on the line continued to plead.

“(Y/n), it’s just for this month. Your mother fell behind on her rent again and-“

“And what, grandma? She’s asking me to send her another $800 for the third month in a row, and you find nothing suspicious? How did she fall behind anyways? Let me guess, drinking her life away again? Drugs? Gambling? Or did she use it to bail her shitty boyfriend out of jail again.” You snapped, annoyed that this is the same phone call you receive on the same day each month.

Your grandmother was a sweet woman, she just had a bad habit of coddling your mother, treating her as if she needs 24/7 love and care when, really, she needed to grow up. You tried to be considerate and understanding of your mother at first but after a while, you began to notice her patterns, the way she lied and manipulated people to get what she wanted, the way she played victim so she never had to own up to her troubles. You were sick of it.

“She’s going through a rough time, (Y/n), please. She lost her job and-“

“And I don’t care. If your “rough time” last over twenty years, it’s no longer the situation that’s the problem, it’s you. And you’re sitting here enabling her. Grow a spine and kick her out.”

“Don’t talk to me that way.” Your grandmother’s tone changed from pleading to serious but it didn’t waiver your anger, only increasing it.

“Well, somebody has to. Just because you choose to let your daughter live with you on the condition that she pays rent doesn’t mean you’re doing something right, especially when you end up begging me to pick up the slack for her just so you can have her around. She’s your problem, so you deal with her.”

You didn’t bother listening anymore as you hung up, a mixture of a growl and groan escaping your lips as you dragged yourself over to the bed you shared with the now confused boy. BamBam had so many questions yet he couldn’t tell if he had the right to ask. You curled into his side without another word, not mentioning the intense phone call from just a second ago or details of the situation like you gave the last time, just your arms wrapped around his torso and your head on his chest.

“What happened?” He asked nervously, feeling your head shake against his chest to signal that you didn’t want to talk about it.

BamBam hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, feeling you sink further into him as you tried to fall asleep.

He always fantasized in his head how he could help you in situations like this, but he was still so confused. How did things get this way and why? And why were you so used to it by now? He had questions and was slightly desperate for answers, just to make his daydreams of being the protective boyfriend he wants to be come true. But he was already doing enough. He was your safe place in your crumbling world. He may feel like he’s done nothing to help but he was the best help you could ever have.

Yugyeom

Yugyeom watched as you slowly kneeled in front of your bed, placing the folded stack of jeans into your suitcase that sat by his feet on the large mattress, your eyes focused on nothing in particular as you mulled over your decision to head home to see your mother.

Your mother was your biggest bully since the day you were born, belittling and tormenting you at any given chance, physically and mentally. By the time you moved out, you were positive you never wanted to see her again. That was, before your brother called you to let you know she was sick, updating you daily on how her condition went from bad to worse, the doctor’s assuming she had but a few weeks left to live. Despite her abuse towards you, you didn’t want her to die hating you, nor did you want her to die without at least giving you a reason for why she did. But what if she didn’t even want you there? Should you at least honor that unconfirmed wish and stay home?

You were torn up inside about all of this, and Yugyeom could see it. He knew of your troubles and tried to remain neutral about it, not wanting his feelings to influence yours. He was sad that you never really had any support growing up, silently detesting both your parents for making you suffer on your own for years and driving you away when you needed them most, but he felt worse watching you cling to someone who never bothered to check on you since you were 16. He was always silent on the situation, trusting you knew best, but after watching you pack and unpack for the past 3 days, fighting yourself on whether what you were doing was right or wrong, he needed to say something.

“Are you really going?” He asked calmly, causing you to come back to reality to see he was on there with you, resting on one of his elbows while staring down at you expectantly yet patiently.

You looked away with a sigh, shrugging before looking back at him with guilty eyes. You knew how he felt about your family, whether he told you or not, but you wanted one last chance at a mother-daughter relationship, hopefully one that wasn’t toxic and left you emotionally scarred.

Yugyeom sighed before pushing himself up, crossing his legs and scooting forward so that he was beside your suitcase.

“I’m not going to be mad if you go but I don’t want you to get hurt either.” Your lips formed a deep pout as you pressed you forehead onto his jean covered knee.

“I don’t know what to do, Yug.” You sounded so pitiful and stressed, his hand unconsciously finding your hair to comfort you.

One thing Yugyeom learned during your two years together was that you hated overthinking your problems, even major ones like transferring from Ulsan to Seoul for work, his method of helping being to distract you until one of you figured out a plan that could potentially solve it. Maybe, for something as large as this, something he’s never dealt with before, he could do the same.

“How about we go to the dog café you always talk about so you can clear your mind? Then, if it’s not too late, we’ll call your brother, make sure he’s still with your mom, and ask if she wants to see you. If she says yes, we can pack and head out to see her tomorrow morning. Okay?”

You were silent for a moment, causing his heart to stop at the possibility that it wouldn’t work this time, especially when you turned to look at him, your pout still prominent as well as the exhausted look in your eyes.

“Thank you.” You said weakly, causing him to exhale in relief, leaning his head against yours in solace.

[withallthingslove]

avengers endgame spoiler-filled review

below the cut bc spoilers obviously

even after two viewings this movie is super overwhelming so I’m just gonna jump right in

- clint’s family disappearing was so haunting and traumatic omg

- i didn’t like the music choice over the marvel opening crawl

- nebula was so adorably intense when tony playing footbal with her

- carol is such a bad bitch she just carried an entire fucking ship through space

- steve running up to tony and holding on to him... that was content I didn’t know I needed

- the pepperony hug ughhh I’m not a huge gwenyth paltrow fan but she was so good as pepper in this

- honestly I get tony has been through a lot but he was such a dick back at the avengers compound. I’ve always preferred steve to tony and that scene really displayed why. Yes tony was right something bigger was coming, but his way of going about preventing it was proven wrong both times. I don’t consider ultron to be super canon because joss whedon sucks but tony’s first idea to try and solve it failed, and then the accords also failed and even rhodey regretted it. Infinity war was basically “hey yeah the accords was dumb af and steve was right and now the avengers are scattered.” Both tony and steve were selfish and made mistakes in civil war but the fact that it had been over three years and tony was still soooo angry with steve and holding a grudge just rubbed me the wrong way.

- I really felt for thor when they went to get thanos. Chris hemsworth’s acting in that scene was so good when he realized they had failed

- again who on earth put steve in charge of a support group. And while yes its nice to have some lgbtq representation marvel is way behind on that so to me it did not feel like enough

- paul rudd did so well in this movie and scott is such a good dad ugh

- 10/10 would die for morgan stark. She is soooo cute and it was hilarious when she was like “mom told me to come rescue you”

- i know a lot of people are mad at tony dying bc he could have “retired” but that scene with his daughter before steve, nat, and scott show up shows he could not. He still had a garage where he built iron man suits and suits for pepper. That’s not what someone does when they are out of a fight. That’s why he fell back into it so fast because he never left it. He was still tinkering and preparing and even when he retired he was still fully ready to go back

- i like professor hulk but at the same time i miss bruce

- tony and steve love each other so much it made me so happy when tony showed up at the compound. they’ve had their differences but there is real love there

- speaking of real love I will still never forgive joss whedon for taking clintasha away from us like yes their platonic friendship is great but UGH. They love each other SOOOOOOO much 

- tom hiddleston as loki always steals the show and i miss him so much. I was convinced he wasnt dead so I’m sad that he was still dead in the current timeline. But maybe since there is now an alternate dimension with loki and the tesseract he will show up again

- him impersonating steve, his side eye, just... *chefs kiss*

- the america’s ass comment... amazing, iconic, beautiful. And then steve’s “yeah I know” comment to his 2012 self. I’m so glad the russos let steve be funny

- I love how much winter soldier played into this one especially since it was the russo’s first mcu movie. The elevator scene... steve outsmarting the hydra agents. Secretary pierce showing up... and then steve fighting his past self was just *chefs kiss* again. The fact that he knows his own weakness is bucky and uses it against himself 

- not excited to see tilda swinton’s character because its just a reminder of marvel’s whitewashing but I appreciated it trying to explain the timeline/dimension stuff

- i also loved that at the army compound tony was able to get closure with his dad, something he deserved for a long time. I think that was another hint he was going to die because his arc was completing while steve’s.... the look on steve’s face when he saw peggy just broke me. absolutely broke me. Steggy was my first ship in the mcu and so steve and peggy hold a special place in my heart. The fact she still keeps the picture of tiny steve after all these years (a reference to agent carter)... they both moved on enough to enjoy life but never truly moved on enough to leave the other behind. And so while tony was getting closure, steve was being reminded of what he wanted most and couldn’t have. I also loved the tie in with agent carter and showing Jarvis this movie was truly a fan service to us all

- okay so rhodey/nebula: so ive never been a huge nebula person but i really liked her in this movie. I loved rhodey’s line about “you work with what you got” as far as their disabilities. I felt so bad for new nebula because old nebula SUCKKSSS and I hate she had to face her. I loved that in this movie thanos was wearing his armor because 2014 thanos was not as strong or secure with himself. His energy was SO different compared to the thanos we saw in infinity war so props to josh brolin

- natasha/clint: Well go ahead and rip my heart out. The audience knows only one of them is coming back but they have no idea. And they love each other SO FUCKING MUCH they both tried to sacrifice themselves to save the other person. That is true love. Jeremy renner is such an underrated actor and his reaction to natasha dying just killed me. But so did scarlett johansson’s acting as much as I hate to admit it because I’ve really stopped liking her as much due to her recent acting choices but she played that scene so well. And I will miss natasha romanoff forever. She deserved so much more and paved the way for all the other female superheroes in the mcu

- everyone crying over nat and especially steve broke me. They had such a special friendship, almost as strong as her and clint and I feel so many people forget that because of how natural they were together. And her last words to him were that she would see him in a minute and then she didn’t come back..

- i just realized i havent talked about thor and thats honestly because my brain blocked it out. I like that they explored his depression but dont like that he was made the joke of the avengers and I don’t think it was handled well. I did enjoy his conversation with frigga and by that I mean it made me cry. (also loki deserves a conversation like that too don’t @ me)

- STEVE WIELDS MJOLNIR!!! IT WAS SO BADASS AND MY DREAM COME TRUE I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED IN A MOVIE. To me that was the absolute highlight of the movie

- And then sam says “on your left” and all the characters come and the music... poetic cinema

- thanos is a weak little bitch and as soon as wanda was beating him he was fine with his own troops dying just so he could get away

- TONY AND PETER REUNITING CURED MY DEPRESSION AND THEN GAVE IT RIGHT BACK

- CAROL IS SO POWERFUL MY LESBIAN QUEEN

- sebastian stan has no business looking this good my god

- I forgot how much I missed peter parker

- I didn’t notice mbaku until my second viewing and honestly the wakandan characters were shafted like poor shuri we didn’t even know she was dusted until a few weeks before the movie

- I know everyone loves the scene of all the women characters carrying the gauntlet but honestly marvel has a long way to go before they reach equality and it honestly wasn’t enough for me

- side note pepper fighting back to back with tony was awesome

- ugh tony’s face when he realizes what he has to do and he looks at strange for confirmation... give rdj an oscar like my god. He knows that the past few years have led up to this moment and he is absolutely terrified and determined and I am tearing up while writing this because I am remembering it so vividly

- peter parkers goodbye had me crying why is tom holland such a good actor

- pepper’s goodbye BROKE ME... “you can rest now” I think that is the epitome of tony’s arc. For his entire storyline he has been trying to right his wrongs and save his friends and the world and that is so much for one man to carry on his shoulders and everyone knew it would be the death of him. I know tony stans are pissed off that he died, but I don’t see him just being able to retire. Obviously I didn’t want him to die, but his whole storyline has been leading up to this. He truly got a hero’s sendoff and was solidified as THE hero of the mcu. This era started with him and it ended with him. It was a beautiful sendoff for the character that started it all. And I don’t think rdj would go along with it if he didn’t approve

- Steve’s ending.... so I knew from spoilers what would happen and while it was something I wanted in theory I was pissed when I first found out. But it somehow worked. If you look at steve’s arc, he has always been a man out of time. For everyone getting mad he was hung up on a girl he kissed once, it’s pretty much confirmed in agent carter that he and peggy were on the DL for 3 years. she wasnt just a crush he knew for a few months. They loved each other and fought side by side for three years and time took him too soon. In age of ultron the only part I liked was steve’s vision where he gets a dance with peggy. As much as he moved on in the present, the possibility he missed with her always haunted him. You can tell in peggy’s video in the winter solider that even though she married and had kids, the thought of steve still gets her choked up. When she sees him as an old woman she immediately crumbles. They both have referred to each other as the loves of their lives. 

- So with that said, I don’t think it’s weird or out of the blue that he would suddenly decide to try and go back to peggy. They won, bucky is back and safe, sam is back and safe, he can finally rest, and he has the tools to go back in time. The way I interpreted it, Bucky 100% knew what he was going to do. The look on his face, the tone of his voice. He knew Steve was not coming back, and he also knew he deserved to have that happy ending. So while sam and bruce thought it would only be 5 seconds, bucky turned away from the machine, knowing steve wouldn’t show up there. I ship stucky too because I just want steve happy so while at first I was like “how could he leave bucky??” watching it on screen it made sense. Bucky approved of his choice, and while he was saddened by it, he understood it. 

- In my interpretation, I don’t think steve stayed in the main timeline. I think him going back created an alternate timeline where he married peggy, dissolved hydra earlier, and freed bucky earlier. At some point, those two timelines merged, and he wandered over to where he knew they would be. OR after peggy died, he used the technology to travel back to that timeline when he was old. Or my friend suggested he could have met tony stark in his alternate timeline and asked for his help. Who knows. He literally came back with a shield, meaning he was at one point captain america again in that timeline. I don’t think there is anyway he could just stay quiet for 70 years about bucky being tortured and peggy running shield that was secretly hydra. I refuse to believe that. If the russos come out and say that’s what he did, then I’ll backtrack and say I don’t approve of steve’s ending. But as of right now I’m okay with it.