#that said. as a result every once and a while my brain conjures up the absolute nightmare scenario

[astriiformes]

I do think sometimes about that week (right after Agony of a Witch) where even as someone who wasn't following anybody specifically for TOH at the time I was keenly aware that most people into the show were like actively calling for Lilith's blood and I was just like hm. I still like her actually.

Can only assume there was some aro-to-aro mental communication happening there because nothing like it has happened to me before or since. Usually I need a lot more persuading to get behind a true antagonist (or someone who appears to be one) but with her it was just like. Well you see. I think she's neat.

[simpfiles]

Love Letter |1.2K|

request.      Re: Valentine's day prompt. Is Silco gets a secret admirer too cliche? He's starts looking at his henchpeoples handwriting to track down who thinks he's got pretty eyes 😍 -anon

a/n.     it’s mega cliche but i’m slut for it lmaoo. full warning, silco and reader share one brain cell in this. probably one of my sillier fics for silco.

He takes offense at the letter. A dour scowl marring his stoic features and he calls an assembly of his underlings. You file in his office with the others, utter horror mangling your innards at the sight of your love letter in his hand. He flips the note down, hiding its contents from prying eyes, then nods to Sevika. She moves without a sound as Silco begins his lecture, “Sevika will be passing out clipboards with a pen and paper. Write your name and the sentence at the top and you may leave.”

A near tangible ubiquitous confusion over takes his office as everyone except you exchanges looks. Some even shrug, considering this to be another one of Silco’s more eccentric ways of self validation. Why else would he make his entire staff write a sentence complimenting his eyes?

But you knew why. Staring down at the printed sentence with apprehension you switch your writing hands. It takes you a bit longer than the others, but you manage to conjure a distinctly different penmanship from the one in your letter where you told him how attractive you find him. Satisfied with the result, you avoid all eye contact with your boss while handing Sevika your clipboard on your way out.

At home your horror takes a downwards decrescendo into frenzied hysteria, inevitably dissolving into dismay. How could you have been so stupid as to give him that letter?? You could punch yourself in the face. I SHOULD PUNCH MYSELF IN THE FACE! At least then you’d have an excuse not to come into work the next day. The rest of the night consists of you furiously screaming into a pillow and flailing your arms every so often.

Meanwhile, in his office, Silco compares handwriting styles with a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He absent mindedly swirls the glass in his hand, making no attempt to hide his blatant disgust. 

“Sir,” Sevika steps forward looking over the surplus of ‘evidence’ spread out on his desk, “Is this really a good use of your time?” Piltover has increased mining production, causing more fractures in the Undercity’s architectural foundation. Gas leaks have gone up and their sources of water are now flammable from the tap. “There are other issues that require your attention.”

“You think I’m being egotistical.”

“I think you’re getting distracted.”

It’s your paper that’s in his hand when he makes a low hum in agreement. “I think I’m done.”

–

His office feels much bigger when you’re by yourself. Sitting in an old wooden chair facing an empty grand desk, reverts you back to that metaphorical child sitting in the principal's office. The only difference being the worst they could do was notify your parents. You doubt Silco held as much leniency. A quick punishment, however severe, is all you ask for.

The door clicks open. 

His steps are muffled by the rug. 

You clench your hands tightly together. 

He stands in front of you, leaning on his desk and slides the accursed letter forward. “Did you write this?” His eyebrow arches at the abject shock that overwhelms your expression and mentally calculates your innocence. For your sake and his, he hopes you didn’t.

You lick your lips, buying time as you run through your options. Silco was never the type to ask questions for answers he already held. You knew this, recalling once he said by doing so it wastes everyone’s time and gives others a false sense of ego and security. Just as you knew that there was nothing he hated more than the hubris of others without the spine to back it up. It was so maddening how much you knew about him and how he plagued your every thought but you were just another face in the crowd to him. Maybe just this once, your anonymity would work for you and not against, “Why would I?”

That’s the million gold piece question. “I’m wondering the same. I wouldn’t expect you to be the author of such a mocking letter.”

Wait, stop.

He doesn’t. “However, you hesitated yesterday before switching hands. You didn’t use your dominant hand.”

But the letter… mocking? Does he think…

“That’s why it took you longer to finish than others. A task you complete relatively fast considering your educational opportunities.”

He thinks my love letter was out of spite?? Your mind is reeling, unable to keep up with the conversation as he regals more trivial facts about yourself you didn’t even know. Things that even if he were the best boss in the world–and he wasn’t–he wouldn’t know. Unless…

“Boss!” you shoot up and grab the letter from his hand, pointing ferociously at its contents and ignoring the rising temperature of your face. “This is a love letter!” you explain, twinges of something clearly coating the outer rim of his visional, diffusing his poised expression with uncertainty.

A deeply critical expression settling on his face, still hesitant to engage with your notion but obliged to react, snatching the letter back from you, reading over your words once more with new context: as far as he is concerned, this is not a love letter. “A love letter is a sonnet of praises.” Not a list of his inadequacies. A broken nose that’s been set incorrectly too many times. A busted eye poisoned by river toxins and shimmer. Chipped teeth that caused him to whistle while he talked as a boy. These are not–

“What do you think these things are?!” you shout, ripping the paper from him once more, the bottom tearing from his grasp. As if the act of writing him a love letter wasn’t embarrassing enough, now he was criticizing your abilities and questioning your motives. You read verbatim, albeit with a harshness that was absent in your original message, 

“Your eyes are resilient. Pretty and worth the gems they resemble. Your nose is an architecture of greatness that makes me tremble. Your uneven bite is mere more than ornamental. Your body’s holy like a temple.

I fucking love you, you stupid man!”

You ad libbed the last part, carding a hand through your hair in abject frustration. You’re not the type to be quick to anger, but Silco’s belligerent persistence that the very thing you poured your heart into was not made from love seems to be wearing away at your usual amiable mien.

“Fine,” he concedes softly, “it’s a love letter,” His eyes are still wide and his hand curled up to his stomach. From his position it looks as if he would have stepped back if he could. It’s his turn to card a hand through his hair, regaining a bit of composure he might have lost in the exchange.  “but, you're a novice wordsmith.”

You smile, it’s thin and tepid but it’s on your face because at this point you really don’t know how to proceed. Your vulnerability met with lukewarm condemnation. You smile, because if you don’t, you know you will surely start to cry. “If that’s all…”

“For now.” he plucks the paper from your hands, folding it in neat creases before motioning you to leave. You don’t dally, practically sprinting to the door. “I’ll send you an example of a true love letter by the weekend.”

With your hand on the doorknob, you spin around, “What?”

“I would send it sooner but postponing it a day for Valentines seems appropriate.” He quirks a smile, satisfied by your stupefied expression ( who’s stupid now ) and waves you out. You take the hint and with it your leave. From your peripheral you see him place your folded letter in the breast pocket of his vest, positioned directly over his heart.

[badgirlcovenrep]

The Goddess' Blessing (of a daughter)

Chapter One

(NOTES: the raylla adopts Tiffany fic everyone's been asking for

this is going on AO3 once I get home from my sister's but I wanted to post here first. If you'd rather read it there follow me and I'll post once it's officially in there.

Obs: Tiffany is six in this. Mostly because I wanted to write our witch moms carrying their baby and canonically she's like ten so..... and she's also like severely traumatized. We'll get to the healing soon enough though.

+ Edwin is the best papa. And Scylla has p much already adopted this kid, she just doesn't know it yet.

It's half past six p.m when their train screeches to a halt at the Chippewa station. In all the chaos of the last couple of weeks, Scylla hadn't realized Yule was well on it's way. It is still mid November, but the station has been prematurely decked in civilian Christmas decorations, and almost every wall and corner twinkles in golden speckles and fake pine.

Tiffany had been dozing in and out of sleep on the bench next to her, holding tight to her stuffed parrot as well as Scylla's coat sleeve with her restless small hands that spasmed in pure energy even as she slept. Since coming back from Nicte's mission, Scylla had been in a frenzy to get everything ready for their trip, and Tiffany had followed her around the (no longer safe) safe house, clinging on to her attention with wide blue eyes. She'd always liked kids. Before everything happened Scylla even used to babysit for dodger families.

It was never a lot of money, but she appreciated the levity and humor kids carried. They had hope Scylla prayed she could one day get back. Hope that could only come from the fleeting innocence of childhood. But even then, Tiffany was special, she still had all those wonderful, bright things, and she carried them in bulk, spilling out of her tiny little hands for anyone to see.

Yet she was also touched by things so horrible Scylla sometimes shuddered awake in the dead of night, when her mind conjured up terrible nightmares of being in her place. Of being squeezed into a tiny cage, fed dog food, strung up on a stage as masked psychopaths snickered and passed around stones bigger than fists. It showed, sometimes, in how every once in a while her expression became somber and reserved. How she stopped mid-sentence, and Scylla could see the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes.

It reminded her of Raelle - Raelle, who'd sat in her bed just yesterday and snacked on the stupid expensive popcorn her mother had bought - Raelle, who also carried so much darkness behind her strong, steady demeanor - those were the parts of her Scylla couldn't help but want to protect, and as a result, those feelings also extended to Tiffany. Scylla lost a lot of people in her life, and she'd decided the day she found the child's parents that she would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Just like she wished someone might have done for her. Because that sort of hidden, desolate pain could just as well transform itself into something entirely awful if exploited the right way.

People around her start getting up from their seats, reaching to the compartments for their luggage, there aren't many of them making their way up North this time of year but they still fill the cart in humming conversations, deciding on what to do next or where to get dinner. Scylla takes this as her cue to skim her fingers through Tiffany's hair, gently nudging her awake, "Hey, T, wake up, we're here."

The little girl sits up, bleary eyed, and yawns, looking around at the commotion, "it's already Christmas?" She asks, catching a glimpse of the boisterous decorations set up outside.

"Not yet, no." Scylla chuckles, getting up from her seat to retrieve their own bags - they had everything the two could think to bring, and yet were still not much. A duffel bag for Scylla and purple backpack for Tiffany, with unicorn stickers and colorful buttons sewn to the front. Scylla had retrieved it, along with some toys and clothes, from the girl's home, "People just love decorating early."

"Oh." Tiffany quips, as Scylla helps her fit her arms into the straps of her backpack, then takes her hand in a steady grip once they are done, pulling the young girl towards the door to leave the train, "The lights are pretty!" She exclaims happily, blinking in wide eyed wonder.

Outside, November has definitely made itself known, and Scylla is glad they are both warm in their coats as the wind bites her cheeks until they turn a dark blush. She looks around for Edwin, not sure she'll recognize him from the pictures she'd seen Willa scatter around the house, but still willing to try.

For a second, in that moment, she thinks this might not have been a good idea. When Scylla agreed to it, she'd admittedly not been in her full faculties, brain too preoccupied with seeing Raelle again after so long to completely comprehend what she'd been offered.

After everything that happened, she can't help but be a little nervous to meet the father of her ex (?), the same girl she still very much loved. The girl who had run back to her in that dark forest a day before and clung onto her face until all they could breathe was each other.

If she thought too much about it, Scylla could still feel the soft, almost painful impact of her lips as Raelle knocked her off her balance and breathed fire into her chest like molten lava. It'd been so long, she almost forgot the kind of power Raelle had when she kissed. Like she was always on the verge of tasting your very soul. Their whole day back together before was so very delicate and tentative, air fizzling with electricity like the tension of a bow, pulled tight with an arrow ready to shoot.

The time they've been separated her heart was squeezed tight under an elastic band. Whenever she stopped to think, even for a minute, she could feel it taught, so very strained, reaching from the very inside of her ribs. It was there from the very start. The tightness was what propelled her diaphragm into breathing Raelle in that very first night they spent together, even if she knew she shouldn't, and then, it was what kept them orbiting around each other like their very own solar system. Never too far apart. Always wishing to be closer.

When they kissed in the clearing, hairs messy with the wild strumming of the bat just a few feet away, for the first time, she felt like the band released. The invisible string, so very tight, loosening from under her heart to extend around the both of them and wrap them in what Scylla could only describe as exhilarating, shaking relief. The touch of Raelle's cotton gloves, that she never thought she'd feel again - the taste of her lips, like blood and rain droplets and a mouthful of just her.

It left Scylla running on a high since she walked away from Raelle just the day before, in the early hours of the morning.

It's not how she hoped she'd meet Raelle's dad. Deep down, no matter how much she tried not to, Scylla had imagined herself, more than once, coming to the Cession hand in hand with the blonde fixer. In love and together, going home to meet the parents. It's bittersweet to be here with Tiffany instead, and she has to squeeze the young witch's hand slightly to ground herself from the urge to run.

To just take the child's small body in her arms and run- leave the station in lieu of a cheap motel, one with vending machines, where they could hide from the world a little longer.

When the witch looks down, however, Tiffany smiles reassuringly back at her, squeezing her hand slightly in return, and Scylla can't help the wave of affection that washes over her.

"Excuse me? Are you Scylla and Tiffany?" A voice coming from behind wakes them back from the moment, and when they turn, both come face to face with Edwin Collar.

Scylla's sure it's him. If not because he does still look quite a lot like the pictures she's seen, then because the necromancer can definitely see the telltale signs of Raelle written all over his face. It's mostly there in the kind drop of his eyelids, and the way his mouth creates tiny wrinkles of soft skin when he smiles, but it's there, nonetheless.

"Yes, we are, nice to meet you, Mr. Collar." Scylla greets, settling down her bag to shake his hand.

"Of course, it's amazing to finally meet you. Raelle talked you up a storm," he declares, chuckling proudly, "only good things, I assure."

"Oh, I'm sure I don't deserve that." She let's out, hoping it sounded more playful than it feels for her.

"Nonsense. You seem like a kind girl." The man decides, with a solemn nod, before turning to Tiffany, "and you- Tiffany, I'm very happy to have you with me this week as well, I'm sure we'll have lots of fun together."

"Thank you, Mr. Collar." The small blonde replies, half-hiding herself behind Scylla's pant leg.

"Let's go then. It's getting cold." Edwin finally declares, taking Scylla's bag from the floor without a question. The girl goes to complain, but he cuts her off before she can - "and don't fight me on this. Raelle also never let's me carry her bags, for once I'd love to help."

Scylla still wants to protest. Mostly because she feels that they have already asked so much - and she doesn't quite deserve the kindness - but he seems sincere, so she nods instead, and with the affirmative, all three begin their way to the parking lot.

"Is Raelle your friend?" Tiffany asks innocently, skipping happily over her boots.

"Uh- she- yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Well, you said we were going to a friend's dad's house." Tiffany notes. "Where is Raelle then?"

"About that-" Edwin stops in his step, "did you see her? How is she?" He asks, an uneasy tension settling over his demeanor as he studies Scylla for answers, "they told me she was alive but that was it-"

"She's okay. I saw her yesterday, she was well." The brunette assures, and that seems to send a wave of relief over the man, who breathes deeply before continuing their walk along the various cars.

"Oh, thank goodness." He sighs, "when those people took her I thought- I'm so glad she's okay."

"Yeah. We were all worried." Scylla declares. And this, she can relate to. The way he cares so much for Raelle, it spills into the very movement of his expressions. It's familiar, and it warms her heart. She decides right then that she likes Edwin.

"Did the bad people take Raelle too?" Tiffany questions, frowning in scared surprise as they reach Edwin's old truck.

Scylla sighs, not having revealed much of the mission she'd gone on the day before. She knew it'd be scary for her. Tiffany was still very much traumatized, and rightfully so, after everything she'd been through. But Tiffany was also very smart- and observant. She'd catch up eventually and Scylla feels stupid for not dealing with this before coming.

"Yeah. They tried to hurt her, but me and her other friends didn't let them." The necromancer assures, as she helps the girl into the backseat and clicks in her seatbelt, "she's okay now. We're all safe here."

"Oh- Okay." Tiffany nods, but Scylla can see the doubt shining under her eyes.

Scylla wishes she knew what to say, but words fail her, so she squeezes the girl's hand reassuringly once more, winking in what she hopes is humorous solidarity, before closing the door.

***

Raelle's house is just like she imagines- small, rustic - surrounded by a thick canopy of trees and bushes. It reminds her of the places she used to stay with her parents, scattered over random cities all over the U.S. Scylla likes it.

"It isn't much, but we always have warm dinner and pancakes in the morning." Edwin quips, humbly, as he leads the pair of witches to Raelle's room, "you can stay here. Hope it is comfortable."

"This is more than enough, Edwin." Scylla smiles gratefully, "it's too much, really. Thank you for letting us stay."

"Nonsense." He waves his hand with a half embarrassed chuckle, "It's good to have people here again. After Rae and Tally left everything feels a lot quieter." Scylla nods in agreement, as the man turns to leave the room, the two witches inside watching him carefully, "You guys should change and rest a bit- I'll call you for dinner.

Scylla thanks him, and waits until the door clicks behind his back to turn her attention to the luggage that had been settled over a random chair. The room is filled with so much Raelle, she can't help but notice the letters, pictures, memories and song lyrics, glued to every single wall, from a time before Fort Salem, before them.

The blonde used to leave notes on her dorm walls back at Fort Salem. Lots of silly things like "I'll be back after training" or "You fight people in your sleep. It's cute.". Scylla wonders if they are still there or if they've been taken by the army when she was captured. It doesn't matter anymore, the necro realizes, and she shakes her head in an effort to bring her attention back to the room.

"You should put on some pajamas." Scylla says toward Tiffany, who sat, grievously quiet, at Raelle's bed.

She looked thoughtful, in a way regular six year olds don't quite show unless they have to go through way too much. Her small, bright eyes hide barely concealed darkness as she shifts her looks everywhere but at the older witch.

Scylla sighs, finding this place - this relationship - so very painfully familiar. She'd been the scared little girl last time, feeling so very small and alone. And now, as the adult, she was definitely going to try her best not to fuck it. As difficult as it might be. The world didn't need another suffering witch.

After a few minutes of silence, Scylla realizes she was not going to get an answer, so she opens the girl's backpack and fishes out a pair of mermaid themed leggings and t-shirt, along with the small bag that carried her tooth and hair brushes along with some other toiletries. Scylla places the items by Tiffany on the mattress, kneeling in front of the young witch and studying her clear, soft little face.

"Hey. Are you feeling alright?"

"Are the bad men coming here to hurt us?" Tiffany asks, instead of a response, and Scylla frowns in worry.

"No, of course no-"

"They came and took Raelle too." Tiffany notices, tears escaping from her eyelids that Scylla dries up with her thumb, "and they hurt Miss Willa, the other kids' at the office and my mommy and daddy. What if they come here again? What if they really hurt us this time?" As the questions stumble out of her mouth, sobs begin to wreck across her throat until she's shaking, ever so slightly, with the force of her tears and heavy, panicked breathing.

Scylla sighs and rises from the ground to cuddle the girl close to her chest, squeezing tight until she can feel Tiffany's little arms squeeze her back. Scylla's afraid too - most of the time, if she allowed herself to be honest - Ever since watching Raelle leave her in that cell the year before, the girl could feel even more perfectly the path of death and destruction that marked their (the witches') way through the world.

One of the bad things about being a necro - Death didn't like not being known, and it showed itself insistently, to anyone able to notice.

"We don't know whether or not they'll come again." Scylla ends up responding, sincerely, as she squeezes her arms even tighter around the little girl, "but I won't let them hurt you, you hear me? I dealt with them before, I can deal with them again."

"No" Tiffany shakes her head, frowning up at her in teary-eyed fear, "You too. You're safe too. I don't want you to get hurt either."

"Hey." Scylla forces out a chuckle, trying to lighten up the situation for the young witch's sake, "don't be silly, ok? I'm pretty much invincible."

Tiffany doesn't laugh, her breathing having somewhat returned to normal. The girl just stares back at Scylla with a seriousness that's all too unfair, coming from a six year old, and she reaches out, her pinky finger lifted in expectation, "Pinky promise you'll be safe too? Please?"

Scylla knows she shouldn't. The truth is, she doesn't know what will happen. After their plan to capture Nicte was said and done, Scylla barely had any idea what she would be doing now. But Tiffany obviously needs the reassurance, from the way she stares ever so desperately at the necro's face.

"Okay, I pinky promise." Scylla smiles, trying to convey some calm toward the other girl as she let her pinky link with the smaller one. It seems to work, as Tiffany's expression softens and her tense posture falls, "now let's get you under a shower and into some pajamas, ok? You're a very smelly little witch right now."

"Am not!" Tiffany replies, and Scylla can't help but full on laugh this time, pulling the small girl to Raelle's bathroom as she mockingly protests.

Second chapter is almost done, just needs to be read over for mistakes. For C2, Raelle calls home, Scylla meets old dodger friends and she also has an important conversation with Edwin.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

[cc-tinslebee]

Okay, so, about a month ago, my brain just conjured up probably the most random au possible: Legally Blonde Adam Banks/banksway au.

Believe me, it's as chaotic as it sounds, but lowkey, I'm kind of in love with it.

Adam never joins the Ducks because there aren't any Ducks to join. Bombay never had to do community service with District Five so there was no one to realise that Adam was on the wrong team all along. He continues to play for the Hawks and, eventually, the Eden Hall Warriors, never getting the chance to become the well-rounded individual we know him as because he's never known anything other than his rich privilege and the "win at all costs" mentality. He ends up going to college on a hockey scholarship and not straight to the NHL or the AHL (shocking, I know). While he's unsure of his major and where his life is heading, he finds solace in the fraternity he joins, which, by some sheer twist of fate, Jesse and Guy have also miraculously joined.

And his life is perfect for a while. He's the star player on yet another school's hockey team, all of his fraternity brothers adore him (though, it took a bit for Jesse to warm up to him), and his secret, not-really-official thing with his former teammate is going swimmingly. (Not to slander my boy, but I was picturing Larson for the role of Warner, purely because the alternative seems to be Rick Riley and that's kind of an unsettling image-- though, maybe that's the point?)

But then his secret boyfriend breaks up with him because, with his high aspirations in life, he needs to be "more serious." And dating Adam Banks, a guy in a stereotypical fraternity who only really knows hockey, in 2001 isn't exactly the white-picket-fence life he's looking for if he's going to be a politician.

And since this non-Duck Adam clearly doesn't have the braincells that canon Adam does, in his devastation, he decides it's a brilliant idea to prove that he is serious by applying to Harvard Law. His parents try to talk him out of it, since they want him to pursue his dreams of hockey, but being a lawyer is a respectable career so they can't exactly argue with him.

He gets accepted thanks to Jesse, Guy, and the rest of his fraternity helping him study for the LSAT and keeping him on track. He's trying his darndest when he gets to Harvard, but (despite his struggle not being as significant as Elle Woods'), not a lot of people take him seriously as an aspiring lawyer, considering him a meathead jock who only got in because of daddy's money.

And that's about the time he meets Linda, who he vaguely remembers from his time at Eden Hall. What he doesn't remember is her being so competitive, because she's deliberately beating him at every turn, just trying (and kind of succeeding) at making him look like a fool. To make matters worse, all of the sudden, she's engaged to his ex-boyfriend, who is very adamant about never telling anyone that he and Adam were more than friends (because, you know, early 2000s homophobia and such).

But things get a little brighter for Adam when he meets Charlie, an undergrad teacher's assistant who gives him all sorts of advice about surviving the school. He introduces him to Professor Bombay, who Charlie claims is the only reason he survived his first year and quickly becomes Adam's favourite teacher, and Charlie's childhood friend Connie, who aspires to be a state senator one day. Charlie's charismatic and even if he's not the most well-liked person at Harvard, Adam feels a weight lifted off his shoulders once he becomes friends with him and Connie. Things become a little easier.

Just before he and Charlie start getting really close, Adam meets Casey at a local diner on a day he's feeling particularly upset and alone, and the two start bonding almost immediately. (He bullshits his way into scaring an ex-husband of hers with legal repercussions he has no idea about and she basically adopts him in return.) It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to realise that it's not just a coincidence that Casey and Charlie share the same last name, which results in poor Adam feeling extremely embarrassed for not connecting the dots sooner while Charlie's having the time of his life teasing him for it. Eventually, when the dust of that settles, Charlie and Adam join forces to set Casey and Bombay up, their schemes borderline ridiculous at times, but they'rere not exactly failing.

And after realising he isn't the Warriors moron she thought he was for going on five years, Linda starts warming up to Adam, which is surprisingly nice? She figures out on her own that there used to be something between him and her fiancé, and is more understanding of Adam than she is mad. Linda actually spills to him the lengths Adam's ex had to go through to actually get into Harvard, aligning more with the rumours about Adam's acceptance being bought than having the aptitude for the law that Linda and Adam share. (This may be me saying Linda and Adam friendship rights, what of it-- /lh)

To make things all the better, Bombay chooses Adam, Linda, Connie, Charlie, and Adam's ex to be on his legal team for a murder case he's responsible for (and while he knows about Adam and Charlie's ploys to hook him up with Charlie's mom, they're his favourites, so he doesn't say anything).

And this is just so much better than anything he had before. After all the initial unpleasantness, Linda and Connie become some of the most genuine friends he's ever had. He misses Guy and Jesse, of course, and he'd never take them for granted, but back when he was with them at the fraternity, a part of him was still being as superficial as he had been in middle and high school. Being authentic for once in his life is liberating.

And Charlie's just about the most considerate person Adam's ever met. Adam doesn't even mind when Charlie teases him over his absurd and juvenile insults because he's just this source of light for Adam, supporting him and always pushing him to be the best version of himself. His ex hardly even exists when Charlie's around because his energy is just so contagious that Adam starts falling for him long before he even realises it. (And when Jesse and Guy come to visit, there's a moment where it all clicks and the four of them realise their history together, however brief. I strongly maintain that they'd be that Starkid meme: "Fucking Hawks? We hated you guys!" "We hated ourselves!" But it does make Adam realise how much better off he would've been if he had Charlie and his team when he was little instead of the Hawks, and it just further makes him understand that people like Larson and Rick Riley just aren't worth it.)

But there's also another revelation Adam goes through. Between helping Casey, his rigorous studies, and his position working with/for Bombay, something just clicks for Adam. He likes being able to help people, fighting for the good guys who may not have the resources they need to be properly defended. Practicing law calls to him in the same way hockey did; it's the feeling of knowing this is what he's meant to do. He still loves hockey, he always will, but it helps him finally grasp that there's a world for him outside of it; when hockey ends for him, there's something equally as rewarding that he can pursue, which was something he never thought he would have.

I haven't a single coherent thought about this au past that point except for these little inklings of an ending--

There's absolutely no SA scene like the movie had; Bombay's just Adam and Charlie's favourite teacher and those are his boys, so he's going to make sure they succeed as if his life depends on it.

With that said, Bombay believes in them both enough to let them finish the case because with their joined determination/stubbornness (and Adam's in with the defendant), Adam and Charlie are a force to be reckoned with and he knows it.

After a handful of comedic failures, they do end up succeeding at their attempts to set Casey and Bombay up, and they start living together sometime during the kids' Junior year :) (All I'm asking is for one (1) story with a Casey/Gordon endgame-- I just think they're neat--)

Linda dumps her fiancé (as she should) and goes on to live her best wlw life as a successful lawyer. (If I'm not mistaken, Linda's actress actually is a lawyer, which is a pretty cool fun fact!!)

Adam and Linda's ex gets the Warner ending because, man, screw that guy /lh (rip to Larson if this is him, I'm sure you'll get a nice endgame in some other universe, king)

Honorary mention for Connie, who was going long distance with Guy this entire time to everyone but Jesse's shock, and they get their Game Changers endgame of State Senator Connie Moreau and stay-at-home dad Guy Germaine with their seven -- sorry, three -- children :)

Adam's an absolute bundle of nerves after graduation, which definitely concerns Charlie. So, when he asks if he's okay, Adam starts nervously monologuing about their time together until he runs out of breath. He ends it by proposing to him, and Charlie smiles so surely at him when he says yes. They both become damn good public defenders and stay engaged until the point they can legally get married, but they're practically husbands long before that happens.

Also, if I did my math right (which I should’ve, it’s my entire basis for my Share Your Address series), the Ducks’ would have the same graduating class year as Elle Woods anyway (2004), which is pretty neat!

Thank you once again for listening to me ramble :)

[rafael-silva]

guide me back (I’m lost without your light): a tarlos fic

“All available units respond to a 10-50 at the intersection of Sixth and North Lamar Boulevard. Multiple vehicle pile up.” “Dispatch, this is 363-H-20 responding. ETA three minutes.”

*

When Carlos and Mitchell respond to the call, the last thing Carlos expects is to find TK in the middle of the wreck. He races against time to keep TK awake and stable until fire and medical arrive, while sending out prayer after prayer that his time with TK hasn’t been cut short. That they haven’t run out of time.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + bloodstained clothes 

hurt tk strand, worried carlos reyes, established relationship, whump, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, kisses, blood, injury description, major character injury, angst with a happy ending

10.1k | on ao3

*****

“All available units respond to a 10-50 at the intersection of Sixth and North Lamar Boulevard. Multiple vehicle pile up.”

“Dispatch, this is 363-H-20 responding. ETA three minutes.”

The sun sits high in the sky as Carlos grips the steering wheel tightly while Mitchell releases her radio and flicks on the light bar and siren, blaring loudly as they head into the heart of downtown Austin.

It sounded serious, if all available units are being dispatched to the scene, meaning fire engines are being dispatched, too. Carlos fleetly wonders if the 126 will be called to the scene, but he knows he won’t be seeing TK since it’s the paramedic’s day off.

It’s difficult when one of them is working and the other is off; at least if they were both working, there are always chances of them meeting on calls, and if they were both off, well, those days were spent in utter happiness together, either spent in or out, it didn’t matter as long as they were spent together. They make it work, however, spending as much time together before one of them goes to work and then at night, cuddling on the couch or in bed, safe in each other’s arms after a long day.

Carlos hopes the accident isn’t as grave as he’s imagining but his gut is telling him otherwise. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realizes there’s a big possibility he might be late for the home dinner date he and TK had planned. TK had said he had a surprise for Carlos, and was clearly super excited about it. Carlos was looking forward to it and now…

Carlos’s gut is proven right when they round the corner and he catches sight of the crash from a few blocks away. Dread sets in his stomach the closer they get to the scene, other police cruisers pulling up at the same time.

He might need to tell TK that his shift may run long. He holds back at that, though, first wanting to get a full feel of how the rest of his shift will pan out.

Carlos parks and shares a concerned look with his partner before drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. They hop out of the car and Carlos takes a quick survey of their surroundings, noticing that they had arrived at the scene before fire and medical.

Carlos starts moving towards where the accident is the worst, and well, it’s bad. Four cars seem to have harshly rear ended each other, the crushed metal an indication of how sudden and quick it had happened. He can’t really tell one car from the other, all of them mangled together in a way that tells Carlos there are definitely more than a few injuries sustained to the people who were in these cars.

He doesn’t have much time to draw any more conclusions because he’s frantically being flagged down by a man around his own age, who seems unharmed. Bystander, Carlos’s mind supplies.

Carlos jogs over as the man takes a few steps towards him and starts speaking.

“He’s stuck,” the man starts, leading Carlos to one of the cars, or what’s left of one, in the middle of the wreck. “The door on one side popped open from the force of the crash but the guy inside can’t move. And we didn’t want to move him. He’s on the opposite side of the backseat and he’s in rough shape, seems to be going in and out of consciousness.”

Carlos swallows and follows him, whoever this man is, Carlos is going to do everything he can to help him until fire and medical arrive.

“It’s good you didn’t move him, that might have caused more damage,” Carlos tells him, his legs moving quickly.

The closer he gets, the more Carlos is hit with a sense of familiarity towards the injured man. He frowns, his heart starting to race in his chest as he zeroes in on the figure slumped in the backseat.

And that side profile, Carlos can draw it with his eyes closed.

He freezes when the realization dawns on him. His legs stop moving, his feet nailed to the asphalt. It feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest while his eyes go impossibly wide.

TK.

And no, no, no. It can’t be TK. He was just texting him less than twenty minutes ago. He’s worried his brain is playing a cruel trick on him, conjuring up this nightmare. Carlos shakes his head, earning himself a confused look from the man leading him, who has also stopped moving.

But Carlos doesn’t spare him a glance, his attention solely held by the man in the crushed car. And when said man weakly opens his eyes and they catch some light, Carlos knows beyond a doubt that this nightmare is in fact reality.

Those green eyes, even seeing them from the side and through an awkward angle, can only belong to the love of his life.

“No,” Carlos whispers as his heart plummets into his knees, his body heating up. “No, no,” he repeats and then his feet are finally moving again, and he’s running around another car, his eyes not leaving TK.

He briefly registers the man’s growing confusion but he just rushes past him, no time for explanation, the only thing mattering to him is getting to TK. Saving TK.

He only slows down when he’s right by TK’s side, with only the smashed door separating them. The window is shattered, the ground littered with broken pieces of glass that crunch underneath Carlos’s boots.

TK’s eyes have closed again, but Carlos can see his chest slowly rising and falling with each shallow breath he sucks in.

“TK?” Carlos speaks, the rest of the accident fading away. The movement around is in slow motion, sounds muted, the world narrowing to just him and TK. “TK, can you hear me?”

Carlos can’t even hear his own voice over the blood rushing in his ears, but by the way TK tilts his head an inch towards him, he heard him.

A beat. And then: “‘Los…”

Carlos lets out a breath he wasn’t fully aware he was holding, his shoulders sagging forward a little. “Hey, babe. I’m here, I’m here.”

Carlos runs his eyes over TK, and his heart breaks a little more at the bloody state the paramedic is in.

“I’m stuck,” TK wheezes. “Can’t move.”

“We’ll get you out, just hang on. Help is on the way,” Carlos replies, hoping his voice is steadier than it sounds to his own ears. He then turns his attention to the older man in the front seat. “Sir, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the man nods. “I’m fine, nothing hurts too bad. The hit was harder from the back.”

Carlos’s fear increases at that piece of information. “You let me know if your pain changes,” he tells him before his attention is back on TK. “TK, can you tell me what hurts?”

“Head, chest…and side,” TK replies through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes as a wave of pain shocks his nerves, running through his battered body. Everything feels like it’s on fire, every breath he tries to draw in hurts, and he’s tired, he’s so tired.

But he isn’t alone anymore, Carlos is here now. TK is aware that his odds aren’t good, based on his years of work experience, but he finds himself not panicking at that thought as much anymore. Because Carlos is right here. He would even go as far as saying he feels a little calm now, but what he can’t answer is whether that is due to shock or Carlos’s presence. TK decides to believe it’s courtesy of the latter. Because shock would be very bad.

He isn’t aware his eyes have drifted shut until the officer’s voice filters through, telling him to open them and TK manages to peel his eyelids open and faces Carlos’s worried gaze.

“Stay with me,” Carlos pleads, those brown eyes that TK loves so much filled to the brim with terror. “Don’t close your eyes, look at me. Focus on me.”

TK obliges. He loves looking at Carlos, loves running his hands over his face, his cheekbones, feeling Carlos smile against his touch. TK wants to reach out, to smooth out the worry engraved on Carlos’s forehead, in the creases that sit above his eyebrows, but he can’t move a muscle. He wants to reassure Carlos that he’s okay, but not only does he momentarily lose his voice, he also doesn’t know how true his statement would be. Because he’s now suddenly very much aware of the amount of blood running down his side, sticky and hot. The side glued to the crushed door.

He groans, feeling the panic start to rise again. Being stuck was already bad enough, but being stuck while also bleeding is far worse that TK doesn’t even want to think about it.

“Hey, hey,” Carlos’s voice returns. “Focus on me, it’s okay. I know it’s scary, but I’m right here.”

“Carlos,” TK cries out, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Carlos, very carefully, reaches his arm through the busted window, and with just as much caution, cups TK’s face and wipes the stray tear with the pad of his thumb. He’s aware of everything all at once, the way his hand shook as he moved it towards TK, how clammy TK’s skin feels, the beads of sweat rolling down his own neck and back.

“I’m right here.”

TK sniffs and nods as he leans into Carlos’s touch. It’s warm, and TK gravitates towards that warmth. The warmth that has become his home.

Carlos begins cataloging TK’s injuries: a cut near his temple that looks deep enough to need stitches, possible concussion, chest pain can be a result of the seatbelt tightening when the crash happened, but he can’t assess how badly TK’s side is hurt from his current position.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on that, though, because TK is speaking a few moments later.

“My side…it’s bleeding…” TK murmurs once he’s gathered his voice, his mind suppling that he needs to tell Carlos. “I think it’s bad.”

The small amount of color remaining in Carlos’s face drains at TK’s words, his heart dropping further and it feels like he’s been drenched with a bucket of ice water. His mind freezes for a second before he’s shaking himself out of it. He needs to act, and quick.

“Can you reach it and apply pressure?” Carlos asks. “Easy though, slow movements.”

TK attempts to move his arm towards the injury but quickly grimaces and drops his arm.

“No,” TK’s voice shakes, the slight movement exhausting him further. “Hurts.”

“Shit,” Carlos’s own panic starts taking hold, evident in the way his hands start to shake again. They have to slow the bleeding if TK has any chance of making it out of this nightmare.

Then Carlos remembers that the other door is practically already ripped off the car. Making up his mind, he gives TK’s hand a squeeze and rushes to the other side of the car.

“Hang on, TK, I’m coming,” Carlos says as he quickly assesses the area where the door was once attached to the car.

It looks stable enough and the car isn’t tilted to either side or unbalanced, so Carlos carefully climbs in and pauses to see if his added weight caused any shift. Once there’s no evidence of that, he moves closer to TK, their thighs side by side.

Carlos reaches around TK with his left arm, eyes glued to his middle and surely enough, TK’s t-shirt is stained with blood. The officer has to swallow against his dry throat at the sight, there’s so much blood already and TK is looking paler by the second.

Carlos’s hand finds its target, and his fingers brush against the tip of the metal lodged into TK’s side. He feels sick to his stomach as he begins to apply as much pressure as he could without causing further damage or sinking the metal deeper into TK’s flesh.

TK whines at the pain jolting through his body, waking him up a little as he squeezing his eyes shut, more tears run freely down his face.

“I know, I know,” Carlos speaks, his tone apologetic.

TK’s eyes start to droop, the momentary adrenaline already wearing off and his head falls backwards against the headrest.

“No, no, TK,” Carlos eyes go wide, his voice strained. “Keep your eyes open, stay with me.”

“Carlos…” TK whispers.

“Right beside you, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re his fiancé,” the older man’s voice reaches Carlos’s ears from the front seat.

Carlos turns to face him with a questioning look, his eyes drawing together at the statement.

“He was,” the driver pauses to breathe. “He was talking about you before the crash.”

Carlos sucks in a deep breath through his nose, nodding as his eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. “Yeah,” he turns back to look at TK. “He’s the love of my life.”

TK is still clinging to consciousness and Carlos receives a small smile from him at his declaration.

“That’s it, baby. Stay with me,” Carlos pleads once more, closing his eyes and gently resting his forehead against TK’s uninjured temple, melting into him.

He keeps a steady hold on TK’s side, and senses TK weakly gravitating towards him even more, Carlos his lifeline. TK uses all his remaining energy to reach out into the small distance and latches his hand onto Carlos’s arm, wrapping his fingers there.

“I got you, Ty, I got you.”

A few moments later, the air around them fills with the roaring of sirens, getting closer and closer.

“Hear that, TK? Help is here,” Carlos says, instilling hope with every word.

He turns his head in the direction of the incoming fire trucks and ambulances, watching as red and blue color everything around. His eyes immediately find the bold 126 painted on the truck that comes to a halt on the edge of the crash site.

“Hey!” Carlos calls out for the young man who lead him here. “Direct them this way!” He nudges his head towards the team who are disembarking from the truck.

The man nods and starts running towards the firefighters.

“Hang on, TK, hang on,” Carlos whispers.

He looks back into the open and relaxes just a fraction when he spots Judd on the man’s heels, jogging towards him.

Carlos can pinpoint the moment Judd realizes who he’s moving towards, the firefighter’s eyebrow raising a little.

“Reyes?” Judd calls out before he’s reached the car.

“Judd, it’s TK,” Carlos wastes no time in responding.

Those three words have Judd’s eyes going wide, his speed picking up and he runs the remaining distance to the car, coming to a stop on the side TK’s jammed.

“He’s stuck and bleeding badly,” Carlos continues, looking past TK and at Judd through the broken window.

“Shit,” Judd mutters and then louder, in the direction of the rig: “Tommy! Nancy!”

Judd’s eyes roam over TK’s ashen face, the younger man’s eyes barely opened.

“Hey, brother,” Judd speaks, his voice carrying its natural strength but also soft and filled with concern. “You’re gonna be alright, just hang on.”

He gets a half-nod from TK in reply.

Tommy and Nancy approach the car, each of them clutching their equipment and medical bags, ready to get to work.

“It’s TK,” Judd tells them when they’re by his side. They both pause midair as they’re lowering the bags, their eyes going equally wide as they process Judd’s words.

Carlos can see the worry flash over their faces and they share a quick look of concern before they both switch back into paramedic mode. He knows what they’re thinking, that they have to be at the top of their game. TK is family, and he can feel their fear and pain, but they need to focus so they can save TK.

They both meet Carlos’s worried eyes before getting to work.

“Hey, TK,” Tommy gets closer to the crushed door, gloves on and clicks her pen light. Her voice is calm and gentle, her motherly tone helps even Carlos relax a little.

“Cap…” TK whispers.

“Follow the light, TK.”

She shines the pen into TK’s glassy eyes, his pupils responding to the light as they should, albeit a little weaker than she’d like.

“Talk to me, Carlos,” Tommy says while her attention is solely focused on TK. “Tell me everything.”

“He said his head, chest and side hurt, his side is bleeding badly. I have pressure on it and I can feel a piece of metal stuck in there,” he swallows, feeling the blood seeping through his fingers. “The bleeding slowed down a little but he’s already lost so much blood.”

Tommy nods, accepting the c-collar from Nancy and carefully placing it around TK’s neck to stabilize him.

Judd looks up when he hears the rest of the crew approaching, and after a brief glance with Carlos, Judd moves in their direction, seeking out Owen.

“Cap,” Judd shields Owen’s view of the wrecked car.

Owen frowns, but immediately sees through Judd’s worried eyes. “What is it?”

Judd takes a deep breath. He has always been a straightforward guy, he won’t start beating around the bush now. “It’s TK, he’s in that car.”

Carlos’s heart breaks even more at the gasp he hears from Owen, followed by rapid footsteps pounding the gravel as the captain rushes over.

He’s at the car from Carlos’s side and looking past his shoulder a few moments later, Owen’s eyes blown wide as they move from his son to his soon to be son-in-law.

“Carlos.”

“His side is bleeding,” Carlos tells Owen, more tears gathering in his eyes. “He couldn’t reach it to apply pressure and I had to do something.”

Owen nods, his eyes going back to TK, who’s barely moving. “It’s gonna be okay, son. You’re gonna be okay. We’re here.”

TK slowly opens his eyes the rest of the way and looks in Owen’s direction through his blurry vision. He tries to send a wordless message to his father and fiancé of I’m okay.

Owen gives him a smile, but it’s shakier than he intended.

“Here,” Tommy’s voice grabs their attention. She hands Carlos a large piece of gauze as Nancy moves to the front to check the driver.

Carlos begins to move, and TK instantly whimpers and tries to keep his already weak hold on the other man.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, TK,” Carlos is quick to reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He maneuvers his free arm to take the piece of cotton and swiftly lifts his bloodied palm to cover TK’s wound with the gauze and returns the pressure there.

The team has gathered what was happening and crowd the car, Carlos is vaguely aware of Judd telling them they’ve got TK and they should go around the rest of the scene to help.

And then Judd is back, evaluating the situation and weighing their options.

“His breathing is getting worse,” Carlos announces with fright as TK’s hold on him starts to falter. “We need to get him out now.”

“The driver is doing okay, Cap,” Nancy chimes in. “Alert and his numbers are holding.”

Tommy nods. “We get TK out first. Carlos, is the metal connected to the door or is it separated?”

Carlos shakes his head. “Separated.”

“That’s good, makes busting the door open easier,” Judd nods.

“Judd, grab the—” Owen begins.

“Jaws, got them,” Judd finishes for Owen before running in the direction of their truck.

He returns less than a minute later, but it feels like forever for Carlos and Owen as they watch TK struggle to hold on.

“Come on, come on,” Owen whispers, his eyes not leaving his son’s battered form as Judd returns, pushes the piece of equipment into the mangled metal and starts to tear it apart.

Tommy and Nancy get the backboard ready in the meantime, ready to move as soon as it’s clear. A lot of movement erupts when the door is finally ripped open. Judd lowers the jaws to the ground, quickly reaching for the cutters he had also retrieved and cuts the seatbelt off TK. It takes Carlos’s brain a second to catch up with all the action and then his eyes land on Owen now standing on the other side behind Judd as both men make room for Tommy and Nancy.

They carefully place the tip of the backboard against the backseat cushion and Nancy and Judd carefully take hold of TK’s shoulders, moving him sideways and then guiding him to lie on the board. Carlos goes with them, the pressure he’s applying constant and he only lets go once he’s certain Nancy’s taking over, her hand firmly covering his.

He pulls back and watches as Judd and Owen carry TK over to the gurney. He wastes no time in getting out of the car himself, darting to TK’s side.

Once TK is out, Judd starts working on extracting the driver.

Tommy and Nancy work in unison, the Paramedic Captain covering TK’s face with an oxygen mask while Nancy inserts an IV in his arm and runs a line. Carlos then notices that Owen is applying pressure to TK’s side with one hand while the other runs through TK’s hair.

Carlos takes TK’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Let’s move,” Tommy instructs a moment later.

Nancy takes over holding pressure as they push the gurney towards the ambulance, Carlos and Owen trailing behind.

“Carlos?”

Carlos turns at his partner’s voice, coming from a few feet away.

Mitchell is about to ask where he’s been but her eyes go wide instead when they land on TK lying on the gurney.

“I have to—”

She’s nodding before Carlos finishes his sentence. “Go, I’ll sort it out.”

“Thank you,” Carlos gives her the best grateful smile he could muster before hopping in after TK and Tommy.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Owen says once TK is inside the rig.

Carlos nods, taking a seat on the small bench.

Nancy shuts the doors and races to the driver’s seat, climbing in and the sirens wail as they start to move.

Owen watches the ambulance drive away, the hot pit in his stomach growing with each passing second.

Carlos and Tommy don’t exchange words, each of them focusing on TK. Tommy is monitoring his vitals, giving him fluids and administering a local nerve blocker to help with the pain.

Carlos clutches TK’s free hand with both of his own, closing his eyes and willing his racing heart to slow down a beat. He works on his breathing, steading his rhythm but he can’t help the stray tear that falls when he opens his eyes and looks at TK.

Carlos’s chest is in knots, his heart in pieces, TK is too still, too pale.

It’s almost like TK feels his fiancé’s anguish and pain, and on some level, he does because he’s weakly turning in Carlos’s direction. It’s always been a thing TK and Carlos talk about—the way they sense each other and what the other needs and this moment is yet another one to prove that connection true.

“It’s okay, ‘Los,” TK manages, his voice frail and muffled even more by the oxygen mask.

Carlos sniffs, moving closer to TK so he’s in his line of sight and nods. “Yeah, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I love you,” TK whispers.

“I love you too, baby,” Carlos reciprocates. “Hold on.”

TK nods, a promise Carlos clings onto with everything he’s got. And he prays today isn’t the day he loses TK.

They’ve only just begun.

*****

It’s a short but tense ride to the hospital.

Tommy had examined TK’s chest and Carlos’s assumption that it was the seatbelt that hurt him is proven right by the massive red bruise already formed down the paramedic’s torso. Carlos had drawn in a sharp breath at seeing it, heartbroken that TK has been injured to that extent. Tommy had also told Carlos that TK may have also suffered a bruised lung from the force of the seatbelt against his chest.

A team is already awaiting their arrival, tearing the ambulance doors open as soon as it comes to a halt in front of the Emergency Room entrance. Tommy relays all the information as they push TK inside and through the hallways. They reach a point where Tommy, Carlos and Nancy can’t follow and Carlos has to reluctantly let go of his tight hold on TK’s hand.

His heart shatters as he watches the doctors and nurses wheel TK away, feeling like he’s been ripped away from him.

He stands there for what seems like hours, watching the hallway long after TK was pushed into the elevator, Carlos’s eyes fixed on its closed doors. He feels a hand land on his shoulder, and he doesn’t need to turn to know who it is.

“Come on, Carlos,” Tommy’s soft voice reaches him.

Carlos lets her lead him towards the waiting area and he drops into one of the plastic chairs, hating how familiar they have become.

He shakes his head then drops it slightly and only looks up when a few wet wipes are in his line of sight.

He gratefully accepts them but doesn’t move for a few moments after. His gaze is focused on his own hands, his hands that are covered with TK’s blood. And his ring, his ring is coated in crimson, nearly obscuring the silver underneath and it makes his stomach churn in an unnatural way.

Carlos closes his eyes, going back to the day TK had slid this ring onto his finger, to the joy and contentment they had both felt, they way they basked in each other’s love when Carlos had said yes. A tear rolls down the officer’s cheek, one he doesn’t bother wiping away. He sniffs, opening his eyes and begins cleaning his hands.

Once the evidence of TK’s accident and injury is transferred to the wipes, Nancy takes them from Carlos’s hold and throws them away before sitting down, too.

The silence stretches, the feel and sound of the hospital nearly haunting. Owen’s arrival breaks it, Carlos looking up when he hears his name being called from afar.

“Carlos,” Owen’s eyes are wide and movement quick.

“Owen,” Carlos gets to his feet in time for the Captain to throw his arms around him in a hug, which Carlos returns.

Owen gives Carlos a squeeze before pulling back. “Did they say anything?”

Carlos shakes his head. “They took his straight up, didn’t say much of anything.”

Owen nods and sits on the chair next to Carlos’s as he too returns to it.

Tommy and Nancy’s radios spring to life a little bit later, and they reluctantly leave, promising to be back as soon as they can.

Carlos starts rolling his ringer over his finger, a gesture he does when he’s nervous or anxious. TK would always notice, and he’d reach out, taking Carlos’s hand and holds it tightly; a silent promise that he isn’t alone, and that TK’s got him. Carlos would give anything to feel TK’s tender touch.

He notices that his ring is still speckled with blood.

“I’ll be right back,” Carlos says as he rises from his place. “Just going to the bathroom.”

Owen nods. “Take your time.”

Carlos follows the signs to the nearest bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror as he gets closer to the sinks. The bathroom is empty, his boots echoing in the space, his eyes not leaving his exhausted reflection staring back at him. All the color has been drained from his face, his eyes a stark red against his pale skin and his usually neat curls are out of place. His eyes drift lower until they stop at his waist where there’s a large, dark stain. His uniform is stained with TK’s blood.  

He swallows as he turns on the faucet and lets the water run down at the coldest temperature before sticking his hands under it and working the remaining traces of blood off his ring. He momentarily relishes the cool sensation against his skin, but he soon breaks watching the pink-tinted water swirl down the drain.

It feels like TK is getting further and further away from him as each second passes by. He feels like he’s losing TK.

Helplessness settles in his bones, barely turning off the water and he grips the marble to support himself as his entire body starts to shake with the force of his oncoming sobs. A cry rips through his throat and he tightens his hold on the marble, afraid that his knees will no longer hold him up and he’ll crumble to the ground if he lets go.

He feels the fear crawling underneath his skin, the terror ringing through his whole being, the longing, the pain…it all washes over him at the same time, and he almost collapses from the weight of it. But he holds on. TK needs him to hold on. So he draws in a deep breath, stands up straight and splashes icy water over his face a few times.

Carlos returns to the waiting area with swollen eyes and Owen runs a hand up and down his back once he’s seated next to him once again, patting his shoulder before pulling back.

“We…we were planning on going over to my parents’ for dinner this weekend,” Carlos’s shaky voice slices through the silence that settles over them. “Our schedules lined up and TK was so excited. He,” he pauses, a small smile forming on his face. “He was saying how we should bake something to take to dinner. Chocolate chip cookies. They’re his go-to when it comes to baking,” he trails off, his hands connecting and he starts nervously fidgeting, rubbing his hands together.  “Chocolate chip cookies,” he whispers.

“They were always his favorite kind of cookies when he was a kid,” Owen says.

Carlos turns to look at Owen, his features broken and eyes filled with fragments of loss and aching. “He’s going to be okay, right? He has to be. He…has to be okay.”

“He’s strong, and he’s in the best of hands. He’s going to fight to come back to us, to come back to you, Carlos. The happiest I’ve ever seen my son was when he was with you, even in the beginning, when you were still figuring things out, there was something different about him, I could see it, I could feel it. He seemed lighter, brighter. His eyes lit up. I didn’t want to pry or push to know more, but when I saw you together, I knew. You were the missing piece he needed, you helped make him better, stronger. He’s going to come back to that.”

“It was the same with me. He saved me, in so many ways,” Carlos expresses.

“You saved each other,” Owen replies with a smile, giving Carlos’s knee a squeeze.

Carlos and Owen move to the waiting room on the surgical floor a little while later. Owen sits down on an identical plastic chair while Carlos paces around the room.

He stops when he looks out into the hallway and sees the rest of the team making their way towards them, all wearing the same concerned look on their faces.

“We got here as fast as we could,” Judd says as they step inside.

“Have you heard anything yet?” Marjan asks, her eyebrows drawn together.

Owen shakes his head. “He’s been in surgery for almost two hours.”

“He’s a strong kid, he’ll make it through,” Judd speaks with a steady voice.

“I should go call my mom, let her know what happened,” Carlos starts walking towards the door.

Paul pats Carlos’s shoulder as he passes him, and Carlos responds with an appreciative nod.

Carlos’s short trip to go outside is a haze, moving robotically until he’s stepping into the open air, the sun still high in the sky. It’s hot, Carlos closes his eyes and tilts his head up in the direction of the sun, letting its warmth seep into his skin. He takes a deep breath as he opens his eyes, pulls out his phone and he notices a few texts from Mitchell. He makes a mental note to reply later and moves to the phone icon, touching his mother’s contact from his favorites list.

One ring, two rings, three rings…

“Carlitos!”

“Mami…”

Andrea immediately picks up on his broken tone. “What’s wrong, mijo?”

“It’s…There was an accident…a car pile up downtown and…TK, he…he was in it,” Carlos’s voice cracks.

“Oh, Dios,” Andrea draws in a sharp breath. “How is he?” She asks and Carlos can hear rustling and movement in the background now.

“He…he lost a lot of blood, Ma. He was stuck in the car and his side was hurt…they took him straight to surgery and we haven’t heard anything yet,” Carlos sniffs.

“Where are you? I’m on my way,” Andrea says.

Carlos can hear the emotion in his mother’s voice and he knows she’s trying to keep her worry and fear for TK from breaking through the phone. She’s always been Carlos’s rock, strong and steady, and he can tell by her tone that she’s keeping it together for him. Still, though, he can hear the slight waver in her voice at the knowledge that her soon to be son-in-law is badly injured, currently undergoing surgery.

Since the moment TK was officially introduced to Carlos’s parents, they welcomed him into their family with wide, open arms. They had immediately liked him and adored him, Andrea happily whispering it into Carlos’s ear at the end of that very night. They saw the love between him and their son, and it had uplifted Andrea and Gabriel’s spirits and filled their own hears with so much love and glee.

And when Carlos had called them one night, voice filled with bliss and excitement, telling them that TK had proposed to him, Andrea and Gabriel wept tears of joy.

Knowing how much Andrea loves TK, telling her that he was hurt is one of the hardest things Carlos has ever had to do.

“We’re at West Park Memorial,” Carlos replies.

With a promise from Andrea to be there shortly, they end the call. He returns to the waiting room a few minutes later, everyone’s eyes landing on him. Carlos feels shrunk, his shoulders drawn in, his body feeling so heavy.

“She’s on her way,” he says before turning to stare into the direction of the operating rooms.

“No news yet,” it’s Judd who speaks next, reading Carlos’s mind.

Carlos nods and returns to his seat next to Owen.

Silence falls onto the room, everyone doing little things to keep themselves busy. Mateo praying, Marjan and Paul standing and pacing, Judd grabbing a couch pillow and holding it against his chest, Owen’s head is thrown back against the wall with his eyes closed and Carlos’s leg starts bouncing up and down while he fidgets with his hands. His fingers gravitate towards his ring, the one tangible piece of TK he has with him in this moment. Carlos always gravitates towards TK.

The team eventually get called away to a rescue with their promises too to return as soon as they can.

Carlos’s phone rings and a glance at his screen tells him it’s his mother.

“Ma,” Carlos answers.

“Hi, mijo. I’m walking in now, where are you?”

“We’re in the waiting room on the surgical floor,” Carlos tells her.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Carlos spots Andrea hurrying through the hall, handbag clutched against her side soon after they hang up.

“Carlitos,” Andrea breaths as she steps into the room.

Carlos walks over to her and falls against her as she wraps him in a tight hug.

“It’s okay, mijo. Va a estar bien,” she whispers reassuringly, holding him in a steady grip. It’s going to be okay.

Carlos returns the embrace, burying his face in his mother’s neck, more tears spring to his eyes at being held by his mother and feeling her safety and comfort.

There’s a considerable height difference between Carlos and Andrea, but right now, Carlos may as well be a little boy and she a giant. Her protective hold on him is steady and grounding.

Once they pull back, Andrea cups Carlos’s face and wipes the fallen tears with the pads of her thumbs.

“Any news?”

Carlos shakes his head.

Andrea walks over to Owen, who gets up and they exchange a quick hug.

“He’s going to be fine,” Andrea says as she takes a seat next to her son.

Carlos nods, his eyes drifting back to his ring.

“There was a missing ingredient,” Andrea says after a while.

Carlos frowns as he turns to look at her.

“I was talking to him this morning, I sent him the family recipe for tamales,” she explains. “He wanted to surprise you but there was one missing thing.”

“Our dinner date tonight…that’s why he was out, he was going to the store,” Carlos connects the dots, eyes filling with tears.

Andrea nods.

“That was his surprise,” the realization dawns on Carlos. “He knows tamales are my favorite,” a small smile forms on his face.

Andrea places her palm on the nape of Carlos’s neck and pulls him gently towards her. He goes easily and rests his forehead against her shoulder. She whispers comforting words in Spanish as she runs her fingers over Carlos’s short hair just above his neck. He closes his eyes, evening out his breathing as he soaks up his mother’s comfort.

*****

Carlos is staring into nothingness almost an hour later, his eyes glued to to the hallway but unseeing. His mind on TK, all figures that pass through and walk the hallway blurred. Until one doctor is walking towards the waiting room, his form getting clearer and clearer as Carlos forces his vision to focus on him.

The doctor is visibly tired, his face crunched up, still wearing his surgical cap as he enters the room. Carlos can’t read him, and that worries him even more. He braces himself, swallowing as the doctor starts speaking.

“Family of Tyler Strand?”

“TK,” Owen corrects as he gets to his feet. “How’s my son?”

Carlos and Andrea follow suit, the tension building in the small space.

The doctor nods at Owen. “TK made it through,” he offers them a kind smile.

The collective breath Owen, Carlos and Andrea were holding is released as they breathe out a sigh of relief. Carlos closes his eyes, letting the doctor’s words sink in, sagging forward a little. He feels Andrea’s hand running up and down his back, grounding him and he leans into her warm touch.

“There were some complications, however,” the doctor continues. “We were mostly concerned about the amount of blood he lost, which caused his blood pressure to drop. His numbers were low during the surgery but we were able to keep him stable and with some blood transfusions, his blood pressure began to improve. The metal shard nicked his kidney but it didn’t cause major damage, we were also able to repair the laceration. Brain scans were all normal, indicating no brain injury. His chest is bruised and he has a minor lung contusion from the force of the seatbelt, but that will heal on its own. He’s young and healthy, I expect him to make a full recovery.”

“Can we see him?” Andrea asks, knowing it’s on Carlos’s mind and also knowing Carlos is still processing the doctor’s prognosis.

The doctor nods. “He’s currently in recovery and he can have visitors once he’s settled in a room after some observation. I’ll make sure a nurse comes to inform you when he’s ready.”

“Thank you so much, doctor,” Owen extends his hand.

The doctor nods once more, shaking Owen’s hand. “He’ll be home in no time.”

Carlos is rolling his ring on his finger and nervously bouncing his leg a while later when a young nurse approaches them.

“TK is ready for visitors,” she announces with a smile.

Owen turns to look at Carlos. “Go,” he urges.

“Are you sure?” Carlos asks.

Owen nods. “I’m sure, I’ll stop by to see him in a while.”

Owen pats Carlos’s shoulder as the officer gets to his feet and follows the nurse towards TK’s room.

“I’ll be back in an hour to check on him,” the nurse says as they come to a halt in front of a closed door. “The nurses’ station is down the hall if you need anything, or you can just press the call button near the bed.”

“Thank you,” Carlos says, taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.

He knew what to expect, he knew what his eyes would land on once he stepped into the room but still, seeing TK looking so small and still in the hospital bed shakes Carlos to his core.

An ache bolts up and down his body as he makes his way towards TK, his footsteps echoing off the walls, the only sound aside from the beeping of the heart monitor. He doesn’t take his eyes off his fiancé as he lowers himself on the chair situated next to the bed, watching as the paramedic’s chest rises and falls with each breath he takes.

Carlos is at least glad to see that TK has regained some color but it’s the stillness that also makes the officer uneasy. TK is always active, even when he’s asleep, twisting and turning in bed every now and then. Carlos would say he’s a light sleeper, he loved when TK started spending the night in the early days of their relationship. Though TK’s restlessness would sometimes wake Carlos from his slumber, he’d wrap an arm around TK’s middle and drift off to sleep again only for it to happen again a few hours later. Carlos never minded that, though, he’d be woken up by many things over the years, and being woken up by TK’s movement is by far his favorite.

Eventually, those movements from the younger man through the night had become a source of comfort for Carlos over the months, a reminder that TK is right next to him, in his bed. It grounded Carlos, and a sleepy smile would spread over his face as he gravitates towards those movements, warmth spreading through his body.

But here, right now, Carlos shivers, an icy sensation darting through his nerves. TK’s stillness is wrong, all wrong and so unlike TK is breaks Carlos’s heart all over again.

Carefully, Carlos reaches out, clasping TK’s hand in his own and prays that he can feel the familiar pressure.

“Hi, baby,” Carlos eventually speaks, his voice hoarser than he expected. “I’m here and you’re okay. They took really good care of you and you’ll be back on your feet in no time. I just…I miss you, Ty.”

The only response Carlos gets is the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

He sighs, running his thumb over TK’s knuckles. “I miss your voice, your smile, those beautiful green eyes of yours…your kiss. Come back to me, babe. This is only our beginning, we still have so much to do together. And I’ll be right here, right by your side, always. I’m not going anywhere,” Carlos vows.

Some time later, Carlos is so focused on TK and watching him, he doesn’t hear the knock on the door or it being pushed open until he senses another presence in the room.

He turns to see Owen stepping in, and stops by the foot of the bed.

“He looks better,” the Captain says, his eyes glued to his son.

Carlos nods, and continues running his fingers through TK’s hair.

“Your mom is heading to your place to pack a bag for you and TK,” Owen adds after a few moments. “She said to tell you to call or text her if there’s anything in specific you’d like her to get. And she’s also getting you some food.”

Carlos nods again. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat, though.”

Owen’s eyes soften. “I know, but you have to keep your strength up. He’s going to need you when he wakes up. You need to take care of yourself so you can take care of him.”

Carlos knows Owen is right, so he doesn’t argue. “Thank you,” he tells Owen.

“Thank you,” Owen reciprocates. “You saved his life.”

“Part of me hopes I could have done more, I felt so helpless just…I wish I could have done more,” Carlos drops his head.

“Hey, Carlos,” Owen walks over so he’s behind the officer. He places a hand on Carlos’s shoulder and gives him a supportive squeeze. “You did everything you could, I know you did. I’ve seen so many accidents to know that in that pile up today, TK’s chances were…” he trails off, shaking his head. “His chances weren’t good. If it wasn’t for you, TK wouldn’t be here right now.”

The mere thought of that brings tears to Carlos’s eyes. “A guy flagged me down and…I followed him and then I realized it was TK and…my whole world stopped.”

Owen nods. “I hate that you had to go through that but…part of me is glad it was you who got to him. Because I know you would have done, and did do, everything you can to keep him alive. You climbed into the wrecked car, and that says everything.”

Carlos moves his hand to cup TK’s face, lightly tracing his cheekbone with the tip of his thumb. “I would do anything to make sure he’s okay.”

A moment of silence washes over them as Owen dips his hand into his pocket and pulls it out, fist closed before opening his palm in front of Carlos.

“Here,” Owen says.

Carlos looks down into Owen’s open hand and a tear rolls down his cheek when he sees TK’s ring there.

“The nurse gave me his stuff after she lead you here. I thought you should hold on to it for him,” Owen explains.

Carlos sniffs, reaches out and takes the ring. He secures it in a fist and brings his hand over his heart, holding it there before leaning forward and brushing a kiss to TK’s temple.

*****

Owen stays until Andrea is knocking on the door, walking into a room carrying a duffel bag and a brown paper bag. The delicious smell immediately hits Carlos and his stomach rumbles. His mother must have heard it because she gives him a knowing smile.

Owen excuses himself a few minutes later, making Carlos promise to call if anything changes. With one final glance at his son, Owen leaves.

Carlos settles on the small table in the corner of the room as he unwraps the food his mom brought him. Andrea stands near the bed and plants a tender kiss to TK’s forehead then sits in the chair previously occupied by Carlos.

Carlos watches the sweet exchange and feels his heart flutter in his chest at the sight. It’s such a simple gesture but it speaks volumes of the way Andrea had come to love TK and happily welcome him into the family. Carlos had witnessed TK and Andrea growing closer and closer over the course of their relationship and it had made him happier than words could express. He’d smile, his heart soaring as he watched them in conversation or watched TK help Andrea in the kitchen, talking about anything and everything, while preparing dinner together at the Reyes ranch.

There’s pain and sadness in his heart at seeing Andrea sit next to TK’s hospital bed. And even more when he hears his mother’s broken whisper of oh, amor, as her eyes roam over TK’s battered face and he can tell she’s imagining the layers of bandages hidden underneath his gown.

Carlos can tell she’s struggling, trying to remain strong for both him and TK. Because not only is Andrea’s Carlos’s rock and support, but she is also TK’s.

“It’s okay, Ma,” Carlos reassures her. There’s so many layers to those three words, and she catches on to each and every one.

She gives him a small, sad smile, her eyes swimming with unshed tears.

“Your dad sends his love, and he said he’ll be by to visit TK soon, once he’s awake and strong,” Andrea says a little while later, after Carlos had finished eating, freshened up, changed into sweats and a hoodie, and returned to TK’s side.

She was about to get up to vacate his seat then, but Carlos shook his head and gestured for her to remain seated there. He dropped into the chair on the other side of the bed, the one Owen had grabbed from near the wall and had been sitting in.

Visiting hours were coming to an end and Andrea was getting ready to leave. With a gentle pat to TK’s cheek, she gets to her feet and clutches her handbag, Carlos following her.

“Carlitos,” she starts but Carlos is quickly shaking his head, knowing what she’s going to say.

“I can’t leave him,” he answers.

Andrea sighs. “It’s going to be busy in here tonight, they’ll be checking on TK every couple of hours and you need to rest, too.”

“I know, but I won’t be able to sleep if I do go home either. I’ll stay wide awake, worrying and wondering and going back home now, going back to our bed, without him or without knowing he’s really okay…I can’t. At least staying, I can grab an hour here and there when they aren’t checking on him.”

Andrea nods after a moment. She knew deep down that Carlos would stay, hence the bag she had packed. She’s cupping Carlos’s face, caressing his cheek before pulling him into a hug.

He goes easily, wrapping his arms around his mother and returning the hug. Her strong hold on him gives him strength himself, almost transferring some of hers to him and he soaks it all up.

“He’s going to be just fine,” Andrea whispers, kissing Carlos’s cheek as they separate.

Carlos nods.

“I love you, mijo,” Andrea expresses. “I love you both.”

“We love you, too, Ma.”

After a similar promise to Andrea like the one made to Owen, she leaves, grabbing the bag sitting next to the door containing Carlos’s bloodstained uniform on her way out.

Carlos returns to his original place next to the bed, his hand going back to TK’s.

“It’s just you and me now, babe.”

*****

It starts with one slow movement. It’s so slow Carlos would have probably missed it if he weren’t watching TK as closely as he is.

The sun has climbed high in the sky, the hours ticked by from the time Carlos had given up on sleep around dawn. It was a night filled with fitful and restless sleep, as he had expected and between the nurse checking on TK and Carlos’s own worry, the officer managed to get three hours of shuteye.

He couldn’t sleep past the moment light cracked through the darkness of the sky above, so he got up, running a hand through his loose curls and stretched his aching muscles. The sun slowly got higher and stronger, painting the sky in streaks of orange, yellow and red, the colors morphing together in a magical way. He watched the process through the thin curtain, getting lost in it for a few moments before directing his attention back to TK.

TK who still hadn’t woken up. Who hasn’t even stirred.

Carlos was awake during the nurse’s more recent visit and she had assured him that it was perfectly normal, that TK’s body still needed some rest and that TK is doing well. He thanked her, giving her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes followed by a nod when she mentioned there’s a coffee station just down the hall.

He feels TK’s ring sitting in his pocket, and he longs for the moment when he’ll able to slip it back on his finger, where it belongs.

He kept a positive attitude, repeating the nurse’s comforting words in his mind over and over, clinging to them as more minutes passed by with no indication from his fiancé of waking up.

“Come back to me, baby,” Carlos had whispered, giving TK’s hand a light squeeze.

He eventually left the room for a quick trip to the mentioned coffee station, and was back by TK’s side in a matter of minutes.

He kept himself occupied replying to texts he had received—from Mitchell, some of his other colleagues at the precinct, and most recently the 126 group chat, while keeping an eye on TK, as well.

The texts were all replied to and the coffee had long been consumed when the slow movement from the bed catches Carlos’s attention.

A small nudge of TK’s head to side, his eyes still closed. For a second, Carlos thinks his mind is playing a trick on him. But then it happens again, in the other direction and that has Carlos moving forward, heart picking up speed in his chest.

“TK?” Carlos calls. “TK, can you hear me?”

His heart is on its way to sinking from the lack of response from the paramedic, but instead flutters because TK is slowly opening his eyes and finding Carlos through the haze.

Carlos’s face breaks into a smile that does reach his eyes this time, said eyes also filling with tears at the sight of the green irises he has so terribly missed.

“Hi, baby, hi,” Carlos continues, his voice soft.

“‘Los,” TK breaths, his voice scratchy and low but it’s his voice and Carlos can almost weep at his nickname that only TK uses.

“I’m here, I’m here. You’re okay,” Carlos reassures him. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

Carlos’s hand moves to cup TK’s face, caressing his cheek and his heart sings when TK summons all the energy he can and leans into Carlos’s touch.

“Get some more rest, babe, I’m not going anywhere,” Carlos says when he notices TK drifting back to sleep.

Watching TK’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm now, TK’s ring in Carlos’s pocket feels lighter.

*****

The sun is getting lower when TK wakes up again. Andrea had passed by and joined Carlos for lunch a couple of hours before, Carlos feeling better and able to eat properly.

He was sitting in his usual spot on the chair next to the bed, mindlessly going through his phone and switching between apps when the same nudge of TK’s head pulls his attention, albeit it’s a little more frantic than the previous ones.

“Hey, hey, baby,” Carlos gets closer to TK, eyes on his face.

TK’s eyes are faster in opening this time, landing on Carlos and then looking around the room.

“Carlos?”

“Right here, I’m right here.”

“What…” TK’s eyebrows draw together, confusion written all over his face.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Carlos takes hold of TK’s hand. “You were in an accident, you were hurt pretty bad but they took care of you and everything’s okay. Do you remember?”

TK nods after a second and swallows against his dry throat.

“Do you want some water?”

TK nods again.

Carlos grabs the plastic cup from the nightstand and guides the straw through TK’s parched lips. “Easy, slow sips.”

“How—how bad is it?” TK asks once he’s done drinking.

Carlos sighs as he returns the cup. “We don’t have to talk about that now.”

“Please…I…I need to know,” TK says with a low tone.

After a moment, Carlos nods. “You were stuck in the backseat, you had some cuts and scraps, a concussion, bruise from the seatbelt and…there was a piece of metal lodged in your side. You lost a lot of blood, and I tried to keep pressure as much as I could but I didn’t want to hurt you more and…” he sucks in a shaky breath.

TK uses his energy to squeeze Carlos’s hand, knowing where the officer’s mind is going, taking him back to the horrific accident scene. TK squeezes Carlos’s hand to ground him and bring him back to the present.

“Never in a million years had I expected to see you in that crash…I was actually thinking the opposite, that I won’t see you because it’s your day off. But then the universe flipped the table on me and there you were…” Carlos trails off and then shakes his head. “I’m sorry, you just woke up, this…this isn’t what you should be hearing.”

It’s TK’s turn to gently shake his head. “Hey, there’s nothing to apologize for. Whatever you need to let out, and everything you’re feeling and thinking…I’m here to listen, no matter what.”

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” Carlos lowers his gaze.

“Look at me, baby, look at me. You can never overwhelm me…I know how tough this has been, and I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Carlos tightens his hold on TK’s hand. “I was…so scared. I felt so helpless and it felt like you were being ripped away from me. And for a moment you were, when they wheeled you away and it broke me, in that moment, I shattered,” the tears get heavier in his eyes and with a blink, a tear falls and streaks down his cheek.

TK’s own eyes well up at seeing the pain and heartbreak drawn on Carlos’s face and coating his voice, wanting nothing more than to take it all away.

“I remember coming to after I blacked out from the initial crash and it was…terrifying. My mind hadn’t completely caught up with what happened and once it did, I was really scared,” TK sniffs. “I felt so alone. But you know what? When I saw you, well, at first I thought I was dreaming but then you reached out to me and touched me and it felt real, you felt real and warm and you were right there…I knew in my heart you were there and I wasn’t scared anymore. I didn’t feel alone anymore. I knew you would save me, like you did so many times before.”

More tears roll down Carlos’s cheeks at TK’s words.

“And you did. You saved me, ‘Los.”

Carlos lunges forward, taking TK’s face gently in his hands and plants a kiss on TK’s forehead.

“You saved me just as much,” Carlos whispers, looking into TK’s eyes where brown meets green, and there’s so much said without needing words, so much love communicated and felt. Carlos leans in, first touching their foreheads together and then brushing a tentative kiss to TK’s lips. And Carlos feels whole again.

“Also,” Carlos starts once he pulls back. “We’re definitely making those tamales once we’re back home.”

“You know?”

Carlos nods. “Ma told me. Missing one ingredient.”

“Yeah…I wanted to surprise you. You’ve been working so hard lately and I wanted to do something for you,” TK expresses.

“That means everything, TK. I just hate that you got hurt, I know neither of us could control what happened but still…I hate that it happened.”

TK nods. “But I’m here and I’m okay.”

“You are,” Carlos drops a kiss to TK’s cheek this time. “And one more thing,” he adds, a hand digging into his pocket.

He opens his palm in front of TK to reveal his ring and TK looks up at him, eyes glistening.

“I believe this belongs to you,” Carlos holds out his free hand to TK.

TK carefully lifts his hand and gives it to Carlos.

He watches as Carlos slides the ring on his finger, the familiar weight of it a comfort. He closes his eyes when Carlos brushes a kiss to the ring now sitting where it belongs, relishing in the touch.

“I love you, Ty, now and forever.”

Carlos's eyes are so soft and filled with love and adoration, it makes TK's heart swell with just as much love. He smiles, knowing he's found a home in Carlos. And he knows with his whole being that Carlos has found one in him, too.

“I love you too, ‘Los, always.”

And when TK gives Carlos the smile that’s reserved for only him, Carlos knows in his heart that they’re going to be just fine.

[airiustide]

If I Could (I’d Kiss Your Fingers)

A Water Witch Tale

Summary: Taking place after Katara returns to the Fire Nation to stay with her new family, Zuko wants to give her a gift as a way to show how much she means to him. With Izumi's help, father and daughter pick out the perfect chocolates for Katara. Meanwhile, Katara works on something precious of her own. Part of the The Water Witch Tales 

A/N: I asked myself if I wanted to do a additional piece for The Water Witch of Biei Village or write a Valentine’s special fic? My brain: por que no los dos? I've wanted to write more about this zutara family since ending The Water Witch of Biei Village two years ago. My hearts been set on it and today was a perfect.

also posted on AO3

***

“Chocolates. Chocolates. We’re going to pick chocolates!” Izumi sang, skipping around several staff entering the Fire Lord’s study carrying gold trays of serve ware covered with lids. 

Zuko shoos them in, peering from left to right outside the study until the confectioner himself is the last to enter and Zuko can now close the door behind him. “Quickly, lay them there.” The Fire Lord points to the long table stationed in front of the open balcony doors. He grabs a hopping Izumi by the waist and swings her over his shoulders, eliciting a squeal. “Calm down, love. We’ll get to try them all, I promise.”

“Then we give to Mommy?” The four-year-old grins, panting from all the excitement. 

“Then we give them to Mommy.” Zuko confirms, reflecting his daughter’s smile. 

Zuko had been considering the perfect gift to give Katara after she had returned, after having forced the captain of the airship that was supposed to take her home to the rural lands of the Fire Nation countryside to turn around. It was a moment of joy and tears. Katara proclaimed Izumi her daughter without asking anything in return other than to care for the Fire Nation princess as her own. Any attempt at giving Katara jewels or expensive dresses were turned down. Katara’s humble rejection was sweet but was leaving Zuko a little deflected.

He wanted to impress her. The one kiss wasn’t enough and they talked little of it since then despite Katara’s return being well over a month ago. It was then that Izumi brought up how Katara had never eaten chocolates before, a discussion brought up while the waterbender did the nightly routine of brushing her daughter’s hair. 

It was then the idea sparked in Zuko’s head. Chocolates. No one could possibly turn down chocolates. A simple yet desirable candy.  

Once the trays are laid out, the confectioner snaps his fingers for his staff to remove the lids. Zuko lifts Izumi off his shoulders and sets her on her feet, the little girl’s bright gold eyes looking at the great display of chocolates laid before her in wonderment. “Wow.” She breathes.

“Only the best chocolates in the whole Fire Nation, your majesty. We’ve traveled all this way per your request from Ember Island. May I present my finest work.” The confectioner, Chou, bows. 

Zuko and Izumi approach, stopping at the first tray sitting at the left end of the table. 

“The first I’d like to present is a common treat. The bark is made from milk chocolate, quite sweet, I warn, but much lighter than the typical chocolate.” The confectioner explains.

Zuko breaks a piece for himself and Izumi to try. “Hmm.” The Fire Lord hums, finding his jaw lock from the overly sweet candy. “What do you think, princess?”

“It melts in my mouth!” Izumi exclaimed. “But too sweet.”

“Of course. This here, is a truffle.” Chou points to the second plate. “Though, today we’ll try many of these kinds of chocolates, this one’s a dark ganache blended with a touch of champagne.”

“Mmm.” Izumi sighs, popping the truffle in her mouth. “I like this one.”

“That’ll go in the yes pile then.” Zuko chuckled, nodding for one of the confectioner's staff to put the tray aside. 

The young Fire Lord had to admit, the amount of it all was too much. Some portions had to be given in small doses to prevent a stomach ache. Izumi was so eager to try them all that the first six or so trays resulted in tossing handfuls into her mouth. Not so much because she wanted to eat them all, but because it was so important to her that Katara had the best. 

Cordials, hazelnut, rum, caramel. It was all so delightful. It was not only a means to give a gift to share with someone they loved but the father/daughter time they had lost when Izumi had fallen ill was made up with a simple moment such as this. 

There was still more to go. Zuko deemed it unnecessary to try the rest when his daughter’s face became smeared with chocolate and her eyelids began to flutter. They had already settled on three flavors, some which will be boxed prettily for the master waterbender; passion fruit, mint, and champagne. 

“Good choice, your majesty.” Chou compliments. “The lady will surely be pleased.”

“Hmpf.” Zuko frowned. Chou would not be saying that if he knew that Zuko planned on gifting the chocolates to a waterbender. The Fire Lord was ashamed to admit that his people viewed waterbenders as conjurers of magic, they’re dwindling race created stereotypes and rumors far beyond what the truth actually beheld. “Do not worry, she will. Thank you for your journey to the capital. You will be highly compensated and even more in the future if Katara wishes for it.”

“Of course.” Chou bows, snapping his fingers for his staff to collect the leftovers and head out quickly.

“Someone’s sleepy.” Zuko turns to Izumi, sweeping her in his arms and cleaning the chocolate off her face with the sleeve of his royal robes. She had gained some weight since her lungs healed, no longer the tiny thin figure she once was when he had thought he was on the verge of losing her. 

“Mm...not sleepy, Daddy. I want to see Mommy.” The princess looks over at the neatly boxed chocolates sitting on the long table. She couldn’t sleep yet. She had carefully selected everything for her mother, Izumi wanted to give them to her now. 

“You will after a nap. Then, we will see Katara.” He coos, watching Izumi finally close her tired eyes as he holds her gently in his lap while he proceeds to sit in his cushioned pillow so that he could continue his work.

***

This is starting to feel like a distraction. When Kioko had shown up at Katara’s chambers that morning with an urgent request that required them to head to Caldera’s marketplace, the waterbender felt as though she had no choice but to oblige. She wished to see Izumi, if not for a little bit, before her and Kioko departed but the head healer demanded that they make haste.

“What, exactly, is it we’re looking for?” Katara questioned, looking around the busy streets with the older woman’s arm linked to hers. 

Guards surround them on all sides, a apparent perk the master waterebender wish didn’t come with officially adopting Izumi but Zuko would have it no other way. His argument, that people were against her legal adoption of Izumi albeit Katara knew the real reason- it meant Zuko was not willing to remarry. Every unmarried noblewoman and Zuko’s advisors made that clear with a single glare directed at her alone. It did not matter that Izumi was a living, healthy heir now. No, they needed more security than that, and marrying a Lady within the Fire Nation meant ensuring this. 

Kioko assured Katara that they were jealous nobodies that only dreamed of getting close to the Fire Lord if only to benefit from him. 

“Zuko would give you the world.” Kioko told her once, the two ladies held up in Katara’s room with wine and light chat. “He would bow to his knees for you, if you would permit him, and proclaim everything that is his, is yours.”

That came as a surprise to Katara, yet it made sense considering that she had healed Zuko’s daughter from certain death. She ignored that small whisper in her head that Kioko’s statement meant something deeper. The waterbender brushed it aside.

“I thought we might do some shopping. I haven’t seen my poor husband in months since his travels and I want to present him a gift when he returns next week.” Kioko answered her question.

“Are you not the gift, Kioko?” Katara smirked playfully.

“Oh my heavens. That is only between me and the captain I call husband.” Kioko winked. “We had missed our anniversary this last winter and I wanted to surprise him.”

“Sounds easy. What does he like?”

“Hmm, well, I was thinking I’d fashion up a new robe or maybe purchase new cuffs for his uniform. Oh, and while we’re here, why not get something nice for his majesty” Kioko said the last sentence so fast, Katara barely caught it.

“Zuko?” Katara whirled her head. “Oh. I guess I never did anything nice for him before. He did take me out that one time, after all.” A deep blush surfaced on her cheeks and Katara bit her bottom lip from smiling. She remembers where Zuko's hands were. His sultry voice and his low breath that tickled and teased her skin when he had openly flirted with her. The way his eyes glazed over when she had danced with him. 

Kioko raised an eyebrow at Katara’s sudden silence. 

“Yes.” The waterbender cleared her throat after noticing the head healer was staring at her. “A gift. I see no harm in buying one for him.” 

That’s what you believe. Kioko smiles, knowing full well Zuko was caught in Katara’s web and the poor girl had no idea what power she had over the Fire Lord. He loved her and she, likewise. The old woman hoped they’d realize it soon or else she would have to resort to locking them in the same room together, if it meant finally professing their feelings. 

The problem was, what does a Fire Lord like that he doesn’t already have? Yeah, Katara had enough to buy a pretty solid gift for someone of her status but Zuko was head of a nation. Katara didn’t have anything to her name that would remotely impress him. 

“Child, you’re thinking too hard.” Kioko interrupts her thoughts.

“Am I? I’m not exactly feeling confident here.” Katara panicked. “S-sorry I snapped like that. I don’t think anything here would be to Zuko’s liking.”

“That’s because you’re thinking of his status rather than what he is as a person. His majesty wasn’t as sheltered as you think. He’s traveled the world, he’s encountered struggle and defeat and when the tyrant, Lord Ozai, dies within the third year of Lord Zuko’s banishment and his daughter was seized for his death, Lord Zuko was called back to take his place as a mere child himself, marry, and raise a daughter on his own after his beloved’s death. He’s more humble than he lets on and we have the former general to thank for that.”

Iroh. Zuko often talked about him. “I know he’s like a father to Zuko. I didn’t mean to insult Zuko.”

“You did no such thing, dear. I wanted to remind you that his majesty is more than just a leader. He’s a man and a father first. Look to that when you go about searching for a gift for him.”

Katara halts, a large grin stretching on her lips. “I’ve got just the thing. Kioko, we need to stop at a few places.”

*** 

Where is she? Kioko refused to let Zuko visit Katara’s chambers, stating that the waterbender was busy and that she would meet them for dinner as soon as she was available. Izumi whined that she wanted to see Katara now and her impatience was starting to weigh on Zuko, who had to try and entertain his daughter as best he could until her mother arrived. They had taken dinner to his chambers this time, so that he and Izumi could give the present to Katara in peace. 

Zuko had asked that Kioko distract Katara while he and Izumi snuck in the confectioner and his staff, he had no idea that they would be gone well into midafternoon only for Katara to run back to her room and shut herself away with so much as a greeting. 

“What has Katara holed up in her room?” Zuko asked during dinner. 

“You’re majesty, I’m afraid this is an important time for Master Katara. She will see you and Princess Izumi as soon as she can.”

Something’s fishy. “You aren’t withholding anything from your Fire Lord, are you, Kioko?”

“You’re majesty.” Kioko feigned shock, resting a hand on her chest. “You would not use your position of power to pry personal information regarding your dear daughter’s mother from me, would you?”

Zuko’s good eye widened, his cheeks blushing profusely. “I- No. Of course not.” He grumbles, finding his food unappetizing because the anxiousness was eating at him. Izumi, the same, poked her steamed slug with a heavy sigh. Katara hadn’t gone a day without being next to her. Had they truly grown that attached?

The three are disturbed by the sound of the door opening and the master waterbender entering the room. “Late-” She pants, her wild hair loose over her shoulders and pieces of random fabric stuck to her dress. “Didn’t mean- I’m here now.” Katara smiles while she gains her composure.

“Mommy!” Izumi cried, jumping from her seat and rushing to her mother’s arms. “What took so long? I missed you.” Her voice trembled.

Katara felt guilty. Izumi had already been through enough when Katara left, she didn’t quite think through how a long separation might affect her again. “I’ve missed you too, love, and I’m here now.”

“Come here, come here. Daddy and I have something to show you.” Izumi pulls her mother along.

“Really now?”

Zuko grips the box in his lap, licking his lips to hide his nerves as Katara sat next him, her arm brushing his arm as she places Izumi on her lap. Agni, give me strength, he prays.

“What’s that you got there.” Katara leaned into him sideways, the box shaking in his hands. 

Why was he nervous all of a sudden? Zuko’s throat swelled up, his palms were sweaty. 

“Me and Daddy got you a gift!” Izumi replied.

“A gift? For me? Zuko, I thought-”

“I know.” He said, finally mustering the courage to speak. “But this is different. Please accept it, Izumi and I worked really hard to select them for you.”

They both gave her pleading eyes. Spirits, how can she resist such cute faces. “Okay. Can I open it?”

Zuko hands the box to her and Izumi claps excitedly as Katara pulls the ribbon and lifts the top half of the box to reveal something she’s never seen before. “What are these?”

“Chocolates!” Izumi giggled.

“They’re edible sweets made of cocoa.”

Katara eyes the pieces curiously. Unsure of where to start. “They’re all so different.” She comments.

“Here, Mommy, you’ll like this one.” Izumi picks out a passion fruit, lifting it to Katara’s mouth. 

Her eyes sparkle as she takes her first piece, her taste buds overtaken with a mix of passion fruit, chocolate and white chocolate. It’s decadent but the flavors are pleasant. “Spirits, that's delicious!”

“Hehe. See, I told you she’d like it, Daddy.”

“So this is what you two have been conspiring this whole time.” Katara teased the Fire Lord.

“We only wished to do something special.” Zuko explained sheepishly. 

“Well, this was certainly special.” Katara smiles.

“Why don’t you try the other flavors.” He suggests.

“Only if you guys eat them with me. This is certainly a lot.”

Katara pops one into Izumi’s mouth first. “Your turn.” She says to Zuko. 

His heart throbs in his ears. Before he could protest, Katara presses a piece of chocolate to his lips and he reluctantly opens, enclosing it in his mouth along with Katara’s index finger and his brain short circuits. As he chews the piece he can only assume is mint, refreshing much like Katara’s presence, her fingers still lingering on his lips; they’re gazes stayed only on each other. 

Zuko leans in slightly, drinking in Katara’s face as she bites the corner of her lip. She likes the look he’s giving her- heavy, glazed and adorning. She wants to see more of this, more of him looking like her just like this. “Do you want more?” She asks in a whisper.

“Well, this has been lovely.” Kioko announced, catching the Fire Lord and Master Waterbender off guard, shame written on their faces. “I’ll take my leave. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

It takes a while for the heat to die down in the room and the tension to fade before Katara tells Zuko she has something for him too. “For both you and Izumi, in fact.” She reaches for the pouch attached to her sash and opens it, fishing out two weaved bracelets with charms on them. “It’s not much but I thought of you two and I wanted to make something that would always be with you.”

“Pretty.” Izumi brightens. Katara ties the bracelet to her wrist, three little charms dangling from it; one of the moon, the second the symbol of the painted lady and the third a sparrowkeet. 

 Next was Zukos, which Katara delicately tied to his wrist as well. The first charm was of two dragons tangled in a dance, the second a replica of the carved stone on Katara’s necklace and the third the mask of the blue spirit. 

“It was all done at last minute, so it’s not perfect-”

“It’s more than perfect.” Zuko corrects. “Thank you, Katara.” He wraps an arm around her neck and brings her to him, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Mine is perfect too, Mommy! I want to kiss you too.”

Katara laughs, puckering her lips and letting Izumi peck them. The waterbender then snatches Izumi to her chest, displaying kisses all over the little girl's face as Zuko does the same until she begs for her parents to stop in a fit of laughter. 

I love you. Zuko wants to say. The moment passes, he realizes, watching Katara rock Izumi in her arms with pure love in her eyes. He’ll tell her. Someday. 

[prose-for-hire]

An impassioned debate

Pairing: Giles x Spike (”platonic” but they’re arguing lol)

Request: Spike & Giles bicker fest a la missing moments from when they were housemates, please?

Requested by: @staycalmandbeafan 

Warning: Sex references.

A/N: Sometimes when I write I assume the attitude of one of the characters. Therefore, Spike doesn’t always appear in a good light lol (It was fun to write though and I got a little carried away sorry) 💜🖤

Giles liked to live alone.

He had grown up living with his parents. He had roommates in university. He even flat-shared in the communal house him and the friends he hung around at the time broke into and claimed as their own in his early twenties.

And that, is exactly how Giles knew he liked to live alone. Some days he could barely tolerate the young people that no matter how fond of them he was, would go on about pointless and often arbitrary nonsense in his presence.

His home then, became his sanctuary. A place where he could shut out the world.

That was until one fateful day in the all-too recent past. Thanksgiving day. A day where the Americans gave thanks for the parts of their lives they are grateful for. He thought he ought to partake in tradition and suggested how grateful he was for Buffy and the others.

A silent, more self-indulgent thanks was to the peace and quiet he would get at the end of the day. His house to himself, not shackled by parents. Kept up all hours by housemates or forced into copious amounts of overly emotional performance at the hands of the well-intentioned Americans.

This silent thought was shattered as a thud at the door announced an unwelcome visitor.

That’s how Giles ended up with a new houseguest. The vampire chained to his tub. A tub he had been very fond of until Spike had come in and ruined with his stench. He was probably the only person that smelt this bad after spending this amount of time in the bathtub.

It would be fair to say that Giles hadn’t been a very welcoming host, but to put it in context, despite being ‘harmless’ Spike had tried to bite Giles not once, but twice. Upon the first attempt being a near-miss and the second ending in blinding pain for the corpse-faced lunatic, he had the gall to tell Giles that he would taste like a dried up old prune anyway.

There was also the incident on Thanksgiving day itself where he managed to eat half a plate of cookies before anyone had the chance to stop him. A miraculous feat when you note that his hands and feet were bound tight.

These were, for the most part issues that Giles could look past. Especially now he was sure that Spike was unable to actually harm him. But what he couldn’t get past were, well, every other area that involved living with Spike.

The issues could be divided as such: Eating habits; sleeping habits; general depravity and what one could only describe as ‘The Passions debate’.

We should probably begin with the sleeping habits:

Or lack thereof. Spike was cat-like in the sense that he didn’t usually get a full night’s, or days, sleep. He tended to sleep a couple hours here or there seemingly whenever he pleased. Which meant that when he was tied up after dark, the vampire had a whole lot of thoughts and nowhere else to go so he seemingly spoke them out loud.

Giles tossed and turned in his bed desperately clinging to sleep, able for the most part to ignore the constant babbling of Spike’s innermost thoughts. Which actually amounted to shagged someone, shagged someone oh I drank some blood, shagged someone.

It was utterly mind numbing and Giles was beginning to feel that should he ever get out of this arrangement alive he would look into finding a house in the middle of a deserted island. Never to return to civilisation.

Giles managed to mostly ignore the fanged menace. Until the singing started. Or, what Giles would only call tuneless hollering. He butchered every punk song known to man and some surprisingly sugary pop ballads that Giles wouldn’t dare comment on, less he revealed that he himself knew the songs lyrics too.

He actually started singing to pass the time, it was lyrical to begin with but as the night wore on he started to shout the words, the tune lost. Sacrificed to a greater goal. Irritation.

He grinned when Giles padded downstairs to try to silence the din.

“Alright, Rupert? Here for dinner and a show?”

“I’m going to gag you” Giles warned. Something they had already had numerous arguments over.

“Well, you’re really gonna have to take me out to that dinner then” Spike smirked at Giles’ disdain for his words, moving his head slightly at the man’s reaction.

“Will you shut up! For God’s sake, man, be quiet!” Giles shouted, sleep-deprivation and living with someone that had more fangs than brains made him more and more irate. It made Spike smile even further, his next words making Giles about three seconds from throttling him (which, wouldn’t have killed him but it would have been very satisfying for Giles).

“Well, seein’ as you’re awake and all and got nothing better to do, be a love and get me some blood?” Spike cackled. Giles stopped himself from going near Spike and instead trailed to the kitchen, hoping it would at least shut him up for five minutes.

Which brings us nicely along to eating habits:

“I like a bit of texture in it!” Spike had shouted one morning. His blood was steaming but Giles had returned back into the kitchen with it to add something to try and get a moment’s peace.

He had been playing a very enjoyable game of see how many times he can send the same mug of blood back before Giles realised he was only doing it to annoy him. The highest score had been 3 times and only, in Giles’ defence, because the man hadn’t been properly awake that morning.

Giles had hit Spike twice (which was very tame considering the horror that was a feral vampire that wasn’t used to being in a domestic setting). Once because of the aforementioned incident and the second time after a particularly heated debate that we will discuss later.

Spike had been lounging on the sofa again, getting crumbs all over his chair. Giles swung his feet and made him sit up as he spoke.

“Will you bloody-”

“Oh don’t start conjuring those sweet massacres in my mind, Rupes, makes a fella’s hunger unbearable” He rubbed his stomach that did in fact appear to be gurgling at the mere mention of the word.

Spike, when he was allowed out of his restraints and Giles saw it was too much like hard work to be waiting on Spike all of the time, began to make his own meals. Which, really, just created more of a mess. And a distinct lack of Weetabix around the house.

He created the worst combinations known to man, sometimes to annoy Giles and other times to just see how it went. He sprayed cans of whipped cream in his mouth left over from Thanksgiving, ate crackers with every topping he found in the house and made sure to use the least amount of manners as possible whilst doing so.

Which brings us onto the section Giles would entitle, Spike’s ‘generally depraved character’:

Giles was still in the habit of tying Spike up at night, but he had subsequently allowed him to walk around in the day after a while.

There had been one evening where Spike ran through the entire house, struggling at every turn so that Giles couldn’t tie him up again. He was bored and it was fun making the human chase him. Eventually he was cuffed and tied to his chair and left there through the day so that it didn’t happen again.

Luckily, Spike had gotten bored of that game and just let Giles tie him up at night again now. Not without comment, of course.

“Call that a knot? I’ve had tighter curls, mate” Spike rolled his eyes as Giles looked over the glasses perching on the end of his nose. He then reached and tightened the knot by a lot making Spike yelp and scowl at him.

“Hey! You can’t just leave me like this – I’m getting’ rope burn here!” he shouted as he struggled, thus giving himself worse rope burn.

“Ah, yes and what’re you going to do about it, Spike, hm? Serenade me to death?” Giles rolled his eyes in disdain. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting his position with a scowl stamped on his face. 

He watched Giles get back to reading his paper. He let him get a few lines in before he interrupted him this time.

“Not exactly the five star digs I’m used to” Spike said which made Giles scoff. He had seen many of the places Spike had called home and none of them were fit for burying a corpse in let alone housing a living one.

“I can untie you and you can just leave, Spike, I’m sure burning to a crisp would really show me what for” Giles muttered, focusing on the paper he had been trying to read.

“Oh, I see you. Thinking you’re better than me – smarter. Anyone can read books, they don’t make it their whole sodding personality. You’re a good ol’ British stereotype, Rupes,”

“Ah, yes, well, many people can read Spike but it takes a particularly impervious individual to be so oblivious to their own misgivings that they result in insulting themselves in the same breath as their foe”

Spike rolled his eyes at the use of the word ‘foe’ but kept silent for a while. It was a rare silence and Giles made the most of it. Savoured it. He wasn’t sure if it was the big words that had evaded him or just the fact that his insult had resonated. But he didn’t say these thoughts out loud, less he would have to listen to Spike’s sparkling wit.

However, lo and behold, Spike suddenly spoke up again. 

“You know what I miss?” Spike asked, leaving Giles sighing audibly and putting his unread book back down. He had tried several times to read the same line.

“No, but I assume that you’re about to enlighten me”

“Civil wars”

“What?!” Giles asked incredulously, taking his glasses from his face just so he didn’t have to look at the vampire who appeared to be staring up at the ceiling and reminiscing.

“Yeah” No nodded, “There’s just something about a civil war… could be the fear. Aphrodisiac, it is”

“I’m not sure I agree-”

“Probably ‘cause you’d be the one doing the fearing you great ponce”

“Now-” Giles was ready to launch into a barrage of insults, using all of his wit to ground Spike into the pile of dust and ash he was destined to be. But then, he took a breath. He decided to hit Spike where it hurt, “That’s it! No more television”

“What?!” Spike shouted, his eyes bulging in horror, “You can’t do that, I’m dyin’ here gramps-!”

“You’re already dead”

“Yeah, well, now I’m rotting away here with the living. I mean, you’ve aged – I saw your graduation photo in the hall. It’s like lookin’ in a particularly haunting mirror when I see you” Spike spoke smugly of the way his face hadn’t aged despite being older than Giles.

There was a stony silence for a while. Giles went quiet. When Giles went quiet, he was mad. The kind that could become insidious. His fists curled and his mind raced. Blood pumping hot around his body.

But, after a moment, he resolved himself. Spike wasn’t worth Ripper making an appearance. No, Spike wasn’t worth anything.

“Why don’t you read something, or perhaps figure out how to count past two?” Giles offered, stepping away from where the tv was now staying off. Spike’s face turned sour at the prospect of another afternoon with his thoughts.

“How about four?” Spike asked, flipping the v’s with both arms raised at the man who looked like he was about to thump his guest yet again.

“You’re a piece of work, Spike”

“Thanks” Spike nodded, still looking at Giles expectantly, waiting for the television to be turned back on. But when he turned way and started to look busy Spike’s mood changed.

“Come on, it’s telly time!” Spike shouted but Giles just took his jacket and left the house for the rest of the day. Leaving Spike bored and trying to avoid the patches of sunlight where Giles had ‘accidentally’ opened some of the curtains on different levels of the house.

When Giles eventually began to turn the television back on for Spike, it leads us on to ‘The Passions debate’:

“Are you blind willingly or are you truly this ignorant?!” Giles shouted, his words directed at Spike but his eyes were glued to the screen. No matter how much he had fought it, Giles had been well and truly sucked into the fictional world.

“Don’t be a bloody idiot! It’s clear as sodding day that they’re meant to be together” Spike gestured wildly at the screen.

“Their relationship is forced – there is no real meaning there!” Giles insisted, much like most shows on television in his opinion.

“You got it all wrong - it’s fate, destiny or any of that bollocks”

“Ah, yes, that would be the latter”

“Don’t be daft, Ripper – have you seen them?! Pure chemistry. Nobody can act that good either, they’re shagging behind the scenes – mark my words”

“You really are as perceptive as a wooden spoon, Spike” Giles berated him.

“That’s rot, that is! They’re shagging no two ways about it”

“Two people can have chemistry and maintain a platonic relationship” Spike raised an eyebrow at him and Giles had become heated in the debate, “They are not bloody shagging!”

“Aw, does it bother you that fictional characters are getting more action than you?” Spike mock-pouted. Trying to rile the man up further. This was where it descended into chaos.

“Ah, fortunately I’m satisfied in the knowledge that there will always be someone that is worse-off than myself” Giles paused before asking, “Is Drusilla well?”

“Bugger off! That was low for an ex-watcher who gets all his happy feelings from a group of school children” Spike pounced on him, going for the jugular, “You spend an embarrassing amount of time with dear Buffy. I wonder, what could you be doin’ behind closed-”

Spike was cut off by a blow to his face. It sent him flying backwards and splintered the wooden chair he had been sat on into pieces.

“Out!” Giles demanded, face like thunder, “Out before I do something I wouldn’t regret!”

Both Spike and Giles eyed the weapons chest that was on the floor between them before looking back at the other. Both were trying to calculate how long it would take the other to get there. After a moment, Spike got to his feet and just slinked off to a different corner of the house until he got hungry and Giles went to walk off his anger.

That had been the last straw. Soon after this particular incident, Spike was shipped off the Xander’s basement. Giles finally got his house back. His wooden chair however, unfortunately never recovered.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXXV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: :c

Words: 4,500

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Battle of the Department of Mysteries.

The group divided in two and she was leading Ron, Luna and Ginny without having a clue of where to run next. 

Rodolphus Lestrange suddenly appeared ahead and she silently raised her wand, shooting a bolt of purple lightning directly into his chest.

"You know nonverbal spells?" Ginny panted.

"She can do that since our third-year," Ron responded. "Don't stop running! — Stupefy!"

"And you decide to use them until now?!"

"I've been using them all the time!" Mel argued, shooting towards another Death Eater. "But I'm obviously not going to walk around announcing it!"

She cleared the way and pushed Ginny and Luna through the door, then Ron pushed her and before he could close the door a dark something hit the side of his head and the boy stumbled back. Mel slammed the door close as Ron fell flat on the spot, she kneeled beside him.

She shook his shoulders but nothing happened. Ginny shouted something about footsteps getting closer. Mel pointed to his chest and used a reviving spell to bring him back, Ron's eyes sort of cleared, but only for the briefest moment, he stared at her with a stupid smile.

"Haha... Mel," He giggled. "You have two heads..."

"Great," She groaned. "He's been confunded... At least he's awake — We need to move."

"You go ahead, Luna and I will carry him," Ginny replied, grabbing her brother.

Mel advanced carefully and as quickly as she could, a new pair of death eaters ran into the room and started to throw curses. One charged up to her, caught off guard by his sudden actions, she fell backwards and cut her face with the edge of a table.

"Get off!" She shouted, placing both hands on the man's chest. A burst of energy sent him flying across the room. Mel wasted no time, the other death eater was fighting with Ginny and Luna.

"Reducto!"

The shelf next to him exploded, giving the girls enough time to push Ron out of the way. Mel grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the next room, closely followed by Ginny and Luna.

The group ran all together into the next room. Mel suddenly felt her feet being lifted from the ground.

"Space," She gasped.

But this couldn't be the real thing, since she could breathe and the planets were all her size.

"Avada —"

"Petrificus Totalus!" shouted Luna.

Ron was floating around and having a laughing fit; she pushed to get closer to the boy and shield him. A planet exploded a few feet away, she landed on top of Ron, who laughed louder.

"My foot!" Ginny growled behind her.

Mel pushed the hair out of her face.

"Take Ron, you three keep going —"

"But —"

"Do as I say!" Mel yelled as she lifted Ron from the ground with Luna's help. "I don't need to use my wand!"

Ginny ran to the door, broken ankle and everything. Mel forced Luna to walk out of there with Ron, and with both hands, she conjured a stunning spell strong enough to hit the three remaining men. She didn't wait to see the results and turned around, rushing out of the room and slamming the door close.

"Ginny?" Harry's voice took her by surprise. "What happened?"

Ginny fell to the ground and held her leg tightly, Mel walked up to her and crouched.

"Ferula!" She exclaimed, Ginny's ankle quickly got wrapped in bandages.

"I think her ankle's broken, I heard something crack," Luna explained. "Four of them chased us into a dark room full of planets, it was a very odd place, some of the time we were just floating in the dark —"

"Harry, we saw Uranus up close!" said Ron. "Get it, Harry? We saw Uranus — ha ha ha —"

"What happened to you?" Erick asked when he saw her. "You have a huge cut on your —"

"Doesn't matter," She moved his hand away from her face.

"It does matter!"

"Everyone here is hurt!" She replied harshly. "You have a massive cut on your lip — Neville, dear Merlin, Neville's got his nose broken and — What's wrong with Hermione?" Mel walked up to her unconscious friend.

"And what about Ron?" Harry asked them, holding Ron so he wouldn't fall.

"I don't know what they hit him with," said Luna, "but he's gone a bit funny, I could hardly get him along at all... Mel woke him up — It's been lucky that she was with us, she took down three of them at once."

"Harry," Ron snorted, "you know who this girl is, Harry? She's Loony... Loony Lovegood... ha ha ha..."

"We've got to get out of here," said Harry. "Luna, can you help Ginny?"

"Yes," said Luna.

"It's only my ankle, I can do it myself! Mel fixed it!" But even with all the fixing, Ginny couldn't stand on her own.

Harry tugged Ron's arm over his shoulders. Neville pulled Hermione closer and Erick quickly approached to help him. Mel was the only one left who still had no extra weight to carry.

An invisible mantle had fallen onto her unexpectedly, now it was her duty to make sure everyone would leave this place in one piece. She almost wanted to fall to her knees and cry like a baby, she knew that people would eventually need her to lead, but it had been too soon, too sudden.

"There they are!" Bellatrix yelled.

Mel lifted a big magical division between them.

"GO!"

Harry kicked another door open and went inside, closely followed by Erick, Neville and Hermione. Mel started to walk backwards as Luna helped Ginny move forward, trying to maintain the spell for a bit longer. Two figures appeared on her sides, Erick and Harry were back in the room, helping her keep the protection. As soon as they reached the door, Erick yelled 'Now!' and the three of them ran for it.

"Colloportus!" Harry shouted, just in time to hear the adults crash into the entrance.

"It doesn't matter! There are other ways in — WE'VE GOT THEM, THEY'RE HERE!"

"Decide quickly!" Mel yelled. "We can seal all the doors or run, but we have to do it now!"

"We keep going, but we seal half of these first. You and Erick watch over the others," Harry said. "Luna — Neville — help me!"

The three of them tore around the room, sealing the doors as they went: Harry crashed into a table and rolled over the top of it in his haste to reach the next door.

"Colloportus!"

There were footsteps running along behind the doors; every now and then another heavy body would launch itself against one, so it creaked and shuddered. Luna and Neville were bewitching the doors along the opposite wall — then, as Harry reached the very top of the room, he heard Luna cry, "Collo — aaaaaaaaargh..."

"Get Potter!" Bellatrix shouted.

"Stupefy!" Mel said, hitting another death eater across the chest.

"Hey!" said Ron, somehow he'd escaped Erick and Mel's protection. "Hey, Harry, there are brains in here, ha ha ha, isn't that weird, Harry?"

"Ron, get out of the way, get down —"

"Honest, Harry, they're brains — look — Accio Brain!"

"DON'T—" Erick started, but it was too late.

"Ha ha ha, Harry, look at it —" said Ron, watching it disgorge its gaudy innards. "Harry, come and touch it, bet it's weird —"

"RON, NO!"

"Harry, look what's happen — no — no, I don't like it — no, stop — stop —" The tentacles wrapped around his arms and quickly crawled up his chest.

"Diffindo!" yelled Harry.

"Harry, it'll suffocate him!" shouted Ginny, before she could reach her brother a spell got her and she fell unconscious on the ground.

Erick did one swift movement with his wand and the death eater who'd gotten Ginny flew back against the wall.

"STUBEFY!" shouted Neville. "STUBEFY, STUBEFY !"

"Immobulus!"

Mel got the brain around Ron's torso. The thing stopped at once and fell limply on the ground, but Ron was half-gone already. Only Mel, Erick, Harry and Neville remained.

"We cover," Mel said. "You and Neville run."

"But —"

"I can do more than you," She said tensely. "Protect that bloody orb — Do what I say."

Harry and Neville ran while Mel and Erick shot at the adults all the curses they could remember. Some of them bounced on the walls and she realized how dangerous this could be for her fallen friends. She had no option but to follow Harry and Neville so this room could be left alone.

They were back in the room with the stone archway, Harry stumbled down and Neville was nowhere to be seen, the terror in Mel's body started to show through her magic, thin dark lines started to spread around the back of her hands.

"Children, your race is run," Lucius Malfoy pulled off his cloak. "Now hand me the prophecy like a good boy..."

"Let — let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" Harry panted.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter. You see, there are ten of us and only three of you... or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?"

"There's ford obf us!" Neville shouted from the top of the stairs.

"And I can assure you Dumbledore taught me way more than just numbers," Mel replied, holding her wand firmly.

"Neville — no — go back to Ron —" Harry urged desperately.

"STUBEFY!" Neville shouted, trying to take down as many people as possible, "STUBEFY ! STUBE —"

One man launched over him and seized his arms behind his back.

"It's Longbottom, isn't it? Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause... Your death will not come as a great shock..." Lucius started.

"Longbottom?" Bellatrix asked in delight. "Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy..."

"I DOE YOU HAB!"

"Someone Stun him!"

"No, no, no... No, let's see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents... Unless Potter, Dumbledore and the traitor want to give us the prophecy —"

"DON'D GIB ID DO DEM!" roared Neville, she would've been proud hadn't been for the fact that they were all about to die. "DON'D GIB ID DO DEM!"

"Crucio!"

Neville fell to the floor in agony, Erick tried to curse Bellatrix, but four different death eaters attacked at once. Harry and Mel managed to protect him from most of it, but he doubled abruptly, blood staining his uniform.

"That was just a taster!" said Bellatrix. "Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy, or watch your little friend die the hard way! And eventually the rest of your friends. The nasty traitor will bleed out, and nutty will join us to be the Dark Lord's little pet..."

Harry and Mel stood side by side, it didn't matter how strong she was, she couldn't fight ten people ready to kill. Harry hesitantly stretched out his hand, but before Malfoy could grab the prophecy, the doors burst open and Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley entered the room.

Harry grabbed her wrist and yanked her down, she seized Erick and dragged him too. The three of them crawled all the way up to Neville.

"Are you okay?" Harry shouted.

"Yes," Neville said shakily.

"That was really brave!" Mel cupped his face, examining his injuries. "And really stupid, Neville! You were supposed to stay close!"

"And Ron?" Harry asked them. "And the girls?"

"All out," Erick panted, he was holding onto the side of his body and was getting paler with each passing second. "But alive."

"I don't know how to heal cuts that deep," Mel said in worry. "Stop moving!"

Harry suddenly got lifted onto his feet by a man.

"Give it to me! Give me the prophecy —"

Neville stood up again and stabbed the man's eye with Hermione's wand. He let go of Harry and Mel shouted: "STUPEFY !"

Harry yelled 'Thanks!' as he stood up, but he slipped on Moody's eye, who was now unconscious a few feet away. Dolohov stared at them with a nasty smile.

"Tarantallegra!" He yelled at Neville, making him lose balance. "Now, Potter —"

"Protego!" Harry shouted.

Mel lifted Erick's white shirt that was now sticking to his body and did the first thing she could think of: She cauterised the cuts.

Her friend screamed in pain, she apologized hurriedly and kept going as Sirius and Dolohov fought behind her. When she finished, Erick was no longer conscious. Harry helped her stand and stared at him worryingly.

"He's not bleeding now," She tried to dry her tears, but only managed to smear Erick's blood across her face.  "I can't do anything else — I don't know if he'll live..."

"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry yelled over her shoulder. Dolohov fell backwards.

"Nice one!" shouted Sirius forcing them to lower their heads. "Now I want you to get out of —"

Tonks fell a few feet away from them.

"Take the prophecy, grab Neville and Erick, and run!" Sirius ran towards Bellatrix.

"Can you stand?" Harry asked Neville.

"Hang on," Mel pointed her wand towards Neville's legs and ended the jinx.

"Put your arm 'round my neck," The boy told Neville, then turned to her. "You're sure you can take him?"

She pointed at Erick's limp figure and made him float a few inches above the ground.

"I don't need brute force," Mel said, pushing her friend's body forward.

Just as they started moving, Malfoy launched himself towards Harry and both fell onto the ground. Harry kept his hand up in order to not crash the prophecy, Mel let out a growl.

"The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!"

"No — get — off — me... Neville — catch it!"

Harry flung the prophecy across the floor, Neville spun himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Malfoy pointed the wand instead at Neville, but Harry jabbed his own wand back over his shoulder and yelled, "Impedimenta!"

"Round up the others and GO!" Lupin yelled, standing in front of Malfoy to keep him from attacking.

Neville approached her.

"You grab dis," He handed her the prophecy, surprisingly warm at the touch. "You're a better dueller."

"You're okay?" Mel asked.

"I'b fine," He said fiercely.

"Come on!" Harry yelled.

Neville pushed the Slytherin's floating figure, Mel looked down at the prophecy and froze.

'S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D'

She recognized the initials.

"That's how he knew..." Mel whispered. 

"Mel!" Harry yelled.

The prophecy was dangerous and they had almost let it fall onto the wrong hands... but there was a way to make sure this wouldn't happen, and it didn't necessarily mean both sides would lose.

She held the orb firmly and smashed it against the ground.

"NO!"

A white misty figure appeared wearing a pair of glasses that she knew all too well, a triumphant expression appeared on her face while Harry rushed back to her side.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

Her hand now had pieces of broken glass encrusted, but she couldn't feel pain, the adrenaline kept her working, the strange dark lines were slowly spreading across her skin. Harry looked down at her hand and shook his head, still unable to believe what she'd done.

"Let's get out of —"

"Dubbledore!" gasped Neville.

"What?"

"DUBBLEDORE!"

Mel's heart went from being in the depths of despair, to high above the clouds, now they had a chance to leave the Ministry in one piece: Albus Dumbledore had arrived, and he was angry.

It was an impressive display of power. A few death eaters ended up tied and wandless in a matter of seconds. Sirius and Bellatrix continued fighting, not noticing the battle was almost over.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" Sirius taunted.

"He shouldn't be here," Mel pulled a piece of glass out of her palm. "Sirius shouldn't —" 

Before she could finish, a spell hit him right on the chest. Sirius' eyes opened in shock as he stumbled back. 

Mel was vaguely aware of Harry as he ran down the steps, her body went numb as she witnessed the man falling further into the veil. She couldn't see his face from where she was standing, but she saw his body fall, not quite touching the material hanging from the archway. The veil moved slightly, and then engulfed him.

"SIRIUS!" Harry screamed. "SIRIUS!"

Lupin caught the boy before he could go too far, Mel's fists tightened and she felt the pieces of glass piercing deeper into her skin. 

"There's nothing you can do, Harry —"

"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"

"It's too late, Harry —"

"We can still reach him —"

"There's nothing you can do, Harry... nothing... He's gone." 

"He hasn't gone! SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"

"He can't come back, Harry, He can't come back, because he's d —"

"HE — IS — NOT — DEAD! SIRIUS!"

Something inside Mel snapped, the glass shot out of her palm and she walked back into the fight, attacking every dark shape her eyes would encounter. 

She wanted to hurt, to make them regret Sirius' death. Dumbledore slowed down her movements when he realized Mel had lost it, the girl looked down just in time to see faint, black lines vanish from her forearms.

Mel wouldn't remember much of it afterwards, all she knew was that her wand was extremely warm once she'd finished with the remaining death eaters and her fingers had a grey mist coming out of them. 

"What..." She stepped back clumsily, crashing against her great-uncle.

"I warned you," He said quietly. 

"Harry? Mel?" Neville had reached the place where Harry was standing, the boy had an absent look on his face, and he was unable to look away from the archway. "I'b really sorry... Was dat man — was Sirius Black a — a friend of yours?" 

Harry nodded, looking completely lost. Mel realized someone had managed to slip away from her outburst: Bellatrix was still fighting with Kingsley. Anger rose up to her chest once more, but Dumbledore didn't let her move forward.

"Let me have her!" She yelled.

BANG!

Kingsley fell flat on the ground, Bellatrix tried to run for it and Dumbledore threw a spell, but she was fast enough to avoid it.

"Harry — no!" 

"SHE KILLED SIRIUS!" Harry ran. "SHE KILLED HIM — I'LL KILL HER!"

Mel pushed Dumbledore aside and shouted 'Protego!' before anyone could try to stop them. They ran across the brain room and into the room full of doors, but this time neither Mel nor Harry had time for guessing.

"Where's the exit?!" Harry shouted. "Where's the way out?!"

The door behind them opened and they reached the elevator just as Bellatrix was leaving, Harry pushed the button to call a second lift and once inside Mel crouched, struggling to breathe. She didn't know how she still had the energy to do all this, but she didn't care as long as they could end that woman. 

Bellatrix was in the middle of the entrance hall, she threw several spells their way but Mel made them bounce away with flicks of her wrist. However, a potent spell pushed her back, and Harry dragged her behind the fountain before Bellatrix could take advantage of the momentary slip.

"Come out, come out, little kiddies! What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin! You were doing so well downstairs, you nutter!"

"We are!" Harry yelled.

"Aaaaaah... did you love him, little babies?" Bellatrix let out a peal of manic laughter. "Well, you're not the little babies, that filthy newborn is! Lucky for us we killed the father before he could ruin it! If we kill the mother too, we could raise their bastard on the right side of the family!"

Mel's stomach dropped, how did Bellatrix know about the baby? Where was her mother?

"Crucio!" Harry stood at the same time as her.

Mel once again lifted a protection spell around them, but this one came out slightly weaker. 

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" Bellatrix was now talking to them more like equals and less like infants. "You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain — to enjoy it — righteous anger won't hurt me for long — I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson — Crucio!" 

Mel pointed her wand to the woman's feet and the ground exploded, causing her to lose balance and stumble back.

"You cannot win against me! I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant, I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little children, can never hope to compete —"

"Stupefy!" 

"Protego!"

Mel and Harry only had time to crawl back behind the fountain.

"I am going to give you one chance! Give me the prophecy — roll it out toward me now — and I may spare your life!"

"You're in no position to bargain," She said, the same way Lucius Malfoy had done it. "And we have bad news for you —"

"— You're going to have to kill us because it's gone!" Harry said, and he glanced briefly at Mel before wincing in pain. "And he knows!" 

Mel couldn't feel this, probably because she was already hurting as well.

"Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it's gone!" He panted. "He's not going to be happy with you, is he?"

"What? What do you mean?" 

"Mel smashed it! What do you think Voldemort'll say about that, then?"

The girl raised her injured hand and waved it around.

"See? I crushed that thing until there was nothing left!"

Her hand stung badly and she lowered it to rub it, smearing more blood on her skin. 

"LIAR! YOU'VE GOT IT AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME — Accio Prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY!" 

"Liar?" Mel spoke over Harry's insane laughter. "I'm a nutter! Crazy people never lie!"

"Nothing there!" Harry shouted. "Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said, tell your boss that —"

"No! It isn't true, you're lying — MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED — DO NOT PUNISH ME —"

"Don't waste your breath!" Harry continued as Mel tried to heal her hand. "He can't hear you from here!"

"Can't I, Potter?" 

She still remembered him from her visions, but it was nothing compared to the live version.

Tall, thin, and black-hooded, his terrible snakelike face white and gaunt, his scarlet, slit-pupiled eyes staring... Lord Voldemort had appeared in the middle of the hall, his wand pointing at Harry who stood frozen, quite unable to move.

Mel knew then that she would not survive, she was starting to feel tired.

"So you smashed my prophecy? No, Bella, they're not lying... I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind... Months of preparation, months of effort... and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again..." 

His eyes moved to Mel, she used the remnants of her strength to keep him out of her mind and closed her eyes tightly, breathing heavily, Voldemort let out a quiet hiss. 

"Miss Dumbledore, how nice to finally meet you... I see the rumours are true... Unfortunately, you're too young to be a real threat. Since it's been you who destroyed my prophecy, I'll have to kill you, but at least I'll make it fun to watch..."

"Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!" Bellatrix kneeled down in front him, Mel found the scene revolting. "Master, you should know —"

"Be quiet, Bella. I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?"

"But Master — he is here — he is below —" 

"As for dearest Potter," He continued, ignoring the woman. "I have nothing more to say to you. You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

[...] The headless golden statue of the wizard in the fountain had sprung alive, leaping from its plinth, and landed on the floor with a crash between Harry and Voldemort. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung out its arms, protecting Harry.

"What — ? Dumbledore!" 

Mel's uncle was standing in front of the golden gates.

The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest, before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, the goblin and the house-elf scuttled toward the fireplaces set along the wall, and the one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool. 

For some reason, none of the statues charged towards her, and Mel had the strange thought, that it was because her uncle knew she was done fighting.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore. "The Aurors are on their way —"

"By which time I shall be gone, and you dead!

Dumbledore flicked his own wand. The force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry, though shielded by his stone guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed, and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. 

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore? Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom. Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —"

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!"  

"You are quite wrong. Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness —" 

[...]Fawkes swooped down in front of Dumbledore, opened his beak wide, and swallowed the jet of green light whole. He burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled, and flightless. At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one, long, fluid movement — the snake, which had been an instant from sinking its fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke; the water in the pool rose up and covered Voldemort like a cocoon of molten glass —

For a few seconds Voldemort was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth, clearly struggling to throw off the suffocating mass —

Then he was gone, and the water fell with a crash back into its pool, slopping wildly over the sides, drenching the polished floor.

"MASTER!" cried Bellatrix.

The girl tried to walk towards his uncle, Harry moved out of the statue's grip. 

"Stay where you are!" Dumbledore ordered.

Both froze, waiting for something, anything... Then Mel's body burst into flames.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle

[traincat]

traincat! thoughts on a spideytorch trek au? thanks!

Oh I have a lot of thoughts about this actually! I was working on one a while ago where it was supposed to be part of a bigger series but now I think I’d kind of like to go back in, rip up the foundations a little, and make it its own oneshot. (It involves Johnny and Peter meeting each other for the first time since Starfleet Academy -- where Johnny flunked out -- and crash landing on an alien planet where Johnny gets worshiped as a sun god.) 

So I do think there’s a bunch of directions you could go with Peter in a Trek AU -- I was briefly toying with the idea of him as a Romulan, because Secrets -- but my top pick is as a genetically engineered human. Trek’s genetically engineered humans have the right power set: enhanced speed, strength, and smarts! It gives Peter a reason to keep his abilities hidden! His parents being involved in Section 31 is a no-brainer, given their canonical background as spies! It’s half a ripoff of DS9′s Bashir, but hey, it’s fanfic. I go back and forth on whether he should be involved in Starfleet. On the one hand, I do think he’d be good at it and it’s kind of a given, in a Trek AU, that your main characters are in Starfleet. On the other hand, he’s kind of terrible at cooperation. I think at the end of the day my idea is to have him as a ship’s Science Officer but like, do I think he stays there? Probably not in the long term. (The AU equivalent of when he ditched that really good lab job in Portland!) Whereas originally I was thinking of building the ship out of other hero characters Peter’s worked with, now I think I might go with the Bugle staff -- Captain Jameson, First Officer Robertson, Chief Medical Officer Kate Cushing, Glory Grant as Communications Officer, etc. There’s definitely enough Bugle employees to build a full staff out of, down to Ensign Billy Waters. (Very likely to get killed on an away mission. Sorry, Billy.) Alternatively I could make Norman Osborn the captain and have things go very, very badly. That could be fun too. 

With Johnny, I’ve had my heart set on his being half-Betazoid since I first thought of a Trek AU. Which is like, with most AUs I usually pretty immediately know what I want to do with Johnny, and especially here because I don’t know if I’ve talked about this very much on tumblr but if I could give Johnny one additional power/a different power, it would definitely be empathy. Feelings powers! For a boy who has a lot of them. Is it an excuse to throw around “imzadi” in a fic? Yes, 100%, but it’s an excuse I stand by. I love a made up alien term of endearment. I think it’s pretty easy to duplicate the Fantastic Four’s origin here, with Reed stealing a space ship for an experimental flight he couldn’t getting funding/approval for from Starfleet instead of from the US government, and then wham, horrific accident resulting in strange powers. Which like, obviously I wouldn’t have to stick to in a Trek AU, but I think if it’s right there for the taking, you might as well, and I like the idea of the Four on the fringes of Starfleet but very much their own thing, much like in original canon. Also Johnny Storm, Starfleet Academy dropout, is important to me. 

I did manage to dig up my old WIP doc for the Trek AU, so here’s a snip of something that would probably be very heavily rewritten if I went back to it:

The two moons in the sky were bright crescents and the breeze through the window was soft and sweet. Johnny Storm was stretched out next to him laughing like there was no place in the galaxy he'd rather be. It was enough to make Peter lose all sense, and that was why he leaned over and pressed his lips to Johnny's.

Johnny tasted like wine and alien fruit, and he was warm, warmer than anyone else Peter had ever kissed. The heat of him surprised Peter - he pulled back, but Johnny surged forward.

"Don't you dare," Johnny growled, practically climbing into Peter's lap. He caught Peter's face between his hands and kissed him again, head tilted, the angle just right. Peter's hands flew to his waist to anchor him before they tipped over.

"Johnny," he said, lips sliding across Johnny's mouth, down to his jaw. "I didn't think -"

"Can you shut up for once?" Johnny pulled back enough to demand. His dark eyes sparked, his lips were bruised. He looked imperious and royal, the sun god everyone on this whole backwater planet believed him to be. "Thinking is the whole problem, Pete!"

"I'm sorry some of us can't just turn our brains off!" Peter snapped back, shoving Johnny backwards. His eyes went wide when his back met the wall, and he fisted his hands in Peter's shirt to pull him back against him. Their mouths clashed again, open and messy, the kissing equivalent of every stupid argument back at Starfleet Academy. Peter's blood burned in a whole new way.

"Try it, genius," Johnny said. "Just once. For me."

Johnny's flimsy shirt hung off one shoulder. Peter traced the line of it against his flushed skin, the way the delicate fabric clung to his body, highlighting Johnny's lean waist, his flat stomach.

He grabbed a handful of filmy fabric and tore it off.

Johnny inhaled sharply, and then he started to laugh. He pulled Peter in with one hand fisted in the hair at the back of his head, pressing his smiling mouth to Peter's. "See? I knew you could do it."

"It's just because your stupid's contagious," Peter said. He ripped the fragile golden chains from Johnny next and Johnny laughed, head thrown back, all golden insolence. "You're some kind of intelligence sinkhole. Is that a Betazoid thing?"

That was all he got the chance to do before Johnny shoved him back down onto the bed.

"Insulting my heritage!" he mumbled against Peter's mouth, clever fingers plucking at the hidden clasps of Peter's uniform. "Very sexy.”

(...)

Johnny's hand closed around the back of his neck, thumb stroking the hair at his nape. "I wanted this, at the academy."

It was a soft confession, and maybe that was what startled Peter into admitting, "Me too. I thought about you. All the time. Couldn't get you out of my head."

"I know." Johnny's fingers curled in his hair, tugging Peter's head down so he could kiss him. "I could feel it. I mean," his grin turned flippant, "everyone wanted me. But I always felt you separate from everyone else."

"Is that supposed to make me feel special?" Peter asked, nipping at Johnny's lower lip. "Your ego is so huge I'll have them name a star after it."

"That's sweet. I want two," Johnny said, but the look on his face was soft. He knocked his forehead playfully against Peter's and said, "Do you remember that time at that club? God, what was it called - Orbit. That was it."

It was easy to conjure up the memory in his usual crystal clarity. The flashing lights, the chrome of the bar top, the very annoyed Benezian bartender. Johnny, drunk and absolutely infuriating. Peter, not drunk, but no less annoying for it.

"Oh wow," he said, remembering how hoarse his voice had been. His throat felt scratchy in sympathetic memory. "We screamed at each other for like an hour."

It had been exactly an hour and twelve minutes, plus a spare handful of seconds, but who besides Peter was counting.

"We got kicked out," Johnny snickered, tugging his fingers through Peter's hair until it stood on end.

"You filled my room with Bajoran oatmeal and gagh the next day," Peter said, nose wrinkling. One of the downsides of his brain: he could still remember the smell. "Two feet of it."

"The things I did to that replicator," Johnny said dreamily.

"I tried to figure it out," Peter confessed. His eyelids felt heavy; he let them fall, rolling over so his chest was pressed to Johnny's back and their knees fit together like puzzle pieces. "I could never work out what you did to bypass the safety. I was going to rig a tub of Cardassian fish juice to fall on your head."

"I have the touch," Johnny said. "You're not going back to your room?"

Peter stilled. "I can go -"

"No," Johnny said, fumbling for Peter’s arm. He draped it over his waist. "No. Stay."

[utanoprince-imagines]

To my dearest person, happy birthday

Prompt: Spending the day with Reiji on his birthday

Characters: Kotobuki Reiji, reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1,270

Warnings: None!

A/N: To my best boy in utapri, happy happy birthday! Just like the title suggests, Reiji is a character I hold dear to my heart and honestly I don't think any words are able to express how thankful I am that I got to know about him. For being my emotional support and for bringing out the best in me, thank you Reiji <3

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25217902

You woke up to a strong pair of arms wrapped sturdily around your waist, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against your back. The sound of his breathing was steady, letting you know that he was in a deep slumber. You reached out and grabbed your phone from the side table, unlocking it to check the time.

9.13am. Still early, especially considering that Reiji was at the company until the early hours of the morning celebrating his birthday with the members of Quartet Night and Starish. 

Your lips formed a smile. That’s right, today was his birthday, it was his special day. It wasn’t the first time the both of you celebrated this day together, in fact, this was the fifth time you would be celebrating this special occasion. But every year, you made sure he felt special. Of course while you had plenty of ideas in your head on how the both of you could spend the day, you ultimately left it to Reiji to make the final call. 

You figured that it would be a good idea to start off his day by making breakfast, you didn’t want your boyfriend to wake up feeling hungry after all. You reached down, carefully trying to pry his arms around you, but that only resulted in him clutching you tighter than before.

You heard mumbling coming from behind you, something along the lines of “you aren’t allowed to leave the bed until you fulfill my daily cuddle quota”. Turning around to face him, you greeted him gently with a simple “good morning”. Reiji’s face immediately lit up, his eyes forming crescents. His hands finally released themselves from your waist and went up to cup your face, pulling you into a kiss.

“Good morning, my love.” He whispered. 

“What do you want to do today?” You asked.

Reiji slipped into deep thought, with you lying next to him waiting in anticipation, whatever he wanted to do, no matter how random, you were sure it was going to be great. 

“Okay I have two ideas, either I spend the whole day with you, or I spend the whole day with you” came his reply. 

Oh god.

“Reiji!” You jokingly scolded him, breaking out into a giggle nonetheless at his silly antics. 

“Really though, I’m actually kind of burned out from last night, so spending the day at home would be good, it would be nice to unwind once in a while.”

“Of course, whatever you wish for, but please let me go to the kitchen to cook breakfast?”

Reiji shot you a small pout, and you promised to give back his cuddling time when the both of you settled on the couch to watch television later. Only then did he finally let go of you.

Turning around to close the door shut, you saw him retreat back into the warmth of the covers, a small portion of his brown hair peeking out from beneath. 

Reiji awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, his favourite beverage to start his day. Throwing the covers off himself, he made his way towards the kitchen. Standing at the kitchen door, he couldn’t help but smile as he saw you gently scoop a teaspoon of sugar into his black coffee - exactly the way he liked it. Next to you on the counter top was two plates of breakfast. However, it was different from his usual rice and side dish. You had cooked up more of an English breakfast. A beautifully fried sunny side up, together with sausages and slices of toast. 

Reiji vaguely remembered telling you how he missed the food he had when he was travelling in the UK. While it was no surprise to him that your sharp memory often caught even the most minute details of every conversation you had with him, he was still giddy with happiness each time you surprised him like this. 

Walking towards you, his arms once again found his way around your waist, he knew he was being awfully needy today, but it was his birthday after all and he could do whatever he wanted to right? 

“Oh Reiji! You’re awake!” You smiled, passing him his coffee, which he gladly took a sip from. 

The two of you brought out your breakfast plates to the small dining table. You set your cup of tea down on your left, and Reiji set his cup of coffee down opposite your tea cup. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t add milk in your tea today,” Reiji commented. 

“Wasn’t feeling it” came your reply, as you took a sip from your cup. 

As the both of you began on breakfast, Reiji couldn’t stop commenting on how good your food was and how it could rival those he had in the UK. You figured he was just being nice (and mildly excited). Even though you grew up in a household which had this sort of breakfast once a week, you believed that your execution of this dish was still a far cry from the locals. 

“So… what movie do you wanna watch after this?”

Reiji took a brief pause as he sat there thinking, his mouth still actively chewing on the toast he just took a bite from. 

“A dog’s journey”

“Wasn’t that the movie that you refused to watch when it was in the cinemas cause you knew it would make you bawl.”

“But look if we watch it now the only person who would see me cry is you, and that’s okay with me.” He argued.

You chuckled and took a bite from your breakfast. Reiji was silly, so silly sometimes, but you loved him for it. 

Snuggling into the sofa together, the two of you began watching movies one after another. True to his word, Reiji was left bawling after watching ‘A Dog’s Journey.’ But Reiji wasn’t the only one who was left crying after the movie, as you found yourself grabbing tissues to wipe your tears before giving up and using your hands. 

Afterwards the both of you were reduced to fits of laughter from watching ‘Deadpool’, and stared in awe at the action scenes ‘Kingsman’ had to offer. Before you knew it, you were snuggled up even closer to Reiji when he decided to watch ‘The Conjuring’

Quick enough, the day was coming to an end, and while Reiji had no doubt enjoyed himself, you were about to make his day even better. Reaching into your wallet, you pulled out a small brown envelope and passed it to your boyfriend.

With his long slender fingers, Reiji pried open the envelope slowly before pulling out the contents from inside.

Two plane tickets.

Specifically, two plane tickets to the UK. Reiji held the paper in his hand, his brain trying to process what was going on. He blinked. Once. Twice.

“We’re going on a holiday?” He finally said.

You nodded excitedly, explaining that you already had the permission from the company to keep his schedule free for the end of the year.

“It’s been a while since we went on a trip together, and I know it's part of your bucket list to travel to the UK together so I thought it would be a good chance.”

Without muttering a word, Reiji left the tickets on the coffee table and pulled you into a tight hug, one that was loud enough to express all the gratitude he had for you. 

Pulling away, he gazed into your eyes, a faint smile dancing across his face.

“To my dearest person, I love you.” He said.

“And to my dearest Reiji, happy birthday.”

[fmdjaeyeol]

word counts: 274 + 260 + 276 + 320 + 251 + 261 reward: +5 tracker points

assuming your muse has changed in some way, be it internally or as a result of a change of the external factors around them, how is your muse different? these can be as small as an opinion on a song they hadn’t released previously or as big as a major change in their background.

jaeyeol changed the most out of all my muses admitted. there’s been a couple major switches with them. the biggest one is the change of pronouns that yeol is using (which are they/them/he/him) in addition to the bit of a gender crisis they’re having at the moment. they view of gender was always a bit skewed because of their parents, mostly their dad and all the rather conservative and religious beliefs he has. it took jaeyeol years to accept that they were queer and interesting men/male-presenting people, and still they struggle to admit that out loud even in spaces where they know no one will judge them. honestly i don’t think jaeyeol though much about gender and how they perceived their own gender, and honestly neither did i. it kinda hit me out of nowhere too, so that’s the story that jaeyeol is also getting. for now, they’re still very confused and have no idea what’s going on and the story here is that jaeyeol is testing out new pronouns to get a full idea of how not being perceived as only male makes them feel within space they’re comfortable in and giving everything a good, long Think. 

other changes include yeol being a year younger now, it never felt right to have them as a 97 liner tbh so i bumped it down a year and moved the date a couple days back as well. and of course jaeyeol got a faceclaim change. lastly, they are no longer a main vocal, they are now a dance and rap legend ft occasional vocals and honestly i love it for them. 

what does your muse think of their company and their group?

in short, jaeyeol likes catalyst overall. the music and lyrics are a bit weird some times but honestly it works for them somehow, and it also fits well with their personal style of dancing, which they’ve been able to bring to the forefront in helping choreograph for songs. the group has allowed them to continue to explore dance styles as they’ve choreographed and tried to figure out things that wouldn’t just work nicely for himself but also all the other members and how they dance. in addition to liking the general concepts and music, they’ve made some friends along the way, which is always nice. in terms of how they feel about gold star, just like every idol probably does, jaeyeol would like to fight them sometimes for the decisions they make or the way they lay out catalyst’s schedule, and their favorite pass time is stressing out their poor manager. though there’s no boiling hatred or anger towards anyone and they’re just vibing. all of this is pretty much the same way jaeyeol felt towards dimensions/unity prior to the restructuring of everything. the only real difference there is that previous jaeyeol was a bit salty they weren’t getting solo schedules and opportunities but that’s different now (maybe because i’m getting better at making claims and establishing what i want to do with my children, maybe not, the world may never know). so yeah, like i said, generally jaeyeol is pleased with catalyst and their success, even if that success isn’t what gold star has initially expected of them. 

is your muse on their first contract or their second? if they’ve renewed, what were their feelings around that at the time and what were their hopes for their second contract? if they haven’t renewed, what are their current thoughts on the end of their eventual first contract?

catalyst is still on their first contract, having debuted only in may of 2018. they haven’t been around long enough to move out of their dorms and jaeyeol is still stuck with a roommate and no pet to love on. their first contract renewal isn’t going to be happening until 2025, so both yeol and all the catalyst members have lots of time to think on what they want for their futures. jaeyeol is very appreciative of the fact that it’s still a good few years off because honestly, they have not a clue what their thoughts are on the end of their first contract. it’s weird for them to think that they would have dedicated seven years of their life to catalyst by then, and almost a full decade in total once you factor in the amount of time they spent training prior to debut. the few times that they have thought about this contract ending and them potentially signing onto another seven years spent at gold star has resulted in them going back in forth onw hat they want to do with their lives. on one hand, money is great, but on the other they could potentially have a successful solo career and be doing their own thing. also they’d be thirty-four years old by the time the end of a secret control rolled around to an end and ideally jaeyeol would like to have done the whole settling down, got married, and maybe even had a kid or two by that point. it really isn’t appealing to them to still be bopping around and going woo woo woo woo firetruck at that point. 

what are your muse’s goals and motivations?

jaeyeol’s main goals right now are to continue what little bit of a solo career that gold star has let them begin to build. it was just doing some choreography for catalyst but now they’re also being allowed to do modeling projects and expand more outside of the group, which is something that they are firmly enjoying. it’s not that they don’t love catalyst and being a member of the group, but they also like the idea of having an established solo career that is separate from just being an idol so that when catalyst eventually comes to an end sometime in the future, they have something to fall back on and rely on. i guess this is also their motivation in many ways. stability is something that they never really had growing up, which is odd considering that their family was well off in many different ways, but still, they want something more for themselves than the environment they grew up in, which was rather unpleasant. their current goals in relation to that is just continuing to grow and try more things, eventually they want to go on and start choreographing outside of the group and for other groups and maybe even solo songs if the opportunity arrives. in addition to their motivations i mentioned earlier, jaeyeol also just wants to like have something to take pride in and prove to people in their life that were trying to steer them in an entirely different direction where they didn’t want to go, that their happiness was most important and that they could be successful and respected even if they hadn’t gone on to be working a standard desk job or become a doctor or lawyer. they just want to be more than what they thought they could be while growing up and maybe one day be confident enough to speak out more and motivate others to do the same.

what is one conflict, internal or external, that your muse is currently dealing with, has recently dealt with, or will need to deal with in the future?

i touched on this fairly extensively in the first question honestly and explained the one real large ordeal that they are internally dealing with at the moment, and to reiterate, that is their gender and their gender expression. the idea of being anything other than male had never crossed jaeyeol’s mind, let alone potentially questioning their gender to a point of going outside the standard binaries. on top of doing that all in a country where something like that isn’t a widely accepted or supported thing. they thought the only struggle they were going to have like this was their sexual orientation but at least, they were proven wrong. the conflict was brought upon because of me actually and suddenly i realized that i was naturally using gender neutral pronouns to refer to jaeyeol and took it as a sign that my brain was trying to tell me something. so here we are. the idea of jaeyeol questioning their own gender crosssed my mind briefly when i first conjured the image of the muse in my head but it was never any substantial thought, but apparently i had the thought for good reason. and like i also said earlier, they’re testing out the whole option of being non-binary and being perceived as such with those closest to them, including their partner and friends as of right now. though they have no idea where they would be on that spectrum, in terms of whether they feel like they are agender, genderfluid, etc.

if your muse has established career claims, what are their thoughts on their career so far? if they do not, how do they feel about not having individual activities yet? what would they like to do in the future, if anything? if they don’t have ambitions for individual activities, explain why.

jaeyeol is living their absolute best life in their career right now if they were to be straight up asked, even though it isn’t much of a solo career outside of their group in the way that people would probably think about having a solo career like having solo music (which is something they aren’t super interested in honestly). the only things that they really have done on their own is some solo magazine covers because gold star media finally came to their sense and realized that they have that absolute beauty that is jaeyeol jeon and are putting those looks to great use other than being (arguably) catalyst’s center or one of the unofficial center’s of the group. so far there’s only been two but they look forward to doing many, many more in the future when the calls come in asking for them. the other part of their established career claims come from partial choreography claims on a few of catalyst’s tracks, including: firetruck, cherry bomb, simon says, and kick it. the list is short but in my brain they’ve been doing their own dance choreographies to songs on instagram/ social medias as well, those are just some of the real official things they have their name attached to at the moment. both of those paths are ones that they would like to continue on with and hope they get to for a long time. the next step they would like to take is choreographing for other groups or people so they can keep expanding their talents and abilities.

[suchalovelydisaster]

The King- a Sanders Sides Fanfic

What was Creativity like before he was split in two parts?

Link for ao3

Words: 1898

Terrifying. Inappropriate. Unwanted. Intrusive. Disruptive. Creativity replayed these words in his mind several times over. It was not uncommon for him to be shot down every once and a while by the other sides. Most commonly, these words came from Anxiety. But now these insults grew more frequent and became more attacking in tone. Goddamn Anxiety. He might as well be called ‘paranoia’ with the way he treats Thomas.

Anxiety’s presence had become more and more prominent over the last few years. By the age of fifteen, the King believed he held more sway over Thomas than any other side. Despite Logic doing his best to overrule any negative feedback that was presented by the other side, Anxiety worked his hardest to make Thomas feel more alone than ever before. Now, the King of Creativity must do his best to work Thomas out of this grave Anxiety has dug.

As he used his skills to aid Thomas in conjuring fictional worlds, he found the other side would retreat into his room. When the King would exercise his rights to fully take over. He could send Thomas into daydream mode and allow him to be free of whatever would trouble him.

Daydream mode, however, sometimes came with side effects. Once daydream mode began to fade out, toward the ends of Thomas’s day, vivid nightmares would occur. As Anxiety was able to re-emerge into the mind palace, the visions of fairytale creatures would morph into horrific alternate versions of reality. Realities in which Thomas did things that would have dangerous consequences. Visions where Thomas hurt those he held dear and had always been kind to him. Fear and paranoia would take the wheel and lead Thomas into late-night spirals that were difficult to escape.

As the night would go on with Thomas losing precious hours of sleep daydream mode could finally fully dissipate. Leaving the King vulnerable to whatever criticism he would soon face. The sides could finally retire to their rooms after Thomas finally fell soundly asleep. But sometimes the King would overhear things said by the other sides.

“I feel terrible for the poor kid, honestly.” He heard Morality say once. “He can escape for a little while and is then thrown into a spiral of terrifying visions.”

Terrifying, The King thought. Morality thinks what I can do is terrifying. A rush of guilt came flooding over the side. His purpose was to be Thomas’s creative center. He was supposed to help Thomas, not become a hindrance to his everyday life.

He flashed back to a time when Thomas was quite young. Elementary school, you would write a story and illustrate it. Thomas was never excellent at drawing but, as The King of Creativity, he would try his hardest. The details of the story were fuzzy to him but he remembered an illustration of Thomas electrocuting one of his older brothers. The King had imagined it as a funny joke, which is what Thomas’s classmates saw it as. Unfortunately, Morality did not see it that way. The King was told that it was inappropriate and terrible to even joke about hurting a loved one.

Despite this warning, years later, Thomas would be faced with nightmares worse than what his innocent third-grade sketches could ever predict. The thoughts of performing a heinous crime that he had read about in a crime-novel or speaking about his deepest secrets to those who would use it against them. Fear of alienation would stop Thomas from speaking about what he thought about.

Soon, a day would come when Anxiety would approach Creativity after a daydream mode experience gone awry. He had said to the King, “I heard Logic use a term to describe what happens to you toward the end of your little brainstorming sessions,” He had begun. There was a harshness in his voice, he also sounded mildly taunting, like he was going to say something the King wouldn’t like. “He called them Intrusive Thoughts.”

Intrusive Thoughts. The King looked at the darkly dressed side in front of him. “What does that mean?” He had asked. He knew that, if it were important enough for Anxiety to tell him this, these words did not have pleasant meanings.

“To my knowledge, the word ‘Intrusive’ means something along the lines of disruptive or unwanted.” Anxiety replied, his voice was eerily calm.

It was disconcerting to see the side that was responsible for Thomas’s fears speaking with such a mild tone. From an outside perspective, it was obvious Anxiety was trying to get under Creativity’s skin. From the perspective of the King, it was working.

“Take that as you will, your Highness.” Anxiety shrugged and walked away from Creativity. Leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Anxiety’s words ran through the King’s mind for a long time. Even as he prepared to go to sleep, the remarks haunted him. Now, as Thomas faced another restless night, so did the King of Creativity. As time passed, the King heard the other sides express their concerns about Thomas’s wellbeing. They blamed Creativity for the ways Thomas’s mind would sway to writing something unpleasant or dark. They would tell Creativity that they needed to have positivity and happiness in order to cancel out the effects of Anxiety’s fear. And despite some very good brainstorming sessions in daydream-mode, there was also the stray few that would end in disaster.

Intrusive...disruptive...unwanted. Anxiety’s words, once again, ran through his mind. The King was now feeling shameful and guilty about how he was trying to help Thomas. This time was different from the others, however. This time, the feeling was not gone in the morning.

As the sides began their days, the King woke up still feeling guilty about the night before. He began growing afraid to engage in daydream mode for fear of the consequences. This, however, left both himself and Thomas feeling worse than usual. Soon, his only form of escapism for Thomas was gone. He began growing more distant from the other sides and was unconsciously isolating himself. His insecurities began to get the best of him. There would be times when he would duck out entirely, in order to avoid judgment.

Thomas’s imagination was stuck in a slump. Normally, he was incredibly creative and could write a story with ease. Writing was one of the ways he escaped his anxieties and the rest of his troubles. Now, he was stuck in a place where he couldn’t think of anything to write and was falling deeper into his fears and worries.

One night, the King had come out in order to alleviate Thomas’s stress, after a particularly difficult day. He had hoped that emerging in dire circumstances would lessen the chances of things going wrong toward the end of daydreaming. The King saw the look of surprise on Logic’s face as he asked to enter daydream mode. He never asked for permission, however, he had thought that asking for permission would be less disruptive.

Everything was seemingly going according to plan until daydream-mode began to fade out. Thomas’s ideas of drafting villainous characters began to shift into thoughts of himself as the villain; wreaking havoc on the relationships he had worked so hard to build up.

As Creativity saw what was happening, he panicked and retreated into his room. He abandoned daydream mode without hesitation. Leaving the other sides to deal with the aftermath of another disaster. As he disappeared into his room, the King broke down. He heard the words of the other sides running through his mind. Terrifying. Inappropriate. Unwanted. Intrusive. Disruptive. The King paced back and forth throughout his room. Thoughts were rattling inside his brain.

Am I hurting Thomas? How can I get rid of all of these horrific ideas? I can’t keep putting Thomas through all of this. What is the point of trying to help? Would it be better for everyone if I just was gone for good? His mind raced with questions and fear. How ironic, the King thought. I have now become the anxious and insecure side.

With that thought, the King collapsed to the floor. Gripping at his bedframe for stability, began to sob with his thoughts becoming even more frantic. What is wrong with me? How do I fix this? How...? Why...? What...?

Without any warning, he was enveloped in darkness.

He was alone, standing by himself, in a void. His head was ringing and he felt like the world was spinning around him.

“Get rid of the bad creativity.” He heard his own voice echoing throughout his mind. “Fix yourself.” It now echoed.

Suddenly, the King felt a sharp pain go through his entire body. Almost as if he was being ripped apart. He screamed in pain and fell to the ground.

He was still surrounded by darkness, thus causing the pain to be even more concerning. What is happening to me? The agony continued, as the colors of red and green flashed in his vision causing him blacked out again.

Two boys woke up on the floor of the King’s bedroom. One dressed in white with a red sash. The other dressed in black with a green sash. The looked at each other with the same fearful expression.

“Who are you?” They both asked at the same time.

“I’m Creativity.” They both responded. They both talked about the memories that they had leading up to that point. The pain and then waking up to the sight of each other. They talked about who most likely represented good creativity and who represented bad creativity. They decided that they were twins and a result of the King’s breakdown.

“Does this mean that we’re both the King?” The side in black and green asked.

“I think I’m more of a prince now,” the red and white side responded. “Since neither of us is fully the King anymore.”

“Well, if you’re a prince the I’ll be a duke!” Exclaimed the boy in green and black.

The Prince decided to call himself Roman. He decided that the Duke would be called Remus. Their names were similar to the twins Romulus and Remus, in Roman myth. Because the prince represented “good��� creativity and Romulus was who Rome was named for, the prince decided that Roman was a good fit.

As time would go on, Roman would become the prized brother. He was “Good Creativity” after all. Remus became rejected, taken in by Deceit, and the other sides that were considered to be bad or harmful to Thomas. The Prince seemed to forget the trauma that caused the King’s split. The Duke, however, would harbor those memories for a long time after being shut out by the “good sides.”

Later in Thomas’s life, Anxiety would become one of the “good sides” too. The side that caused Creativity the most pain before the split. Soon, Remus would grow aggravated by the amount of attention Anxiety was getting by the good sides. As Deceit would also make more frequent appearances in Thomas’s decision making, Remus grew more fearful that he was becoming the only rejected side left.

Remus decided that sooner or later he was going to get the attention he craved. He didn’t give a damn if he was considered a “bad side,” he just wanted to be heard and have his voice be listened to. He decided to use his own daydream mode.

[skylarmoon71]

Cisco Ramon Imagine

Disclaimer: I don’t own the flash.

“I feel like you guys should maybe find a more secure way to protect STAR Labs. “ Once again the facility had been broken into. It was starting to get ridiculous. Cisco was cuffing the meta as Barry transported him to Iron Heights. “One of these days.” Cisco said picking up the pieces of broken tech that were a result of Barry’s battle with the meta. 

Apparently this one was quite handy, melting down material with his hand. He’d almost destroyed a few of the computers. It took Barry at least ten minutes just to get close enough that he didn’t get incinerated in the process. You were a new addition to Team Flash. 

You were originally a scientist at Mercury Labs. But after your near death experience with the fake Harrison Wells as you found out, you agreed to help them stop the reverse flash. Barry ultimately agreed because you’d pretty much seen his face and the extra hand couldn’t hurt. So you worked in Mercury Labs, but also contributed when you could to Team Flash. 

It wasn’t long before the Reverse Flash was apprehended. Yet, you still offered help to them. You’d become somewhat attached, especially to a certain geeky engineer. 

“Hey you gonna help or what?” Cisco’s call brought you back from your little trip down memory lane. You started picking up pieces of metal and scattered papers with him. Every few seconds your eyes would stray. You loved his little pop culture references and even the constant banter between him and Harry. It was so entertaining. 

“I see your technology has failed again Ramon.” Harry’s condescending voice made the young male jump up. And so began their little feud. You just watched as they threw insults back and forth. They were like an old married couple. You definitely had a thing for Cisco, but you were pretty sure if he and Harry became a couple you probably wouldn’t mind. You giggled at your own thoughts, drawing their attention. 

“Something funny (Y/N).” Harry’s icy tone made a chill run through you. 

“N-Nothing!” Damn that guy was scary. He gave you a hard look for a few more seconds before walking off. You puffed out a breath grinning at Cisco. “What’s got his knickers in a twist?” Cisco smiled at your joke. “Hah, good one. Honestly who knows. Guy’s got problems. Probably been a while since he got laid.” you flushed looking down. “Y-Yeah.” you agreed. 

“A-Anyway, I have a lot to get done tomorrow so I guess I’ll see you later. “ you babbled out. You dove out of the room maybe faster than Barry’s ever done. When you were safely away from the adorable man you placed your hand in your face. “Curse you Cisco Ramon!” 

You hated the fact that he had such an effect on you. You had crushes before, but never this bad. After getting to know the person it always just fizzled out. Maybe it’s because all the guys you dated before were the macho types. They were always what you expected, but Cisco was completely the opposite. That’s why it shocked you when you realized your feelings. You left the building that day, trying to sort out how and when you would finally confess so the longing looks and quiet sighs could end. 

~~

“What about you (Y/N)?” your eyes moved back, trying to refocus on the conversation you were having with Caitlin and Iris. The three of you were at Jitters, having some well deserved girl time. 

“What about me what?” you missed whatever they were talking about before. Caitlin was amused at your lack of concentration. “I know who she’s carrying a flame for.” her statement made you nervous. 

“Ohhh, Tell me?” Iris insisted. You tried to see if Caitlin really did know, or if she was just teasing. 

“It’s Cisco.” Caitlin spoke. Your face immediately flushed. “H-How did you know?” 

“Oh please, you look at him like a puppy longing after a bone, I’m shocked he hasn’t noticed. “

Iris clapped her hands excitedly. “That’s so cute, you have to tell him. “ 

“No! Absolutely not, we’re good friends. If he doesn't like me back I don’t want things to get weird.” Iris wore a pout. “You’re no fun. Come on. What if someone else takes him. Trust me you’ll regret it.” 

She was right, what if someone came and grabbed him up. You weren’t sure you could take him giving lovey dovey eyes to some other girl. Just the thought made your heart hurt. “What if things get weird. I don’t want to stop visiting you guys because of tension that might arise. “ Caitlin took your hand. “Trust me, he’d be stupid not to be crazy about you.” her comment made you smile. Iris was nodding furiously next to her. You laughed. “Thanks guys.” 

~~

“Harry, I knew you were the one that broke them just confess!” 

“For the last time Ramon, I didn’t!” Harry and Cisco were eye to eye, arguing about apparently some broken item. When you saw it was the rim of his Vibe glasses you winced. 

“Umm, that was actually me.” you muttered. You stood from your desk, rubbing your arm sheepishly. It wasn’t even your fault. It happened earlier when Cisco was taking off his Vibe suit. You’d accidentally caught sight of him in the middle of changing and the sight was too much for your poor heart to handle. 

In the wake of your confusion you ended up knocking over his glasses. He didn’t even realize and you picked it up just putting it in the previous spot silently. Harry gave Cisco a look, going back to his room to continue the work he’d been rudely interrupted from. You could see Caitlin in her spot, peeking over to watch you and Cisco. 

“Sorry.” you apologized, feeling a bit guilty that you didn’t just break the item but Harry got blamed for your mistake. “Hey it’s okay, it was obviously an accident. I just thought it was Harry being a dick again.” you started laughing and so did Cisco. 

“If you want I can repair the rims. It’s not that hard to fix.” you reached out to take his glasses. As soon as you made contact he gasped. He zoned out for a few seconds. “Cisco, Hey Cisco are you okay!” When he finally came to, he took a few steps back looking at the floor. When his gaze lifted he was staring at you with a weird look. He pulled back his hand, rambling. “I-It’s fine I got it I’ll just...I have to go.” he was gone, and you were left standing there completely lost. Caitlin rushed over pointing at the exit. “What was that about?” 

“I-I have no idea, one minute we’re talking fine the next he’s running away from me like I have some kind of contagious disease. “ Then it dawned on you. “H-He saw!” you shouted. 

“Saw? Saw what?” Caitlin asked. You smacked your head a few times. 

“Damn it I’m so stupid! I-I had a dream about him a few days ago and he must have saw.” from the horror on your face Caitlin could tell. “I’m guessing it wasn’t  exactly PG.” you shook your head. 

“He’s probably grossed out by me. I ruined everything. “ you were on the verge of tears. Caitlin was about to comfort you but you were already storming for the exit. (Y/N) wait!! “ her call was ignored. You didn’t want to be there.

That was the last time you’d been to S.T.A.R Labs, about a week ago. You were starting to run out of excuses to give Barry. Of course Caitlin came by to convince you to just confront Cisco. But you couldn’t. It was obvious he didn’t want to see you. 

Not once did he stop by to even ask why you weren’t visiting anymore. It hurt, more than you would like to admit. You buried yourself into work, choosing to ignore the aching in your heart. You tried to look on the bright side. There was none that you could find. You would have preferred a straight out rejection, that way you would know where you stood. But he didn’t give anything. 

“(Y/N)!!” your eyes moved from their spot on the table to the brunette standing in front of you.

“Barry whats’ wrong?” he looked a little uneasy. “I-It’s Cisco something’s wrong.” your eyes widened. You dropped everything you were doing, shrugging off your lab coat as Barry guided you out of the building. When you were safely out of Mercury Labs, Barry picked you up, running. The next time your feet touched the ground you were running into the cortex. 

“C-Cisco!!” you cried in a panic. The engineer raised his head from behind a desk, looking perfectly fine. He seemed a bit surprised to see you. You looked back at Barry who was avoiding eye contact. “S-She made me.” he said pointing. You expected to see Caitlin, but you were greeted with her chilly counterpart. 

“You kids are going to work this out or I’ll freeze you together myself. “ she threatened. She opened her palms and you could see the frost leaking out. “Alright!!” Cisco said. Frost grinned. “Let’s give them some space.” she instructed. Barry followed soundlessly. When they were gone you just stared at the floor. The awkward silence just dragged on. Finally you couldn’t take it. “Listen Cisco I’m sorry okay. I know I made things weird between us because of what you saw.” He was scratching his head. A long sigh released from him. “N-No it was my fault. I should have just talked to you. At the time I was just a bit surprised. I had no idea that you saw me that way I..”

You bit your lip. “I’m sorry.” it felt like all you could say. He stepped forward, taking your hands in his. You finally looked at him. “I should be the one apologizing. I acted like a kid. The truth is I just couldn’t believe you could see me that way. I thought it was just something my brain conjured, that my feelings were being projected on you.” 

“Wait..your..your feelings you mean you..” he nodded. “I have for a while now. I just like how much we got along, I didn’t want to risk anything. That and I have no luck with girls out of my league. “ you giggled. 

“I’m not out of your league Cisco.”

“Umm yes you are, do I need to make a list of how awesome you are. Cause I feel like you already know.” you just smiled at him. “You’re just as incredible Cisco, you’re a hero for goodness sake. I don’t think any girl could turn down that.” 

“You’re right, maybe I should put that on my tinder account.” you laughed. 

“Anyway, I should have just come out and said something, I’m sorry I ghosted you for a week.” you just waved it off. “I think I’m the one who ghosted you. He pressed a finger to his chin. 

“You’re right you did ghost me. “ He stated. You stepped closer, eyes drifting to his lips.

“I think maybe I could make up for that..” you said softly. 

“Yeah..” he asked. You nodded leaning in. 

“Yeah..” you lips brushed his and he responded instantly, hands moving to your waist to pull you closer. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feel of his body so close. The kiss was better than you imagined. And you’d imagined it a lot. 

“Ramon I need to use your-” Harry’s voice made you both pull apart. 

“Really man, right now!” Harry wore a blank stare. 

“You’re way out of his league.” you snorted and Cisco fumed. 

“DICK!!!” 

[shadow-whisperer152]

Father’s Day (Chapter 2)

(Here is the second chapter of my deceit angst fic! I hope you guys enjoy it!)

(Chapter 1) 

Time passed, as it always does, as it has done since time began. Deceit, along with the other sides, grew up as Thomas did. But their two childhoods could not have been more different. While the Light Sides spent their days playing games, Deceit learned how to put on bandages and ice packs on his bruises. While the Light Sides had sleepovers, building pillow forts with the fluffiest and softest of materials conjured by King Creativity, Deceit learned to stitch together every blanket, pillow, and clothing item he ever used, the fabrics scratchy and rough in his little hands. While the Light Sides had each other to watch over and care for, Deceit had no-one. No-one was there to warn him not to touch the fire when cooking, to hold on to the banister on the stairs, to pick up broken glass with a towel or a rag. With every cut, every bruise, every burn, Deceit learned more and more about how cold and unforgiving the world was. 

Eventually, he learned how to travel within Thomas’s mind. He explored the Subconscious, the Imagination, and most importantly, the Library. The Library was the place where all of Thomas’s knowledge went, with a special section for storing memories. It was here that Deceit first learned what really happened the day he had come to be, in a bright yellow book on the shelf. 

Thomas had been going about his day, playing with King as they ran around the house. All had been well until Thomas had bumped into one of the little tables in the living room, knocking over his mother’s favorite vase. When faced with the broken ceramic and an upset mother, Thomas had lied. Lied and said he hadn’t been running in the house, and there was a bug that he had tried to hit, which knocked over the vase. This was the biggest lie Thomas had told to date, and it had been enough to pull Deceit from being merely a function in his brain, and into becoming a full on facet of his personality. 

As Deceit had spent his first hours of life wandering around the Subconscious, Happiness had made Thomas tell his mother the truth, which had resulted in a scolding and no TV for the rest of the day. “Lying is wrong.” His mother had said, those words carving themselves into Thomas’s mind, as well as the minds of his Light Sides. Happiness had broken down, upset because he hadn’t made Thomas say the truth in the first place, and this was the scene which welcomed Deceit as he tumbled through the door beneath the stairs. 

The lying side remembers the moment in which his tears dripped onto the pages, remembers the feeling of guilt and hate in his heart as he realized he had hurt Thomas, however unintentionally it was. That hurt was soon replaced with anger as he saw the rest of the memory, saw King beating him with a wooden sword, saw as he’d sunk out for the first time in his existence. It had been an accident! He hadn’t known! They never even asked him his name, or what he was doing there, or if he was okay. They had screamed, they had run, they had attacked what they didn’t know, like animals. 

Deceit had thrown the book down and fled the Library, frantically wiping at his eyes. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what he looked like. The first time he’d seen himself in the mirror, he’d wanted to scream. There was something wrong with him, wasn’t there? He didn’t look like the others. One of his eyes was yellow, and filled in strangely. Inside his mouth, two of his teeth were poking out like spikes. Not to mention that half his face had a weird feeling, like mushy sandpaper. It was a different color too, paler and kind of yellow. Over time, he’d realized he wasn’t supposed to see the yellow stuff underneath. With every lie that Thomas told, a new, shiny, hard stone appeared on his face. It took some time for Deceit to learn what scales were, what snakes were, what his pointy teeth were supposed to be for. As time went on, and his face filled out, he began to look more and more like the monster he had been accused of being the first day he’d appeared. 

Deceit grew more and more bitter, resenting his situation, the other sides, his entire existence. It appeared that he had only been put in this Mindscape to torment Thomas, to anger the sides, to promote a selfish and villainous lifestyle. Most days he wondered what use there even was to living as a facet of Thomas’s personality, locked away in the darker corners of his mind, with nothing but his hideous reflection for company. The first time he got his hands on Beauty and The Beast, he cried like the day he’d appeared. This sweet story, so sad and so very true to him, gave him even the tiniest sliver of hope. That one day, someone would arrive at his home, and bring happiness with them. They would bring laughter and smiling and see him as more than just some monster, some dreaded snake who poisoned his host. He just had to be patient. After all, he had all the time in the world. He fell asleep that night, clutching the book like a lifeline, and didn’t have any nightmares. 

He waited, and waited, and waited, barely doing his job and too tired most days to even care. And then it happened. He heard a sound, while walking in the Subconscious. A sad sound, like the one he had heard all that time ago. And, once more, he was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. The small, newborn side lay curled up on the ground, tiny whines coming from it’s body. When he got close enough, he could see it had four eyes and sharp legs poking out it’s back. And he didn’t run away. He didn’t scream, or cry, or try to kill it. Instead, Deceit picked it up with gentle hands, wrapped it up with all six of his arms, and took it home. He would tear down every sheet and rag he had used to cover up his reflection. He would come to the decision that he wouldn’t hide who he was anymore. After all, what kind of example would he be setting, if the new side grew up with bitterness and hate for that which was different? Deceit swore, as he carefully carried the little boy back to the Dark Side, that no-one would ever lay a hand on him. Nothing in the Mindscape would ever tear the tiny side from his grasp, or harm him the way Deceit had been harmed. This was his side now. His son, whom he would love until the end of time.  

His little Virgil.

And there we go! Hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to like, comment, or reblog!

[fleursowl]

hey guys! some of you may not be able to acces the slytherin! remus fic on ao3 so here it is ♥︎

Remus

Remus Lupin was an unusual boy.

Well, no one bitten by a werewolf at a young age could really be considered ‘normal’ (not that there were a lot of werewolf children- they were usually quietly put down), but Remus’ parents, who were slightly more on the eccentric side, had rather helped contribute to this unusualness.

His father, an extremely academic and bright man, had always tried to squash his ambitions from a young age- Remus didn’t yet understand that he wouldn’t be able to achieve a lot of things others could. Positions in wizarding society were not exactly thrown at werewolves, whether they had excellent grades or not.

However, Remus, a young boy full of hope and wonder for the world despite his hardships, simply did not listen. In fact, this discouragement hardened his want, and he nursed a private longing to become Minister of Magic that no one knew about, except for his mother, of course. His exceptionally kind and caring main confidant, always privately disagreed with Remus’ father.

One day after Remus had run out of the room in tears when Lyall had told him he might not be able to go to Hogwarts, she slipped into his room and sat down next to him on his bed, slipping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him into her soft, warm body.

“Why campaign for change, when you can work to put yourself in the position that makes the changes, my little Moonshine? Don’t listen to your father- he’s just worried about you. He’ll see sense and come round soon enough.”

After all, Hope Lupin had high hopes for her son, so much that she decided to forgo sending him to primary and schooled him instead.

She taught him everything she knew, with extra help from Lyall on the wizardry side to help him get ahead on his Hogwarts studies. Hope spent many long nights reading any books around the house she could find, or that Lyall brought back for her on magic and its creatures, so she could teach Remus too.

All in all, Remus was extremely lucky. He had two parents who cared for him massively and would move heaven and high waters for him- which was rare even for normal boys, but add the fact that they had to deal with their only son transforming, against his will, into a werewolf every month and still loved him so much really added to their saintly status in Remus’ mind, especially his mother.

This all resulted in Remus stepping onto Platform 9 3/4 smarter than half of the rest of the first years put together, but without the ability to make friends and very, very sheltered against the outside world. He saw absolutely no shame in sobbing into his mother’s cotton shirt when it came time for him to leave, his father smoothing his hand over his hair soothingly. This resulted in a few sneers from older years, but Remus didn’t notice. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared- he was leaving behind his best and only friends.

However, Remus was strong- no one can go through excruciating pain once every month without having thick skin and a hardened heart. He was brimming with excitement at going to Hogwarts, meeting other people like him, and learning even more about this new and unfamiliar world he had just stepped into.

James

James Potter was a very sheltered and privileged boy. Growing up, he had never wanted for anything or had to work for it- it was just given to him. Regardless, Euphemia Potter had ensured that he was still polite, bright and extremely kind- if he was a bit of a prick, well, then he’d grow out of it eventually.

James swanned along the aisle of the train, practically trembling with excitement. His dad had told him countless stories about the amazing friends he’d made at Hogwarts, and James was extremely eager to follow in his footsteps. He spotted a fairly empty compartment with just a small, mousy haired boy sitting in it, and slipped inside, beaming at the boy and offering him his hand so enthusiastically he almost slapped him in the face.

“I’m James Potter, and I’m gunna be in Gryffindor? just like my dad.” he grinned, shaking the other boy’s hand heartily and practically ripping his arm from his socket.

The smaller boy squeaked, wide eyes looking at James in awe.

“I’m Peter- Peter Pettigrew. I… don’t know what house I’ll be in? Maybe, maybe Hufflepuff?” the boy stuttered, eyes widening even more when James scoffed, shaking his head.

“Nah mate, that’s a house for stoners and nancies.” he declared proudly, not knowing what either of these things were, but instead directly quoting his father teasing his mother over dinner. Peter let out a nervous laugh, nodding.

“Well, if you say so. So Gryffindor is the best house, then?” he asked, but before James could reply, another boy glided into the compartment.

“Hear, hear.” the boy drawled, a smirk tugging the corner of his lip. “Gryffindor for the win.”

Peter didn’t respond and had resorted to melting into his seat to get further away from the intimidating newcomer, but James turned to him with a brilliant grin.

“Finally, someone with sense. And you are?”

“Sirius… Sirius Black.” the boy said more shortly, and James felt his smile fall a little. Black. He recognised that name, and it seemed Peter did too, judging from his squeak of terror.

Sirius huffed, eyes darting between the two boys definitely, and he shook his head quickly. “I’m not like the rest of my family. I’m going to be in Gryffindor.” He said firmly, looking at the two other boys and daring them to disagree with him.

“Alright then, that’s good enough for me.” James said, his grin lighting his face up once again.

“James Potter. Soon-to-be Gryffindor. And this is Peter Pettigrew, he’s a bit shy.” James said, nodding at Peter in the corner. Sirius nodded, but before he could respond the boys were yet again disturbed by another. James looked at the newcomer curiously- he’d never seen anyone like him before. The boy was amber-eyed, with dozens of mysterious silver scars littering his exposed skin, a pink one running across the bridge of his nose.

Something about him just caught James’ eye, and as he sat down next to Sirius, James was struck with how similarly striking yet extremely different the boys looked next to each other.

“James?” Sirius prompted with a raised eyebrow, and James realised he had ignored Remus’ introduction while lost in his own thoughts.

“Oh, sorry mate, I’m James Potter.” he said, sticking his hand out. Remus’ hand felt oddly warm and calloused in his cool, soft one.

“What house do you think you’ll be in?” Peter squeaked out, but Sirius interrupted.

“Merlin, anything but Slytherin. I would rather die,” he said harshly, and James laughed.

“Agreed,” he said firmly, and Peter nodded along eagerly, but Remus stayed quiet.

“What’s wrong with Slytherin?” he asked, a frown on his face.

“Cause they’re all… the worst! My dad says every bad witch or wizard ever came from Slytherin.” James cried passionately. Sirius nodded gravely, a sardonic smile on his face.

“Can confirm that- my whole family has been in Slytherin. Patterns are reliable.”

“But- just because all the bad witches and wizards have been in Slytherin, doesn’t mean that every witch and wizard in Slytherin is going to be bad .” Remus reasoned wisely, though a little bewildered. “The house of Slytherin values being ambitious, which I think’s a good thing. I, for one, wanna become the Minister of Magic someday.” He declared proudly, his Welsh accent thick in his passionate speech.

The other boys sat and stared at him in shocked silence, their brains processing this new information. Luckily the trolley witch came knocking on their door before the silence could get awkward, and they spent the rest of the train journey trading stories about their first signs of magic and scoffing chocolate that James had insisted on buying for them all.

Remus

Hogwarts was better than anything Remus could’ve possibly hoped for.

It was better than the photos, the illustrations, the images he had conjured up in his imagination and dreamt about almost every night- it was the pure essence of magic, the very root of the word.

His breath was knocked from his lungs when the castle drew into sight, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes, overcome with emotion.

“Hey, you alright mate?” Peter asked, knocking him with his elbow. Remus wiped his eyes hurriedly with his cloak sleeve, nodding.

“Yeah. I’m fine, just got some wind in my eyes, is all.” Peter gave him a knowing look but said nothing more, which Remus greatly appreciated.

The sorting ceremony was nothing like any of them had ever seen. Remus had never seen so many people, and they were all confined into one glorious, magical place. His palms began to sweat slightly- he had never been a people person, and the thought of standing up in front of them all and taking the long walk to the stool made him want to throw up. He turned to the side and saw that Sirius was wearing a similar expression, and squeezed his hand slightly as his mother did to him to comfort him in public. Sirius jumped and turned to him in surprise, but before he could speak, his name was called by McGonagall, and he turned back to the front, swallowing nervously. Remus watched the pale boy walk shakily up to the stool, and held his breath along with the rest of the hall as he waited. And waited. Sirius’s face was screwed up in concentration as if he was having a conversation- or battle- with his conscience.

Eventually, the hat roared “Gryffindor!” and there was a moment of shocked silence, before James broke it by whooping loudly, clapping jovially, and the rest of the hall joined in. Remus watched Sirius’ expression as he glanced over to the Slytherin table on his way to the Gryffindors, and winced when he heard the jeers and hisses. Hopefully, his sorting wouldn’t be as dramatic.

After what seemed like an eternity, finally Remus’ name was called out. He walked up to the stool with trembling knees and clenched fists, sitting down on it heavily.

‘Oh, hello. It’s not every day I see one of you.’ A disembodied voice spoke, and Remus nearly fell off the chair.

‘Don’t worry, no one else can hear. Your secret is quite safe with me.’ The voice said again, which wasn’t exactly reassuring. Was Remus going mad?

‘Right then, let’s see. A very sharp mind, yes, full of wit and a keenness to learn. But also very kind, and loyal. And in addition to this, brave and daring! My my, you have a strong mind.’

‘Ummmm… thank you?’ Remus thought, a little bewildered.

‘But ah, what’s this? Minister of Magic, you say?’

Remus sat up a little straighter in excitement, nodding eagerly.

‘I’ll do anything to get there.’ he thought eagerly.

‘Well then, that settles it. Has to be…

“Slytherin!” the hat yelled, and Remus hopped off the stool. He wasn’t sure how long he had been on there, but it felt like ages. The Slytherin table eyed him speculatively, then burst into applause, accepting this scrawny, scared little boy into their midst. Remus hurried over gratefully, sitting down next to a girl he had seen on the train with a shy smile.

Eventually, James and Peter were both sorted into Gryffindor, which didn’t come as a surprise, but he was a little disappointed that the people he thought he’d be friends with had ended up in separate houses. Still, friendships could be formed in any circumstances, Remus thought firmly. He sat up a little straighter, craning over the crowd to try and spot them, and waved at James with a smile when he did.

James glanced at him and then looked back at his plate quickly, looking uncomfortable.

Sirius levelled him with a strong gaze, whispering something in James’ ear whilst still retaining eye contact with Remus, and the bespectacled boy snorted into his pumpkin juice, looking back over at Remus again.

Remus looked away with flushed cheeks, slouching in his seat and feeling humiliation and disappointment curdling in his stomach.

‘It doesn’t matter. You aren’t here to make friends, you’re here to learn, to gain knowledge, to gain power. To prove to everyone that you can achieve the impossible.’ Remus thought firmly, and pushed any thoughts of a brilliant friendship to the back of his mind.

It seemed Hogwarts would be a journey that he was going to have to take alone.

[nayutai]

5 | Linked

⇢ Pairing Taehyung x OC x Namjoon

⇢ Word Count 5.303

⇢ Warnings foul language and heavy petting

⇢ Summary What is meant to be will be. Not even the strongest of evil can stop destiny.

Two and a half weeks of frantic research later and we are still no closer to finding a way to fix the partially broken bond between Tae and I. Elder Ashlyn believes that whatever Antoinette had managed to do before she’d been interrupted partially degraded the bond between us because the burning in my nerves is still intermittent even though Tae is still comatose. The existence of the second bond with Namjoon only serves to further complicate matters. Elder Ashlyn decides to call upon some of the older members of the Council for their assistance.

The group of witches and warlocks barricade themselves in the downstairs study of the French estate. Apparently, the library collection at this residence is larger than the one back at her other residence so the elder witch had opted to remain in France until she and Jimin could come up with some answers. Namjoon and I definitely aren’t complaining as we spend our days exploring the country side. I always make sure to take as many pictures as I can so I can have something to show Tae when we finally wake him up. In the meantime, I make sure to tell him about all of our adventures, clinging to the hope that somewhere in there he can hear me.

Jimin looks stressed when he emerges from the conference room ahead of everyone else. I’ve been sat on a small couch in the hallway impatiently waiting for nearly three hours and I shoot to my feet when he emerges from the room. His brightly colored hair is jutting out wildly in all directions so he’s probably been incessantly running his hands through it even more than usual.

“Jimin, what’s wrong?” I question. My heart beats wildly in my throat at the way his shoulders sag in defeat. Before he even opens his mouth, I know it won’t be good news.

“We know how to fix your bond with Tae.” His face still looks drawn with stress though. There’s got to be a catch somewhere that he’s not telling me yet.

A door clicks shut somewhere off to my right. The sound is followed closely by Namjoon joining us in the hallway. He takes one look at my face and covers my hand in his larger one. The warmth of his skin seeps into mine, keeping me calm and grounded before I get too far off kilter.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? That’s what we wanted.” My voice pitches higher at the end, the fear at what Jimin could say taking over my vocal chords.

He motions towards the couch that I’d been sitting on just minutes ago. His hands find their way back through his hair as he explains everything to us. Apparently, the dark faeries had written a book called the Torquem Contritum, literally meaning Broken Chain. 

“Every spell they faeries ever created to either break or repair soulmate bonds is in that book.” Jimin sounds defeated so I know that there’s something he’s not telling me. Some evil little twist that is holding us hostage at square one despite all of this new information that should catapult us to success. “Unfortunately for us, the book is missing and has been for nearly three centuries. It was stolen by a pack of werewolves centuries ago and no one has seen it since.”

This can’t be happening. Every time it seems that we’re on the verge of a breakthrough something knocks us twelve steps back. My stomach feels like it’s going to fall right out of my ass. Somewhere out there are the answers to all of our problems and we have no way of finding it. Hysterical laughter bursts forth from my lips before I can stop it. This is just perfect.

The search for answers shifts as Jimin and Elder Ashlyn focus their efforts on trying to find the ancient faerie text. The walls of the manor seem to be practically humming with power from the sheer amount of different tracking spells being cast. Even as mere mortals, Namjoon and I can feel the magic in the air. It’s when Jimin sneezes and bubbles fly out of his nostrils that he becomes completely fed up with the lack of results.

“Fuck this.” Jimin shouts as he aggressively shoves away from the kitchen table where he’d been sat eating the stack of waffles I’d made for him. As if sensing that something is wrong, Elder Ashlyn materializes directly behind him. Her eyes are glowing an even brighter blue than normal and they’re narrowed at the back of Jimin’s head.

“You better not be about to do what I think you’re about to do, Park.” To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even flinch at the Elder’s voice suddenly sounding off behind him. If anything, hearing her makes him even more determined to follow through with whatever plan he’s conjured up in his head.

“Well I sure don’t see you coming up with anything better. I don’t see you sneezing bubbles out of your damn nose because your body doesn’t know when to stop doing spells either.” He bites out. His scathing words weren’t directed at me but I flinch at the harsh tone of his voice nonetheless. Elder Ashlyn opens her mouth to respond but Jimin disappears right before our eyes. It happens so fast that I can almost see the void he’d left in the air. Elder Ashlyn pinches the bridge of her nose before she vanishes just as quickly as she’d appeared. Namjoon and I are left staring at each other in stunned silence as we try to figure out the significance of what just happened.

Nearly a week goes by without a single word from Jimin at all. I’ve tried calling, texting, and even emailing but there’s been nothing but radio silence from his end. Elder Ashlyn has stayed mum on the situation for the sake of our “plausible deniability” but that just leaves me even more confused. What would we need to deny? What is going on that could be that bad? Namjoon is just as confused as I am so he’s not exactly helpful beyond emotional consolation. Of course, Taehyung is no help either but he’s a great sounding board for my thoughts.

I’m cuddled up next to Tae’s sleeping form when the sound of the front door slamming shut reaches my ears. It has to be Jimin. It just has to be. Namjoon is asleep in the room next door and Elder Ashlyn has been locked in her study for hours. No one else would have the balls to just waltz through the front door like this other than Jimin.

Sure enough, the familiar warlock is standing in the middle of the foyer toeing off his muddy boots when I reach the entrance. A large sack rests on the floor at his feet. Judging from its shape and the ominous aura it radiates, I can only guess that it must be the infamous book that he and Elder Ashlyn have been searching for. 

“Don’t you ever disappear like that again, you ass.” I mumble into his neck after I quite literally launch myself at him. His arms wrap around me and I feel like I can finally breathe again knowing that he’s back. After everything that we’ve been through together, I consider Jimin to be just as much a part of my family as my own flesh and blood.

“How did you find it?” I ask, motioning towards the bag at Jimin’s feet. He goes on to tell me about how the missing tome was said to have been written in the blood of the dark faeries that authored it. Knowing that, all he needed to do was obtain some dark faerie blood and perform a tracking spell which was easier said than done. To make matters worse he couldn’t cast just any old tracking spell. In order to find dark magic you have to use dark magic. Now I understand why Elder Ashlyn wanted to maintain our “plausible deniability”. The council definitely won’t like this.

“I can’t believe that you really went through with this foolishness.” I startle at the sound of Elder Ashlyn’s voice slicing through the air like a blade. It’s obvious that she’s not happy in the slightest.

“You can yell at me later but I think we’ve got work to do.” Jimin grabs the bag holding the book and offers it to his superior. She hesitates for a second before grabbing it, holding it at arm’s length as though it might grow teeth and attack her. 

“Meet me in the workroom.” For once, the elder witch chooses to walk rather than teleporting herself through time and space to get where she’s going. It’s almost too weird for me to process. Jimin gives my shoulders a squeeze before following directions and heading for the workroom himself. I immediately turn and run to find Taehyung to tell my sleeping beauty that it won’t be much longer now. Our parents are just as excited when I shoot them all a quick text to update them on this latest development.

I don’t see or hear anything from Jimin and Elder Ashlyn for the rest of the day. Late in the evening while Namjoon and I are sat cross-legged next to Tae, telling him stupid jokes, Jimin makes an appearance. My heart clenches at the pinched look on his face. 

“I have good news and I have bad news, which one do you want first?” He questions softly after a minute of seemingly trying to gather his thoughts.

“Bad news.” I reply. Better to go ahead and rip the bandaid off and then placate my sadness with good news.

Jimin takes a deep, shuddering breath before he answers me. “There is a ritual for fixing broken soulmate bonds.” An excited squeal flies out of my mouth as I grip one of Tae’s large hands in mine. Then I remember that I asked for the bad news first.

“How is that bad news?” Namjoon questions with an adorably confused look on his face. We’re both looking at Jimin with hopeful expectations and the reluctant warlock before looks like he’s going to be physically ill. 

“The ritual exists and has been proven to work but both soulmates have to willingly participate and Jess has two. A technical anomaly that shouldn’t exist and because of that once we wake Tae up and totally sever the bond we won’t be able to fix it because her body will reject attempts to create a bond when one already exists.”

The world seems to stop spinning on its axis, bringing everything to a halt as my brain comprehends the news that Jimin has just delivered. This can’t be real life. Just when I thought that things were finally on the up and up it comes crashing back down around me. I feel absolutely numb. I stretch out next to Tae, burying my face in his chest as I cling to him. Jimin has yet to deliver the good news but at this point I don’t really care to hear anything else.

“So what’s the good news?” I hear Namjoon ask as he reaches over to rub my back soothingly. It helps a little but it doesn’t completely ease the ache in my chest. 

“There was a footnote that said soulmate bonds could possibly repair themselves naturally but it didn’t mention whether or not it could happen in the case of a person with two soulmates.” I peeked over Tae’s shoulder at Jimin. There’s hope swirling in the distress I see in his eyes. 

“What do you want to do?” Namjoon poses a question that I have no idea how to answer. 

The selfless thing to do would be to let Elder Ashlyn wake Taehyung up despite the depressing consequences. He is quite literally sleeping away the best part of his life the longer he remains comatose and it’s not fair to him at all. But I don’t want to be selfless. I want to keep him. I want him to always be mine. Who’s to say that the connection between us would ever naturally rebuild itself? My heart and mind are at war between what I want and what I know is right. 

I loving run my hand through Tae’s hair that’s steadily grown out over the past few months. He looks so at peace like this. Blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling around us. I do my best to commit his every feature to memory just as he is now. My heart aches under the weight of what I know to be right. 

A single tear slides down my cheek as I bend to kiss his lips one final time. “Wake him up.”

Jimin looks at me with a questioning look on his face as he and Elder Ashlyn stand at Tae’s bedside. I know what he’s trying to say. This is your last chance. A single tear slides down my cheek but I nod my head. Knowing Taehyung, he is going to be far from happy about the decision I’ve chosen to make but I love him too much to just let him slumber in oblivion like this. He deserves to live his life to the fullest even if that means I have to give him up.

The air above my beloved shimmers and sparkles as the sleep spell is lifted. His face twists up in that cute way it always does when he’s just waking up but his features are twisted up in pain in the next second. He lets out a strangled shout. His back arches at an angle that can’t be anything but painful. I move to step out of Namjoon’s arms to put a stop to Taehyung’s suffering, but Elder Ashlyn lifts her hand and my feet freeze in place. The burning sensation in my arm that had become a constant part of my life fades and fades until it completely fizzles out at the same time that Tae calms down. Elder Ashlyn finally releases her hold on me and I’m by his side before his eyes even open completely. Tae’s jaw is taut as he looks around dazed and confused while I gently wipe at his sweaty forehead.

He coughs a few times to clear his throat, licking his lips as he looks up into my eyes. I feel sick to my stomach. “Baby, what’s going on? Did you stop her?” The worried look on his face increases tenfold when he notices the way my bottom lip starts to tremble. I open my mouth to explain everything that’s happened but the words feel like they’re choking me.

“Elder Ashlyn? Jimin, what’s happening?” Tae cranes his neck to the side to see the witches standing off to my left. Neither one of them will meet his eyes.

“Tae, baby, look at me.” I lovingly cup his face in my hand, taking in all of his features. His one monolid and one double lid. The elegant slope of his nose. His long lashes. “We couldn’t stop her. She…she broke the bond. Our bond.”

“But I thought being under the sleeping spell was supposed to stop that from happening?” His voice rises as he gets more and more hysterical. I’m trying to explain everything about how the sleeping spell only protected him and not both of us like we thought it would when Tae takes notice of Namjoon standing in a far corner of the room trying to go unnoticed. Kinda hard when he’s so tall but the effort was there.

Tae nearly loses it when I tell him exactly who Namjoon is. I’ve never seen him this angry. Ever. If looks could kill, everyone in the room would drop dead in an instant. There was a time when I didn’t think anything could rile him up like this but I see that I’ve found his one trigger point. To his credit, Namjoon takes every harsh word in stride and remains quiet while I do my best to regain control of the situation. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Jessica? You let go of me and everything we had for him? What type of bullshit is that?” I wince at his bellowed words. He’s never yelled at me. Never even raised his voice. I couldn’t have kept myself from flinching even if I’d tried but right now he’s too mad to even care. 

“Tae it’s not like that I promise. Plus, Jimin said that there’s a chance that our bond could naturally rebuild itself.” I try to pacify his anger in the only way I know how but it seems that was the exact wrong thing to say. If we were in a cartoon, he’d be blowing steam out of his ears right now with how irate he is.

“A chance?! You did Antoinette’s dirty work for her based on some bullshit chance?” He yanks his hand out of mine as if I disgust him. “I would’ve preferred to sleep until the world ends if it meant that you would still be mine.”

Jimin and Elder Ashlyn have stayed silent throughout this entire fiasco, choosing to leave the explaining up to me since I know Taehyung better than anyone in this room. Although, that may be up for debate now. 

“Kim Taehyung, you shut your ass up right now and listen. There was absolutely nothing more we could do.” Elder Ashlyn breaks her silence and halts Tae’s tirade in the process. Every pair of eyes is glued to her face. “Whether you remained under the sleeping spell or not, your bond with Jessica had been severed and because of the second soul connection no magic on Earth can fix it. Now you can either get yourself together and do what you can to provoke a natural reconnection or you can go on about your business but what you’re not going to do is berate Jessica like this. None of this is her fault.”

Tae’s head droops forward as he takes in the elder’s words. I know what this means. His anger has dissipated but that leaves nothing but sadness and despair. When his shoulders start to shake with the force of his sobs, I reach forward to comfort him. The pain I felt when Antoinette snapped our bond like a rubberband is nothing compared to the agony of Tae shrugging my hand off of his shoulder. Never has he rejected me like this. Ever. I choke back a sob. What did I do? If only I had been more selfish with my choices. If only I had let him stay asleep. 

“I want to leave.” Tae chokes out after a few minutes. “I want to leave right now.” He looks over my crying figure once more and the pain in my chest only increases with the anguished longing I see reflected in his eyes.

“As you wish.” Elder Ashlyn makes him vanish with a wave of her hand. The tears are flowing freely now as Namjoon gathers me into his arms. I vaguely register the odd sound of air collapsing as Jimin and Elder Ashlyn leave me to my misery. 

At some point, I must have cried myself to sleep because I wake up in an unfamiliar apartment to the smell of bacon frying. There’s wood features everywhere I look so I know I’m not at home nor am I at my tiny apartment near the campus. I follow the smell to a kitchen that is equally unfamiliar to see Namjoon standing over the stove.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He abandons the pan to walk over to me, kissing my forehead softly when he reaches me. “Sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. Thought I’d have time to finish breakfast first.”

“Is this your place?”

“Yeah…” He scratches at the back of his neck nervously before leading me to a stool at the breakfast bar. “I didn’t think it would be a good idea for you to be alone after what happened so I had Elder Ashlyn teleport you back here with me. I hope that was okay.” My mind drifts back to Taehyung and what he might be doing right now. It’s no surprise that tears well up in my eyes once more. I’ve lost my first love and gained another yet I still feel empty.

“It’s fine.” I absentmindedly run my thumbnail back and forth along a small scratch in the countertop while Namjoon continues to cook. 

Everything is definitely not fine. 

I excuse myself back to the bedroom after forcing down a few pieces of bacon and a piece of toast. Namjoon looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, choosing instead to grab one of my hands and gently kiss each of my knuckles before letting me go. My heart swells with affection for the gentle giant in front of me but the fresh wound of losing Tae still stings. There’s only one person who can help me now.

“Hey, baby girl. We haven’t heard from you in a few days. I was beginning to worry.”

“Mom.” The tears that I’d thought had finally stopped flowing come bursting forth like someone had turned on a faucet behind my eyelids the second her voice comes through the phone speaker. She immediately goes into mother bear mode as she tries to interpret my blubbering to get to the root of what’s wrong.

“Send me your location. I’m coming.” I nod though I’m aware she can’t see me and hang up the phone. 

Namjoon knocks lightly on the door, but at this point I don’t have the energy to do anything more than lay in his bed like a starfish and cry. He pokes his head in and immediately crosses the room to wipe your tears away despite the fact that more just keep falling. He whispers something about going to get tissues and water, but I latch on to his arm before he can get too far away.

“No. Please stay.” Namjoon doesn’t say a word as he crawls into bed with me. The solid warmth of his chest. Strong arms holding me close. For once, I feel like maybe everything will work out. For once, I have hope for the future.

I stare intently at the smooth skin of my left wrist. Sometimes, if I stare hard enough, I swear that I can see a faint outline of the the three little letters that used to mark my skin. Today is my twenty second birthday. A day that I thought I’d be spending with the man those three missing letters had brought to me. Namjoon breaks me out of my reverie with a lingering kiss to my shoulder as wakes up. 

Guilt used to overwhelm me with every intimate touch or brush of his lips against any part of me but over the month or so since we left Elder Ashlyn’s sprawling estate I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching. It’s still a process, but I’ve largely come to terms with the fact that my feelings for the gentle giant currently wrapped around me like a koala are nothing for me to feel guilty about. He was always destined to be mine. I’ll always wish that we could’ve met under much more favorable circumstances, but we’re here together navigating the fallout of the chaos of the past year together.

“Happy birthday, baby.” His voice is low and raspy in that beautiful way it always is when he first wakes up. I twist around in his arms until I can properly face him, lovingly tracing the outline of his full lips before covering them with my own. 

“Thanks, babe.” My eyes drift closed as Namjoon peppers kisses all across my face. His talented fingers slip beneath the t-shirt I’d worn to bed to run his fingers up and down my spine, making me shiver. A breathy moan escapes me when he pulls back to shove my shirt up below my chin and exposes my bare chest to his hungry gaze. The chilly air in the room is a pleasurable contrast to his warm hands cupping my breasts as circles his thumbs around my raised buds. 

Namjoon’s head hovers above my chest, tongue seeking my skin when the door bell echoes through my quiet apartment. Were it not for the a strong gut feeling, I would have ignored the uninvited guest in favor of allowing Namjoon to continue to have his way with me.  But I have to answer the door. It’s a pressing need at this point.

“I’ll be right back.” Surprisingly, Namjoon offers up no protest when I extricated myself from his web of lust. I blindly redo the bun I’d slept in so it looks less like I’m just rolling out of bed. 

Frantic energy accelerates my heart beat the closer I get to the front door of my apartment. When I finally fling open the door, whoever it was is gone. I look left and right down the walkway and just barely catch sight of a tall, lanky man rounding the corner to the stairwell. An oversized gift bag in tow. My heart clenches in my chest at the quick view I’d managed to catch of his side profile. I’d recognize him anywhere.

“Taehyung!” My lack of dress and proper footwear is totally forgotten. Nothing short of an act of God could’ve kept me from bolting down the walkway after him. I hadn’t expected him to hear me yelling since he’d already started down the stairs, but the man in question nearly takes me down in his haste to get to me.

He steadies me on my feet only to stagger back himself when I launch myself into his arms. My emotions are all over to the place to the point that my brain feels like it’s vibrating. Taehyung takes a deep shuddering breath as he succumbs to the tears that soak into my shirt. He’s mumbling something into the crook of my neck but he’s speaking too low to properly make out what he’s saying. 

“I missed you, Tae.” I pull back from him to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He leans his forehead against mine, seemingly content to just be in the moment.

“I missed you more than you’ll ever know, Jessica.” 

“I’m glad that we all missed each other, but it’s cold as fuck out here and one of you is barely dressed.” We both jump when Namjoon appears out of nowhere with a blanket that he doesn’t hesitate to throw around my shoulders when Taehyung finally lets me down. “Good to see you again, Taehyung.” 

Taehyung stares down at the hand that Namjoon holds out to him. My heart jumps for joy when he shakes it firmly, accepting Namjoon’s olive branch. I try to stop it, but ever since the state of the weather was brought to my attention I can practically feel the chill seeping into my bones. 

“Okay let’s get you back inside.” The two hulking men on either side of me look more like mother hens as they herd me back into the apartment. 

I find myself quickly sat on the couch as Taehyung and Namjoon continue to fuss over me. Taehyung insists on tea which is met with a swift agreement followed up by Taehyung’s fascination at the wide variety of teas that Namjoon has stocked my cabinets with. The last time Taehyung and I had been in this apartment together our world was crumbling beneath our feet. It’s odd to think about just how much time has changed in the months between then and now. The events that litter our timeline almost feel like they happened to someone else. As I look around my apartment, I spot the large gift bag that Taehyung had been carrying earlier resting on the dining table. 

“Tae, what’s in the bag?” Taehyung crosses the room to bring the bag to me.

“Happy birthday, babe.”

I tear into the bag, shrieking when I lift out a signed Ella Fitzgerald vinyl. It’s obviously an original and not a remastered vinyl which means Ella herself held this record in her hands and signed it. I hug the framed album to my chest in fear that I let go of it for even a second it might disappear. 

“I love it so much, Tae.” I hop up off of the couch, connecting my lips to his before I can stop to think about whether or not I should. Taehyung is stunned for all of two seconds, kissing me back with a ferocity I’ve never felt before. 

Fear seizes me as once again a joyous, carefree moment is interrupted by a burning in my left wrist. I can feel the panic rising up to choke off my oxygen supply at the thought of reliving the hell that we’d just escaped. History repeats itself as Taehyung grabs at my arm when he puts two and two together. Namjoon is by our sides in an instant when he senses the sudden shift in our moods. The frame in my hands nearly tumbles to the ground but I manage to keep my grip on it, tucking it under my free arm. 

“What’s wrong? Jess, baby, are you okay? Is something wrong with our bond?” Namjoon’s words trigger a lightbulb in my brain. Our bond. His initials are emblazoned in my wrist just as clear as the day that they first appeared. My right wrist that is. The weird sensation that had sent me into a mental spiral isn’t the sharp burn that I’d thought it to be. No, this is an itch. An intense and persistent itch beneath the skin of my left wrist. The same persistent itch I’d felt when the letters KNJ had first made their presence known.

Taehyung is still holding my wrist, staring at it in shocked amazement. Jimin had said that this was a possibility but I’d refused to get myself wrapped up in any expectations to ward off any unnecessary disappointments. And yet, there it is clear as day. KTH. Namjoon lets out a whoop of celebration as he pulls both me and Taehyung into a bear hug. 

“Fuck tea! This calls for wine.” He pecks my forehead, clapping Taehyung on the back as he returns to the kitchen for the rest of the bottle of sangria he’d brought with him when he came over last night. 

“You know what this means right?”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder?”

“No, it means you now have two people to yell at you for standing in chairs to reach things, shortie.” Taehyung bolts when I raise my vinyl over my head as if to strike him with it. He screams for Namjoon to come to his rescue as I chase him around the room.

“So she can hit me? I think I’m good on that.” Namjoon takes a sip from the wine he’d poured for himself as he enjoys the show before him. A smart man.

I eventually get tired of running around as I’m sure they both expected, gratefully accepting a wine glass from Namjoon. I pucker my lips up for a kiss which he gladly gives me. He tastes like sangria and pure joy. 

“To happiness and rekindled connections.” Taehyung and I clink our raised glasses against Namjoon’s excitedly. The cheap wine tastes like liquid gold when I tip it down my throat. There was a time when I thought that the love of a lifetime was going to be permanently ripped from me and now here I stand with love two fold. I don’t know how we’re going to make this work but I do know that I’ll do everything I can to make sure it does.