#trigger warning: death of newborn

[un-fish]

This is NOT an excuse to disregard decades of evidence-based safe sleep advice. There is no newborn screening program for this enzyme. There is no way to tell your newborn's levels. There is certainly no way to change or supplement the enzyme levels in a newborn.

So.

Please keep on practicing safe sleep guidelines. If you aren't sure what they are in your country, look them up. Find reputable sources (aka do not listen to influencers). Please please please don't get carried away by this article.

Holy shit.

The cause of SIDS has been discovered.

THE CAUSE OF SIDS HAS BEEN DISCOVERED!

The findings were explained in a study from The Children’s Hospital Westmead in Sydney. From the article…

They found the activity of the enzyme butyrylcholinesterase (BChE) was significantly lower in babies who died of SIDS compared to living infants and other non-SIDS infant deaths. BChE plays a major role in the brain’s arousal pathway, explaining why SIDS typically occurs during sleep.

This is amazing fucking news. The next step is obviously finding a way to screen for it, then a way treat it. But, for now, holy shit. Holy shit!

And for anyone who’s suffered the loss of a child to SIDS, the study’s lead researcher, Dr. Carmel Harrington, said, “These families can now live with the knowledge that this was not their fault.”

[yanderes-galore]

Two different Anons wanted more Maegor, a surprise to me but who am I to deny it ;)?

Original Concept Here (Part 1)

Additional Thoughts 1

Additional Thoughts 2

Yandere! Maegor Targaryen Concept Extended Thoughts

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Violence, Pregnancy, Manipulation, Miscarriage mentioned, Isolation, Blood, Murder, Gender roles, Forced relationship.

The whole point of Maegor having other wives was because he was convinced they were the reason he couldn't have an heir.

So, when he has you, a wife who can successfully give him a babe, he doesn't care much about the other wives he has.

If you're lucky, he'll be merciful and simply neglect them.

However... Maegor may quickly tire of his other wives.

He'll find the tiniest little slip up with them just to have an excuse to take their heads.

He's a cruel king, after all.

You're the only wife he wants if you can give him proper heirs... not misshapen miscarriages.

Many doubt Maegor loved any other wife than you.

After all, you finally gave the dragon what he wanted.

How could he not after that?

So, yes, Maegor would probably be loyal to you as his wife.

When you get pregnant and eventually give him an heir, he knows he has a chance with you.

Maegor would take either gender of babe, although if you had a daughter... He'd probably try again for a son now that he knows you're capable of carrying his heirs.

Which is another exhausting process as you'll no doubt have a few other issues along the way.

Honestly, the process of getting rid of his other wives wouldn't happen until after your successful babe.

Then it's proven you're the one for him...

Anyone else's blood can stain his blade for all he cares...

Which is terrifying if you were close go any of the other wives.

As I said in my previous concept, Maegor is overprotective of his wife.

He expects you to lean into your gender role.

Which for him includes following him around, attending to his needs, and waiting for him in your shared chambers.

While he is known as cruel, he tones it down with you since you are his successful wife.

When you're pregnant, he keeps you secure against him in your shared chambers.

He caresses your stomach and kisses your skin.

He's strangely affectionate with you... But he's the very same man who has slaughtered innocents, burned villages, and silenced maesters for offering advice.

Maegor only looks out for himself... and now you.

When pregnant, you're often instructed not to roam by yourself.

Maegor, when not warmongering, is by your side.

Many servants and guards stay out of his way as he escorts you through the halls.

You're only given the best food and comfort, all to ensure you carry his heir to term.

It's unnerving to see him so affectionate just because you can carry his children.

Part of you fears the fate that would have befallen you if you couldn't.

You're a bundle of nerves the entire pregnancy, even during birth.

However, luckily, your pregnancy is successful and you give birth to a healthy babe.

Maegor is immediately attentive when he hears of the news.

If he was busy, he finishes what he was doing quickly before coming to greet you.

If he was away from the castle, he mounts Balerion and flies back to the Red Keep.

Maegor watches sternly as your babe is handled, put into a cradle and waiting for a dragon egg to be placed to bond them to their mount.

Male or female your babe is getting a dragon, however, if your babe is male then Maegor is quick to train him when he's older.

After your birth, Maegor never leaves the bed.

Others are too nervous to tell the king he has duties for fear of some sort of horrendous death.

No, Maegor instead sits beside you and caresses your skin.

He holds you close, peppering your skin in kisses as he holds his wife close.

Afterwards he's staring at his babe in their cradle, occasionally touching the young newborn as if to figure if they're real or not.

You and your child(ren) are the only ones who see him like this.

He cares for you and his babe(s), this is the very thing he's wanted.

He knew you were special.

His special wife... a wife capable of birthing dragons.

Maegor grows more possessive of you once you're a mother.

When your babe is around one or two and given an egg... Maegor no doubt orders the execution of his previous wives.

If they didn't flee to join Jaehaerys, they were killed.

Maegor could care less for his failed wives.

All he can focus on is you and the small babe in the cradle.

Especially when his babe finally gets a dragon of their own.

... Now why would Maegor stop there, yeah?

Much to your dismay, Maegor would push the idea of more babes.

It's a dangerous game... but Maegor would want at least two heirs from his beloved wife.

A son first and foremost... yet he will take a daughter if that's the result of your first babe.

Maegor would be a harsh father on your children when they grow.

It's natural to him.

Yet, if you love anything in this situation, it's your children.

You could hate Maegor for treating you like a broodmare most of your marriage... But you no doubt love your babes.

You often coddle your children and try to keep Maegor under control as they grow up.

Although... There's a good chance Maegor won't... live to see your babes grow up.

For better or for worse.

No, your husband most likely dies on the Iron Throne like the stories say in canon.

Some say you did it yourself, or some other disgruntled subject did so.

Depending on the age of your children, some might even say they did it.

Unless they were still young babes.

Regardless, you and your children would be under the judgement of Jaehaerys I sooner or later.

Many ask for the execution of you and your children.

However, Jaehaerys is merciful.

He doesn't think you'll be much of a threat, much less your babes who most likely dislike Maegor too.

So... That's where your life would lead.

You'd raise your babes mostly yourself, but maybe Jaehaerys will have someone aid you.

Maybe Jaehaerys even helps you raise them or is at least on good terms with them to prevent them from being like their father.

Overall, it's a mostly good ending.

It's just you and your children... along with their dragons whom they have strong bonds with due to their blood

Perhaps, now no longer chained to your cruel husband...

You can be happy and focus on your babes? There's no doubt they'll be useful during King Jaehaerys I's reign, yes?

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Blood singer, part 11

Summary: Y/N gets the answers she's seeking, and a little taste of all she's been wishing for.

Warnings (be mindful of your triggers): injury, blood and death, angst, fluff, grief, swearing, sexual content, mentions of mental health struggles, alcohol, eating disorder, mentions of a period

Pairing: Jasper Hale x human!reader (blood singer), Paul Lahote x human!reader

Word count: 10.8k

Blood singer - Series Masterlist

Three days.

It’s been three days since she last saw Jasper. Three days without a text, without his voice and that gentle, comforting presence he infects her with in every glance, every touch.

She turns her head, staring at her phone like it’s personally betrayed her. No calls. No missed messages. Not even a photo to hold onto.

Not one photo.

In all the time they’ve spent together, in all the stolen moments and whispered promises, they never once thought to take a picture. To capture a moment, any moment really. So now, when she needs to see him most, she has nothing. Nothing but the silence and the sick ache of missing him.

Her fingers curl into the blanket, pulling it up to her chest. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.  And in that unfairness, she can’t help the darkness slipping past her defenses. It’s anger. Anger at herself, at him, at everyone.

She didn’t realize how deep the questions had rooted themselves until they started festering. Until Kim’s words echoed in her mind again and again, repeating like a broken record, unrelenting.

“Because you didn’t know what to ask. And he knew that. But he didn’t offer anything either. And you’re allowed to be angry about that.”

She bites her lower lip hard enough to crack skin, feeling the metallic taste of her own blood. She hates that it’s true and Kim’s right. They all are, because the more people talk, the more she realizes just how little she knows. And she’s supposed to be his mate? Then why is it everyone else seems to know Jasper better than she ever could?

Alice. The Volturi. The newborn army. Bella’s pregnancy. All of it. It’s not just these secrets, it’s a whole damn life he never shared. And she tells herself she’ll bring it up. That next time he walks through the door, she won’t let him sweep her off her feet, not until she has her answers. But deep down, she knows she’ll crumble the moment he touches her. She always does.

The second his fingers brush her cheek, the fight will leave her body. She’ll become weightless, pliable, completely ruined in his embrace. She won’t care what she doesn’t know, not when he’s touching her, not when he’s holding her like she’s the only thing keeping him alive.

Jasper is a weakness. A beautiful, terrifying weakness she can’t fight.

So, she reaches for her phone. She doesn’t text to tell him she loves him. Or to say how much she misses him. No. Not this time.

She types questions, accusing in their bluntness. Her thumbs move quickly, the words tumbling out in a flood:

When did you meet Alice? What history do you share with her? Do you love her? What newborn army did you fight? Who are the Volturi? Why is your family on their radar? Why didn’t you tell me about Bella’s pregnancy?

Her heart races the moment the last question is typed. Her thumb hovers over the send button. She doesn’t press it. It’s just a draft, something she can glance at later if he tries to charm his way around it.

She exhales shakily, going to tap “Save as Draft.”

And that’s when her screen lights up. A message from Jasper. Three words.

I miss you.

Somehow the weight on her chest grows. She holds her breath, trying to stifle the forceful rush in her chest, but a sound escapes her, choked out, something between a sob and a sigh. The message is simple, tender, and achingly sincere. Her heart swells and shatters in the same breath.

She fumbles, desperate to reply with something equally heartfelt, something that doesn’t sound needy, but says everything. Her fingers move fast. But in her rush, with her trembling hands, her thumb slips.

Send.

The questions. All of them. Sent!

“Oh my God.”

She stares at the screen in horror. Her face drains of color. She scrambles upright in bed, clutching the phone like it might explode.

“Oh my GOD.”

The panic hits hard as her hands fly to her mouth. She makes a strangled noise, a gasp, a wail as the weight of what she’s done slams into her.

Her stomach twists. Her heart pounds. The room is spinning around her. She’s pacing barefoot on the cold wooden floor, phone clenched in both hands like she could somehow delete the message through sheer will.

“What did I do?” she hisses aloud, barely breathing. Her skin feels hot, then cold with sweat. Shame rises in waves. Her face is burning, her ears ringing louder than her thoughts.

The message wasn’t kind. It wasn’t fair. It was accusatory, even cruel in how sterile the wording is. And now he has it. Now Jasper will read it, and think… She doesn't even know what he’ll think, but her heart is in her throat. Her ribs ache from the force of her quick, shallow breathing.

Please don’t hate me, she thinks, as if he can hear her now.

She walks to the window and presses her forehead against the glass, eyes squeezed shut. Her pulse is everywhere, screaming in her head, in her chest, in her knees. Three days without him, and now she’s ruined everything.

And worst of all, some part of her, some reckless, furious, desperately hurt part of her isn’t sorry she asked. She just wishes it hadn’t happened this way.

And then he’s there. She doesn’t need to look. She always feels him before she sees him.

“Darlin’?”

His voice is soft, confused, tinged with concern. She turns, eyes wide and glassy, chest still rising in sharp, unsteady movements.

Jasper stands by her bedroom door, hair tousled, golden eyes scanning her with worry. He's in the clothes she last saw him in, but they look a little dirtier, a little more rumpled.

He steps forward, then faster when he realizes the full state of her.

“Oh, Darlin’…” he breathes, crossing the room in a blink.

Before she can even register the movement, his arms are wrapping around her from behind, one arm slotted under her chest, the other around her waist, holding her like the only thing keeping her upright. She shudders at the contact, the sound that escapes her throat filled with relief, and maybe a little bit of heartbreak.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he whispers against the side of her head, voice warm. “I feel it too. I felt your panic. You think I’d let you go through that alone?”

His hand comes up, brushing her hair off her face, then sliding gently over her ribcage. She turns in his arms without thinking, needing more of him. Her fingers grab at the fabric at his chest as she buries herself in him, her body trembling.

He presses his cheek against the top of her head, swaying slightly, grounding her with the movement.

“I just got back. I wanted to come see you the moment I was done and I almost did,” he murmurs, voice still playful around the edges, though she can hear how heavy the emotions are underneath it. “But I didn’t wanna risk it. As good as my control is, I didn’t think we should risk it.”

A kiss lands on her temple. Then another. Softer.

“I missed you,” he says, nuzzling her hair. “Three days without you and I’m losing my damn mind. Wrestling bears in the woods like it’ll keep my thoughts off you.”

She lets out a half-choked laugh into his chest, fingers curling tighter into his shirt.

“Wait… did you actually fight a bear and win?” she mumbles, voice muffled.

“Well,” he says, smiling into her hair, “depends who you ask. I say it was a fair fight. Carlisle says I was bein’ dramatic. Bear says I talk too much.”

She laughs again, weaker this time, but real.

“I thought maybe you replaced me with the poster boy from Heroes,” he says with a grin, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye, his arms still circling her. “What was his name? Peter Petrelli?”

Y/N blinks, snorts, then shoves him half-heartedly.

“I would never,” she says, voice shaking but steadier now.

“I know. But it would’ve been a low blow if you ditched me for a guy who steals powers, Darlin’.” He dips his head a little, his forehead touching hers. “Tell me you missed me too. Lie if you have to.”

She exhales, lips trembling. “I missed you so bad I forgot how to breathe.”

His expression softens further, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. He rests his lips on her forehead for a long moment, then slowly guides her to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Still silent, Jasper kneels in front of her, hands cradling hers gently like he’s afraid they’ll break. He doesn’t speak at first, just looks up at her, his expression open and clear.

Then, as she watches, he bends his head and presses a slow, lingering kiss to each of her knuckles. One after the other.

“I’m not mad about the questions,” he says quietly, voice low and careful. “I should’ve told you things. You deserved to know them without having to pull teeth to get them.”

She looks at him, her eyes glassy again, but the panic has ebbed, replaced with a quiet ache in her chest.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he continues, fingers gliding gently over hers. “You’re allowed to ask. Hell, you should ask. You think I wouldn’t if the roles were flipped?”

Her silence is answer enough.

He tilts his head, gazing up at her like she’s the only thing that matters. “I felt your panic like it was my own. I was on the cliffs when it hit me. My chest just locked up.”

She holds her breath, afraid it would stop his admission.

“I’ve never felt your emotions from so far away before,” he adds, his thumb sweeping the back of her hand. “So I knew you needed me. Didn’t even hesitate.”

“I thought you’d hate me for being pushy about it,” she admits, her voice small, uncertain.

Jasper’s expression doesn’t falter. If anything, his brows furrow deeper, not in anger, but in pain. He lifts her hands again, presses his lips to her fingertips this time.

“Hate you?” he echoes. “You could set me on fire, and I’d still ask if you needed another match.”

That draws a fragile, wet laugh from her lips.

He smiles too, wider now, pleased he’s making headway. “’Besides, your scent’s all but a comfort to me now. You think I’d show up during your period and touch you if I was still fightin’ to keep my teeth to myself?”

She shakes her head slowly, the realization settling in. He’s calm. Clear. Not even a flicker of hunger in his eyes, only warmth, only her.

“I missed you every second,” he murmurs, rising just enough to kiss the inside of her wrist. “And not just your scent that’s drawing me to you. I missed your voice. Your laugh. The way you make dinner and forget it in the oven. The way you talk in your sleep and always kick the blankets off your feet.”

She blushes, lips parting. “I do not.”

“You do,” he grins. “It’s adorable.”

He crawls up beside her on the bed now, arm draping around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her head falls easily against his chest. Jasper’s hold on her tightens slightly, just enough for her to feel the tremor beneath his stillness.

They sit like that for a long moment, her head on his chest, his chin resting on the top of her head, the two of them breathing quietly, enjoying the silence. But her heart hasn’t stopped racing. The words she’s held in for too long are still there, trembling on the edge of her tongue, begging to be freed.

Her fingers shift where they rest on his chest, sliding under the open edge of his shirt, touching the place just above his silent heart. The weight of his past is lodged between them, invisible but suffocating, and her lips part.

"You never told me what she means to you," she says quietly, barely a whisper, but he stiffens all the same. Her voice wavers. "When I would visit Forks, I remember the rumors about you and Alice being a couple. I’ve even seen you two at Bella and Edward’s wedding.”

Jasper doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. His jaw is tight, but his eyes are full of guilt.

“I..." she swallows thickly, sitting up just enough to look at him. "I don’t want to be second best. I don’t want to give you my heart if I’m just a placeholder for you.”

Her voice breaks at the end, and even though she tries to pull back, he doesn't let her. His hand moves to her cheek, anchoring her there. His eyes are golden, glowing with more emotion than she’s ever seen in them.

“Y/N,” he says firmly. “You are never second best.”

His voice is steady. Absolute.

“You’re my first and only choice.” He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering along her jaw. “I loved Alice, I won’t lie to you about that. She was my friend. My family. And for a time, we were a lot more. I still love her.”

Her eyes begin to brim with tears again.

“But I’m not in love with her,” he says, his voice unwavering. “I haven’t been for a long time. What we had ended years before I ever laid eyes on you. Before I ever felt you.”

She inhales shakily. “So then why...?” Her voice rises slightly, raw with hurt. “Why do you keep me at a distance? Why don’t you ever just let me all the way in? I’ve shown you the worst of me, but you hold your past back and I don’t understand why. Didn’t I prove I’d stay regardless how dark it gets?”

Jasper is stricken with her words, his hands gripping hers tighter now. His voice softens to something barely above a murmur.

“I’m worried about overwhelming you,” he admits. “But you’re right. You deserve more.” He leans forward, pressing their foreheads together again. “I’ve been a coward, trying to protect you from the weight of my past. But I see now that protecting you isn’t about hiding myself. Not if it makes you feel like you’re on the outside looking in.”

She says nothing, her gaze chained to his with unwavering attention.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he promises. “Start to finish. Because I never want you to think you’re not my priority ever again. You are everything. Everything to me. I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you, and you have me. Unbeating heart and damned soul. If you’ll have me, it’s all yours.”

She swallows thickly, and he feels the way she softens, the way she leans into the words like they’re the first real warmth she’s felt in days.

“Okay,” she whispers. “But please remember that I don’t want a curated version of you,” she says, voice trembling. “I want you. The whole, messy, complicated you.”

And so, Jasper speaks. He speaks for hours.

They curl into the bed together, her legs tangled with his, her head resting against his chest while he threads his fingers through her hair and tells her everything. His voice never falters. He tells her about his time in the army once he was turned. He doesn’t hide the gore, the choices he made that colored the streets red, the brutal years spent building and training newborn armies. He talks about the bloodshed, the way the memories haunt him, and how Peter, his friend and brother in arms was the one who helped him escape.

He speaks of Alice, how she found him when he was barely hanging on to sanity, how she offered him hope, a vision of something better. He tells Y/N how they tried, and how for the longest time it felt like he was right where he’s meant to be. But it didn’t last, because Alice saw something in a vision…someone, and realized that her role in his life was never meant to be forever.

“She saw you,” Jasper says softly, brushing a knuckle under Y/N’s chin. “Long before you and I ever met, she saw you. And she loved me enough to let me go.”

Y/N is crying now, quiet tears sliding down her cheeks. He kisses them away between stories, never stopping.

He tells her about the Cullen family, about the Volturi’s threats, the newborn army that came for them, about the chaos surrounding Bella’s pregnancy, Renesmee’s birth. He tells her about fighting for his life and the lives of those he loves, promising he’d fight for her if it ever came down to that too.

He holds nothing back except one thing. One truth stays locked inside his mind.

He doesn’t tell her that they met once before. That on that night he cornered her in a dark alley, he lost control. Or how she smelled so devastatingly sweet, so perfect, he lunged before he could think and barely managed to stop himself. That Edward had to erase it from her mind. That he’s carried the shame of it like a brand ever since.

He wants to tell her. But he doesn’t. Not yet. Not when she’s finally looking at him with trust in her eyes. Instead, he holds her. Murmurs reassurances between kisses to her hair and temple. Wraps her up like she’s breakable, precious.

And Y/N, overwhelmed but relieved, finally speaks.

“I want you to know I love you too,” she whispers. “All of you. Even the parts that scare you.”

Jasper presses a kiss to her lips, gentle and sweet. “You have me,” he murmurs. “All of me.”

The room has gone quiet again, a comfortable hush layered in the aftermath of all Jasper’s confessions. Y/N is still curled into his side, legs tangled with his under the blanket, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the line of muscle along his stomach where his shirt has ridden up. The silence is warm now, thick with things unspoken but not heavy.

Still, something tugs at him. That scent; salt and pine. Familiar and unwelcome. It clings faintly to her skin, sharper than her usual scent.

Jasper shifts, not enough to pull away, just enough to study her face better, fingers brushing back the wisps of hair falling across her cheek. He presses a soft kiss there, lets it linger longer than necessary.

“You smell different tonight,” he says casually, nuzzling the curve of her neck. “Like… the ocean breeze.” His lips brush her jaw as he adds, “And the forest after it rains.”

She hums, amused, but doesn’t answer. Just slides her hand higher along his side, smoothing up his ribcage. “That a compliment or are you trying to tell me I stink?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not unpleasant,” he says, light as air, “just... not you. Not entirely.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I took a detour through the woods and bathed in seafoam.”

He chuckles, low and playful. “Mm. Must’ve stopped to roll in it too, darlin’. You’ve got traces of wolf on you.”

Y/N stiffens just slightly, barely perceptible to most, but Jasper feels the tension ripple through her body like a current.

“A wolf?” she echoes, trying to keep her voice casual. “Like… an actual one?”

Jasper’s hand moves to her lower back, slow, deliberate. He draws idle circles there with the pad of his thumb. “No,” he says, feigning thoughtfulness. “More like… a wet dog. A big one. Who’s known to run with no shirt and way too much bravado.”

She snorts. “Wow. You’re getting weirdly specific.”

He smiles, but there’s a sharpness to it now. “Did you, by any chance, hug a certain someone from La Push recently?”

Y/N shifts, eyes narrowing as she props herself up on an elbow. “Is that your roundabout way of asking if I saw Paul?”

He lifts a brow, “Did you?”

“Maybe,” she replies, deliberately vague. “Why?”

Jasper’s fingers trail up her spine now, slow and feather light. “Just curious. You smell like him.” He leans closer, murmurs near her ear. “And I don’t like it.”

Y/N laughs, turning her head so their noses almost brush. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he says far too quickly.

She smirks.

He kisses her before she can push further, a soft press of lips that deepens quickly, hungrily, betraying the possessiveness simmering just beneath his calm. When he pulls back, their foreheads rest together, breath mingling.

“I just think,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “that if a girl smells like another man, the man she comes home to has a right to know why.”

Her smile fades into something softer, more sincere. “We didn’t do anything, Jasper. I promise. I hadn’t seen since the hospital and I didn’t even intend to see him now. It was brief.”

His jaw ticks, just slightly, but he nods. “Okay.”

She cups his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “You could’ve just asked me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to come off as insecure,” he admits.

“You didn’t,” she says. “You came off like someone who thinks I rolled in seafoam and dog hair.”

That gets a real laugh out of him. “I don’t like that he still has access to you,” Jasper says quietly, thumb stroking the curve of her hip beneath the blanket. “That he gets to be close enough to leave a trace.”

Her expression softens. “He doesn’t have my heart. You do.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss just beneath her ear. “I know. But I’m not used to... feeling this much. Wanting this much. It’s hard not to guard it.”

“I’m not a possession you have to protect,” she says, hands framing his face now. “I’m a choice you get to keep making.”

He kisses her again, slower this time. Devouring the traces of Paul’s scent from her lips, her neck, her skin.

“I’ll always choose you,” he whispers. “Even when I’m being petty and sniffing you like a jealous bloodhound.”

She bursts out laughing, collapsing into his chest. “God, you’re the worst.”

“And yet, you keep coming back,” he drawls, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her flush against him.

She rests her cheek over his chest again, sighing contentedly. “Yeah. I do.”

And for now, that’s enough. Even if Paul’s scent lingers a little longer, Jasper clings to the truth in her voice. To the way she’s curled into him like she belongs there. Because she does. Because she’s his.

Y/N traces the edge of Jasper’s collar with her fingertip, letting it dip just slightly beneath the fabric. She can feel his stillness, the way every part of him is trained on her, like he’s memorizing the weight of her hand, the sound of her breathing, the shape of her mouth just before she speaks.

“I love kissing you,” she says, the words shy but certain, barely more than a breath against his lips.

His golden eyes soften, gaze darkening with something deeper. “Yeah?” he murmurs, voice thick.

She nods, then grins impishly. “Maybe I should hang around Paul more often if this is the punishment.”

Jasper’s jaw drops in mock offense, hand flying dramatically to his chest. “Don’t you dare!”

She giggles, the sound lighting him up from the inside, cracking through the tension he’s been holding. He catches her laughter with his mouth, kissing her again, but this time it’s different. Hungrier. Less careful.

He tastes like honey and her favorite ice cream, like something she could drown in if she let herself. Her lips part under his and he groans lowly, just once, letting her relish in the sound of a man barely hanging onto control.

Her hand curls into the front of his shirt, clutching, like she needs something to tether herself. He takes the invitation without question, shifting over her so their bodies align, pressing her down into the mattress with the full length of his weight.

His hand finds her waist, cold fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. She gasps at the sudden chill, her skin errupting in goosebumps, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she presses into him, arching slightly.

“Sorry,” he whispers, though the smirk on his lips says otherwise. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” she murmurs against his mouth, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. His fingers skate up her side, dragging deliberately slow trails of cold fire along her once broken ribs, over the soft skin beneath her bra. She shivers under his touch, her whole body pulsing with desire. Her hands are in his hair now, tangling in those soft blond curls, pulling him desperately closer, deeper.

Jasper groans again when she kisses him back harder, her tongue brushing his, her teeth grazing his lower lip. She can’t bite him, she realizes. His lips are too hard to bite even if she wants to and he’s losing control. Jasper can feel it too, and still, he holds back. Just barely.

He shifts again, this time pressing his hips more firmly into hers, and she feels his bulge now. One hand slides down to cup the curve of her ass, gripping it through the thin cotton of her clothes, possessive and needy all at once. He squeezes, and she lets out a soft gasp, nails raking gently across his scalp.

“Damn, darlin’,” he breathes against her mouth. “If I was still alive, you’d be the end of me.”

She laughs, breathless and flushed, but she doesn’t stop kissing him. Her lips move to his jaw, down his neck, her tongue flicking over the smooth marble of his skin. He lets out something close to a growl, one hand fisting the blanket beside her just to keep from letting it all go.

He wants to devour her.

Wants to taste every part of her, her breath, her sweat, the thunderous song of her pulse fluttering against her throat. But he keeps himself tethered to her smile. That’s what he wants more than anything. Her joy. Her safety. Her trust.

So he keeps his pace slow, savoring every second like it’s all he’ll ever get.

She tilts her hips just slightly, chasing the feel of his bulge against her, and he kisses her again, slow and deep, his hand still warm beneath her shirt. She feels like she’s burning up, and his cold touch is the only relief that also somehow makes it worse.

“You’re not real,” she whispers between kisses. “This has to be a dream.”

Jasper kisses her forehead, her cheek, her temple. “Then don’t wake up,” he says, voice hoarse. “Stay with me.”

Her fingers tighten in his hair, anchoring him. “Always.”

And he kisses her like that promise is the only thing keeping his soul intact.

She’s warm, soft and so fragile beneath him, her legs parting to cradle his hips, fingers roaming with no hesitation now, curious and hungry, just like her kisses. Jasper’s hand slides beneath the fabric of her shirt again, this time traveling higher, tracing the curve of her spine, committing her to memory by touch alone.

Y/N arches into him, and he groans low in his throat, an unspoken plea, a warning, a surrender. His restraint is slipping.

Her fingers curl at the hem of his shirt, tugging. “Off,” she breathes, desperate and sure.

He doesn’t hesitate. One arm crosses over his body, and he starts to lift the fabric, but she’s already moving. With a sharp, impatient sound, she yanks the shirt hard. The buttons pop free, clattering onto the floor like broken promises, fabric tearing. She pushes it open, splaying her hands across his chest and down over the ridged lines of his stomach. She’s always wanted to see him like this; wild and aching, the tension in his muscles rippling beneath her palms like restrained thunder.

“You’re perfect,” she whispers, voice filled with awe and desire.

Jasper leans down to kiss her again, slower this time, but deeper. His tongue tangles with hers, tasting her, learning every inch of her mouth. He grinds his hips into her instinctively, and she moans into his mouth, fingers grabbing onto his back.

He groans, and his hands slide beneath her, lifting her off the mattress just slightly so he can run his palms over the backs of her thighs, up to the swell of her ass. He grips her, pulls her tighter against him, swallowing the sound she makes when their bodies align.

Their clothes are still on and it’s maddening.

Then he moves.

In one smooth motion, he catches both of her wrists and pins them above her head, holding her to the mattress. His eyes blaze as he looks down at her, his jaw tense, lips slightly parted. She gasps at the pressure, at the control, but she doesn’t pull away. Her thighs squeeze around his hips, desperate for any fraction, but the pad is getting in the way. Her lips part as his mouth drags down her throat, pressing wet, open kisses to the skin just below her jaw.

Her breathing is ragged. “Jasper -”

A low moan breaks from her as his mouth lingers at the pulsating vessel in her neck. She doesn’t notice the way he freezes, just for a second. The way his whole body goes still except for his mouth hovering at her skin.

The scent is overwhelming. Her blood sings beneath his lips, warm and alive and inviting. His mouth parts, teeth brushing against her skin.

And suddenly he’s choking on it.

The hunger roars to life, violent and immediate and he’s not himself anymore. He’s back in the war, in the feeding frenzy, in a century of blood and need and loss. His grip tightens on her wrists, and she gasps, but not in pleasure this time.

Jasper jerks away from her like he’s been burned. He stumbles back, lips parted, chest heaving though he doesn’t need the air. His eyes flash black for a split second before the gold returns, shame and horror blooming wide in them.

“Jasper?” Her voice is breathless, confused, still dazed. She starts to sit up, shirt askew, lips swollen, her body trembling with leftover want.

But he’s already backing away. “I-I can’t,” he rasps, voice trembling. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” Her brows furrow, her hand reaching out. “What just happened?”

He’s gone before she can finish. One blink, one gust of air, and the room is silent.

Y/N is left there, heart racing, chest rising and falling as her heart screams his name. Her wrists still burn where he held her, her neck tingles where he kissed her, and her whole body aches with an aching need for his touch. She stares at the empty space where he’d just been, lips parted in confusion and something dangerously close to heartbreak.

“…Jasper?” she whispers into the silence.

But there’s no answer.

--

The house is a blur of color and wind as Jasper crashes through the front door, his face filled with desperation and panic. The walls vibrate from the force, his boots skidding across the hardwood as he stumbles to a halt in the foyer, wild eyed and shaking.

He doesn't have to call out, for they’re already there. Carlisle, Edward, and Alice stand before him, waiting as if they knew, as if they felt the moment he nearly lost everything.

Carlisle steps forward instantly, his face calm but he can’t hide his concern. When he speaks his voice gentle. “Jasper.”

“No,” Jasper chokes, staggering back like the word itself might split him open. “Don’t, don’t be kind to me right now. You don’t know what I almost did.”

Alice moves next, her tiny frame unnaturally still, eyes focused on Jasper’s disheveled state. Edward stays silent for a moment, standing just behind them, watching his brother with deep, haunted empathy.

“I almost bit her!” Jasper roars, fingers tangling in his hair, eyes blazing gold, his mind fractured. “I wanted to bite her!”

“You didn’t,” Edward says firmly, voice low and steady.

“But I wanted to!” Jasper snaps, spinning toward him. “She was beneath me, trusting, warm, her blood singing in her veins and I could almost taste her. I was holding her down like a monster, like a goddamn animal!”

His knees hit the floor hard. He doesn’t even feel it.

Carlisle is kneeling beside him in a second, his hand firm on Jasper’s shoulder.

“I knew she was on her period,” Jasper says, nearly gagging on the words. “I knew, and I still touched her. I still let myself get close. What kind of a selfish bastard does that?”

“You’re not selfish,” Carlisle says calmly, though his heart aches for Jasper. “You’re in love.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Jasper yells, eyes snapping to meet Carlisle’s. “It doesn’t make her safe! I had my mouth on her throat. I felt my teeth drop. I… Carlisle, I saw her blood in my head, I imagined what she’d sound like choking on it, dying. And I wanted it, for a split second. I would’ve done it.”

Alice's voice cuts through the silence, soft but sure. “No. You wouldn’t have.”

He turns toward her, trembling. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Her eyes are glassy, but her voice doesn’t falter. “I would’ve seen it. I’ve always seen it. And I didn’t see it because it never would’ve happened. You stopped yourself. You, Jasper! Not me, not Edward, you.”

“I should never have let it get that far.” His voice cracks, low and broken. “She trusts me, and I-I pinned her down like she was prey. She told me she loves kissing me. She was laughing, smiling and I was about to kill her.”

“You love her,” Edward says, finally stepping forward. “You never felt it this strongly before. Never. Not even with Alice. You’re terrified because you care more than you ever have before.”

Jasper squeezes his eyes shut, his voice hoarse. “And that’s exactly why I kept some distance. That’s why I didn’t kiss her or let her too close.”

Carlisle doesn’t let him pull away.

“Jasper,” he says softly, his tone careful, layered with unshakeable calm Jasper has always trusted. “If you were going to hurt her, it would have happened. But you stopped. You chose her life over your desire. You chose restraint. That’s what matters.”

Jasper's eyes burn. “I could’ve ended her life in a second. She was so soft beneath me, she trusted me with every inch of her, Carlisle, and I-I felt what it would be like to break that skin.”

“But you didn’t,” Carlisle says. “You found your line and you stopped.”

Jasper leans forward, trembling hard, and Carlisle wraps an arm around him without hesitation. It’s rare for Jasper to accept comfort like this, to break. But he collapses into it now, into the arms of the man who’s been a father to him in this life.

“I hate myself,” he whispers.

“You don’t get to hate yourself for being in control,” Edward murmurs, replaying the entire memory he’s pulled from Jasper’s mind. “You forget, I saw it all. I felt what you felt. It was…dark. Really dark. But you chose her. Even when everything in you screamed for blood, you chose her.”

Alice steps closer and kneels beside him too, her small hand pressing against his back. “You’re not a monster, Jazz,” she says softly. “You’re in love. And that means you fight harder. For as long as you have to.”

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look up. He allows Edward in his mind again, trusting him to calm the monster inside. He’s flooded with images of Y/N, some real, others fantasy, but she’s rooting him to his humanity, reminding him there’s hope.

--

She lies there for a moment, breathless, lips parted, the ghost of Jasper’s mouth still pressed to hers.

The sheets are rumpled around her thighs. Her shirt is half-off. Her body is still trembling from the intensity of his touch, the weight of him, the way his hands gripped her, held her like she was something fragile and forbidden and entirely his. She blinks up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling in shallow, shuddered breaths.

But he’s gone. Vanished. Not just out of the room, it seems. She listens for the any sound in the house, hoping to hear his footsteps. There’s nothing. No brush of air, no shift in shadow. Only silence.

“Jasper?” she calls, softly. Then again, louder. Still nothing.

She swings her legs off the bed, reaching for the nearest blanket to cover herself. She grabs the bottle of wine as she pads to the hallway. “Maybe he just needed a minute,” she murmurs to herself, forcing logic into her bones. “Maybe he’s just… cooling down.”

But her feet freeze at the foot of the stairs when she sees the front door cracked open. Not wide. Just enough to say he didn’t want to slam it.

That hurts worse. He ran and he didn’t even look back.

Y/N stands there, dazed and still flushed, cheeks burning with the remnants of pleasure now iced over by confusion. Her body aches. Her lips are swollen from his kisses, her skin tingling from his cold fingers still lingering like frost on her ribs.

She crosses the room in a haze, staring at the open door as though expecting him to materialize there panting, apologizing, kissing her breathless again. But he doesn’t.

In silence, she closes the door. She looks at the bottle of wine he bought for her. The one he unintentionally made her favorite. She doesn’t even pour it, instead she drinks straight from the bottle.

Halfway through, the warmth makes her stomach coil. She sits on the couch, wrapped in the blanket, blinking hard against the sting behind her eyes.

It doesn’t even make her angry, that’s what surprises her most. She’s not angry. She’s still horny, still aching for him, still trapped in the echo of his voice whispering how much he loved her, how she was his everything. She remembers the way his hand fit perfectly around her wrist, the way his chest felt beneath her palms; cold, hard, hers.

And now she’s left here like a junkie in withdrawal, lips raw from addiction, heart pounding like she’s detoxing from a drug that was never meant to be hers.

She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated, more at herself than him.

Why did I push him like that?

She knew she was still lightly bleeding. Not enough for it to be a hassle for her, but enough for him to notice. She knew it and she still pulled him in, let herself lose control. She’s ashamed, because she should have known better.

Did she violate his trust? Her fingers press into her temples. She can’t help but wonder if she pushed him too hard. He didn’t ask her to stop and there was no indication he’ll lose control until his grip on her wrists became too tight. The pain caused her to react and he…he’ll hate himself for it.

She stands quickly, suddenly needing the air. The house is echoing her own insecurities back on her, reminding her of everything that almost happened and didn’t. She throws on a hoodie, pulls on leggings and socks, arms tight around her body like she can hold herself together if she just squeezes hard enough.

She opens the door and freezes.

Paul is standing there. Her porch light glows soft over him, catching on the edge of his jaw. He’s not smirking this time. There’s no cocky tilt to his head, no smugness in his posture, just him.

And in his arms, a bouquet. White tulips and lilies. Clean, elegant, a little bruised at the edges from how tightly he’s gripping them.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

Y/N stares at him. She blinks once, twice. The dizzy cloud in her mind doesn’t fully lift, but it sharpens. Focuses on the man in front of her, the one with warm hands and tired eyes and flowers she didn’t expect.

Her voice is soft, caught between dazed and drained. “Hi.”

He looks at her for a long moment. His eyes flicker to her flushed cheeks, her lips, her messy hair and the muscles harden in his jaw.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

She laughs softly, but it sounds wrong. Almost hollow. “Depends how you define bad.”

He shifts awkwardly on the porch, clearly sensing something is off but not sure what to do with it. And he’s not the only one, because part of her is still in that bedroom, back on those sheets, under a man who left her without saying a word, and the rest of her is still waiting for him to come back.

Paul lingers on the porch, shifting his weight as the bouquet droops slightly in his hand.

Y/N stands in the doorway, hoodie sleeves pulled over her palms, hair messy from more than just the wind. She’s not sure what’s written on her face; confusion, discomfort, or just exhaustion, but Paul notices it. He always does.

She breaks the silence first. “Why are you here, Paul?” Her voice is steady. Tired, but not unkind. She doesn't slam the door. Doesn’t run back inside. But she doesn’t move closer, either.

Paul gives her a smile that almost passes for charming if it weren’t laced with nerves. “You said you hated roses,” he says, lifting the bouquet between them. “Thought I’d try something different?”

She doesn’t return the smile. Her brows rise, unimpressed. “Paul -”

He cuts in before she can finish, the grin slipping. “I wanted to apologize. I was rude. Presumptive. I didn’t mean to make things hard for you.”

Her silence is enough permission. He exhales, lowers the flowers a bit. “I’m not over you,” he admits, voice low. “Or us.”

Y/N closes her eyes for a second, rubbing her forehead. She feels the faint pulse of a headache forming behind her temple. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, “but you know I’m with Jasper now. And I really am happy. I know you guys think I’m trapped or something, but this was my choice.”

Paul’s shoulders stiffen, the bouquet wilting further in his grip. His eyes narrow at her with resentment maybe, or disbelief.

“Like the choice to become one of them?”

Her arms cross tightly over her chest. She steps out onto the porch now, not toward him, but just out of the doorway.

“The flowers are beautiful, Paul,” she says softly, ignoring the topic he was so caught up in “but I don’t want them. Not when they clearly have strings attached.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he might argue, but he holds back. Barely. “I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.”

“You weren’t trying not to, either.”

He lets out a shaky breath, then, softening again, asks, “Will you at least come for a walk? Just talk with me for a little while. No fighting.”

She shakes her head, stepping back. “I can’t, Paul. It wouldn’t be fair to you, or to Jasper.”

There’s something about the way she says it, not sharp, not dramatic, just final that makes it hit harder.

His jaw clenches. “I think you still care about me,” he says suddenly. “And that’s why you won’t talk to me.”

Her breath catches. “What?”

“You said it’s not fair to me or Jasper.” His eyes narrow just slightly. “Why would it be unfair to Jasper… unless you still feel something for me?”

The words hit her like a light up match dropped in a gas-soaked room. She should have known better, worded it more carefully.

“That’s not what I meant,” she snaps, defensive now, stepping backward. “I meant it’s not fair to keep pretending we’re friends when we’re not. When there’s still this… tension. And you know damn well why it’s there.”

Paul steps closer, eyes burning. “So you do feel something.”

“No!” she says, too quickly. Then more carefully, “Whatever we had, it wasn’t an actual relationship. It wasn’t real. It was sex. That’s all it ever was.”

He flinches like she hit him. “That’s bullshit,” he growls. “You know it. You felt it.”

“I felt used!” she shouts, the wine in her veins finally igniting. “I felt like a goddamn idiot for coming all the way here because I thought there was a spark. Don’t you dare stand there and act like I was the one who didn’t care. You were the one who wasted all the chances I’ve given you.”

Paul’s eyes narrow, struggling hard to swallow the words he wants to say before he takes a step forward.

But he never makes it to her.

“Back off.”

The voice is deep, warning. A large figure moves silently from the edge of the woods behind the house, steps onto the porch with the ease of someone who belongs there.

Emmett.

He plants himself between them, arms folded across his broad chest, eyes sharp on Paul.

“Need I remind you,” Emmett says, voice calm but cold, “Forks is our territory, and you’re not welcome in this home.”

Paul doesn’t move at first. But his jaw tightens. His eyes rest on Y/N for a moment before moving to Emmett, then back again.

He breathes through his nose. “This isn’t over.”

He places the bouquet on the porch and turns, disappearing into the darkness without another word.

Y/N stares after him, lips parted, arms still tight around herself. Emmett doesn’t say anything right away. He turns to her slowly, his expression softening.

“You okay?” he asks gently.

She nods once. Then again. But her voice is shaky. “I don’t know.”

And Emmett does something no one else would have done. He doesn’t push. He just steps forward and wraps his arms around her like a brother would, strong and silent and warm. And for a moment, she lets herself lean into it.

It’s been too long since they saw each other and she didn’t know why. For a moment, she was sure he’s been avoiding her.

“Wanna go grab some food?” He leans back, raising his brows.

“Do you even eat food?”

Emmett grins. “It’s pretty disgusting, but I still like to grab a burger here and there.”

“And I’m the one you’re going to grab it with?”

Winking, he wraps an arm around her. “You. And only you.”

--

The familiar clatter of silverware and low hum of a jukebox fills the cozy diner as Y/N slides into a booth across from Emmett, who immediately waves down the waitress like a regular.

“Two burgers, double patties, extra fries, chocolate shake for me and…” He glances at Y/N, eyes narrowing playfully. “What are you ordering, tiny human with a black hole appetite?”

She rolls her eyes, tugging her hoodie down over her hips as she scoots into the cracked red leather seat. ��First of all, rude. Second, yes to all of that. Plus onion rings. I’m emotionally compromised and require carbs.”

He grins. “Atta girl.”

The waitress takes their order with a raised brow and a small smile, clearly already assuming the way Emmett eats is like a linebacker after a long, hard game.

Once she walks away, Emmett leans forward on his elbows, eyebrows raised. “So. Paul.”

Y/N groans and drops her face into her hands. “We’re not talking about him.”

“Too late. You made the mistake of leaving me unsupervised with your drama. Spill.”

She glares at him from between her fingers. “You’re the worst.”

“You say that, but you keep talking to me. You even invited me here.”

“I never invited you here, you brought me.”

“Details.” He waves it off. “Seriously, you okay though? You looked… wrecked. Like seriously wrecked.”

She sighs, leaning back and staring out the window. The fog outside has settled low over the parking lot, streetlights casting halos in the mist.

“I don’t know. I think I fucked up with Jasper.”

Emmett’s expression softens slightly. “He scared himself,” he says quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He ran like I burned him.”

“He ran because he almost bit you,” Emmett says, lowering his voice. “And believe me, none of us are downplaying how serious that is. But it’s not about control or trust or even you. It’s about him. That part of him he hates, that we all struggle with. He thinks he’s burdening you with just by existing.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. The waitress returns with their food and sets the plates down with a quick smile. The scent of grilled meat and fried everything fills the air.

Y/N picks at a fry. “He’s mad at himself.”

“Yeah. And at me,” Emmett adds with a wince.

Her head snaps up. “At you? Why?”

Emmett shrugs. “I let you go to New York alone. Even though he asked me to keep an eye on you. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal. You’re a grown woman, you can handle yourself. But he... he felt helpless. Like he couldn’t protect you.”

She frowns. “Emmett. That wasn’t your fault. There was no stopping me that night.”

“I know. But you know Jasper. He’d take a bullet for you and blame himself for not catching it midair.”

She smiles faintly, eyes glassy now. “I’ll fix it. I’ll talk to him. Make him understand none of that was your fault.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. You’re my brother. Jasper’s just going to have to accept that.”

Emmett pauses with a french fry halfway to his mouth, blinking. “Wait. Did you just call me your brother?”

She grins. “I mean, emotionally, you’re like if a golden retriever was turned into a big brother.”

He laughs, full-bodied and loud enough to turn heads in the diner. “You’re such a brat.”

“And you’re built like a fridge.”

He winks. “A sexy fridge.”

“Debatable.”

“I’m the definition of sexy,” he shoots back, taking a massive bite of the burger.

She snorts into her milkshake, then sighs contentedly. “You know, I needed this.”

“Cheese grease and emotional therapy via older vampire you’ve adopter as a brother? I’m always on call.”

“I mean it,” she says, nudging his foot under the table, stifling a yelp. “That hurt,” she huffs before continuing, “You’re like… my favorite non-homicidal Cullen.”

“Low bar, but I’ll take it.”

They eat in silence for a while, the weight between them lighter now. She leans her cheek on her hand, watching him demolish his third helping of fries.

“Do you think he’ll come back tonight?” she asks softly.

Emmett pauses mid-chew, swallows. “Honestly? I think he’ll try. He wants to. But if he doesn’t, it’s not because he doesn’t love you.”

“I know,” she says. And she does. Still, her fingers curl tighter around her milkshake straw.

“You should get some sleep,” Emmett says gently. “I can hang around till sunrise. Keep watch. You know, in case another werewolf tries to bring flowers and guilt.”

She chuckles quietly. “You really don’t have to.”

He grins and wipes ketchup from his chin. “But I want to. And also, I ate half your fries and don’t feel guilty about it, so I kind of owe you.”

Y/N shakes her head and lifts her hand toward him.

He slaps his palm into hers, high fiving her. “You’ve got a whole messed-up, crazy, death-defying family behind you now, Y/N. You’re not alone anymore.”

She squeezes his hand. “Yeah. I know.”

--

The house is quiet when Emmett drops her off, the sky above thick with clouds and the scent of rain teasing the air. He gives her a long hug before disappearing into the trees like a shadow. She watches him vanish, arms wrapped around herself, heart heavier than before despite the lightness of their earlier laughter. She didn’t want him staying, though he promised he’d be close enough he’d hear her call if she needed him.

When she pushes open the front door, a creak echoes through the stillness. The scent of wine still lingers faintly in the air from earlier. Her fingertips brush over the empty bottle on the coffee table. She takes a breath and heads upstairs, heart already aching at the sight of her empty bed.

But something stops her just before she turns on the light. She feels him again. The air is colder, familiar.

She turns, finding his gaze on her.

Jasper is standing just outside her open window, leaning against the sill like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to come in. His eyes meet hers, molten gold rimmed with deep shadows, anguish carved into every inch of his expression.

She holds her breath and for a moment, neither of them speak.

“You came back,” she whispers.

He nods, once. “Couldn’t stay away.”

She moves slowly, walking toward the window, her feet quiet on the floorboards. Jasper watches her every step, like he’s afraid she’ll vanish if he blinks. The closer she gets, the more she can see how wrecked he is; his shirt slightly wrinkled, his curls a mess from running through the woods, his hands trembling faintly at his sides.

“I didn’t know if I’d see you again tongiht,” she says softly.

“I didn’t deserve to come back,” he murmurs.

Her brow furrows. “Jasper…”

“I almost bit you.” His voice cracks. “I wanted to.”

“You didn’t.”

He presses his hand against the frame, eyes burning. “You don’t understand. I felt it…my teeth were right there. One second longer and I would’ve -” He cuts himself off, turning his face away like he’s ashamed to breathe the same air as her.

She steps forward, reaching for his hand. “But you didn’t, Jasper. That’s what matters. You stopped. You knew when to stop.”

“I shouldn’t have let it get that far in the first place. You were vulnerable and I…” His voice breaks, and this time he does look at her. “You trusted me, and I put you in danger.”

Her fingers thread through his. “I still trust you.”

He swallows hard. “I didn’t mean to leave you like that. I didn’t even think. I just… panicked. I was so close to losing control. And all I could think was that if I hurt you…if I lost you, I’d never be able to live with myself. I’d make sure it would be the end of me, as well.”

She steps closer until they’re barely inches apart, the wind brushing through the window, rustling the curtains like whispers.

“You’re a good person,” she tells him. “I don’t want you to be afraid of us. Even if you bit me, you’d just bring the inevitable to reality.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t know what it’s like to want something so badly it feels like it’s eating you alive and to know that wanting it could kill it. If I bit you, I wouldn’t have stopped. Y/N, you’d be dead. There’s nothing that can bring you back from that.”

She cups his cheek, cold skin warming beneath her touch. “I understand, but you need to realize I have faith in you.”

He leans into her palm, his eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not safe for you.”

“You’re the only one I’ve ever felt safe with,” she replies, voice low.

That does it. Jasper moves through the window and into the room, pulling her into his arms like a drowning man. Their bodies press together, her warmth sinking into him, grounding him. He doesn’t kiss her, not yet, he just holds her. Like if he lets go, his heart would break in half.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice raw. “I love you so much it terrifies me.”

She buries her face in his neck, breathing him in, “I know,” she whispers back. “Me too.”

They stay like that, holding each other in the dark. His fingers curl in the hem of her shirt, but this time there’s no hunger in it. Just a need to feel her and a silent vow to do better.

They lie tangled in the sheets, fully clothed but not untouched. Jasper’s arms wrap around her tightly, one hand splayed over her lower back while the other brushes lazy circles along her shoulder.

Y/N is half-draped over him, her head resting on his chest, listening to him breath, wishing she could hear his unbeating heart. She’s drifting. Her eyes are closed, lashes kissing her cheeks. One of her legs is thrown over his, her fingertips unknowingly tracing the outline of a scar on his bicep in slow, sleepy patterns.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, her voice drowsy, “you should forgive Emmett.”

Jasper’s brow creases. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“You shouldn’t be mad anymore,” she slurs softly, her breath warm against his collarbone. “He feels awful.”

Jasper sighs, his thumb still moving along her skin. “He should feel awful. Letting you go to New York alone? I should’ve ripped his arms off.”

She snorts, barely opening one eye. “You like his arms. You once said they were ‘respectable.’”

“I lied.”

She smiles, pressing a kiss just under his jaw. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“I know.”

“I want you to forgive him.”

“You’ve made that very clear, Darlin.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and he thinks she might be drifting off again until she says, casually, “He chased Paul off the porch tonight.”

Jasper goes still. “…What?”

She lifts her head just enough to peek up at him, eyes heavy with sleep but amusement tugging at the corners. “He was there when I came downstairs. With flowers. Being all… Paul. Emmett showed up before he could start anything.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“He’s forgiven,” Jasper says immediately, deadpan.

Y/N bursts into soft, sleepy giggles and collapses fully against his chest, letting herself melt into his body.

“Thought that might do it,” she mumbles.

Jasper smiles despite himself, kissing the top of her head. He brushes her hair back and whispers, “You really know me that well?”

She hums. “I like to think so.”

His hand moves up to cradle the back of her head as he shifts slightly, pulling her closer. “I think I know you just as well.”

“You don’t,” she disagrees playfully.

He chuckles, low and rough. “But I’ll spend forever trying to.”

Her palm rests on his chest, fingers splayed like a claim, and his cheek is pressed to the top of her head. The scent of her is everywhere, and yet he breathes her in like it’s air, not torment.

“You’re everything to me, Darlin’,” he whispers against her hair. “You’re light in every dark corner I’ve ever had. I’d burn a thousand times over just to hold you like this.”

She stirs, letting out a sleepy sigh. “Keep talking…”

“I love you. Every version of you. The stubborn parts, the scared parts, the ones you think are too heavy to carry. I’ll take them all.”

“Even when I annoy you about forgiving Emmett?”

He smiles. “Even then.”

Her breathing evens out, soft and steady. The little weight of her trust settles in his arms like a secret only he gets to hold. His thumb brushes lightly over the curve of her hip beneath the covers.

He presses one more kiss to her hairline and whispers, “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you.”

--

The earth trembles beneath him. Paw meets dirt with bone jarring force, claws tearing through moss and root as the wolf barrels through the forest, a heap of muscles and fury and sorrow. The moonlight shines through the trees in fractured shards, glinting off silvery-gray fur as Paul runs, fast and desperate, lungs burning from the strain.

He’s not running for exercise. He’s running from her name echoing in his mind on repeat, from the image of her standing on that porch with messy hair and cheeks still flushed from him. From the way her voice trembled when she pushed him away.

From the reality that he is losing her.

Forever.

He pushes harder, faster. Branches claw at his sides. The wind howls in his ears. He wants the pain. He welcomes it.

She’s really going to do it. Become one of them. A Cullen in every sense of the word. She didn’t say it, but he could tell it’s what she plans t do. Like it’s inevitable, like she’s already made peace with it.

And what did he do? Brought her flowers like it could fix the past. Like white tulips could erase the night he didn’t come home after he left her for Rachel like she meant nothing.

You’re a coward..

He dodges a boulder, leaps across a creek and keeps running.

She was never supposed to mean this much. Not when they ended up in bed because it felt right even if he didn’t know why, and definitely not when she smirked at him like she could see straight through his bullshit and still didn’t run. But she did. She mattered more than she was ever supposed to. And he ruined it.

He wasn’t ready. He was angry, about the imprint, about fate pulling his strings, about the guilt that weighed him down every time he saw her sitting there, trying so hard to be wanted by someone like him who didn’t know how to let her in without burning everything down. She followed him to La Push. She claimed it was for the donation but Paul knew that was a lie. She came for himand he treated her like a burden. Like she was in the way of some future he didn’t even want until she showed up and made it feel possible.

The worst part? He can never take any of it back. Even now, when she knows what caused it all to transpire, she doesn’t forgive him. She believes his imprint would cause friction between them. She’s worried she’d never be a priority.

The growl in his throat is primal, rattling through the stillness of the woods as he skids to a stop, panting.

He shifts. Naked and trembling in the moonlight, Paul collapses to his knees in the pine needles, raking his fingers through the dirt. His chest heaves, not from exertion, but from the sheer weight of what he’s lost.

She was mine first. Not in the possessive, childish way. But in the way where losing her was felt in his soul. There was hope for them…The kind where two broken people find warmth in each other’s shadows. The kind that could’ve become something if he hadn’t let fear and fate break it before it began.

He presses his forehead to the ground, muscles locked, jaw clenched.

She’s going to die and come back with red eyes and cold skin and he’ll never get to touch her again without being reminded of everything she left behind. She’ll forget the way they fit together, the way he made her laugh. She’ll forget the way he’d memorized the sound of her breathing after she fell asleep in his arms in her bed in New York. She’ll forget the way she enjoyed his warmth, and demanded kisses.

She’ll forget him.

And he has no one to blame but himself. If only he came home that night, if he could have talked to her, it would have been fine. He could have kept her in bed longer that morning, maybe that whole weekend. There would be to reason for her to go to the beach alone, no reason for Jasper to swoop in and take her with him. Within a week, the Cullens would have been gone and she’d stay there with him, never getting attached to a bloodsucker.

That one mistake cost him everything. How is he supposed to live with that?

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to the dark, but the wind doesn’t answer, it carries no absolution.

It’s no longer just about him wanting her, it’s about saving her life. If she decides she doesn’t want him around, he’ll accept it. He just can’t accept her becoming a leech like the rest of them. Losing her is one thing. Letting her get killed and dragged into an eternal life where she won’t be herself is entirely different.

Bella was lucky to keep her humanity untouched. She’s an exception, not a rule. And Paul was about to remind everyone of the rules they already have in place, to ensure her safety.

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

Tags: @moonmark98 @formulas-bitch @ronniesreverie @anongirl007 @foxycrafterofgreenwood @lamelover @sl4t4darkling @megaprincesscakes @aj3684 @xnarixkimx @rhysology @piya-re @wolfndragonfly @redwitchbitch1 @smh-anon @yoosmekihyun @ittybittymagick @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @pinkpantheris @rinavarwen

A/N: If you want to be tagged for future parts, leave a comment and make sure your blog's visibility is on (in settings) otherwise Tumblr won't allow me to tag you.

[tfatwsbarnes]

daddy daycare | tommy miller

summary: 3 times tommy miller put himself out there +1 time it got him a date.

pairing: au single!dad tommy miller x daycare assistant fem!reader - reader is referred to as sugar.

trigger warning: bad language, bad flirting, reader is a massive flirt!!, reader has glasses, kissing, family loss, grieving and death. sexual themes but no smut, tommy is an ass man through and through, a bit of a spit kink briefly mentioned - word for word the scene in sinners iykyk

word count: 5.1k

a/n: this is not proofread thoroughly!! love u maria but i had to kill u off for the plot. mwah u can come back as soon as i post this. this is still set in jackson post!outbreak. i personally froth at the mouth at the idea of single dad, tommy miller trying to get back out there after the love of his life passed away

gif credit: @optional

Grief was immeasurable. There was no limitations to the pain felt in your bones when you presumed you had defeated the steep hill to overcoming the emotions of losing someone close in your life. It lurked in corners, in the distance and crept up on you unexpectedly, disorientating your composure for awhile to mourn the emptiness and refusal to acknowledge that the sound of the person's voice would slowly be forgotten the less you heard it.

Grief found Tommy Miller under dirty diapers, burp cloths and spit up on every single shoulder of his button downs.

Maria Miller had passed away unexpectedly two months after giving birth to their son, Benjamin Miller. Leaving no time for Tommy Miller to process her death as he was fully fledged to navigating through newfound fatherhood — Benjamin counted on him.

        Sometimes, he'd find himself sucking in a sharp breath when Benjamin opened his eyes after sleeping peacefully in Tommy's arms. Maria Miller staring right back at him; making his shoulders shake, cheeks wet from tears as he allowed Benjamin to grab onto his finger with his minuscule hand.

        His face crazed, as he bounced his screaming baby, speaking to his brother over the wails, "You think I should cut a hole in my top an' stick the bottle through? So, he thinks it's a breast?"

        Joel Miller shook his head, large hands offering to take the baby who quietened down as he hushed him against his chest.

        "He can feel your anxiety, Tommy." Joel informed, "It's OK to feel that, jus' don't think he needs fed every time he cries. I found that out real quick with Sarah."

        Tommy felt like a failure. He had boasted about his helping hand when Sarah Miller was a babe. Assuring Maria, whilst her belly swelled through the seasons, that he had parenting locked in and he had every confidence that he would know exactly what to do in every situation.

        He was the opposite of what he had said.

        He had no idea what he was doing.

        With time, and a few silent meltdowns at three in the morning as Benjamin Miller cried, Tommy started to get the hang of being a single parent. With each month, came a new hurdle, one he had to adapt to quickly with the help of his older brother Joel with some experience with children under his belt.

Before he could settle into the so-called 'newborn bubble' everyone had spoken about, Tommy blinked and Benjamin Miller was a walking, comprehensible — to a certain degree — two and a half year old. A carefree boy, who knew only the bounds of the Jackson Commune and smiled like his mother when he felt the pure innocence of joy.

They were a team. And Tommy adored him. Despite the extra grey hairs that had sprouted in his wake.

Taking the time to mingle back into the community, Tommy had found the itch to get back on Patrol. Joel and him had, had an in depth debate about the gravity of Tommy leaving his two year old toddler behind the safety of the walls in search of trouble. Softened over the years, Joel had a surprising approach of disagreement to Tommy's stance. Suggesting it'd be best to withhold from a risky job and stick to the mundane jobs to save Benjamin from becoming an orphan.

Without question, Tommy Miller — naturally — went against his brother's advice and he was ordered Patrol duty the week after their talk.

        "Don't come cryin' to me in the afterlife when Maria smacks you round the head." Joel had said with crossed arms and a gruffer tone than his usual.

        "Yeah, yeah." Tommy waved his comment off, "Don't you worry, your little head. Benjamin is signed up for the daycare on Main Street when I'm on the job."

The Crayon Commanders, it was called. A little cheesed out in the name, but it was the only Daycare in town despite the growing population of children being introduced back into the civilisation the Jackson Commune had built.

Tommy had no doubt in the capability of Ms. Maeve, the teacher in charge and her capable team of assistants.

        The first introduction was albeit brief but changed the trajectory of Tommy Miller’s lone wolf mentality.

He found himself frantically banging on the door for the Crayon Commanders glass panelled door — one he had actually fitted alongside Joel — the bitter air catching his breath, his gloved hand pulling at Benjamin's as the kid tried to run off to a nearby puddle.

        "C'mon, c'mon." He mumbled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Quick to peer round the side to check for any teacher in the playground, Tommy kissed his teeth when he returned to the front door. His prayers being answered as he squinted to see a body approaching.

        He saw your eyes first. Behind large framed glasses, wide from worry, you unlocked the door, pushing it open; your pretty lips parted enough to catch a glimpse of your teeth as you stared between Tommy and his son.

Holy shit. You were an angel.

        "Mr. Miller?" How the hell you knew his name and he didn't even recognise your face was a topic for another time. Your voice laced with worry as you pulled at the cardigan that had slipped down your bare shoulder, skin nipped by the Wyoming winter.

        "'M sorry, ma'am. I really hate to ask this of y'all, but you see, I've been unexpectedly called on duty for this mornin's patrol." Tommy gestured to the walls of their Commune, "I'd ask my brother to take Benji here but—"

You waved a hand to stop him.

"You wanna split the waffles with me for breakfast, Benji?"

"Sip." The toddler states. "Sip, Sugar."

"Yep. I got syrup." You hummed and took Benjamin in by his shoulders. You met Tommy's glazed eyes as Benjamin did a celebratory bounce. "I'll take good care of him."

"Thank you, baby. Thank you from the bottom of my heart." Tommy patted his chest.

When Tommy returned to collect Benjamin, Joel had mentioned he wanted to see his nephew and tagged along. The towns babies bottle-necked as they poured out the front door, flat footed as they raced to the open embrace of their caregivers.

The two brothers craned their necks to find Benjamin. The daycare wasn't exactly teeming with hundreds of kids as of yet, people had been too fearful and headstrong to bring a kid to raise up in a world where the Outbreak had taken the simplicity of their uncomplicated lives before. Jackson Hole, Wyoming was slowly changing that. So, when Benjamin didn't rush out, in true brotherly fashion: their brows furrowed in unison.

Hand tugged, you exited the Daycare with Benjamin Miller pulling at your arm, incoherent but you presumed 'Joel-Joel' was the brooding salt and pepper haired male standing shoulder to shoulder with Benjamin's father. Jackson Commune was relatively small, but you hadn't acquainted everybody in the town.

Little hand slipping from your grasp, he took off into his father's arms, before reaching one arm over and pulling at his uncle's neck to bring him in for the family hug.

It warmed your heart.

Hands clasped, you respected Benjamin's wishes to introduce yourself to his uncle, regardless of the intimate moment between family members that you were encroaching on by watching so closely. As they pulled back — Joel tickling his nephew's armpit — all eyes went to you.

Without missing a beat, you leant forward, hand extended, "You must be the infamous Joel-Joel." You stepped back once Joel shook your hand, "Benjamin dotes on you. The both of you, actually."

"I am his favourite uncle." Joel affirmed.

Tommy drawled, "You're his only uncle." He looked toward you, eyes crinkling as you picked up on the humour, "Thank you again for takin' him in so early. I know y'all are busy here at the Daycare with all these terrors runnin' round your ankles."

"It's nothing, really." You waved him off, "Benjamin is my favourite — we keep that to ourselves, though."

The blood pumped through Tommy's chest as he blinked at you leaning forward to give his son a low-five in which he aced with accuracy. He swallowed hard enough, he thought he might've swallowed his tongue. Eyes drifting to Joel, he noticed his brother side-eyeing him from his peripheral, not missing the slight quirk at the corner of Joel's lips.

He hated his brother sometimes.

Adjusting Benjamin on his hip, a grunt escaping his lips in the process, Tommy spoke freely, "Well. I jus' think you might be our favourite too."

There was a glint in your eye when he said that.

Chin tucked into your shoulder, you verbalised your gratitude, "You flatter me, Mr. Miller."

"Tommy—Please."

Joel felt sick watching.

"Tommy." His name sounded so sweet on your tongue. He had to snap out of it. You continued, "Well, I'll be heading in. It was nice to meet you Mr. Miller—" You were referring to Joel who grunted in return, "Show your dad the drawing you did when you get home, Benji!"

You waved them off, turning on your heel, not missing the toddler that ran full force into your leg to give you a hug before running off again. Tommy watched your figure sway, eyes caught drifting south.

Joel was quick to clear his throat.

Tommy began to walk with Benjamin still in his arms, "What?" He asked when his brother shook his head in dismay.

"You're a dog, Tommy Miller."

        The second occasion that Tommy Miller bumped into you, the Daycare Assistant, was on his way for a briefing before the morning patrol. OK, it wasn't by coincidence that he happened to be in the right place at the right time for you both to cross paths again. Tommy partially knew of the schedule you ran on, fleeting glances of you entering the Crayon Commanders building prior to open at the exact same time every morning.

        Your last encounter had left him craving just a little bit more. Fearful it may come into a full Sugar-addiction, Tommy hesitated time and time again when his morning patrol aligned with your routine mornings. Often pacing in the snow before trudging away feeling rather sheepish as he muttered self-depreciation under his breath.

The thought of dating again after Maria Miller, the love of his life, had been such a far off concept that hadn't crossed his mind. She was his soulmate, bonded for life with the evidence of their devotion to each other in the form of Benjamin Miller.

        But, what he was doing wasn't exclusively dating. Right?

        He was familiarising himself with Benjamin's Daycare Assistant that he hadn't met prior to his drop-offs and pick-ups. 

        And, there he was, snow kicked beneath his boots as he slowed down past the one colourful building in all of Main Street. A one story building, but it stuck out like a sore thumb with its vast array of colours.

        He saw you first.

        Boxes stacked so high that you had to peer round the side to mind your step, you struggled to keep them balanced as you walked across the street. Blatant that you had overestimated your skills in balancing and co-ordinating steps in the snow, you swore at yourself, a few paintbrushes and glue sticks for their Arts and Crafts day, falling from the opened box at the top.

        Being the man who couldn't rest until his — as Joel had mocked — Help-O-Meter was fulfilled, Tommy rushed over, gloved hands dipped in the snow to pick up the runaway items. Plus, it gave him the conviction to finally speak to you.

"Oh!" You twisted your head to see Tommy Miller picking up the pieces, "Gosh, you don't have to do that. I would've just come back out."

Tommy shook his head, "Now that just wouldn't be so gentleman of me."

You smiled, "Well, consider you the upmost gentleman I've met. Thank you, Mr. Miller."

"I thought we weren't on formalities—I got them, baby." Tommy feigned hurt in his Southern drawl, as he took the boxes from you.

"Slip of the tongue. I mean, my name isn't even Sugar — the kids just call me that." You explained as you fumbled in your pocket for the keys to the door, mumbling an apology for making Tommy wait with the boxes, "I'm the one that gives them treats at Snack Time. Suppose it's easier for two year olds to say that than my name." You spoke your name out and Tommy raised his brows.

A pretty name for a pretty woman.

        "Well, I'd like to think they call you Sugar for more reasons than the sweet treats you give 'em." The door unlocked and he gestured for you to go in out of the cold first. Eyes drifting downward as you walked by him.

        "It's definitely the sweet treats." You insisted. The back of your neck felt hot at the obvious compliment Tommy Miller threw your way. You thrived on praise.

        You turned back to face him, a knowing smirk gracing your lips as you caught the end part of Tommy's eyes flitting upward to your face. Hands out, you took one box off of the stack, placing it down on your desk, the motion signalling Tommy to do the same with the three others.

"Thank you, again." You jutted a hip out as you huffed a breath, hands on your waist.

"Anytime." Tommy pulled the edges of his gloves to readjust them back onto his fingers, "I'll be takin' leave. Got Patrol this mornin'."

"Oh, then all the more reason for you to have just walked on by. I apologise if I've made you late!" You weren’t really, you were glad — but you had to remain somewhat professional.

"Nonsense. I was gonna make myself late anyway, wanted to speak to you n' all." He was an honest man, with honest intentions. Tommy clicked his tongue, "Well—Have a good day with them terrors."

You followed him to the front door, "I'll see you around, Tommy."

"I'll make sure of it."

The third time was out of office hours.

After Tommy bid farewell after your brief meeting at the dawn of the day, he spent the rest of the day internally crucifying himself the longer he thought about his actions. He still wore his wedding band from the day that he and Maria swore themselves to each other. The gold caught his eye in the bright winter sun, taking it as a sign from Maria that he needed to reel himself back in.

He deserved to be happy. Tommy wouldn't deny himself the emotion. But, he was sure he could find pockets of happiness in other aspects of his life, rather than chatting up Benjamin's gorgeous Daycare Assistant.

        Hypothetically, he was still a married man.

        From then on, Tommy avoided you like the plague, or rather, the Cordyceps virus. Before he could get roped in, if he saw you, he'd simply turn in the other direction. And, during Drop-Off and Pick-Ups, there was no such thing as dillydallying in the hopes he could see you; maybe catch your perfumed skin that had sent him reeling.

        Tommy Miller was dedicated to his son. And, in turn, that meant to his deceased wife. The last thing he wanted to do, was disappoint her with his sloppy actions toward another woman.

After some monotonous construction work, Tommy and Joel hit the Tipsy Bison, — Benjamin in Jesse's company for a few hours — their backs ached as they sat on the barstools, waving Seth down for a dram to aid the dull ache. Neither brothers were as agile as they once were.

Sarah Miller would've reminded them of that.

A couple of whiskies in, Joel had retired for the night, mentioning that he was going to try make amends with Ellie Williams on the way back.

The drams not touching the sides for Tommy, he ordered up another, nodding at Seth as he took a large sip; kissing his teeth as it burned his throat on the way down. He sat, clinking the half empty glass, his mind elsewhere.

"Mr Miller." It came out so silky from your lips. It got Tommy's ears perking at the tone, his posture straightening as he turned his head to see you smiling back at him. Fuck. "Can I sit?"

For a mere moment, he thought you meant his lap. You looked at the empty barstool that Joel once occupied and Tommy swallowed, nodding with his hand out to help you up. Your expression gleeful as you took your hand away from his calloused one, body turned to the bar as you watched Seth stalk back and forth, tending to all customers.

It may have been the whiskey hitting him all at once, but Tommy's self-control fell short when he held his gaze on your side-profile. Brown eyes drifting down every feature he could see from the side, his eyes dropping lower to your figure that was perched upon the cushioned stool. Your bra strap had fallen down your shoulder, and he couldn't help himself licking his lips as he watched your thumb and forefinger drag the red strap back up, a soft 'snap' against your supple skin close to your décolletage.

Your soft looking lips pressed against the glass that Seth had given your ordered beverage in, a trickle of condensation dripping down your chin, sliding down the length of your neck before you took a napkin and dabbed it away.

If Tommy could've bit down on his knuckles he would've.

So, he settled for taking his hand and rubbing it against the stubble of his face.

"Busy with work?" You asked after a few minutes of silence. You didn't seem hurt by his avoidance, then again, his only intentions that you had seen were some shameless flirting.

"You could say that." Tommy shrugged. Man, he needed another drink. "How 'bout you, baby?" He waved Seth down.

You hummed into her drink, "No rest for the wicked." You paused, "I love my job, though."

        Tommy chuckled, "I can tell. Don't you worry."

You two continued to talk for two drinks on your behalf, Tommy quick to flash his vouchers to Seth to pay. You were sweet on him, tactile when conversing, your eyes feigned innocence to your act as you pulled at the cherry stem from your drink, with your mouth.

Having to bite the inside of his cheek, Tommy narrowed his eyes at you, talking with his expression for you to behave with your flirtations.

Once finished and a little more tipsy but nothing you couldn't handle, you called it quits with the drink; Tommy quick to offer to walk you home since it was dark. The Jackson Commune wasn't distrustful, but that didn't stop Tommy from maintaining obvious protection.

Arm linked in Tommy's, you walked the empty streets in silence. You were staring up at the bright stars, your face showing peaceful content in that moment as you swayed lightly from the buzz from the alcohol in your system. Hands in his denim jacket pockets, Tommy scuffed the stones from beneath his feet, blowing hot air out of his mouth to watch the cold snatch it into a little fog cloud.

        He fell into it so easily with you and that doomed feeling crept up the back of his neck — quick to push it down until alone.

        "Say," He started in ordinance to distract himself, "D'ya think you could ask Ms. Maeve to write down a summary of anythin' Benji had been shown and learnt when I'm off on a longer Patrol? With him sometimes stayin' with Joel, that old man can't remember half the things Benji shows him. . . I wanna be as involved as I can be with his learnin'."

        "Oh, sure. I could even tell you, verbatim. As the assistant in the toddler room, I have to know the daily schedule for the kids." You halted at a home, presumably yours, the porch dimly lit. "Please, just ask at any time."

        Tommy felt like he could fall in love with you. That sick feeling in his stomach that he was told were damn 'butterflies' but he chose to call them moths, as it felt like they were eating away at his stomach. His lungs expanding to take in a deep breath, something so simple about your passion for the kids made it harder for him to stick to his word about finding pockets of happiness in other aspects of life rather than love.

        Because, he had already found it. He'd be greedy to ask for it again.

        Ignoring the pit forming in his stomach, Tommy shifted on his feet as you continued to gloat about the toddlers in Crayon Commanders.

        "You free this Sunday?" He asked.

        You nodded, "Sure. That's the best time as I'll have the fresh schedule for that week."

        "No, baby." Tommy let out a hearty laugh, "I meant for the New Years' Dance."

        Your face lit up.

        "You're saving a dance for me, Mr. Miller?"

        "I will if you stop that formalities." Tommy pointed a finger at you sternly, feeling his cheeks hot.

        You showed a smile, acting coy as you swatted a hand at him, "OK—OK. Stop flirtin' with me. I'd love to go with you, Tommy."

"Alrigh'. Goodnight, sweetheart." He might've followed that with a kiss if he didn't have a shred of impulse control. You bid him goodnight and stalked down the short pathway to your front door — Tommy's eyes going to where they had been going each time you walked away from him.

He was starting to think Joel Miller was right about him.

+1

        As punctual as ever, Tommy Miller arrived at your doorstep in his best button down and jeans accessorised with his favourite buckle. Hair washed away sweat and residue from the afternoon Patrol, he rid his hands of any bloodshed and replaced them with a bouquet of flowers for his date. He had knocked thrice on your door, looking back onto the street to admire the construction work he had done on the house across from hers. He didn't recall fixing your house, but that thought soon distanced from his mind when the front door creaked open to reveal the warmth of the glow within.

        You had the door opened wide, your glasses pushed the bridge of your nose as you grinned at Tommy Miller with flowers in his hand. Flowers just for you.

        "Don't you look dapper." You complimented in a teasing tone and Tommy looked down at his attire and back up — it was hard to wear nice clothes after the Outbreak. Nevertheless, he made an effort and your heart swelled for him.

In a simple long-sleeved grey tee and jeans, yourself, Tommy thought you looked damn near perfect. If not better than perfect.

Floundering like a fish out of water, Tommy coughed, and handed you the flowers.

"I didn't get you anything." You tutted.

Tommy huffed a laugh, "You're givin' me your time and that's as good as it'll get for me."

"Your mama raised you sweet, huh?" You sung. You couldn't help grin from ear to ear before telling Tommy to wait whilst you grabbed a vase and stuck the flowers in. You took his arm that he offered when you returned, the pair of you spoke effortlessly, finding more in common than anticipated.

        He held the door to the Church open, the warm lights brightening your glowing features, the scene reflective in your glasses. Heads turned to welcome them, Tommy noticing his brother mingling, their eyes met and Joel gave him a subtle nod.

        The dance came into full swing after Tommy and you retrieved some drinks, fingers picked at the variety of food brought in for the potluck. You had resided in a corner of the Church, knees knocked together as your feet tapped to the music.

"You know some line dancin'?" Tommy asked over the music.

You shook her head, "No, it looks pretty simple to me though." You looked back to Tommy who was already looking at you, "Why? Are you going to ask me to dance?"

"If it so pleases you, my lady."

Hand slipped into his, you stood.

"I thought you'd never ask."

He tried his damn best to teach you some two-step line dancing moves but turns out, some people were just born with two left feet. You had wobbled, stepped on Tommy's pinky toe a handful of times and forgot the dance, leaving Tommy with deep laughter lines next to his eyes.

"OK. How 'bout we just dance together." Tommy insisted after the heel of your foot met his pinky-toe for the fifth time. Not awaiting an answer, Tommy pulled you in by your waist, positioning you both to dance, "I've got you, baby."

You giggled — making Tommy swoon — as you followed Tommy's lead around the dance floor.

The closeness furthered as the band began to string out a slow-paced song, you smiled against Tommy's chest as you leant your head to listen to the thrum of his heart. It thumped quickly against your eardrum and you closed your eyes, feeling content at where you were. Tommy, chin rested atop of your head, started to see the groups of eyes on you whilst you swayed on the dance floor. Mouths leaning to ears to share a whisper, Tommy swallowed at the idea that they were speaking about him.

Perhaps they also thought he was doing a disservice to his late wife who built the Jackson Commune from the ground up.

        Then came your touch. Warmth spread across his skin wherever you touched, fingertips rubbing across the fabric of his flannel making him look down at you. It pulled him from the inner turmoil, the clouded presumptions cleared as you smoothed the deep wrinkle of worry between his brows.

“Whatever you think they are thinking, they’re not, Tommy.” You read him like a book. On your first date, of all.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbled close to you, a frown capturing his features once again. “Jus’ don’t want them thinkin’ I’m a lousy father. A son without a mother and I’m here dancin’.”

You acknowledged his concern, “Well—Imagine what they think about the Daycare Assistant getting all cosy with Tommy Miller. I bet I’m a real floozy in their eyes if it ever crossed their mind that you’re a lousy father.”

“You are far from a floozy, sweetheart.”

“Then it’s even.” You squeezed his hand, “You’re not a lousy father if I’m not a floozy.”

“Touché.”

“I mean it.” You were serious, the most serious your tone had been. “You’re as present as a widowed-father can be. Trust me. Very few parents ask for a weekly round-up of their kids’ schedule so they can transition it into the days they spend at home with them. Does that shout lousy to you?”

“No, ma’am.”

You triumphed as Tommy dropped his hand to the small of your back, “Then don’t let me hear you say it again.”

Tommy pulled an expression of hilarity at your sternness. It had taken him by surprise how effortlessly you whipped your usual kind and tender personality for a combative one to put Tommy Miller and his self-deprecation in place. He found it incredibly attractive, alongside the subtle praise that came with your chastising.

His body felt hot when he stared at you. Like, really stared at you. A beaming vision of true womanhood. Strong-headed and confident in the knowledge of what you wanted: which was Tommy Miller.

He dipped his head so his lips ghosted the shell of your ear, “Wanna take leave?”

“For the second time, Tommy Miller—” You released yourself from his grip, your eyelids heavy and Tommy was not born a fool to your antics, you began to saunter away, finger curling in an ushering motion, “I’d thought you would never ask.”

Bonus:

The first kiss had depth to it. His large palms trailed over every aspect of your body before they settled on your hips, a low hum coming from the back of his throat as you leant into his touch, chest pressed to his for closeness. Tommy couldn't help prevent a smug smile appear as you continued your kiss, you paused it for a moment to raise a brow at his smile.

"Are you going smug on me, Mr. Miller?" You hushed your tone, fingers threaded at the hair at the nape of his neck.

Tommy shook his head, between pecks he mumbled, "I told you to stop calling me Mr. Miller."

"Yes—" You agreed, index finger against Tommy's lips to stop him from kissing your lips off. In turn, he pressed a gentle kiss to it. "—But, I've seen the way it makes you blush."

This had Tommy chuckling, finger removed from his mouth, he resumed your kiss, hands sliding to the meat of your thighs, quick to hike you up around his waist as you squealed into his mouth.

Your house was considerably smaller than Tommy's — you notably didn't have a husband and kids — and it took nothing but three strides across the room before Tommy turned on the spot and planted himself on your couch; you remained atop his lap, the kiss not broken.

He could feel his heart stammering as your softer hands rubbed at his chest. Tommy Miller was in tranquillity, hands rested and occasionally squeezing at your backside, the shorts of your pyjamas you had changed into upon your arrival at your home, had ridden up in your position so he could feel the crease where your cheek met your thighs.

        Actions halted, you pulled apart, still close enough to feel your quickened breaths.

        Tommy blinked at the sight of you, his thumb coming to swipe the corner of your mouth where spit was trickling down.

        "You droolin', baby?" He asked, his thumb moving back over your swollen lips where you parted them to take his thumb in; teeth nipped at the skin which took Tommy by surprise.

        You smiled as he removed his thumb with a 'pop', nodding to his question. "Yeah—You want some?"

    A beat not going a miss, Tommy Miller eagerly nodded, a primitive grunt leaving his mouth as he manoeuvred you pair, his back hitting the cushions of the base of the couch.

        Thanking his lucky stars for the patrol member that he took shift from.

[winchesterwild78]

An Unexpected Friendship pt 2

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: mention of domestic violence, mention of character death, 

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309. In this story the reader is a widow who has a 4 year old daughter. She’s dating a very abusive man, so she enrolls her daughter in preschool to keep her as shielded as possible. At the preschool we find her daughter has made friends with a set of twins. At pick up one day the reader realizes the parent of her daughter’s best friend is none other than Jensen Ackles. A friendship forms, and decisions are made after a particularly nasty fight with her boyfriend. 

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life.

This chapter got a bit long….sorry.

Minors DNI 18+

Jensen arrived home late. Jared was sleeping on the couch when he came inside. “Hey Jar, wake up man.” Jensen said quietly. Jared stretched, “Oh hey man. How’s Y/N?” 

Jensen’s head hung slightly, “Not good man. He almost killed her. She’s in a medically induced coma because he beat her up so badly.” Jared’s mouth fell open, “Damn man. I’m sorry to hear that. How’s her daughter?” “She’s okay. She’s going to be staying with Y/N’s best friend.” “That’s good. At least she has someone she knows.” “Yeah, she’s friends with Arrow and Zep. They are in the same class, I just wish there was more I could do to help both of them. I know Arrow and Zep really like Jazmyne.”

“Well man, thanks for watching the kids for me, you should head home.” “Yeah, of course, and Jensen, I do hope Y/N’s gonna be okay. No one deserves what she went through.” Jensen just nodded in agreement, his words caught in his throat as he thought about how she looked in the bed. He had never understood how someone could do that to another person. It upset him, and made him so angry.

After Jared left, Jensen crawled into bed. He had to be up in a few hours to take the kids to school. He tossed and turned most of the night. His heart ached for Y/N and Jazmyne. The fear in her voice when she called him, the look on Jazmyne’s face and how she clung to him, and how bruised and battered you looked in the bed. All of it playing like a record in his head. 

He finally fell asleep for what felt like ten minutes before his alarm went off. Jensen grumbled as he turned off the alarm and crawled out of bed. He jumped in the shower and got dressed. 

Walking through the quiet house his mind drifted to his late wife. She was not only an amazing wife and mother, but an amazing person. She would volunteer at JJ’s school, while juggling working at the brewery, other projects she worked on, and holding down the household while Jensen was away filming. When she got pregnant with the twins after years of trying, her and Jensen were ecstatic. She went to every appointment, asked every question she could think of and made sure they were ready to bring home not one, but two newborns. 

When she died during their birth, Jensen’s soul was crushed. His arms full with their newborns, but empty at the same time. Family and friends rallied around him to help with all three children, but he was lost. His wife, his partner, the love of his life, was gone. 

He didn’t know why Jazmyne’s father wasn’t in the picture, but he was sure it had to be something significant. Now you were dealing with Robert and his abusive nature. Jensen didn’t understand why he felt so protective of you so quickly. He hardly knew you. 

About an hour after he got up the kids were awake and ready for school. He took JJ to school first and then the twins to school. Walking towards the entrance he saw Jazmyne and Nichole. The twins ran to Jazmyne and Jensen chuckled. 

“Good morning Jazzy and Nichole. How are you two today?” Jazmyne’s eyes went wide when she saw Jensen. Nichole offered a soft smile. “Hey, can I talk to you after drop off?” Nichole asked Jensen. “Of course. I wanted to talk to you too.” They walked the kids in and agreed to meet at the coffee shop around the corner to talk. 

Once at the coffee shop, Jensen got the coffees and Nichole grabbed a table. “Hey, thanks for meeting with me. I just wanted to tell you thank you for everything last night. I’m sure it wasn’t how you expected to spend your evening. I’m sure by now you know Y/N was in an abusive relationship with a guy named Robert. She ended it with him and he came back. I feel so guilty for not doing everything I could to get him away from her. He didn’t start out hitting her. Then she’d show up with bruises and marks. Her late husband, Josh, would never have laid his hands on her.” 

Jensen sat there listening and taking in everything she was saying. “So how did Josh pass?” Jensen finally asked. “When Jazzy was almost 2 he got hurt in an accident at work and was killed. I didn’t think Y/N would ever recover. He was the love of her life. She got so depressed and lonely we thought we were going to lose her too. Then one day we showed up and she was up and smiling. I know she was putting on a show for us, but I think eventually she got a little better. It took us forever to convince her to go out on a date, and then she ended up with this jackass.” 

“I’m so sorry to hear she lost her husband. I lost my wife when she gave birth to the twins. I’m still not over it completely and I don’t think I ever will be. Is there anything I can do to help Y/N, Jazzy or you?”

“Honestly, you being there for her and Jazzy is great. I’d definitely like to plan that play date. Jazzy is going to need as much support as possible. She’s going to miss Y/N and she won’t understand why she can’t see her.” 

“Yeah, I get it. Hopefully she heals quickly enough and Jazzy can see her. I know they are very close.” 

After about thirty minutes, Jensen and Nichole parted ways. Nichole was headed to Y/N’s house to get some things for Jazmyne, Jensen was headed to the hospital. 

Walking down the cool hallway, the air thick with the unmistakable smell of a hospital, Jensen’s heart pounded in his chest. Since he lost his wife, hospitals always brought back some anxiety. So being here brought it all back. 

Jensen stood outside your room for a minute. He took a steady breath and started to open the door when a nurse approached him. “Um excuse me, are you family?” Jensen turned and he saw a flash of recognition in the nurse’s face. “Oh hi, yeah. I’m her boyfriend.” 

The nurse’s face flashed with anger and panic. “I don’t think I can let you in her room, sir.” She said looking up at Jensen. Jensen knew what she was thinking, “Oh no ma’am, I’m not the one who did that to her. That was her ex, Robert.” “Still, I need to check with the police officer before I let you in.” 

“Yes ma’am, I understand that. I’ll wait here.” Jensen gestured towards the empty chair outside your room. She nodded and walked towards the desk.

Jensen saw her look over at him while she was on the phone. Then he saw her nod and hang up. She walked over, offered an apologetic smile, “Thank you for waiting, Mr. Ackles. You’re cleared to go in. I’m sorry.” Jensen stood and smiled, “No problem ma’am. I appreciate you keeping her safe.”

She nodded and Jensen walked into your room. He took the chair closest to you and reached for your hand. Taking your hand in his, he rubbed soft circles on the back of your hand while he talked to you. “Hey, Y/N. I just want you to know Jazzy is safe. Nichole is keeping her and I’ve told her if they need anything to let me know. They are still looking for Robert. There’s a warrant out for his arrest, so hopefully they catch him soon. I wish I could make all this go away and you and Jazzy were safe. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

Without thinking, Jensen stood, leaned over your bed and placed a kiss on your forehead. He felt a pull towards you and it scared him, because he hardly knew you. 

You had been in the hospital for a little over a week. It was late at night and Jensen was getting ready for bed when his phone rang. “Hello?” Jensen said cautiously. “Oh hey, Jensen it’s Nichole. I really hate to ask you, but could you watch Jazzy. I just got an emergency phone call from my sister. I have to go out of town for a few days. Y/N has no other family here and I don’t know what to do.” 

Jensen immediately said yes. “Yeah, can you bring her over here? The kids are already in bed. I can get her set up in my guestroom for now.” “Oh Jensen, you’re amazing. Thank you. I am so sorry for this. I know you’ve been pulled into this whole situation and now I’m dumping Jazzy off on you.”

“Hey, Nichole, you’re not dumping her off on me. I offered and told you if you needed anything to let me know. I’m fine with it as long as you think Y/N will be too.” “Oh yeah, she would. Can you send me your address? We could be there in less than 30 minutes.” “Yeah, sure. The gate code is 05301202. Just shoot me a text and I’ll make sure I’m downstairs to help you bring her in.” “Thanks, Jensen. See you soon.”

Jensen walked into the guest room and sighed. He had forgotten it was full of boxes and things he needed to donate but hadn’t had time. He didn’t want to wake the twins up so he decided to make a bed on the floor of his room. 

A few minutes later he got a text from Nichole that she was there. He went downstairs and opened the door. She was carrying Jazzy, who was sleeping in her arms. “Want me to take her?” He asked. Nichole shook her head. Jensen carefully took the sleeping child out of Nichole’s arms and carried her upstairs. He laid her down on the floor bed and covered her up. 

Walking back downstairs he helped Nichole bring in Jazzy’s things. 

“Jensen, thank you again for helping. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. My flight leaves in about an hour so I can’t stay long. Please keep me updated on everything with Y/N. I’ve already called the hospital and told them to contact you with any updates. I’ll be in and out of the hospital back home helping and dealing with my grandmother.” Jensen placed his hand on Nichole’s arm, “It’s fine, you go take care of your family, I’ve got your girls. I promise.” She hugged Jensen and then left. 

Jensen crept upstairs and checked on all the kids before crawling into bed. He heard Jazzy’s soft snores and occasional whimper. His heart hurt for her. He knew she missed her mom. His children would do the same thing in their sleep, especially around special days, like birthdays or Mother’s Day.

Jensen finally fell asleep after having his mind race for what felt like forever. When his alarm went off he carefully got up and looked over at Jazmyne. She was still sleeping, and curled into a ball. He grabbed his stuff and tiptoed to the bathroom to get ready. 

As he came out he saw the little girl stir awake. Her eyes wide, taking in the room. “Mommy?” Her little voice filled the quiet room. “Hey Jazzy, Auntie Nichole had to bring you here. She had an emergency. You’re going to stay with me, Arrow, Zeppy and JJ until your mommy is better.” She looked at Jensen and nodded. “Like a sleepover?” She asked. Jensen smiled softly, “Yeah, sweetie, like a sleepover.”

A few hours later Jensen found himself back at the hospital sitting beside your bed. The nurses would come in and check on you and him. He would tell them he was fine and didn’t need anything when they asked. Finally the doctor came in and Jensen was out of his chair. He extended his hand, “Hello Dr. Fitzpatrick. It’s good to see you this morning. How’s she healing?” Jensen asked as he gestured to you. “Good morning Mr Ackles, she seems to be healing. We are going to draw some blood this morning and do some scans. See if she’s healed enough to start taking her off the sedation medication.” “That sounds perfect, thank you doctor.”

The nurse came in and drew some blood while Jensen watched on. He sent Nichole a text to check on her and let her know what the doctor said. She didn’t respond yet, so he figured she was busy. He hoped the next time he sent her a text it was to let her know you were awake and okay.

Jensen waited in the room for you to return from the tests. A few hours had passed and they were finally bringing you back in. He had been talking to Jared off and on all day. Jensen even called Clif to get some advice on how to keep you and Jazzy protected. 

He was on the phone with Jared when the technician was wheeling you back in. “Yeah, she’s back now. Hang on a sec, Jar.” The tech told Jensen the doctor would review all the tests and be in shortly to go over it. Jensen nodded and thanked him. 

“Well that sounds promising, I hope she’s going to be okay. Are you leaving soon to get the kids?” Jared asked. “Yeah. I’ll leave in about an hour. I hope the doctor is here before then.” “Hey, Jensen, why don’t we bring the kids over and we can all eat dinner and the kids can play together. I think that would be good for Jazmyne and you won’t be alone.” “That sounds great, Jar. What can I do or buy?” “Nothing, Gen and I will take care of everything.” “Okay, thanks brother.” “Yeah, no problem, and if you need us to grab the kids we can.” “Okay, thanks. Talk to you soon.” 

Jensen sat beside your bed, holding your hand. He watched your chest rise and fall, and listened to the steady beep of the machines. Jensen felt drawn to you. It confused but excited him. He’d never felt an instant connection with someone, an instant need to protect them. Like he does with you. Even with his late wife it took him a while to open up. 

There was a soft knock on the door that pulled Jensen out of his thoughts. It was Dr. Fitzpatrick. “Good afternoon Mr. Ackles. So I’ve reviewed her blood work and the scans we took. There isn’t any internal bleeding, no injuries to her brain and her ribs and other broken bones are starting to heal. I don’t see why we can’t start bringing her out of sedation. We can start the process immediately. She still has a long road to recovery, and will need to stay here at least another day or two, but I believe she’s going to be okay.”

Jensen smiled, stood and shook the doctor’s hand. He called Jared and told him what the doctor said, “Jar, I really want to be here. Do you or Gen mind grabbing the kids from school. I’ll call the headmaster and let her know you can get Jazzy too. I really appreciate it man.” “Hey, no problem. I’m glad she’s going to be coming back soon.” “Me too, thanks again Jared.” 

Jensen sent Nichole a text to let her know what the doctor said. She replied that she was excited and to give you her love. 

Jensen sat right beside you as the sedation medication was removed. They told him it could take a few minutes or a few hours for you to start waking up. He nodded and kept watch. 

When you began to stir about an hour later and your eyes started to flutter, Jensen was on the edge of the seat. “Hey, Y/N. That’s right sweetheart, open those eyes for us.” Jensen encouraged. 

Your eyes fluttered open and confusion began to fill you. Your voice was very weak, but you managed to speak. “Jjjensen, what are you doing here?” He stepped closer to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, “Hey, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re awake. You’ve been missed.” “How long have I been out?” “Over a week, but don’t worry Jazzy has been well taken care of. Nichole had a family emergency so I offered to take her. The twins have loved having her at the house.” 

Tears filled your eyes, “Why are you being so kind to us?” “Because that’s what you do when someone needs help.” Jensen smiled gently at you. “So, Y/N, how are you feeling?” “I’m very sore, and just heartbroken. I can’t believe I let him in our lives. My sweet girl had to see some of the abuse. I’m so stupid and weak. I didn’t want to be alone anymore, so I allowed this monster into our lives. How do I keep her safe when I can’t keep myself safe?”

“You tell her that some people are just mean and those people will try and find your weakness. You work like hell to protect yourself, and when you can’t, you lean on those that can. You tell her that there are more kind people in this world than there are mean ones. Those are the people she needs to surround herself with. People like her mother. People who would do anything to keep her safe and protect her from evil. No matter what. Y/N, you’re not weak or stupid for letting someone like Robert in your life. You’re human, and Jazzy will see that. Above all she will see your strength, the strength to make him leave and then fight like hell to survive and stay here for her.” 

Your tears were flowing down your face at Jensen’s words. When he took your hand in his, and wiped away your tears, you leaned into his touch. He was so kind and gentle. Everything you’d heard he was. 

The next few days you had to stay in the hospital were brutal. You’d asked Jensen not to bring Jazzy to see you there. You didn’t want her to see you weak and hooked up to things. He kept her at his house and you got to FaceTime her at night. 

The last night of your hospital stay you were feeling excited to leave, but even more nervous. You’d be going home, and Robert was still out of jail. The police hadn’t been able to track him down and that scared you. Jensen assured you that you and Jazzy would be safe. 

After your FaceTime call with Jazzy, you settled in to try and sleep. Jensen was busy getting all four kids ready for bed. The twins and Jazzy were running around and playing, while JJ was picking out the book for the night. 

After baths, brushed teeth, and pajamas, Jensen had all four kids pile in his bed so he could read. 

After the story was over Zep asked when Y/N was coming home. “Well, she gets to go home tomorrow. I know she’s really excited about it.” “Daddy, since Jazzy lives here now is her mommy coming here too?” Zeppelin asked with his big eyes twinkling. “No, Zeppy. Jazzy doesn’t live here. She’s just been staying here.” All four children’s faces hung in sadness. Jensen chuckled, “Oh come on guys, you knew Jazzy was just staying here while her mommy was getting better.” “We know daddy, but we want her to stay forever.” Arrow added to the conversation. Jensen sighed, “Okay guys, we will talk about this later. It’s time for bed. Come on.” 

The kids got into their beds and fell asleep quickly. Jensen sent you a text.

Jensen: Hey, the kids are asleep, they were upset Jazzy isn’t going to live here forever. 😂

You: Hey, that’s funny. Maybe we can schedule playdates and sleepovers if that’s okay with you. I know Jazzy would love it.

Jensen: I was thinking the same thing. 😀

You: Good. I owe you so much for taking care of her and being here for me.

Jensen: No you don’t. If I was in the same situation I have no doubt you would do the same thing. 

You: Oh absolutely. I adore your children. They are so sweet and kind to Jazzy.

Jensen: I’ve definitely tried. It’s been hard, but I’ve had some great support.

You: That’s amazing. So can I ask you something?

Jensen: Sure

You: If I’m out of line or you’re uncomfortable, just tell me, okay?

Jensen: Of course. 

You: After your wife passed away how long was it until you started dating again?

Jensen: I went on a few dates, I’d say about 2 years after she died. Nothing worked out, but that doesn’t mean I’m not open to it. My focus is on the kids, so if it happens it happens. 

You: I understand that. Robert was the first guy I dated since Josh died. I was scared to let someone in, and now I’m sitting in the hospital because of him. 

Jensen: I get that, but you can’t let him ruin your chance at happiness again. You and Jazzy deserve to be loved and taken care of.

You: Thank you, Jensen. So do you and your beautiful children. 

Jensen: Thank you. I’ll come pick you up from the hospital tomorrow when you get released and take you home if you want me to. 

You: I appreciate that, Jensen. I could always take an Uber to get home.

Jensen: Absolutely not. I’ll pick you up and drive you wherever you want to go. 

You: Okay, well I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Jensen.

Jensen: See you tomorrow, and good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams.

You: Sweet dreams, Jensen. 

Jensen put his phone down and climbed into bed. He looked down at the little girl sleeping on the makeshift bed and smiled softly. His heart warmed thinking about her and her mother being in his and his children’s lives. The two of you were already starting to mean something to him. He couldn’t shake the feeling, the need to protect both of you, to be with you. 

Jensen laid down and sleep finally washed over him. About 3am he was startled awake by the sound of crying. He leaped out of bed and found Jazmyne crying in her sleep. She woke up, saw Jensen and leaped in his arms. 

Jensen sat on the floor holding her and rubbing her head while he rocked her. “Shhh, Jazzy. It’s okay. You’re safe.” 

Jazmyne’s hands clung to his shirt and her face was buried in his chest. She continued crying and whimpered out “mommy”. Jensen’s heart broke. 

“Mommy’s okay, baby girl. She’s going to come home tomorrow and she can’t wait to see you.” Jazmyne shook her head no. Jensen was a little confused, “What’s no, baby girl?” “I not go home. Mommy not go home. He hurt mommy there.” It made sense to Jensen. She was scared to go back home because that’s where Robert had been when he hurt you. 

“Shh, baby. I promise you I will keep you and mommy safe.” Jensen said as he rocked the scared little girl. She clung to his shirt and wouldn’t let go. He tried to lay her down on her bed and she cried and held on tighter. He stood, holding her close and laid her down on his bed. He grabbed her stuffy and handed it to her, and laid down. As he got comfortable, Jazmyne curled up beside him. Soon her soft snores filled the room. Jensen drifted back to sleep.

The next day after Jensen got the kids to school, he arrived at the hospital to wait for you to be released. “Good morning, sweetheart.” Jensen said as he walked into your room. You looked up, smiled and said, “Good morning to you too. Here to bust me out?” You chuckled. “Absolutely.” Jensen flashed his killer smile. 

The nurse came in not long after Jensen arrived. She unhooked your IV and the cardio machine. “Go ahead and get dressed, and I’ll get your discharge paperwork together.” You nodded and Jensen stepped to the side of the bed. “Let me help you up.” He said offering you his hand.

You took his hand and as you stood, you stumbled and he caught you. Looking up into his eyes your breath hitched and you bit your lip. Feeling your heart beat wildly in your chest. You steadied yourself and thanked him softly. He nodded as you walked into the bathroom.

You looked in the mirror and saw your battered and bruised face and body. Oh my god. Look at me. Get it together Y/N, there is no way that gorgeous man out there could ever look at you in any way other than a friend, especially now. 

You tried to push the thoughts of wanting to kiss Jensen out of your head and get dressed. Your body was in so much pain and covered in bruises, it hurt to even breathe. You wondered how you’d be able to take care of Jazzy, especially with Nichole out of town. You took a deep breath, you knew you’d figure it out. 

About an hour and half later you and Jensen were at your house. You had no idea what you’d find when you got there, but you were surprised to find out that after the police finished with their investigation Nichole came and cleaned up the house for you. 

Jensen helped you to the couch and you sat down. He could tell something was bothering you, but didn’t want to push. Then your tears started to fall. 

Jensen pulled you in his arms, “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay. You and Jazzy are safe. I promise. I’ll keep you two safe.” You leaned back and looked at Jensen, his green eyes scanning you. He cupped your face and wiped your tears away. You leaned into his touch. 

Without any thought you leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. When your brain finally caught up to what you were doing you quickly pulled away. Flush filled your cheeks, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry Jensen. I don’t know what came over me.” 

You started to get off the couch but he touched your hand, “No, Y/N, please don’t go. That was fine. You have nothing to be sorry about.” His hand on your arm felt so good. You looked at him, sat back down and apologized again.

“Jensen, you’ve been nothing but kind to me and Jazzy. I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward position. I really don’t know what came over me.” Jensen leaned forward, his eyes flicked between your lips and eyes. You leaned forward until your lips ghosted each other’s. Jensen closed the rest of the distance and kissed you. His hand tangled into your hair as he deepened the kiss. Jensen’s tongue ran across your lips, asking for entrance. You parted your lips and your tongues began an intricate dance of dominance. 

You moaned into the kiss and felt fire ignite in your body. You hadn’t had a kiss like this since Josh. When the need for air became too much, the two of you pulled away. “Wow.” Was all Jensen could say. You smiled and nodded. As he started to lean back in to kiss you there was a knock at the door. 

Jensen groaned and stood to answer it. He looked back at you and smiled before he opened the door. You smiled back, but as soon as he opened the door your smile was replaced by a look of horror. 

Jensen turned to look at the person at the door as you said, “Robert.”

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.  

Tags: 

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573 

@k-slla @jackles010378 

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx 

@roseblue373 @cheynovak 

@jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa 

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27 

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2 

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi 

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @cevansbaby-dove

@spxideyver @reignsboy19

@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy

@ladykitana90 @quietgirll75 

@superrey @kamisobsessed

@obliviousap @ninii-winchester

@mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @whimsyfinny

@bobbdylan @star-yawnznn

@reignsboy19 @monkey-d-hoshizora98

[gladiatorcunt]

it's about possible death during labor so don't im sorry if that's a trigger warning for you!

what do you think modern!coryo would do if the labor is dangerous? they didn't know beforehand but after she gave birth, her bleeding didn't stop or something like that? what would he do during the time and how would he treat the baby if reader had died or lived?

(tw pregnany & labor troubles)

Well in my case I have health issues that I imagine will most likely give me a difficult experience with pregnancy/birth (I want kids in the future, so I've thought about this a lot)

For starters, he's obviously getting you the best team of personal doctors money can buy. He's strict about your appointments/health overall so if anything occurs during the pregnancy itself, he is able to immediately have you properly treated.

But if you've had a good pregnancy, all things considered, it will definitely come as a shock to him when something goes seriously wrong. Giving birth is an extremely serious matter and you could even have a stroke or postpartum hemorrhage (which is where you experience heavy bleeding after birth), problems like that are rare however, so it would honestly be one of the only times in his life that Coryo would be truly shaken to his core.

He's casting his image aside and shrieking at the hospital staff, saying that he'll raise their pay if they can just make you better. Thank God they do, and after hours of surgery he's bringing your newborn son to finally meet the one who worked so hard to bring them into the world. You've been to hell and back, he just wants the baby to be grateful even if all they do is squint their eyes and slowly wiggle around. You smile at them when you wake up, cooing at your child when Coryo places them on your chest for skin-to-skin contact. He even takes his shirt off when you need to take a break to eat the expensive sushi, he had delivered to have his own skin to skin contact with your child.

It's hard to stay mad at a baby that's the spitting image of himself.

If you died, the whole hospital would be eviscerated nuclear bomb style /j

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 3

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, swearing, verbal arguing, references to divorce, death of a character, injuries, misinformation about the US Navy and how it works (I tried my best)

Briefing Room, Classified Location, 11 years ago

Briefing rooms after missions go horrifically sideways were typically quiet. Those who were involved in the mission were usually too busy inside their own heads, trying to shove feelings and memories into tiny little lockboxes that would then get shoved into other boxes and hidden in the dark recesses of the mind, only springing free when things got…dark. The top brass was usually reading reports and gathering steam, preparing to bring the hand of God down upon the person (or people) who were responsible for the mission going…poorly. Therefore, the rooms were usually can-hear-a-pin-drop quiet, but they were never this…still. This silent.

The fifteen lieutenants stood in four rows and, while most of them were four people deep, the one missing a person stood out in cold contrast, as did the empty spot at the front of the room, where the team leader usually stood. Cyclone, Warlock and Hondo stood just past that spot; heads ducked together in a whispered conversation. Besides that, nobody moved. Nobody stirred. Not Bob, balancing on a pair of crutches with a cast bracing his leg up to his knee. Not Fritz, his arm strapped against his chest to immobilize it. Not Rooster, with a black and purple bruise on his temple, or Coyote, a neat row of stitches gracing his cheek, or Hangman, who felt a painful twinge every time he breathed, the binding protecting his bruised and fractured ribs pulling taut with every inhale. None dared to move or fidget.

Finally, Admiral Simpson moved into the empty space at the front of the room and sighed.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen…I don’t think I need to tell you what an absolute clusterfuck that was.” Fanboy flinched, his head ducking fractionally as the words carried clear across the gathering. “In fact, it was such an absolute clusterfuck that Rear Admiral Cain has decided to disband the Dagger Squad. Immediately.”

Jake heard Yale gasp behind him, and he would have too, if it weren’t for the sinking weight in his chest. The mission had been a clusterfuck, there was no doubt about it, but they had achieved their mission. He had risked his ass after watching Maverick’s plane get shot out of the sky, putting all thought of his little Charlie girl waiting for him at home and the whisper of ‘god damnit, Buttercup was right’ out of his head, and he had taken charge. He had been the one to pull Rooster out of his single-minded mission to avenge Mav’s death, he had been the one to take down the jet that had been targeting an ejected Bob and Natasha, and he, Payback and Fanboy had been the ones to deliver the payload in the end, effectively taking out the target.

He had brought all but one of them home safely, but he didn’t feel any sense of relief, or even grief over Mav’s death. All he felt was the warmth of his baby girls, curled up against his chest as he rocked them in their nursery. All he tasted was the sweetness of Buttercup’s kiss, all he smelled was that newborn baby smell that he swore to God was the best thing he’d ever smelled in his life. All he saw was Buttercup’s tear-stained face as she gathered Abby in her arms and left, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in his ears. If his reaction time had been even a millisecond slower, he could’ve been in Mav’s position, and then what? What would happen to his Charlie then?

“…because of the nature of this mission, disbanding the Dagger Squad, and because you all are the best of the best, the Rear Admiral has decided to make you an offer. As you know, the Navy doesn’t often let you make very many decisions, so I want you to think carefully before you respond, because we do need your answer today. Your first option is to be absorbed into another Squad; in which case you would be shipping out today for your new assignments. Yes, Lieutenant Fitch, if both members of your team decide to go with option one, you will be keeping your WSO. Your second option is—”

The clatter of metal against wood stole the words from Cyclone’s lips, and everyone turned towards the mild-mannered, quiet, shy WSO standing behind the glaringly empty space in the third row.

“—retirement, with a full pension and an honourable discharge,” Cyclone finished, staring down at Bob’s nameplate, lying on the desk beside him.

“I think it’s pretty clear what I choose,” the WSO spoke softly, but no one in the squad could miss the barely tempered rage in his voice.

“Lieutenant Floyd—”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted,” Warlock stepped up next to Cyclone.

“I almost died on this mission,” Bob stated frankly, his gaze never wavering from Cyclone’s face. “I had to eject Lieutenant Trace and I from our aircraft after she was struck in the face by shrapnel that broke through our windshield and destroyed her helmet. Debris that came from Maverick’s plane.” The silence was heavy, tension mounting with every word, but Bob pressed on. “Nat’s never going to fly again. They already told me. And frankly, sir? I don’t know if I have it in me to bond with another pilot after holding my best friend’s body as we waited for rescue, already knowing that our team lead was KIA.”

Cyclone opened his mouth to speak, but a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“I understand, son. If you, or anyone else, decide to retire, know that you’ll be going with the full gratitude of the US Navy,” Warlock responded.

“Thank you, sir,” Bob saluted, then propelled himself out of line, crutching past the waiting rows of his friends and coworkers as he headed for the door. “I’ll fill out any paperwork you need, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“There’s no need to pack and go so quickly.”

“All due respect, sir, but yes, there is,” he came to a stop in front of Jake and fixed him with a steely look. “My family needs me. And if I don’t help them, who will?”

Jake swallowed painfully, his heart pressing against his aching ribs with every heartbroken beat, the roar of fear and shame and anxiety swirling around in his head, blocking out every sound other than the whispers of his regrets.

This wasn’t how his life was supposed to go. Football captain, homecoming king, star pupil of the Naval Academy, he flew through OCS and aced his ASTB. He was the only pilot of his generation with a confirmed air to air kill, handpicked for Top Gun and their top-secret uranium mission. And, on top of all of that, up until six months ago, he’d had the most perfect, beautiful wife waiting for him at home with their precious newborn twins.

Now, he was a divorced single dad of one beautiful little girl. A beautiful little girl that he’d had to leave in the capable hands of Penny Benjamin when the Squad had been deployed. A beautiful little girl whose sister he missed so incredibly much that it threatened to bring him to his knees. Whose mother had been right about damn near everything.

“Lieutenant Seresin?”

Jake blinked, his vision and hearing coming back into focus as Cyclone stepped down to face him.

“I’m going to be frank with you, Lieutenant. You’re the best of the best,” Cyclone stated, stepping closer. “Your skills in the cockpit are unmatched and you showed the type of leadership qualities we need in this line of work. There are whispers of promoting you due to your actions on this last mission. With the loss of Captain Mitchell and your actions on this mission, you are now the only ace pilot that the Navy has to offer. You’d have your choice of assignments, should you choose to stay. It would be a damn shame to lose you, son.”

Jake felt something squeeze in his chest, and this time it wasn’t his busted ribs. Being a Naval aviator was the only thing he had ever wanted to be, and Jake Seresin always got what he wanted. He should be elated, planning for his move to the best naval base in the country, where they would probably let him lead his own squad after the way he led the Dagger Squad home safely, tearing victory from the jaws of defeat. He could be Lieutenant Commander Seresin.

Buttercup’s tears and the clicking of his apartment door as it swung shut.

Those bright baby blues that were just now starting to darken into the very same light green he saw in the mirror every morning.

The powdery scent of diaper powder and formula, and the solid warmth and weight of his baby girl in his arms.

“With all due respect, Admiral?” Jake pushed through the catch in his throat. “It would be even more of a damn shame for my daughter to lose her dad. I’m all she’s got. I…I can’t let her down. I can’t let her ever think there’s a chance in hell that her daddy ain’t comin’ back to her. I’m afraid I have to thank you for the opportunity and request that you tender my resignation. Sir.”

Cyclone sighed, a wave of disappointment cresting over his face as he opened his mouth to argue, to convince him to stay, but a firm hand gripped his shoulder.

“We understand,” Warlock reached out and shook his hand. “Thank you for your service, Lieutenant Seresin.”

Jake nodded, shaking his hand before turning and saluting Cyclone. “Thank you, sir.”

“I…I’m with him.” Jake turned and saw Javy saluting the two members of the brass.

“Coyote…”

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. I followed your ass on the football field, I followed your ass to the Naval Academy, and now I’m following your ass out the door. You’re not the only one Charlie’s got, man. You both got me.”

“And me.”

The two men turned to see Rooster fiddling with his name plate.

“Bradshaw…” Cyclone’s voice rose in shock.

“My mama never wanted this for me,” Bradley continued, as if he hadn’t heard him. “I know she didn’t. Hell, my mama never stepped another foot on a plane after my daddy died. She was too terrified of bein’ in the air, thinkin’ I might lose her too. I used to think that flying brought me closer to my dad, that I could feel him when I was alone in the cockpit.” He unpinned his name plate carefully, studying the engraving. Lt. Bradshaw. “I can’t feel him anymore,” he murmured. “I’m older than he ever got to be. And now Mav’s gone…” Rooster sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to shake this last mission, sir. I’d be a detriment to any team I join, and I don’t want to put anyone in that position. So…I’m walking away.”

“I…understand. Thank you, gentlemen, for your years of service.”

Rooster saluted, then the three men walked out of the briefing room, the weight of their actions blanketing them.

“So…what now?”

Jake rubbed at his ribs. “We go to Mav’s funeral…then I guess we go home.”

“And where exactly is home?” Rooster drawled. “I can’t imagine you want to stay in your apartment after…everything.”

Jake shook his head, his tactician’s brain kicking into high gear. “Javy?”

“Yeah, man?”

“I think it’s time we introduce Bradshaw here to some Texas barbecue.”

The Brig, Camp Silver Star, Present Day

“Amelia? You…you knew?” Charlie yanked at the t-shirt that felt like it was closing in around her neck.

Amelia kicked off her rainboots, shed her yellow raincoat, and shuffled towards them, gingerly taking a seat on Abby’s bed.

“Yeah…I knew.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charlie’s hands clenched rhythmically as she tried to breathe.

“I didn’t know the two of you were here at the same time,” Amelia soothed. “I found out that day that cantaloupe ended up in the fruit salad. You both came to me to ask about it, and I went to find my mom right away. That’s when she told me that she had sent emails about the camp to your aunt and uncles, offering a friends and family discount if you came for these specific weeks.”

“A-Aunt Penny knew too?” Charlie croaked.

“She did. Charlie, I—”

Charlie shook her head, sending her blond braid flying, the end whipping at her face with the force of it. “No. No. This is all a coincidence. It has to be one big coincidence. My dad and your m-mom…them knowing each other doesn’t mean anything.”

“Charlie…” Amelia started, but Abby felt something snap inside of her.

“You’re not actually stupid enough to believe that, are you?” she spat. “Why can’t you just admit that it all makes sense? Our parents knew each other, they got married, and they had us. We have the same birthday, we look identical, and we have these pictures to prove it! Why is that so difficult for you to see?”

“Because it means he lied to me!” Charlie shrieked, burying her head in her hands. “He lied to me. My whole life. He hid my mom and my sister from me for twelve years! He’s my best friend, we tell each other everything, we do everything together, and he lied to me!”

Charlie’s shoulders shook with the force of heavy sobs as the wind whipped at the windows, making the cabin shake. She’d asked her dad about her mother for years, and he had never told her. And neither had Javy or Rooster, who so clearly knew her mother too. Her chest ached with the sting of betrayal, and she had no idea how she was supposed to go home and look her three favourite people in the eyes after finding out they had been hiding such a massive secret from her.

Charlie flinched as she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, and she sniffled as her head was tugged onto Abby’s shoulder.

“W-why aren’t you angry?” she whispered.

“I honestly don’t know,” Abby murmured back, staring sightlessly out the window. “I know that I should be. I know that my mum and Uncle Bob and Auntie Nat lied by omission by not telling me about you and dad, but I just…can’t.”

“Why would they do this to us?” Charlie scrubbed at her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “How is it legal to say that each parent gets a kid, and they never have to see the other one?”

“They had a custody arrangement…” Amelia had moved to kneel at the edge of Charlie’s bed.

“What sick judge would agree to something like this?” Charlie hiccupped as Abby removed her arm and leaned forward, desperation shining in her eyes.

“No one,” Amelia sighed and turned her face downwards. “Now, I don’t have all the information. I was just a kid when your parents split up, and my mom and Mav tried to shield me from the worst of it. All I know is that they got engaged after dating for like a really short amount of time, then your mom found out she was pregnant with you two, and they eloped in Las Vegas. Mav was pissed.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t he like my mum?”

“He loved your parents, both of them. Hangman was a pain in the butt, but Mav wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. After that first mission they flew together, when Hangman saved Mav and Rooster’s life, nobody really cared that Hangman was cocky. The way he could needle at the other members of his squad, it only ever pushed them to be the best that they could be. I know Mav saw a lot of good in your dad, and he really cared about him. And your mom? I think Mav loved your mom because she really helped bring Hangman down to earth. He once told me, ‘Buttercup keeps Hangman’s feet on the ground while his brain is racing through the sky’,” Amelia chuckled. “God, I loved hanging around with your parents. They were so cool.”

“Wait…Buttercup?” Abby bit her lip. “That’s what my aunt and uncle call my mum. Well, that and kiddo.”

“Yeah, nicknames around Miramar kinda just…stuck. Your dad started calling your mom Buttercup, and that was that. She was Buttercup from then on.”

“She even has a buttercup tattoo on her collarbone,” Abby said excitedly, her mind racing with the implication.

“That’s great and all, but can we get back to the story? Why was Mav angry?”

“Because he wanted to be there when they got married,” Amelia laughed quietly. “The Dagger Squad got chosen to do an air show in Las Vegas, and Hangman was able to work it so that your mom could come. Mav didn’t question it at all, even though he knew they were engaged and expecting. Your dad had to do 200 pushups when he got back for not telling Mav the plan so that he could be there,” Amelia giggled. “But I never heard him complain about it. He thought your mom was worth it.”

“So then…what happened?”

“Like I said, I don’t know. My mom and dad split when I was younger, and I guess my mom thought that watching one of my favourite couples in the world split up might bring up some bad memories, so she and Mav sheltered me from a lot of it. I know they had a really bad fight, they both said some things, and then they split, and they each took one of you.”

“H-how did they decide who to take?” Charlie trembled.

“I honestly don’t know. But I know it was never supposed to be permanent. The custody arrangement, I mean.”

“Then what happened? Why did they keep us from each other?”

Amelia shrugged. “I know that it was partly your dad’s deployment schedule. It was hard to set up a visitation schedule when Dagger Squad was being called into action so often. Then, the pandemic hit, and nobody wanted to be sending really young kids on international flights where they could get sick and potentially have lasting complications. After that, I really don’t know.”

Charlie took a deep, shuddering breath as Abby chewed on her lower lip. The cabin was silent, save for the wind and rain lashing at the windows.

Finally, Amelia sighed. “I know this a big revelation for the two of you, and I hate to leave when you probably have a billion more questions. But I do have to get back. I’ll be back later tonight to collect your tray, and I’ll hopefully have more time to answer your questions. Okay?”

Abby nodded but Charlie sat stock still, staring into space.

“Charlie?” Amelia called softly, ducking her head to catch her gaze. “Are we okay, hon?”

Charlie nodded mutely and Amelia returning it with a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll see you both later.”

“Bye Amelia,” Abby called softly as the door swung shut behind her.

Silence fell for a brief moment before Abby looked over at Charlie.

“What are you thinking?”

“Shhh…” Charlie hissed, but Abby didn’t take offense. It was clear from the deep set of Charlie’s eyebrows and the pensive look in her eyes that she was planning something. No…plotting something.

Abby shrugged and walked over to the small card table that held their trays of food. Two small Thermos’ of chili, an array of Ziploc bags filled with cheese, chili flakes, bacon bits, and sour cream, and two snack sized bags of tortilla chips were seated neatly on the silver trays, and Abby felt her stomach grumble.

She had just sat down to her freshly topped chili when Charlie moved, sitting across from her with a steely look in her eyes.

“Charlie?”

“I want to get to know my mom,” she stated simply, as though she was saying that the sky was blue or that grass was green.

Abby nodded eagerly. “I know! I can’t wait to get to know dad! Maybe we could call him together on Friday and talk to him together? And then we could do the same for mum!”

Charlie shook her head. “No. I mean really get to know her. I want to meet her in person. I want to be able to hug her. I want to spend time with her, and I want to be able to do that without having to spend time answering questions about how we found each other or her trying to tell me about what happened between her and dad.”

“I…I want that too,” Abby confessed, though Charlie’s words were confusing her. “And we can do that. Once they know that we know, we’ll be able to use that custody agreement and see mum and dad, and each other, more often.”

Charlie shook her head again. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to talk to dad. Or Rooster. Or Javy. They lied to me for my whole entire life! I’m so mad at them that I’ll probably just scream the whole time we’re talking to them. Besides, whose to say that they won’t make excuses and not let us see each other again? What happens if they just decide that I can’t see mom and you don’t get to see dad?”

“They wouldn’t do that!”

“Abby, they already did do that!” Charlie reached out and grabbed Abby’s wrist, her gaze pleading. “Don’t you want to get to know dad without having to deal with all of this? Don’t you want to be able to meet him and get to know him without all the awkward stuff, like him asking you what your favourite colour is or what you got for your tenth birthday?”

“Well…yeah. Of course, I do. But…how would we do that? It’s not like I could just go to Texas when camp is over.”

“Why not?” Charlie’s eyes shone bright with excitement. “Who says you couldn’t just take my boarding pass and fly to Texas to meet dad? Who says I couldn’t just take your boarding pass and fly to London to meet mom?”

“Charlie, you sound insane,” Abby gently removed her hand from her wrist and picked up her spoon. “First of all, I don’t have a boarding pass. I fly stand-by because my uncle is a pilot and gets me on the plane for free, so long as he’s the one flying. Second, we might look a like, but there are still some cosmetic differences! My hair is shorter than yours, I have pierced ears, and we have different accents. They would certainly notice all that. And third, our parents have known us since birth. Surely they would be able to tell that we’re not us!”

“We can fix those things!” Charlie leaned forward. “I can teach you all about my life in Texas. I can show you the layout of the ranch, which cows to avoid, how to tack up my horse at home. I can teach you all about dad and Javy and Rooster. I can cut my hair! And listen, it’s not even that hard to fake a British accent. Pip, pip, cheerio!”

Abby snorted. “And what? You expect me to teach you all about London? Where to catch the tube, the layout of the flat, where the best fish and chips are? You want me to tell you all about mum, and where Uncle Bob hides his glasses cleaning cloth, and how not to stare at Auntie Nat’s scar? You want me to start talking like a cowboy? And what about my ears being pierced?”

“Why not?” Charlie begged, her green eyes shining. “We’ve got like a month to teach each other everything we would ever need to know. And we both have cell phones, so it’s not like we would be completely cut off from each other. If I had a question, I could just text you and ask!”

“Charlie, you sound ridiculous!” Abby threw her spoon down and rubbed her eyes. “There’s no way I can teach you about my life in a month. You want us to try to pull one over on the people that know us best. It would never work.”

Charlie bit her lip then leaned in for the kill. “I saw the way you lit up when Amelia mentioned mom’s nickname being Buttercup. I know how excited you got when you realized that mom has a tattoo of a buttercup. I know you were thinking the exact same thing I was.”

“Which is?”

“That if the people around her still call her Buttercup, maybe she still has feelings for dad. The nickname obviously meant enough to her that she got it tattooed on her body, and she hasn’t tried to get it removed or anything.”

“Mum, she…she’s never dated,” Abby admitted quietly. “She always says she just doesn’t have the time, but…I’ve always hoped that maybe it’s because she still has feelings for my dad.”

“Dad is the same way,” Charlie whispered. “He says I’m his best girl, but I know from Rooster and Javy that dad could be going on lots of dates if he wanted to. They love to tease him about it, and he tells them that he’s too busy with me and the ranch. But I know it’s because he still loves mom.” Charlie reached for her wrist again and this time Abby didn’t pull away. “Abby, if we do this, they will eventually have to switch us back. I’m not suggesting we do this forever. We can get to know them for a bit, then tell them the truth, and they’ll have to meet to switch us back. And when they meet…”

“…they could fall in love again,” Abby murmured.

“They could. Or, at the very least, they can talk and figure out a schedule so we don’t have to be separated again. C’mon…isn’t it at least worth a shot?” Charlie blinked over at her; the puppy dog eyes she had learned from her dad shining in full force.

Abby sighed. “Do you really think we can do it?”

“We’ve got a month, we’ve got social media, and we’ve got access to the computers once a week. I don’t see how we couldn’t pull this off.”

Abby chewed on her bottom lip. “O-okay…but if I don’t feel comfortable with this later, I want to be able to change my mind.”

“Done.” Charlie stuck her hand out and Abby grasped it, pumping it twice in the air with a grin on her face. “Now…let’s get to work.”

Tags List: @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @waltermis @buckysteveloki-me @allepaula @yuckosworld @seresinsbrat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @kim-stark @cierra715 @high-speed-r @helpmepleasethanks @starsrfun @tomanyfandomstrash @averyhotchner @the-blueatlas @princessliz86 @dashes-dizzydisaster @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boiolay @djs8891 @torimcc @tgmreader @kmc1989 @landpiranha-blog @sydthekid1518 @lynnevanss @hello7442 @mackenzieblair @minejungwoo @starset21 @ssa-sadboi @tgmavericklover @dempy @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @lovemarvelousfics @starkleila @magical-spit @whatislovevavy @simplyreading96 @vivalas-vega @itsdesiree86 @inky-sun @books-are-escapes @abaker74 @clockworkballerina

[autumnmobile12]

Ambush Simulation: Who is Epimetheia?

“You were looking for a lost child on a mountain,”  Touya said.  “Not one who’d been stolen.  You found a part of a body, of course you’d think I was dead.  And you weren’t the only one.  Pro Hero Epimetheia dreamed my death.  Pulse couldn’t sense me.  Nighthunter’s tracking abilities ended with the jawbone.  It wasn’t your fault.”

...

This character has been mentioned a couple times now as a background Pro Hero in the Ambush Simulation AU, both in the main fic as well as Equilibrium and Cracks in the Foundation. The above quote is her most recent mention and I don't have any plans to give her a major role in the narrative, but I do want to give a little context of who she is for funsies.

I have talked about her in previous posts, but it was to the affect of doing a My Hero Academia crossover, that may or may not still happen, with another great anime called Ghost Hunt, one I highly recommend watching.

Trigger warning for mentions of violent death and PTSD.

The character Epimetheia herself is a crossover cameo of Ghost Hunt's protagonist, Taniyama Mai.

Epimetheia's Quirk, Retrocognition, was developed directly from Mai's ability to view past and present events through dreaming. It's an invaluable investigation ability that recovers indisputable testimony from the deceased victims of violent crime. She also has some astral projection abilities that allow for locating missing people, and in some cases, negotiating with villains.

However, the catch is Mai's abilities cause her to exclusively view said events from the first person point of view. Canonically in Ghost Hunt, Mai has died in her dreams up to five times in extremely violent ways.

For context, this scene isn't her memory. She's reliving the final moments of a serial killer's victim.

Translating an ability like that into a My Hero Quirk, that is a brutal one to cope with. At her core, Mai canonically is a kind, optimistic person who wants to believe everyone has good in them, which does give her a unique mental fortitude to handle what is admittedly a really traumatic power.

As an Ambush Sim crossover cameo, her abilities do garner her a certain level of both fear and respect. Similar to telepathy, it is a pretty invasive ability that triggers even when she's semi-adjacent to tragedy.

Example: If she were to meet Aizawa or Present Mic in person, she would definitely dream of Shirakumo's death later. There is no filter for her.

So when Touya says in Chapter 11 that she 'dreamed his death,' she felt every second of this.

What makes it worse is Cracks in the Foundation mentions her as one of Endeavor's sidekicks. So she'd known Touya since he was a newborn.

...

Touya: You don't know what it's like to burn alive!

Mai: I assure you no one understands what happened to you better than me.

...

In Equilibrium, Touya also describes her usage of a house key to comfort the missing while the hero teams located them. That is a direct reference to this scene in Ghost Hunt.

When one of her friends goes missing in the series, Mai was able to locate her with her dreaming. In this, she determined she was still alive and gave both the impromptu search and rescue team and her lost friend a much needed morale boost. One of the ways she comforted her friend, though, was to give her a house key memento from her childhood to keep her grounded while she waited for rescue.

In Ambush Sim, the key has the same significance. She wears it on a chain around her neck and she has the image of a key tattooed on her wrist.

"Remember where you are, and then you can never be lost."

And this moment from Chapter 3?

Her [Rei's] head snapped down and she’d stared at him with her grey eyes wide with horror, mouth opening and closing.  It was only for a moment and she recovered quickly, apologizing for the mix-up and lightly brushing her hand over his hair, then she returned to her conversation with the Dreaming Hero Epimetheia and the Hunting Hero Nighthunter, neither of whom seemed to have taken notice of her momentary distress.

She noticed. Her reaction to it will come up in Cracks in the Foundation Chapter 3.

[captainwans]

LAST TRAIN TO LONDON.

pairing: professor!alex turner x student!fem!oc

word count: 6.5k words

━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄. | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑵𝑮𝑰𝑵𝑮.

summary: nina collett is many things. she’s a devoted mother, a loyal friend, a daughter, and a dedicated student. each aspect of her life has challenges and its sacrifices and she is forced to confront these, demanding her constant attention. amidst the whirlwind of responsibilities and emotions, she finds her professor becoming more involved in her life than she expected, adding another layer of turbulence to her already chaotic life. balancing the fine line between professional boundaries and personal feelings was more difficult than she anticipated, all while she was trying to keep her life from unraveling.

warning: this series contains mature scenes, sexual references, character death, vulgar language, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, mental illness, age gap (student in her twenties), an excruciating slow-burn (now i’m being dramatic, but you get the picture), other triggering topics, and all the feels (—i’m talking about sweet-teeth rotting fluff that makes you want to evaporate. or soul wrenching angst that feels like a punch in the gut). if any of themes, opinions or content upsets you or makes you uncomfortable, feel free to message me, or simply, do not read it.

𝓝ina fiddled with her lighter, soft curses emitting from her lips when it didn’t ignite. She cupped her cigarette with one hand, and the corner of her eyes crinkled as she tried to assault her lighter to catch any sparks of fire. After a few tries, a small but weak fire ignited, and she didn’t hesitate to place the cigarette close to the lighter. She placed the stick to her lips, cheeks hollowed before puffing out the smoke. She let out a content sigh, the cigarette resting between her fingers as she let her back hit the platform. 

Nina stared through space, her mind working overtime as she waited for her last train home. Exhaustion engulfed her body like a blanket and she had to close her eyes for a second, her lips turning into a tired sneer as a yawn escaped from her mouth. She had spent the weekend with her closest friends and family, celebrating her best friend for who had just become a new mother. Her lips curled into a smile, the idea of Breana being a mother sent a fluttering warmness into her chest. But that warmness soon manifested into a heavy feeling, more toward herself at her role of being a mother—which she knew Breana would do a hell of a lot job better than her. 

It wasn’t that she was a bad mother—-no, far from it. Her daughter means the world to her and she loves her one-year-old with every fiber of her being. Mathilda was the center of her universe. Every decision, every choice, and every sacrifice had been made for her and it would continue to be so. Yet, as she was watching Breana’s newborn cuddled in his father’s arms, a prickling pain stirred inside her chest. It was a painful reminder that she could never give Mathilda the chance to meet her father.

The tragic fate of her fiancé, Josh, along with carrying a child left a scar deeper than she imagined. Guilt and shame stirred within her, filling every crevice of her brain and shaking her to the core. She often found herself replaying the moment she learned of his death, each replay worsening her misery. It was a memory filled by the harsh words of her mother-in-law, who had called her stupid and an embarrassment. Josh had died in a car accident during a heavy storm, an accident Nina blamed on herself because she had asked him to run some errands that day. It’s your fault. He is dead because of you. Her voice echoed inside her mind, leaching her sense of self. Suddenly, the idea of being a mother with dreams and ambitions felt too far out of reach. It didn’t seem so appealing anymore. She felt hollow, overwhelmed, and scared by the thought of raising a child on her own and finishing her studies seemed like an impossible task.

In the midst of the storm, Nina refused to give up. She kept thinking of Josh and she knew he would never want this for her. Being shunned by her in-laws gave her the chance to focus on what truly mattered—her own family. She didn’t have the best relationship with her parents growing up, but when Mathilda was born, everything changed. Suddenly, there were daily calls, frequent visits, and a lot more affection than she was used to. It felt strange at first, but she slowly got used to it, realizing that she wouldn’t trade it for anything. This was her chance to heal old wounds and finally make things right. 

Mathilda was her own little sunshine—a bright and joyful child who filled the house with laughter, giggles, and warmth. It was something Nina hadn’t known that she needed so much. By looking into those big, innocent eyes, she knew she was going to be okay and that Josh would always be with her, living through Mathilda. Being a mother was the hardest task in her life, but it was also the best task she could ever ask for.

“This is the last train to London. No other trains are leaving for London today.” A male announcer’s monotonic tone pulled her out of her melancholy, making her sigh before throwing her lifeless cigarette on the ground. She stomped on the stick with her heel, hands tightening her bag that was securely wrapped around her shoulder. She stood in line among many others, eyes darting around her. Her hazel eyes found a child, whose doe-eyes were boring into hers as she sat on her mother’s shoulders. 

Nina felt her heart swell, the way the child’s eyes glowered from the lights above, reminding her of her sweet baby girl who was waiting for her to come home. The little girl on her mother’s shoulder brought her little hands up to wave, which she gladly did the same as her lips curved into a sweet smile. She watched a big toothy grin etch onto the baby’s face, lips emitting small giggles. The mother looked up, moving her gaze to where her daughter was looking at. The woman politely smiled toward the female, her head nodding in greeting as she gripped her child’s hands. “She’s pretty, isn’t she, bub?” 

Nina’s heart fluttered, eyes softening at the little girl shyly nodding her head. She hummed, smiling at the woman. She turned her head back to her daughter, a wide smile reaching her features. “And aren’t you the cutest thing ever?” she cooed, fingers tickling her side earning a happy beam. Some turned their heads to the interaction, smiles forming their tired faces, and others who stood in line impatiently and just wanted to hop on the train.

Nina stepped onto the train, her heels loudly clanking against the hard metal ground causing a few heads to turn her way. She felt heat wash over her, blood rushing through her ears at the unwanted attention as she squeezed herself into the cramped space of passengers trying to blend in. Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyebrows furrowed with discomfort as she swarmed into the heavy mass of bodies occupying the exit area. 

She bit her lip, stifling back a groan, feeling someone’s heel stepping on her toes. She clenched her jaw, her narrowed eyes darting across the packed ambiance as she looked for empty seats or even a place to stand. Much to her dismay, it was none as it was inhabited by many other frustrated passengers. She fixed the strap of her bag and clutched it tightly against her body, eyes still searching. But as she was looking her eyes locked with none other than her professor, whose eyes were hesitant, but soft as he gave her a polite smile in greeting.

Her heart leaped out of her chest, feeling a dust of crimson dancing across her cheeks. She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, returning his smile with an uncertain simper, mostly to herself as she was contemplating whether or not he was smiling at her or someone else. “Excuse me, ma’am.” 

A rough voice startled her out of her state, head snapping toward a man who was standing beside her, looking rather impatient. She sheepishly apologized, realizing where she was standing, and moved to the side. She blew her cheek out with a heavy breath as her feet led her toward the other side of the train, hand gripping the metal pole tightly.

Her mind started wandering back to him, who was standing a few feet away from her. She could only see his face as his figure was covered by commuters standing in the middle of the train. She wondered what he was wearing since she was used to his formal attire—suit pants, black striped shirt, sometimes a plain white shirt and if you took a closer look you could see a small silver chain wrapped delicately around his neck. A warm feeling settled into her stomach and she cringed for feeling this way about her own professor. It wasn’t like she was in love with him like any other student was, but she couldn’t help but immerse in the idea of seeing him under different circumstances.  

There wasn't that much of an age gap between them and by the looks of it, he looked fairly young compared to other professors and employees in the university. The subject of age seemed to be the most appealing amongst the students, especially for the female students who gave him heart eyes whenever he entered the lecture room. Most of his lectures included cheeky and flirty remarks from the girls in the front row, desperate to grasp his attention. Nina was quite the opposite, well—Mr. Turner was definitely appealing to her eyes, but due to her shame and bashful nature, she prefers to keep her fantasies and opinions to herself. She has for certain thought about him rearranging her insides in the classroom once or twice, but you didn’t hear that from her. 

Besides her infatuation, she finds him incredibly intelligent and a good lecturer. Mr. Turner is quite the talker, which is not surprising with the way the girls are piling up his feet, but that part seems to be irrelevant to him. And she liked that about him—he’s only here to do his job, nothing more. She usually sits in the front row, but distances herself from the annoyingly loud girls who wanted nothing more than to sleep with him. 

     “Mr. Turner, what are your plans this weekend?” A student interrupted the professor mid-sentence, earning his attention as his eyes averted away from the projector, toward the young female who leaned closer against the table with a flirtatious smile. 

     The lecturer held his breath, lips pressed into a thin line as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Nothing that concerns you,” he replied with a tip-lipped smile, brushing off her flirtatious nature as he placed his hands on his hips before clearing his throat. “As I was saying….” he continued with his lecture, ignoring the hushed whispers coming from the girls in the front row. 

     This went back and forth and Nina fought the urge to roll her eyes at one of them as she scribbled down a few words in her notebook. She bit her lip in concentration, eyebrows creasing her forehead whilst trying to pay attention to what he was saying among the loud whispers that were filling every crevice of her brain. She tsked, face morphing into a scowl as she shared a look with her friend, who was sitting beside her just as annoyed.

     Her irritation, along with the rest of the class, seemed to catch his attention, the character in her eyes mirroring his as he noticed her look of discomfort. He paused, causing the room to be quiet too. The hushed whispers and murmurs seemed to cease, everyone holding their breath in anticipation. 

     Mr. Turner stepped closer to his audience, eyes darting across the room as he studied the state of his students. He licked his lips before speaking, hand gripping his projector controller. “Raise your hand if you’re deeply disturbed by the people from the front seat.” he simply told his students with his hand raised, voice calm and stoic. 

     Nina wanted to laugh at how the girls’ expressions changed, looking behind them to see that everyone raised their hand in the air, including her as they voiced their shared complaints. She quietly snickered, covering a hand over her mouth, earning his attention. She saw a glint in his eyes before he moved his head toward his class. “If you’re here for the sake of learning, you’re seated. If there are other reasons, you may leave,” he ordered, sauntering backward.

     His arm was stretched, the controller in his hand marking a red dot pointed toward the door. “The door is right behind me,” he said once again, a small smile reaching his face as he watched the spectacle in front of him. The seats were rearranged as half of the class started leaving, making some students who were seated cheer in delight, making her stifle back a grin. 

     She slumped back into her seat, deeply exhaling as she mumbled incoherent things under her breath. “Thank God,” she sighed, earning a response from her friend. She fixed her posture, hands running over her notes to see where she left off. 

     She watched Mr. Turner’s lips curve upwards, watching them leave the lecture room before moving his head back to his remaining students. She watched his eyes trailing over the front row, and she almost jumped when he locked eyes with her. He gave her a smile and she didn’t know if she was delusional, but she swore she saw him winking at her.

A harsh collision between her and another passenger brought her out of her daydream, feeling their body trapping her against the window. She let out a raspy gasp, the burning ache on her side clawing its way to her throat. She quietly hissed, face forming into a scorn as she brought a hand to her right side. “Fuck,” she murmured, rubbing the area which she knew was going to be a nasty bruise.

Nina’s ears burned with their profuse apologies, and she had to swallow back a shady remark that would probably kick her out of the train. She gritted her teeth in pain, jaw so tightly clutched that she could only nod her head, sending a sharp smile their way before moving her gaze forward. Much to her luck, her eyes found his once again—this time clouding with genuine concern. 

Blood rushed through her face, feeling herself getting hot as her thoughts spiraled out of control. The thought of him watching her getting slammed into the window was enough for her to cringe internally. She looked away for a second, and looked back at him before glancing beside her, unsure eyes looking for another suitable person that he sent his concerns to. She cursed inside her mind, clenching her jaw before looking back at him with a finger pointed at herself. 

Mr. Turner’s lips curved upwards, eyes tinted with amusement as he nodded his head. He watched her mouth turn into an “o”, realization forming her features as she gave him a polite yet bashful smile before nodding. He saw her quickly moving her head, eyes looking elsewhere while being squeezed between two passengers. He felt her discomfort and he wanted to reach out to her and have him close to his side, but he knew that was too far out of his reach. 

The professor’s mind was a hurricane. It was violently raging, swirling, and spinning that it was hard to tell where it was all leading. He looked away, gaze moving away from her toward the hard ground with a puzzled expression. A heavy feeling tugged at his chest. It was like something or someone was sitting on his ribs, crushing till he couldn’t breathe. His eyebrows creased his forehead and he brought his hand up to his chest, clutching his shirt into a fist as if he was trying to remove the shame that was latched into his heart. 

Alex knew it was wrong—very wrong. He had overstepped his boundaries, and he was fighting for his life to keep it professional. He exhaled with a heavy breath, chest heaving as he tried to shake the image of her from his mind. But it was no use; from the moment he saw her in his first lecture, he knew he was doomed. Those hazel eyes, so intently focused on him, seemed to see right through him. The way she listened so intently, with genuine interest and engagement, made him feel a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist. It was as if her presence alone made him feel seen and valued.

Nina was top of his class, exceeding in every topic psychology had to offer. Her grasp of the subject was remarkable and her passion left him sometimes dumbfounded with her captivating insights and perspectives. She definitely left a profound impression on everyone around her—including him. Although she was reserved and quiet during most of his lectures, she had other ways to stand out as the shining star of his class. She was often seated at the front, nose buried in her notebook as she was scribbling down every word that came out of his mouth. She had ‘I’m smart and intelligent’ tattooed on her forehead, and he wasn’t all surprised when some of her classmates desperately volunteered to be in the same discussion group as her. He didn’t want to be the professor who had favorite students, but she was an exception.

     Nina walked forward with a stoic expression, eyes looking anywhere as she got lost in her inner world as she was on her way to her next lecture. She had her books close to her chest, arms crossed like two swords along with her tote bag tightly strapped to her shoulder. Her Chelsea boots skimmed smoothly down the marble floor, fastening their pace as she noticed the hallway slowly turning into traffic. 

     She grimaced, looking at the many students engulfed around the ambiance, just like her, trying to get to their class. Her stomach turned into knots, thoughts wandering over to her professor’s nagging and whining over her lateness. Her professor was a woman in her late 40s, mostly very sweet, but she was very picky and strict over time and punctuality. She could already hear her voice at the back of her head, and she was so immersed in the thought of Mrs. Williams that she didn’t notice someone walk her way. 

     Before her brain could register the sound of her books dropping, along with her glasses, her body collided with a hard chest. She lost balance and fell backward, her body dropping down the hard marble floor with a thud. Her lips emitted a small whimper, eyes squinting as her hands looked for her glasses amidst a busy crowd filled with students. “Shit,” she mumbled, a cloud entering her vision and she felt a burning ache on her right wrist.

     “I am terribly sorry. Here let me help,” she heard a deep–yet soft voice fill inside her eardrums, causing her to look up. She scorned, blinking a few times as she looked in front of her with her blurry vision. Her hand took hold of her glasses and she put them on, seeing the world clearly. 

     She noticed that her book was no longer on the floor and she instinctively looked up, gazing up to see Alex’s apologetic expression while he held his hand for her to help her on her feet. Crimson danced across her cheeks, along with a furiously beating heart as she slowly took his hand. 

     Nina gently brushed him off, voice soft as he hoisted her up to her feet. “N-No, please. I was in my own bubble and didn’t notice you walking towards me.” she sheepishly apologized with a shy smile as she felt him squeeze her hand before letting go, and she hated that he let go. 

     Alex chuckled, “I guess we’re both a little out of it today, huh?” he jested as the pair moved to the side, sauntering away from the busy crowd toward the end of the stairs. Nina held onto the stair rail, eyes looking at the people passing through the big hall. She locked eyes with her friend, standing beside the vending machine, who was looking at her with a knowing look. She gave her a glare at her giving her thumbs up, feeling heat creep upon her face before she moved her attention elsewhere. 

     “Your hand?” His voice pulled her attention toward him, watching his frown deepen as he watched her bruised wrist from the fall. She watched him hesitate for a second, fingers rubbing together before grabbing the hold of her wrist. The warmth from her face made it ten times worse, feeling the blood rush through her ears as she listened to her beating heart. 

     Guilt prickled his chest, lips screwed up as he gently rubbed the bruise. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled in a faint apology, rough fingers moving in a circle pattern as if the bruise would go away. He bit his lower lip, fingers halting his gesture before he finally let go of her hand. He looked at her, a small smile reaching his face as he felt a war inside his mind. He cursed inside his head, feeling like he crossed a line between being professional and overstepping boundaries.  

     Nina didn’t seem to mind. She watched him, heart stuttering against her chest at his touch. Her jaw slacked, and she saw him moving his head, eyes looking at her. She realized that she hadn’t said anything and she blinked before clearing her throat, bashfully smiling. “Oh, it’s fine, really.” she brushed him off, ignoring the throbbing pain on her wrist. She let out a small chuckle. “It’s not the first time I’ve hurt myself going down this hallway. The amount of times I’ve tripped and fallen is pretty concerning.” she tried to lighten up, ceasing some of the guilt that was reaching his eyes. 

     Alex’s chest rumbled with a deep chuckle, lips curving upwards at her simper. He let his body lean against the stair rail, gaze averting away from her toward the busy hall. “Yeah, tell me about it. It’s like watching the Hunger Games or something. I don’t get why they’re all in a rush, though.” he said, lips pressed into a thin line. 

     Nina bit her lip, eyes darting across his handsome features. She looked back at the hall, shrugging with a grin, eyes tinted with playfulness. “Could be a race against who would get to your class first. You see those girls?” she said, pointing a finger at them. “Yeah, definitely in a hurry to sit in the front seat.” she joked, lips emitting a small giggle before turning her head to him.

    Alex grimaced, shaking his head with a laugh. “Oh, god no.” he let out a breathy chuckle, licking his lips. His eyes sparked. “They’re definitely running to Miles’ class. Heard they dropped out of psychology and are taking music studies instead,” he told her, scoffing at the end making her mouth gape open. 

     “What? Really?” She expressed, eyes wide almost building out its sockets as she watched him nodding his head. His eyes danced at her reaction, sending an amused smile her way. “Mhm. Think Miles can handle it, though. He loves the attention.” he said with another chuckle, referring to his colleague and close friend.

     Nina’s eyes lit up at the mention of the music professor. She remembered that he was a substitute for Alex one time and she grew very fond of him during that lecture. Miles Kane was very jovial and full of energy, which seemed to match her class, as they developed a liking to him. While he had no such expertise with Mr. Turner’s subjects, Miles sure had an interesting way of presenting given topics with his competence—being music. 

     She thought about Mrs. Williams’ class and she knew she was already running late, but she couldn’t seem to find the energy to care as she was glued beside her favorite professor indulging in a conversation—which was the longest conversation she’d ever had with him, ever.

     “See you in class at three?” Alex asked with a gentle smile, hope tinted in his voice as he changed the subject.

     He watched her face morph into a small frown as she shook her head. “Sorry. I have a dentist appointment.” He nodded in understanding, his face clouding with slight disappointment at her absence from today’s lecture, but that look quickly vanished as it rapidly appeared. This went unnoticed by the latter and he watched her eyes lit up.

     “Oh, by the way. I couldn’t send the last assignment because my computer is not working at the moment, but I did print it and–uh, wait…I think I got it. I’ll give it to you. Hold on.” she bubbled, words mumbling incoherent words as she roamed her hands around her bag to look for her papers. 

     The professor’s deep chuckle filled her ears, causing a tremor of butterflies to swarm into her stomach. She felt his hand rest on her arm, making her look up. She hated that she was so easily susceptible to him. She felt hot under his touch. She watched him shake his head, slowly pulling his hand away making her frown. “Don’t even worry about it.” 

     Her heart stuttered against her chest, making her let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She pouted, “Are you sure, Mr. Turner?” she asked him, doe-eyes looking into his soft caramel orbs that she shamefully had grown to love. 

     He nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “Don’t sweat it. and besides…You’re my A student, and I know that with this assignment it will be just as strong as the others. Your writing is…. incredibly remarking, I must say. I really admire your passion for this subject.” he gushes, lips curving upwards at her response. 

     Nina’s features went from a bashful expression to an appreciative look. Her lips morphed into a smile, showing her teeth as the rapid of her chest stuttered. His words kept repeating inside her head like a mantra and she covered her fingers on her mouth to hide a big grin. She bit her lip, eyes sparking. “T-Thank you, Mr. Turner.” she shyly accepted his compliment, eyes softening at the way he was looking at her with another polite simper. 

     The professor hummed with a tip-lipped smile, mouth closing as the pair fell into silence. Alex’s eyes danced, mirroring the way his stomach swooned with butterflies. He felt a tug at his heartstrings, chest prickling for developing such feelings for his student. As much as he tried to resist, he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger longer on her face. It traced down every feature, every line, and then back to her hazel eyes before trailing down to her lips. 

     “Mr. Turner?” he slightly jumped, her honey-filled voice pulling him back to reality. He blinked, noticing her looking at him with a look he couldn't quite decipher, with her head tilted to the side. Blood rushed through his face, a flustered expression forming his handsome features as he realized that he had been mindlessly staring at her without knowing. He let out a breathy chuckle, heart palpitating against his chest as his lips emitted small apologies. 

     She hummed with a small giggle, shaking her head at him. “It’s quite alright,” she reassured, eyes soft as she watched him let out another chuckle. 

     Alex sighed, loudly cursing inside his head and he looked down at his hands realizing that he was still holding her books. His eyes widened, his brain registering that she was probably headed to her class. “Right…uh–your books. I am so sorry. Here. I’ll see you next week then.” Alex stuttered, handing over her books before clearing his throat and turning on his heel. He grimaced, cursing internally while having his back to her as he fastened his pace. 

     Way to go, Alex. He thought.

Alex snapped out of his state, his tired eyes moving from the filthy ground toward her, again. He quickly looked away as a small curse emitted from his lips, feeling like a predator watching his prey. He ran a hand over his hair, his hand carding through his locks, his nails lightly scraping at his scalp. He closed his eyes, a long sigh escaping from his lips, and letting his back hit the wall. Stop looking at her, you fucking creep. He thought to himself, jaw clenched so hard that it would break at any second. 

Should I ask her to stand beside me, or is that weird? He thought, his handsome features morphing into a grimace. He bit his lower lip, hand tightening around the grip handle as he was battling internal turmoil. But she looks uncomfortable, though. Should I do it–no, fuck. It makes you look weird—His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by an awkward cough coming from behind him. “Excuse me.”

Alex shifted his body to the side while his hand was holding the grip handle to prevent him from falling. He looked at them, eyes apologetic as he let them through. He felt heat flood over his face, realizing that he had taken up the entire space. He was so immersed in his own world that he forgot everything else around him. 

A small giggle earned his attention, head whirled toward the sound coming next to him. His gaze softened, watching a little girl nestled into her mother’s arms. The child had her eyes on him, doe-eyes curiously staring at him with a happy beam. His lips curled up, bringing his hand out to wave. Her reaction was laughable, making Alex chuckle as he watched her shyly hide her face in her mother’s chest. 

He moved his gaze away, eyes staring through empty space. He felt eyes on him, making him clench his jaw. He knew it was her and he felt her boring her eyes into the side of his head. It felt like he was going to have holes in his temple and he was contemplating his next actions. When he couldn’t handle it anymore, he finally looked over at her, still in the same uncomfortable position with commuters wedged between her. 

Alex felt his heart skip a beat as he watched her sending him a small smile. He returned her smile, eyes growing tender. ‘Are you okay?’ he mouthed, referring to her current state. His stomach turned into knots, watching her huddled into a corner, trapped into the cramped space. He saw her nod her head, shoulders shrugging as she gave him a tired look. Fuck it, I’m doing it. he thought.

The never ending battle inside his head ceased and he didn’t know where the sudden confidence came from. The professor gestured with his head to the space next to him, indicating for her to stand. He saw her face etch into a confused look, tilting her head to the side. He gave her a look, eyes tinted with slight amusement and he gestured with his hand, pointing next to him. 

Realization dawned on her face. A flustered expression formed her delicate features, lips curled up as she mirrored his simper with a shy nod. She looked beside her, noticing a passenger asleep on her shoulder. She blew out a small breath, face gracing with a scorn as she carefully moved her shoulder. She shifted her body to the side, making the person’s head hit the window. She stifled back a laugh, chewing on her bottom lip as she was trying to squeeze through the crowded space. 

Nina deeply exhaled, not realizing she was holding her breath. Her eyes found him as she was walking toward him, whose face was painted with amusement at her situation. Her lips curved up, a dust of pink dancing across her cheeks as she held her bag close to her body. Her other hand was gripping on the rubber handle to keep her from falling, but the train lurched causing her to stumble on her feet. She gripped on the handle with both hands, feeling the train sped along the tracks, swaying side to side that made it difficult to walk. 

“Fucking hell,” she muttered under her breath, the train’s erratic jerks nearly throwing her off her balance. She managed to carefully make her way toward him, but just as she neared her professor, she tripped over her own feet. Her lips uttered a small squeak just as he caught her in time, steadying her with a firm grip before she could fall. “Woah there—-I’ve got you.” his deep voice filled inside her eardrums, feeling his arm around her waist.

Nina felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, eyes looking anywhere but him. She let his touch soak into her skin, his warmth sending electricity through her. She turned to face him, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. She watched him smiling softly down at her, “Well, that would’ve been one way to make an entrance.” she heard him say, making her lips twitch upwards. 

Nina hummed with a small chuckle, eyes sparking. “I guess I’ve got a future in stunt work if my psychology degree doesn’t pan out.” she jested, wiggling her eyebrows making her professor laugh. She joined him, but their laughter seemed to abruptly cease, noticing some people on the train giving them disapproving looks. 

The pair looked back at each other, stifling back another laugh. Alex looked at the old couple glaring daggers at them, his lips curving upwards. “Someone skipped their coffee this morning.” he said in a small voice, his voice barely above a whisper, but she heard him nonetheless. 

Nina nodded her head, a simper resting on her lips. "You’re right. They look like they could use a strong cup right now.” she whispered, eyes averting away from the couple toward him, her grin widening as they both dissolved in quiet laughter.

The Collett girl tried her best to stomp down the butterflies that swarmed into her stomach, the sound of his laughter sending her almost reeling. She felt a flush of rose spread across her cheeks, along with a furiously beating heart that she was so sure of him hearing. Nina was taken off guard how they effortlessly fell into a conversation, their words flowing as freely as the train moved along the tracks. 

She couldn’t grasp where she got her sudden confidence from, her shyness melting away as they talked about anything and everything that came to mind. He told her about his passion for music, revealing a side of him she hadn’t expected. She shared snippets of her life, but hesitating to mention her daughter waiting for her at home. She felt it wasn’t the time nor the place to reveal such information, yet.  

The conversation flowed, creating a pleasant rhythm between them. Yet, as the conversation eventually began to fade, a comfortable silence engulfed around them. They exchanged occasional glances from time to time, gentle smiles and soft looks toward each other. The train rumbled along, the clatter of tracks being the only sound that was heard over the cramped ambiance. It was quiet on the train. There were a few murmurs and hushed whispers from a few passengers, while the rest were either seated or standing with tired expressions, face blunt as a white canvas. It created a peaceful atmosphere, allowing people to retreat into their own thoughts. 

Then, the silence was interrupted by a sudden jolt as the train lurched violently. Nina was caught off guard, losing her balance and before she could react she was flung forward. She collided with her professor, her body slamming into his hard chest. Her hands instinctively flew out, placing against his chest as she crashed into him, the scent of his cologne filling her senses. 

Alex’s arms were around her in an instant, hand gripping her waist with a firm but gentle hold, keeping her on her toes. “I got you, love.” he grunted, the use of an endearment slipping from his lips. Time seemed to slow as she looked up, her breath hitching as their eyes met. The world outside the train seemed to fade away, leaving only the pair wrapped in each other’s presence. 

Nina opened her mouth, but closed it, not knowing what to say. She was so immersed in his touch that she found herself unable to speak. Her fingers subconsciously curled against the fabric of his shirt as she looked at him. Her heart stammered against her chest, feeling blood rushing through her ears. She grew hot under his touch, his rough fingers tracing down her back was enough to make her pulse quicken. 

“Arriving in Paddington station.” The female announcer said through the speaker, causing the train to come to a stop. Some passengers flew out of the train, others were racing to get a seat or even a comfortable place to stand. 

A soft smile tugged at the corner of Alex’s lips, his firm yet gentle grip on her waist slowly loosening. It was as if he was reluctant to let her go. “There’s your stop,” he whispered, his hand running down her back comfortably before finally letting her go. And he hated that he had to let her go.

Nina seemed to snap back to her state, eyes blinking as she realized that she was still nestled up to his chest. A warm blushed tinged her face and she slowly left her hand, turning to her side to watch the passengers desperately trying to leave the packed train. She felt cold when his hand left her waist, along with the warmth of her face disappearing, as if someone was leaching all of the vibrancy out of her skin. A heavy feeling settled into her stomach and she exhaled before turning back to her professor. 

There was something in the way he was looking at her that made her stop in her tracks. His caramel eyes seemed to hold her in place, making the back of her hair stand up. She wanted to move and exit the train, but it was like her feet were glued to the ground. Her heart was having a war with how it was violently beating, and she wondered if everyone on the train could hear how fast it was thudding. She wanted to say something, but her mind was a swirling fog, preventing her from expressing her thoughts.

Someone brushing their shoulders with hers seemed to pull her back yet again from her spiraling mind. She bit her lip, feet slowly sauntering toward a small group of people ready to leave the train. She halted with her steps and turned her body toward him again with a kind smile. “See you next week, Mr. Turner.” she sheepishly bid her goodbyes, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He watched her leave in a hurry, her body disappearing into the mass as the door closed. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A frown was growing on his features, eyebrows creasing his forehead as he looked at the door. His own reflection was staring right back at him and he looked away, his gaze forward as his mind went haywire. 

Nina Collett, who are you really? He thought to himself.

[garricks4thwingqueen]

would u write a story where reader is bodhi’s baby sister who was dating liam and so bodhi takes care of her, comforts her, holds her when she cries when liam dies?

I'll Be There for You. Durran Reader X Liam Mairi

Request/Synopsis: would u write a story where reader is bodhi’s baby sister who was dating liam and so bodhi  takes care of her, comforts her, holds her when she cries when liam dies?  Story takes place at the end of the battle of Resson. 

Word Count: 1306 

Trigger Warnings: Death and Grieving.

     Y/N POV 

  There was so much commotion around you and your friends as you all battled Wyvern and Venin. You had lost sight of almost everyone as you were caught up in a forced wind. Your orange dragon Jade was also mates with your boyfriend Liam Mairi’s dragon Deigh. You and Liam had always had a close relationship ever since you were kids. In fact your brother and your cousin would almost pick on Liam for it constantly of how cute and adorable it was. It was thoughts like these that was a welcome distraction but also kept you focused in the midst of battle. 

  The bond that you had gained since Threshing from Deigh and Jade only made your and Liam’s relationship stronger. Not to mention it was now a major turn on for you and Liam both to be able to communicate using your minds in the bedroom. 

  You had last seen him wielding ice and battling off several wyvern. You tried to reach out to him but the bond was weak. Liam. You pleaded mentally, with no response. Jade! You screamed what is going on? I can’t- I can barely feel him. You said through a panicked voice. It’s Deigh. He took a loss of a lot of blood. No. You thought as you were reminded of the words A dragon without it’s rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead. 

   No! You screamed; Jade we have to go now! Are you going to be able to survive this? I asked through the bond filled with worry as tears came too, as we approached and landed near Liam. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, I have to be. She said as she flew of no doubt to go be with Deigh who lay a few hundred yards off. 

  You were numb and weak as you made your way to the person that was your whole entire world. One year. One year was all that you had after being separated in different foster homes for almost five years. It wasn’t enough, it never would be enough you thought as you kneeled down next to him taking his hand into yours and placing the other on his chest as you felt the slow heavy breathes. 

   “I’m sorry- I- tired. Xaden’s coming to carry him to Deigh.” You shook your head at Violet’s words. “There was nothing you could do.” You said as you heard the faintest faintest “Y/N and then a strangled “Deigh.” Come from the lips of the blonde haired boy that you loved so much. “I’m right here.” You said squeezing his hand softly three times which was your secret were of saying I love you to each other, the tears were now fully down your face as you felt him faintly squeeze your hand the same amount of times. “Xaden’s here.” You said softly as your cousin approached and you placed a soft kiss on his lips before standing as your cousin took the love of your life into his arms so he could carry him to his dragon to be with him for his  final breaths. You made sure to keep one hand on Liam as Xaden walked to let him know you were still there. That you would always be there. 

 The sight of Jade curled up against Deigh was enough to pull at your heartstrings even more. We have a hatchling. I’m not going anywhere with my precious girl. I have to stay strong for my newborn. You were slightly taken aback at her words having no idea of this concept at all that she had even had an egg; as you watched Xaden lay Liam down against Deigh. The rightful place where he deserved to take his final breaths as you held his hand once more. 

  “Do you want me to leave?” Your cousin asked softly, placing a soft hand onto your left shoulder as you shook your head against Liam’s chest as you felt his breath rattle. The battle is over. Cuir is letting you ride back with your brother when you're ready so I can take care of Liam and Deigh. You couldn’t reply, you still felt numb; all you could do is let a soft emotion of gratitude fill down your bond to Jade.The bond that now felt half gone due to the absence of Liam and Deigh even though you could still fill your bond with Jade fully intact. 

                              Later that night Bodhi POV 

  Your sister awakens and approaches your door. Cuir said into our bond, jolting me awake as I made my way to my bedroom door which was across the hall from my sisters at Riorson house. I opened the door to her fist about to hit the wood. “Bodhi.” She sniffled. “I know, I know, come here” I said and pulled my sister into a tight embrace.  “Can I stay with you?” She said in tears against my chest.

  “Of course you can. You know I’m half surprised you managed to even fall asleep on your own.” She curled up against my side as I guided us back into my bed as she shook her head; “not very well.” She said as there were now full on tears running down her cheek. I reached out and whipped them away and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and I couldn’t help but smile at the small carved wooden heart that she played with in her hands that had her and Liam’s initials on it. I immediately recognized it as one of the first things he had ever carved for my sister, or anyone for that matter. 

  I started to rub soft circles up and down her back as she clung on to me and cried. “Each time I closed my eyes all I saw was his smile, or if it wasn’t that it was some sort of nightmare. How is he gone, Boh? He doesn;t deserve it. Not him.” “He's never gone Y/N. Even if he physically isn’t with us anymore. Even if we can’t see his smile, hear his voice, even if you can’t feel his touch anymore. He’s still here. I said placing a hand on chest above her heart, and here I said running a finger over the small carved wooden heart in her hands and here I said placing a hand above my own heart and Xaden’s and Sloanes. He's going to live on in everyone’s life that he had the pleasure of being in because that’s Liam Y/N.” I said softly, placing a soft kiss on her forehead while still holding her tightly. 

   “Sloane.” She said now through another round of tears. “She’s all alone right now.” She said sobbing at the thought of Liam’s sister being alone through this not even at her own sadness or pain anymore. “Sloane is strong just like you are. She’ll be ok.” I said softly. “It’s all going to be ok.” I said again softly, giving my sister another tight squeeze. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s late. Think we can try for some sleep again?” I asked soothingly as I felt her nod her head against my chest. 

   “As long as you promise to be next to me.” She said still through tears “I promise Y/N, I’m not going to leave you anytime soon, not when you need someone to be next to you.” I said as I tucked her hair behind her ear as I waited for a response that didn’t come as my sister was already sound asleep against my chest as I held her tightly. “I’m right here Y/N. I’ve got you.” I said softly once more before I found myself eventually dozing off on my own. 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Blood singer, part 7

Summary: Jasper opens up, giving her a glimpse of his past and a key to his heart.

Warnings (be mindful of your triggers): injury, blood and death, angst, fluff, grief, swearing, sexual content, mentions of mental health struggles, alcohol, eating disorder

Pairing: Jasper Hale x human!reader (blood singer), Paul Lahote x human!reader

Word count: 14.6k

Blood singer - Series Masterlist

“Good mornin’,” Jasper murmurs.

His voice is soft, low, almost hesitant and it pulls her from sleep like a thread unraveling a dream. Her lashes flutter, brows furrowing as reality sharpens. She’s alive. It’s morning. She’s still in his arms.

And somehow, that makes everything feel more surreal.

Her cheek rests against his cold, unmoving chest. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t shift beneath her. Yet he holds her like she’s breakable. Like he’s afraid she’ll slip away.

The silence fills the room, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the nightstand. Her fingers twitch slightly against the edge of his shirt. She doesn’t want to move. She doesn’t want to leave this moment.

She should be afraid. Any sane person would be looking for salvation. She isn’t. There's so much she doesn't know, more than she can fully grasp, yet she’s not moving. Her head remains on the rock hard chest of a man who admitted he's a vampire. And she’s comfortable, more comfortable laying on a man without a heartbeat than she ever felt in her own bed.

Everything hurts. Her body aches from the inside out, her muscles dull and her ribs tender, like she’s been wrung out and stitched back together. She draws in a shallow breath.

“Everything hurts,” she whispers, voice barely there.

“I know, darlin’,” Jasper says, his fingers grazing her bare shoulder. The touch is light, incredibly gentle, and cold. It startles her, but not in a bad way. Her skin prickles beneath the chill. She leans slightly into it before she even realizes what she’s doing.

There’s a quiet moment. She stares at the pale fabric of his shirt near her face, her mind spinning. So many questions. So much she doesn’t understand, but she wants to. She wants to understand everything. She wants to understand him.

“What happened to you?” she asks, her voice rough, almost guilty. Then quickly, she amends, “I mean... what made you this way?”

Jasper goes still. She doesn’t look up, but she feels his pause. His silence makes her question if she should pry. Perhaps he doesn’t like to talk about it and she’s reopening wounds best left alone?

“A power hungry vampire,” he finally says. “She wanted a soldier. Someone to lead her newborn army. I was good at killing, and she knew it.”

He sighs. It doesn’t sound natural. Does he even need to breathe? It sounds practiced, something he does for her benefit.

“I didn’t ask for it. But I didn’t fight it, either. Not then. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

She slowly lifts her head from his chest, wincing as her body protests the movement. He immediately curls his hand around her elbow to support her. His thumb strokes softly across her skin.

"I'm not proud of who I was, darlin’, but I'm trying to be a better man that I was when I was alive."

Her eyes meet his. He looks at her like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he blinks while she’s left breathless just by looking at him and the beauty he exudes .She doesn’t know what to say at first. So she settles for the truth.

“I think it’s admirable,” she says quietly. “That you’re trying to be better.”

Her lips part like she wants to say more, but she hesitates. He sees it.

“Just ask,” Jasper says. His hand comes up, fingers brushing her cheek. He rests his thumb along the edge of her lip, a featherlight touch that sends heat to her face despite his cold skin.

“Do vampires have some weird power to make humans attracted to them?”

Her voice is quiet, but the question hangs between them. She doesn’t look at him right away. She’s staring at the ceiling, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her chest. Since the moment she met him, she’s felt drawn to Jasper, like a current dragging her under. His voice, his scent, even the way he walks, it all gets under her skin. Paul was handsome. He still is. But this is different. This is… overwhelming and impossible to fight.

Jasper doesn’t answer right away. His gaze drifts toward the window, his jaw tightening.

“We’re created to draw our prey in,” he finally says.

She swallows. “Humans,” she adds, softly.

He nods, then turns back to her. His eyes meet hers and holds them steady, like he wants to be clear. Honest.

“Does that ever go away?” she asks, her voice just above a whisper. “Or am I always going to feel this…”

She trails off, unsure how much she wants to admit. But the way Jasper watches her, like nothing she says will scare him, gives her courage.

“Not really,” he says gently. “But you’ll get used to it. The longer you’re around us, the easier it gets. Ask Bella. She’d be the one to understand. It’s still fresh for her.”

The realization hits her like a cold splash of water. Of course. Bella. Something had felt off since breakfast, since she first saw her again and now it all makes sense. She’s one of them. She chose this… for Edward.

Her brows lift, just slightly, and Jasper notices.

“Any other effects I should expect?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. The motion pulls at the stitches near her temple, and she winces.

Jasper frowns, gently reaching over to brush a loose strand of hair away from her face. His fingertips hover for a moment before they make contact, cool, featherlight against her skin.

“Alice can see the future,” he begins. “Edward reads minds. Bella has a shield protecting her from some abilities. Renesmee can show you memories through touch.”

She blinks, stunned into silence.

“And I…” he hesitates, then continues, “I can feel and influence emotions.”

She stares at him, her body still. No words form in her mouth. It’s too much. Too strange. Yet it makes sense. The safety she felt. The calm that wrapped around her when she should’ve been breaking apart.

“No,” he says quickly, catching her expression. His eyes flick to her lips as her mouth opens slightly.

“No what?” she asks, voice hushed.

“I haven’t made you feel anything,” he says. There’s a small, barely there smile on his lips, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Your feelings are your own. I’ve only eased your anxiety... and dulled the fear, to help you breathe.”

She exhales shakily and rolls onto her back. A quiet grunt escapes her as pain flares across her ribs and back. Her arm moves slowly, one hand pressed lightly to her side.

So that’s why she felt safe. That’s why it was easier to breathe around him. It wasn’t real. Or… maybe it was, and he just softened the edges.

“I’ve taken your pain, too,” he adds, watching her face closely.

Her dry lips part as she licks them, trying to speak. “How can I ever know if…” Her throat tightens. “I mean, I’ve felt something change when you’re near me.”

She places a hand over her face, her fingers curling slightly against her forehead, as if hiding from her own thoughts.

“It’s okay,” Jasper murmurs. His voice is calm, his hand gently brushing the top of her arm. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Yell if you need to. Be mad. You don’t have to hold anything back.”

The way he says it…it doesn’t feel rehearsed. It feels like permission. Like he means it.

She lowers her hand slowly, her eyes meeting his again. There’s a flicker of something raw in her gaze. Doubt. Hope. Maybe even trust. And still, despite everything, she doesn’t move away.

“I’m not angry,” she grumbles, voice low and rough with sleep. “You’re… you make me feel safe. What if it’s only because you’ve affected my emotional state?”

Her fingers twitch beside her on the bed. She doesn’t look at him. Instead, her eyes lock onto the ceiling like it might give her answers. A breath pushes through her nose, sharp with frustration.

“I loved feeling that way around you,” she admits, almost like a confession she regrets. “I hate that it could be a lie.”

Jasper shifts beside her, his body leaning closer. His cool hand hovers just above hers but doesn’t quite touch. “I promise not to do it again,” he says, voice quiet, layered with something too close to desperation. “Not unless you ask me to.”

She finally turns to face him, her breath caught in her throat. He’s closer than she thought. Too close, maybe. His golden eyes flicker with uncertainty, but his body doesn’t move away. She doesn’t know whether to kiss him or shove him. Every inch of her aches, stitched and sore, but the ache in her chest is worse.

God, she wants to kiss him.

How does the devil look so angelic?

Her head is spinning. Everything she’s ever known about vampires tells her to run. Blood, death, darkness, that’s what she expected. That’s what she’s seen in books, in stories. But Jasper… he doesn’t fit any of that. He’s something else entirely. Still dangerous. Still capable. But different. Gentle. Thoughtful. Beautiful.

Her breath shudders. “Jasper,” she exhales, almost like she’s asking him to stop. Or maybe to keep going.

Her mind is chaos. Jasper clouds her thoughts, Paul warps her sense of self. Being around either of them distorts her, one with comfort and the other with possession. It’s impossible to think straight when she’s wrapped in someone else’s influence.

“You want to go,” he says, almost a whisper. His eyes flicker to her lips and back again. His voice doesn’t crack, but the pain in it is unmistakable. “I know.”

He licks his lips and tries to smile, but it falls short. “It’s alright, darlin’. I wouldn’t want you in this world either.”

That hurts more than she expects. Her heart twists. He’s never been hers, not really, but the idea of losing him cuts deeper than she can explain. She swallows hard. Her lips part, but no sound comes.

His gaze drops again, this time lingering on her mouth just long enough for her heart to skip a beat – the monitor betrays her. She wants it. A kiss that would anchor itself in her skin. A kiss she'd remember even when she forgets everything else. One she’d carry across time and distance like a scar.

“I don’t know what I want,” she admits, finally. Her voice shakes. “But every inch of my body and soul wants to stay.”

Jasper's expression softens. He leans in slightly, not touching her, but close enough she can feel the cold air between them. His next words come gently, but they land hard.

“You can let me go. I won’t break.”

She blinks. The breath she draws in gets stuck halfway. Maybe he believes it. Maybe he’s trying to be kind. But there’s something behind his eyes, a flicker of fragility that makes her question everything he just said.

“Why me? Why did you save me?”

Her voice is raw, uncertain, almost childlike in its honesty. She stares past Jasper’s shoulder, past the walls, at the window where the world stretches out in eerie stillness. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel real. Like she’s living on a movie set, with mountains and sky painted on some massive canvas. A green screen fantasy. Her mind turns on her like that sometimes. A quiet whisper insisting nothing is real. That everything, people, places, pain, is plastic.

But Jasper’s nose brushes hers, and that thought shatters.

He’s the most unreal thing she’s ever known, yet in this moment, he’s the only thing that feels real. His presence is solid. Grounding. And when his lips ghost just above hers, her tortured lungs forget how to work. Her heart flutters wildly, and it’s not even a kiss. Just the hint of one.

“Because I couldn’t ignore the siren song of your soul calling out for me,” Jasper murmurs, the words barely brushing her skin. “The song was irresistibly sweet… but your sadness…it was there, woven into every note. It called to what little soul I have left. Pulled me in. Consumed me.”

His lips brush the corner of hers, a fleeting, trembling almost kiss, and her fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt. She doesn’t mean to grab him like that, but she’s unraveling. Her body aches for his. Her heart wants what her head can’t make sense of. She can’t resist him. And the truth is, she doesn’t want to. She wants this. Him. This moment. Forever.

Nothing about her life makes sense right now. Nothing about this should feel right. But it does. If being torn apart is what it takes for Jasper to finally let her in, she’ll take it. She’d relive every second of pain just to feel this again. One real kiss from him and she’ll fall. She’s already falling.

Screw leaving. Screw New York. Jasper is the only thing she wants anymore. Maybe he affects her thoughts. Maybe not. But she knows one thing, she isn’t leaving him. Not without learning everything. Not without knowing the truth about what it means to be his.

“I… who have done nothing noble in my entire existence,” Jasper whispers, voice filled with restraint, “will do this one noble thing and set you free.”

His fingers loosen their hold. His breath ghosts her cheek one last time. And before she can speak, before she can stop him, he’s gone.

Gone in a blink.

“JASPER?!” she cries out, pain lancing through her ribs as she jolts upright. Her hand flies to her side, but the ache in her chest burns more than any wound.

In the doorway, Paul leans casually against the frame, arms crossed, face unreadable. “He’s gone,” he says. “Edward just told the rest of them.”

Swallowing thickly, she places a shaky hand over her sinking heart. "What does gone mean?"

Swallowing hard, she presses a trembling hand to her chest, right over the place where her heart feels like it’s caving in.

“What does gone mean?” she repeats as her voice cracks, but her eyes stay hard.

Paul steps into the room, slow and casual, like nothing explosive just happened. He hooks his thumbs into the front pockets of his shorts and licks his lips, unreadable.

“He did you a favor, Y/N,” he says. “Let him do this one good deed in a sea of bad ones.”

Her laugh is sharp, hollow. “And you’re saying this out of the kindness of your heart?”

“No,” Paul cuts in, tone blunt. “I’m being selfish. More selfish than the vampire. I want you with me. Back in La Push. Where we were supposed to start a new adventure. Remember that?”

She does. Unfortunately. Her jaw tightens. “You mean the one where you left me standing alone in front of your family and friends while you walked off with some random woman? Where you humiliated me? That adventure?”

Her hands move quickly now, anger giving her strength she shouldn’t have. She rips the electrodes off her chest with sharp, reckless motions. The tape burns against her skin. She grabs the chest tube and shifts it aside, pain tearing through her ribs as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed.

A harsh, broken sound escapes her throat and her ankle sends off a warning when her feet touch the ground. It’s not a scream, but close. Paul’s there in a flash, hands on her hips like he has any right to touch her. Like this is about care, not control.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” she snarls, every word pulled through clenched teeth. Her body trembles, not from weakness, but from the fury boiling in her blood.

“Don’t be too proud to accept help,” he says, pulling her slightly closer. It’s possessive, subtle. He smiles like he’s amused by her defiance. “I missed your temper. Your stubbornness.”

“You barely know me,” she snaps, pushing against his chest. Her hands are weak, but her glare is all fire.

“Yeah, but I know some of you,” he murmurs, lowering his voice like it's a secret. “Let me know all of you.”

She peels his hands off her body, slow and deliberate. Her fingers shake from the effort, but she steps away anyway. Even if it hurts like hell.

“I gave you a second chance, Paul,” she says, voice low, controlled, lethal. “And you gambled it away. I warned you I don’t give third chances.”

He looks down at his hands, flexing and fidgeting with his fingers. Shame? Maybe. Guilt? Doubtful.

“What if I told you I had no choice that night?” he asks. “That as a wolf, I was assigned a girl to love and protect. And she broke my heart. But I’m still bound to her.”

Her eyes narrow. The cut above her eyebrow flares with a familiar sting, but she doesn’t blink.

“I’d say that’s a pretty fucked up deal you’ve got there.”

“It’s called imprinting,” Paul says, his voice lower now, almost resigned. “When a wolf meets someone supposedly perfect for them, they imprint. From that moment on, you’re supernaturally bound to your imprint. You become whatever she wants you to be. And at one point, Rachel Black wanted me to be her boyfriend.” He swipes a thumb under his bottom lip, avoiding her eyes. “Then she didn’t.”

His gaze moves to the door, jaw tense. “She broke my heart. And I guess… she heard I was finally moving on when you came here with me. It didn’t sit well with her.”

“That’s awfully selfish of her.” She presses her hand lightly over her heart, trying to slow its panicked rhythm. It’s getting harder to speak now and impossible to stand. Her throat is raw, her voice scratchy and fraying at the edges. Talking feels like swallowing sand.

“I wouldn’t have left you there if I had a choice,” Paul says, taking a step closer. “Ask any of the wolves from the pack. Most of them imprinted too.”

His hand reaches out, brushing her shoulder through the fabric of her shirt. She pulls away without thinking, an instinctive recoil. The warmth of his skin feels misplaced now, like a key turned in the wrong lock. After Jasper’s touch, she can’t imagine another hand upon her. It’s wrong. So, so wrong.

“I’m sorry about what happened to you, Paul,” she says gently, and places her hand over his. Her palm rests there for a moment, just long enough to say goodbye. “But I’m not interested in restarting what we could’ve had.”

He blinks at her, confused. She manages a small, sad smile as she continues, “I’ll give your school fifty thousand dollars up front. It’s the most I can offer without raising red flags for my father’s accountants. Once I see progress, I’ll send more in payments. As long as I get proof it’s being used the way you promised.”

She taps his hand softly, her chest rising with a shallow breath. The movement tugs at her wounds, but she ignores the pain. “But the moment I can… I’ll fix things with Jasper.”

Paul stiffens. “And if he doesn’t want that?”

“Then I’ll leave.” Her tone is soft but steady. “I won’t beg anyone to love me. Not anymore.”

“I could make you happy,” he says, almost pleading. “Keep you safe.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t belong with you. It’s time you accept that.”

Her hand moves up to his cheek, cupping it gently. He leans into her palm like it’s a comfort he wasn’t expecting. A quiet smile tugs at the corners of her lips, but it’s fleeting, bittersweet.

“You barely spent a few days around me, Paul. Soon enough, I’ll just be that rich girl you used to know.”

“With really expensive vases,” he says with a dry chuckle, and she can’t help it, she giggles. Just a little.

That’s the thing about Paul. He has that effect on people. It’s easy to imagine someone new filling her place before the week is over. Women will line up for that smile. They always do.

“If I end up leaving…” she trails off, and Paul gives her a tight-lipped nod.

“I might find myself visiting,” he says.

She nods, too. Watches him step away and leave out the door. Watches the space he leaves behind. And as silence settles over the room again, she realizes something that cuts deeper than the stitches at her side.

She’s going to miss him. More than she wants to admit.

“You shouldn’t leave.”

The voice comes before the blur of movement, and then Alice is standing directly in front of her, close, too close. Y/N gasps, heart jumping into her throat. It takes several long seconds for her pulse to stop slamming against her ribs. Even then, her breathing is uneven, shallow. Every breath burns.

“I want to stay,” she whispers hoarsely, her voice brittle. “I do. But Jasper…” Her eyes sting. “He seems to want anything but.”

Alice doesn't blink. Her hands settle on Y/N’s trembling shoulders, the weight feather-light but the strength behind them unmistakable. “If you leave, something bad will happen. Garrett will hurt you.”

Y/N flinches. “No. He wouldn’t dare. That would be suicide.” Her voice is barely above a rasp. “He knows what I know. He knows what’s at stake.”

Alice’s eyes darken, her grip tightening. “Jasper is your destiny. He is yours. You’ll always be his. It’s an unbreakable bond, and if you walk away now, you’ll drag both of you through hell.”

“Then why did he leave?!” she snaps, pain slashing through her chest, sharper than her cracked ribs, deeper than the gash across her thigh. She tries to pull away, to walk past her, but her body rebels. Her muscles seize. Her vision spots. And Alice doesn't budge.

Her breath catches in her throat as she sways, and Alice’s unnatural strength forces her gently, yet undeniably, back down onto the bed.

“You’ll die if you leave,” Alice says, her voice like a prophecy etched into stone.

“That’s enough, Alice,” Rosalie says sharply from the other side of the room. Her voice cuts clean, full of command. She crosses the floor in three strides, and suddenly Emmett is there too, planting himself in front of Y/N like a shield.

Alice finally steps back. Her eyes linger on Y/N, almost mournfully, before she disappears without another word.

The moment she’s gone, Y/N starts shaking, violently, uncontrollably. Whether it’s adrenaline or heartbreak or the damage done to her ribs, she doesn’t know. Maybe it’s everything. Maybe it’s because she believes Alice. Maybe it’s because she wants to believe her.

God, she just wants Jasper back, even if it’s a dream. Even if he’s not real. Even if none of this is.

“Where did he go?” she asks, her voice thin and cracked, the raw edge of her throat making it feel like every syllable is made of glass.

Rosalie folds her arms, face impassive. “Far.”

The word punches a hollow through her gut. She nods anyway, though her lips are trembling and her jaw won’t stop clenching. Another crack in the mask. Another sign of weakness she can’t hide. Her entire body feels too heavy, too broken. Even her breath feels borrowed.

“Well,” she croaks, swallowing hard against the sharp sting in her throat, “if either of you speak to him, let him know I’m not leaving this town until he shows his face again.”

Rosalie raises a brow, unimpressed. “Then you’ll never leave.”

“Good thing I own a house in Forks, then,” Y/N snaps. Her voice is hoarse, but the fire behind it isn’t. “If he wants to be a coward and run, fine. He can be a coward. But he doesn’t get to say the things he said and vanish without giving me a fucking choice. I’m not going anywhere until I talk to him. Not one step.”

Rosalie’s mouth opens, maybe to argue, but Emmett gently places a hand on her arm, stepping forward with surprising softness.

“We’ll tell him,” he promises, voice low. “But until then, focus on healing. Carlisle said you’ll be here for a few weeks at least. You’re not going anywhere even if you try.”

Y/N breathes through clenched teeth, the pain radiating through her side like fire beneath her skin. She presses a hand against her ribs, nodding once. “Thank you,” she whispers. It’s the only thing left she can say. But inside, she’s screaming.

The first day was hell.

Even through the haze of potent painkillers, the agony chewed at her from the inside out. No reprieve. No mercy. Not like before when Jasper had shielded her from it, pulled the suffering away like it weighed nothing.

Now she felt everything.

Eating was a fantasy. The mere sight of food turned her stomach, and water left her retching until she dry heaved bile. Every breath scorched her throat. Sleep? Laughable. Her mind was a warzone, thoughts of Jasper ricocheting with no rhythm, no rest. Questions spun like blades: Why did he leave? Did he regret saving me? Was I always disposable?

Carlisle held out hope for the first twenty-four hours. Trauma, he'd said. Shock. It would pass. But it didn’t.

By day four, Y/N’s lips cracked and bled when she whispered answers, if she spoke at all. Her voice became a ghost of itself, frayed and raw. The bruises mottling her body darkened, pooled, spread. Her skin, once warm with color, began to drain to a chalky pallor. Her cheeks caved in, bones starting to sharpen beneath the surface of her skin. Her collarbones jutted out like blades.

Her abdomen throbbed endlessly. Her body shook when she tried to sit up, her muscles weakening with terrifying speed.

And yet, when Carlisle threatened a feeding tube, she turned her hollow eyes on him and said, plain as day, “I won’t consent to one.”

There was no anger behind it. No drama. Just calm finality. He begged. He tried logic. He tried compassion. He even tried subtle manipulation. Nothing worked. IV fluids kept her marginally alive, but they weren’t enough. Her electrolyte levels were dipping. Her kidneys were beginning to strain. Her skin no longer flushed with life, just blotched and bruised, cold. She was fading.

Edward couldn’t reach her. Bella couldn’t either. Desperate, they called Paul, but she didn’t even acknowledge his voice. She wouldn’t speak. Wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t scream.

Twelve days in, Carlisle stood with his arms crossed, glaring through the glass into her room. She lays curled on her side, unmoving, staring blankly at the world beyond the window. The hospital gown hung on her like it belonged to someone twice her size.

“She’s going to die of starvation at this point,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “I’ve treated dozens of terminal cases and she looks worse than some of them. I can’t even consider removing her chest tube now…her lung isn’t expanding at all.”

Inside the room, her chest rises and falls in slow, shallow movements. Barely breathing. Her once glowing skin is gray. The shadows under her eyes have gone violet. Her hair is limp and dull, sticking to her damp forehead.

Bella swallows hard. “I wasn’t much better when you guys left,” she says, arms folded tightly, her voice quiet. “It felt like… the world stopped spinning. Like nothing mattered anymore.”

Carlisle shakes his head. “Yes, but you were still eating. Still moving. Still fighting. She’s… wasting away.”

Edward adds, “This isn’t the same, Bella. She’s not coping. She’s weaponizing her own body. She wants him here and she’s very much willing to starve herself to death.”

Bella frowns. “So what now? Do we just sit here and watch her die?”

“She wants Jasper,” Edward says simply.

“And I wanted you. How is this different from what I went through?” she asks, defensive. “Depression is…it’s hard to get survive where your brain goes in those moments.”

Edward’s tone sharpens. “She’s not trying to survive until he comes back. She’s daring him not to. In her mind, if she dies, he’ll hate himself forever. And if he comes back in time, she’ll get to scream at him for leaving her.”

Bella's eyes widen. “And you didn’t tell me that because…?”

“Because I already called him,” Edward says with a grimace. “He told me not to call again. Said she’ll break eventually.”

Bella narrows her eyes. “That’s because he didn’t see her.”

She whips out her phone, steps quietly to the glass, and snaps a photo. Y/N’s sunken face. The lifeless look in her eyes. The torn, chapped lips. The bruises, yellow, green, black. Her arms, once strong, now nearly skeletal beneath thin blankets.

“She looks like she’s already dead,” Bella whispers, staring down at the image, fury building in her chest. “And she’s still too damn stubborn to admit she’s hurting.”

With shaking fingers, she hits send. “There. He’ll see it.”

Carlisle exhales slowly. “You think it’ll work?”

“It has to.” Because if it doesn’t, they’ll bury a girl who only ever wanted a chance to be chosen. And this time, none of them will be able to stop it.

Y/N believed Jasper was bluffing.

The first night, she turned her face toward the door, her body stiff with anticipation, every creak in the hallway making her chest rise in shallow, hopeful gasps. She convinced herself he’d be back by morning. She rehearsed what she’d say, how she’d scold him, how she’d cry, how maybe, just maybe, she’d forgive him if he just showed up with those haunted eyes and trembling hands that used to cradle her like something worthwhile fighting.

But morning came and he didn’t. And the following night, the ache in her chest began to twist, carving deep into places she didn’t want to feel. The realization stung like salt in an open wound: He really left. Not temporarily. Not dramatically. But deliberately. He chose this. He chose to leave.

She felt stupid. She felt empty. She felt used.

It wasn’t the physical pain, though that, too, was unbearable. Her chest felt like it had been caved in, stitched together with barbed wire and left to rot. Her stomach, already tender from injuries, rolled and spasmed at the thought of food. Just lifting her head made her dizzy. The pressure behind her eyes built constantly, like tears always wanted to come but had given up halfway.

Still, none of it compared to the deeper agony. The soul deep kind. The kind that eats at your sense of worth. The kind that whispers, he left because you weren’t worth staying for. The sorrow turned sharp after the fifth day. Sharp, fiery and angry.

She stayed in bed, unmoving, arms crossed weakly over her middle, whispering to the ceiling like it might listen.

"Coward."

"Liar."

"Manipulator."

But in the next breath, she was defending him.

He thought he was doing what was best. He didn’t want to hurt you more. He left to protect you from himself.

The cycle was endless, an exhausting trial where she was both the prosecution and the defense. One second she was screaming in her head that she hated him, hated what he did, hated how he walked away like she didn’t matter, and the next, she was replaying every touch, every look, every vulnerable moment between them.

Because the truth was: she didn’t hate him. Not at all.

But she hated what he did.

She hated how he ran the second things got complicated. How he put words in her mouth, made decisions for her under the guise of selflessness. How he decided her pain was worth it if it meant his conscience stayed clean. She hated how much like everyone else he turned out to be.

Because this…this wasn’t new. People always left. Always.

Her grandfather with his cold expectations. Her father with his absence dressed up as business. Friends who drifted, lovers who faltered. Paul, who humiliated her when all she wanted was to be seen.

Now Jasper. Her one light in the dark. The only person who made the pain hush for even a minute. He ripped her heart out of her chest, made her weak once again. He chose to vanish without letting her say a word. Without looking back.

She could feel the cracks in her soul widening, all her carefully patched pieces falling apart. All her insecurities bleeding out like open wounds.

You’re too much. You’re too broken. You’re a burden. You’re hard to love.

No, she wasn’t starving herself to get his attention. That would mean she still had control over this. But she didn’t. The grief, the pain, it took over.

The trauma of her injuries left her body twisted and aching, her insides screaming every time she shifted in bed. Food became an enemy. Her throat closed at even the thought. The idea of eating felt impossible. The nausea wasn’t just physical, it was emotional. It was a rejection of anything that wasn’t him.

She longed for Jasper, not because she needed saving, but because he understood. He felt everything she did. He made the pain quiet. Without him, the noise was unbearable.

She curled in on herself most days, arms wrapped around her shivering body, silently pleading for sleep, or death, or just some kind of peace.

But none came.

And through it all, her heart ached, not just with longing, but with confusion. How could someone who held her so gently be the one to shatter her so completely?

She wasn’t trying to die. But with every passing day, her body weakening, her hope unraveling, she didn’t know if she could survive without him. Not because she wasn’t strong. But because this time, her heart wasn’t just broken, it was starving, too.

--

Jasper isn’t expecting the message.

He’s halfway through a stretch of cold forest in Alaska, trying to keep his mind blank, his instincts sharp. Hunting has always helped. The quiet, the discipline, it’s one of the few things that silence the war in his head. Or at least dulls it enough to function.

But the moment his phone buzzes in his pocket, he knows. There’s a spike of dread. Heavy. Paralyzing. Like his gift is warning him before he even pulls the phone out.

A text from Bella.

“You need to see this.” There’s an image attached. He opens it and the world shifts. His knees buckle, literally, and he hits the frozen ground like he’s been shot. The snow beneath him doesn’t even register. All he sees is her.

Y/N.

She’s lying in bed, the one he left her in, with a blanket tucked over her waist, but there’s nothing warm about her. She’s colorless. Ashen. The bruises on her skin look more violent in contrast to how thin she’s gotten. Her cheeks are hollowed out, dark circles bruise the space under her eyes, and her lips are split, cracked, like she hasn’t had a drink in days. She’s staring out the window like she doesn’t even see it. Like she’s already somewhere else.

Jasper doesn’t realize he’s gripping the phone so tightly until the screen splinters, cracking across her face. He curses and drops it, pressing both hands to his mouth to keep in the scream. His throat burns. His chest feels like it’s being split open from the inside.

He did this.

This isn’t just heartbreak. This is devastation. His gift floods him with what she must be feeling; emptiness so cold it bites, sorrow so heavy it sinks bone deep. Her emotions reach him even from here, like phantom pain. He feels her grief. Her loneliness. Her hatred. And maybe even her affection. Even now, even through all of that, he feels that one stubborn thread still attached to him. Fragile, straining, but alive.

Why did you leave me?

The question burns through his skull. Not spoken, but felt. It tears him apart. Because he doesn’t have a good answer. He left thinking he was doing the right thing, giving her space, sparing her the risk of him. He told himself it was selfless. But it wasn’t. It was fear. He was scared. Scared of hurting her more than she already was. Scared that one day he’d lose control, scared of not being enough, scared that someone like her could love someone like him.

Now he’s scared of something else entirely. He’s scared she won’t survive this.

He grimaces and is gone before he can think how bad this idea might be. The only thing on his mind is getting back. Getting to her. Touching her. Holding her. He doesn’t care if she screams or slaps him or hates him forever. She’s still breathing.

And as long as that’s true, he’ll fight to help her get back on her feet again…and then he will do as he said. Even if it kills him.

--

Y/N stares out the window, the way she always does now.

She barely notices the muffled commotion outside her room. Carlisle’s voice and Alice’s soft protests. Footsteps sharp, determined stop at her door. She’s too far gone to care. Her thoughts are stuck on a loop she’s recited for days:

He’s not coming back. He didn’t want you enough to stay. You are always too much or not enough. Never just right.

But then the door opens and everything stops.

She doesn’t need to look. Her heart tells her before her brain does. Her body stiffens despite the fatigue, the weight of her wasted muscles resisting even that small act of alertness.

He says nothing. She says nothing.

The silence between them is so heavy it nearly chokes her.

Jasper steps in slowly, like he’s afraid one wrong move will shatter her. And in truth, he’s right. He looks the same, but there’s a storm behind his eyes. She can feel it crawling across her skin; grief, guilt, fear. Love?

“You’re late,” she rasps, glancing at him. Her voice cracks from disuse. It’s barely more than a whisper.

Jasper swallows hard. “I know.”

She turns her face away from him, to the window again. “I thought you’d come back the next day.”

“I was a coward,” he admits, voice barely audible.

“No,” she scoffs, bitter and hoarse. “Don’t give yourself that much credit. Cowards run. You disappeared. I’m not sure what the term is for that.”

Jasper steps closer, hesitating at the edge of her bed like there’s a line he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to cross. “You’re wasting away,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “I saw the photo. I saw what I did to you.”

She doesn’t look at him. She can’t. If she does, she’ll shatter.

“I wasn’t doing it for you,” she says. “I didn’t stop eating to make a point. I stopped because the pain made it impossible. The grief… the confusion… it took away any sense of hunger.”

He doesn’t argue. He knows she’s telling the truth.

Her fingers tremble over the blanket. “I kept telling myself I hated you. That I was better off. That you left because you didn’t care.” She finally turns her head, and when her eyes meet his, it’s devastating. “But I don’t hate you. I hate what you did. I hate how much it reminded me of every other time someone decided I wasn’t worth staying for.”

“You are,” he says, stepping forward, now beside her bed. His hands twitch like he wants to touch her but is terrified she’ll flinch. “You are worth everything. That’s what scared me. You became everything to me so fast I didn’t know how to hold it without breaking.”

Tears sting her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. Not yet. “So you left?”

“I thought I was protecting you.”

She laughs, a weak, hollow sound. “You don’t get to use that excuse. Not with me. You don’t know what it’s like to be alone after being torn to shreds, to wonder if you imagined the man who held your hand and promised you weren’t alone.”

His lips part. “You didn’t imagine me.”

“No,” she says softly, finally letting a tear slip down her cheek. “I just imagined you’d stay.”

Silence.

He moves then, sinks to his knees beside the bed, hand slowly, gently reaching for hers. She doesn’t stop him this time. His cool fingers cradle her fragile, burning ones, and her bottom lip trembles at the touch.

“I’ll never leave you again,” he whispers a promise he can’t be certain he’ll keep. “Even if you never forgive me. I’ll stay. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

Her voice is paper thin when she answers. “Then start by helping me eat. I don’t want to be weak when I scream at you later.”

He lets out a broken laugh, forehead pressing against the edge of the mattress as his shoulders shake, not from laughter but from relief.

And Y/N, for the first time in days, lets herself believe it might not be over. Not yet.

“Can I?” Jasper asks quietly, eyes locked on hers like he’s asking for far more than permission.

Y/N doesn’t hesitate. “Please.”

The moment she says it, something in him changes. Jasper moves to the edge of her bed, one hand curling around hers, the other resting gently over her ribs, just above where her pain seems to gather most. He closes his eyes.

It starts as a soft pulse, a tug beneath her skin, like someone carefully unraveling knots she didn’t know she’d been carrying. She gasps as the pressure begins to fade, the throbbing replaced with something like warmth… almost numbness, but not quite. Jasper breathes in deeply, and his body shudders slightly as her agony floods him. All of it. The twisting nausea. The gnawing ache in her bones. The tight, sharp stabs in her chest with every breath. The heavy sadness sitting like stone in her stomach.

He feels it all.

His jaw tightens as he takes it in and burns it away. He doesn’t just push the pain aside, he absorbs it, purifies it, filters it out like poison through his soul.

“Jasper…” she whispers, seeing how quiet he’s become, how his hands tremble.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs. “You’re the one who needs this.”

And suddenly, for the first time in nearly two weeks, she breathes without wincing. She lets her body sink deeper into the pillows. The nausea fades. The trembling slows. There’s a stillness she didn’t think she’d feel again.

Jasper lets go only when he’s certain the worst has passed, and then he lifts a spoon to her lips.

“Try for me?” he asks softly, his other hand brushing her hair back.

She opens her mouth, and lets him feed her slow, steady spoonfuls of broth that would’ve made her gag days before. Now, she takes it in, never looking away from his face.

He doesn’t just help her that night. He’s there the next day. And the next.

Day in and day out, Jasper feeds her, bathes her forehead in cool cloths, holds her through her worst moments. He curls beside her when she sleeps, just like he did that first night, before he ran from afterward. Now, he refuses to go.

He reads to her when she’s restless, distracts her when the pain starts crawling back up her spine. His ability dulls it, keeps her functional, but it costs him. She sees how exhausted he is. She sees how much it takes. Still, he stays.

Until one afternoon, Carlisle enters with a tense expression and says, “Jasper. I need you to step out. I have to remove the chest tube today. It’s… not going to be easy.”

Jasper, still sitting beside her bed with his fingers laced in hers, doesn’t move. “I promised her,” he says evenly, “I won’t leave again.”

Carlisle’s voice tightens. “You don’t understand. She’s going to feel pain. The blood, the scent…it’s going to trigger everything in you. We can’t take that risk.”

“You think I’d hurt her?” Jasper stands, not angrily, but protective, desperate. “I’d die before I touched her like that. I can control it.”

Carlisle turns to Y/N, gently but firmly. “I need your word too. If this gets dangerous, you’ll let him go.”

But she grips Jasper’s hand tighter and says, hoarsely, “If Jasper believes he can maintain control, let him stay. I’d rather have him hold my hand through this, if it’s possible.”

Jasper looks down at her, touched and torn. He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “I won’t hurt you.” His voice is low, strained with conviction. “It’s hard. You smell like blood and warmth and everything I’ve ever wanted… but I’d never risk everything for a momentary pleasure. Not you. Never you.”

There’s a silence between them then. A heavy one.

Carlisle sighs and nods. “Alright. But the second I say leave, you go. No hesitation.”

“I will,” Jasper promises, pulling a chair close to the bed and wrapping her hand in both of his. “But I won’t need to.”

And when Carlisle begins the procedure, when Y/N cries out, when her body twists and the scent of blood fills the air Jasper doesn’t move. He doesn’t even breathe. He closes his eyes, shoulders shaking, and simply holds her hand through it all.

Because love, to Jasper, was never meant to be easy. But for her? It’s worth the battle every single time.

The room is quiet now. Just the low hum of the machines still monitoring her vitals and the steady rhythm of Jasper’s breathing.

Y/N lays curled against his chest, head resting over his unbeating heart. The coldness of his body against hers is the only thing grounding her when everything else still feels too chaotic, too heavy to bear. Jasper’s hand traces gentle, aimless patterns up and down her spine, slow enough to soothe, steady enough to make her feel safe.

His chin rests on top of her head, and he speaks softly into her hair, “Carlisle says the X-ray shows your lung’s expanded fully. Your labs look good. Your stitches are out. You’re eating. They’ve weaned you off the morphine.”

She listens, eyelids growing heavier with every word. His voice soothes her.

“They want you to try standing tomorrow.”

Her breath catches. “I’m scared,” she admits.

“I won’t let you fall,” he whispers, pausing his hand against her back before resuming the slow strokes.

Her arms tighten around his torso, fingers curling into his shirt like she’s afraid he might vanish again. She draws in a careful breath, eyes still closed, before speaking. “It’s been about three weeks,” she says softly. “I stood that day you left.”

Jasper stiffens beneath her, a small tremor passing through his chest.

“I wanted to follow,” she adds. “Even though I knew I couldn’t.”

He pulls her tighter into his chest, pressing a kiss into her hairline. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I am so sorry, darlin’,” he adds, voice hoarse with guilt.

Her fingers lift slightly, brushing against his collarbone. She feels his body now in ways she didn’t let herself before; the subtle tension in his muscles, the stillness beneath the surface of his warmth, the silence of a heart that isn’t really beating. But there’s love there. She can feel it.

She stays quiet for a long time, just listening to the silence between his apologies and her aching heart.

Then, with more courage than she feels, she finally asks, “Jasper?”

“Mm?”

She shifts just slightly to look up at him, her cheek still pressed to his chest. “Can I ask you something?”

His fingers still on her spine. “Always.”

“Am I your mate?”

Jasper goes utterly still. She feels the way his breath pauses, the sudden hitch in his throat. Slowly, his hand moves again, less confident now. Hesitating.

“Where did you hear that?” he asks gently, but there’s caution in his voice. Carefully measured.

“You told Paul, back at the house. When I tried to run. I was barely conscious, but I remember. You said something about mates.”

She watches him closely, reading every flicker of emotion across his face.

And then she repeats, softer this time, “So… am I?”

He swallows hard. “Yes.”

There’s a tenderness in the word. A kind of surrender. Jasper closes his eyes and exhales through his nose. “You’re my mate.”

She lets that sit in the air between them. Her heart thuds against her ribs, not from fear this time, but from the weight of what it means. “What does that mean? Really.”

He pulls back just enough to see her face, brushing her hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. “In our world… mates are everything. It’s not like imprinting, or falling in love. It’s instinctual. Permanent. Binding. It doesn’t happen to every vampire. Some go their whole lives never finding one. Others feel it the second they meet someone. It’s…” he chuckles softly, eyes warm but stunned, “...cosmic. Violent. Sacred. You just know.”

Her breath catches. “And you… knew?”

“The second I saw you.” He doesn’t look away or explains when that was. She can’t know their first time meeting was nearly deadly. “It wasn’t just how beautiful you were. It was… the way my instincts screamed that you were mine. That you were everything I’d waited for and didn’t even realize I needed.”

“Are you happy with that?” she asks. Her voice is quiet again. Scared, almost. As if the answer might split her open.

Jasper’s brows draw together, like the question wounds him.

“Happy?” he echoes, brushing his fingers down her cheek. “Darlin’, I’ve been alive for over a hundred years. I’ve walked through wars. Felt alone for most of it, even when I was otherwise involved. And then you came along and looked me in the eye like I wasn’t something to be feared.”

He leans forward, forehead pressing against hers. “I’m terrified of losing you. That’s how happy I am.”

She holds her breath as he continues, speaking softly, “You are the one good thing I never thought I’d be allowed to have. And I’ll spend the rest of my days proving I’m worthy of you…if you’ll let me.”

She closes her eyes. And lets the tears fall, but this time they’re not from pain. They're from the overwhelming relief of being seen. Wanted. Chosen. And in his arms, with his hand pressed firm against her spine, Y/N dares to believe she might actually heal.

She breathes in slow, steadying the trembling in her chest before she speaks.

“I’m happy too,” she whispers, fingers gently toying with the hem of his shirt. “I’ve been… so lonely. For so long. Desperate to connect with someone. I kept trying, forcing myself to fit, to be who people wanted me to be. But with you… there’s no trying. It just is. Undeniable and kind of terrifying. But it’s beautiful.”

Her voice cracks slightly at the end, and she ducks her head. “You feel like home, Jasper. Like I’ve finally stopped running.”

His hand stills on her back, and he just holds her, tight enough to say he hears every word and believes them all.

“I don’t deserve that kind of grace,” he murmurs.

“Tough,” she says, voice muffled against his chest. “You’ve got it.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, brushing his nose against her hair. “You’ve got a hell of a way with words, darlin’.”

She lifts her head, just enough to look at him, a spark of playfulness in her expression. “You know what else I haven’t forgotten?”

“Hm?”

“You kinda kissed me before you left,” she says, eyebrow arching. “Or, you know, your lips grazed the corner of mine in this half-hearted, emotionally devastating, cowardly exit sort of way.”

Jasper blinks, then chuckles low in his throat. She’s not over that…and he doesn’t want her to be. He deserves to be called out. “Cowardly exit, huh?”

She grins. “You heard me.”

He smirks, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “And here I thought it was poetic in a way. An almost kiss, selflessly leaving the one I desire the most in order to protect her.”

“I didn’t want poetry. I didn’t want you leaving and I didn’t want any almosts….I wanted you to kiss me,” she says suddenly, softly. No teasing now, just the truth.

His gaze deepens, golden eyes flickering across her face like he’s memorizing every inch. “Wanted, as in past tense?”

She hums, tilting her head. “Maybe. Or maybe I still wouldn’t stop you if you tried.”

Jasper exhales, shaky, torn between temptation and restraint. “You’re dangerous.”

“Pot, meet kettle.”

He laughs again, eyes crinkling at the corners. But the weight returns to his shoulders a moment later as his fingers gently trace her jaw.

“I want to,” he says, honest and heavy. “But kissing you, touchin’ you like that… it’s different for me. There’s a line I walk every second I’m near you. A line between love and…” He stops himself, jaw tensing. “And something darker.”

She studies him. “You really think you’d hurt me?”

He nods slowly, like it guts him to say. “Not on purpose. But… I’m always one slip away from losing control. From wanting too much. You don’t know what it’s like when I let go even a little.”

“I don’t see a monster when I look at you,” she tells him firmly. “I only see you. And I like what I see.”

That brings a flicker of something behind his eyes, shame and awe and hope, all tangled up. “You’re gonna be the death of me, and I of you,” he mutters.

She grins. “Meh. In a way, you almost were. Didn’t really take.”

He snorts, and she leans a little closer, her cheek against his shoulder again.

“And for the record,” she murmurs, voice teasing, “you’ve already been intimate with me.”

His brows raise. “Have I now?”

“Mhm,” she says, utterly smug. “You’ve been sleeping in bed with me for weeks. Holding me. Whispering sweet nothings to each other.”

“Hardly nothings,” he says with mock indignation. “I recall some very angry threats.”

“And don’t think I forgot that time I was in nothing but my underwear and you held me closer than it would be deemed proper.”

Jasper goes perfectly still. “You survived almost drowning. I was… helping.”

“Uh-huh. Helping,” she echoes, lips twitching.

“I was!” he insists, avoiding her gaze, a rare sight that delights her. If he was human, she’s certain his cheeks would be bright red now.

“You didn’t even look once?”

“I’m a gentleman,” he replies, then pauses, voice lower. “...Mostly.”

She bites her lip, trying not to laugh. “I think I like ‘mostly.’”

He leans down just enough to brush his forehead against hers again, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

“You’re trouble,” he murmurs, voice reverent.

“And you’re already in it,” she replies.

Their laughter mingles with the silence, warm and light in contrast to everything they’ve been through.

And though he doesn’t kiss her, not yet, he keeps her close. Holding her feels like safety. Like purpose. Like the only thing keeping the monster at bay is the way she looks at him like he’s not one.

--

The morning sun filters through the window, casting soft light over the bed. Y/N lies still, curled on her side, face half buried in Jasper’s chest. His fingers are already sweeping up and down her spine in that rhythmic, soothing way he always does when he knows she’s overthinking.

She’s silent. He doesn’t rush her.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” he says gently. “But it’s time.”

She doesn’t respond right away, just listens to the sound of his slow, unnecessary breaths. “I remember standing the day you left,” she says finally, voice fragile. “It tore through my ribs like knives. I didn’t even care. I just wanted to follow.”

Jasper’s eyes close briefly, and his jaw clenches. “I know,” he whispers. “I won’t let you hurt like that ever again.”

She shifts, looking up at him, hand resting lightly against his chest. “I’m scared.”

His promise is immediate, steady. “You fall, I fall with you. That’s the deal. Except I won’t let you fall.”

Y/N slowly nods. She lets him help her sit up, her hands trembling slightly as they grip his for balance. Her chest is still sore, still wrapped carefully, and every muscle in her body feels like it hasn’t moved in centuries. Her feet touch the floor, bare against the cold tile, and already her stomach flips with nerves.

“Easy,” Jasper murmurs, moving beside her, one arm around her waist, the other gripping her hand. “You’re not doin’ this alone.”

“I feel like a newborn deer,” she mutters with a grimace.

“You’re prettier than any deer I’ve seen,” he says with a lopsided grin, hoping to pull a smile from her.

It works, barely. She exhales a shaky breath, her lips twitching. “Charm me after I don’t collapse.”

“You couldn’t collapse if you tried. I got you.”

With a deep breath, she pushes herself upright. Her legs tremble. Her knees threaten to buckle. Pain throbs through her side, but it’s muted, either by her own sheer willpower or by the subtle, steady wave of calm he’s feeding her through his gift. She leans heavily into him, and Jasper doesn’t flinch. He holds her like she’s made of glass and gold at once, something precious and breakable and strong all at once.

“That’s it,” he encourages, voice low and soft. “One foot in front of the other. Just like that.”

Each step is agony, slow, careful, and exhausting. Her breathing grows ragged, and at one point she sways, but his arms tighten instantly, anchoring her.

“You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “That’s it. I’m right here.”

She makes it across the room. By the time she sinks back onto the bed, tears burn her eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming release of it all. Of being upright, of not falling, of Jasper’s unwavering presence at her side.

“I did it,” she whispers, almost in disbelief.

He kneels in front of her, takes both her hands, and presses them to his lips. “You did.”

“I wouldn’t have without you.”

He looks up at her, eyes burning gold and heavy with emotion. “I’ll be here for every step, darlin’. Every damn one.”

She brushes his hair behind his ear with trembling fingers. “Even when it’s hard?”

“Especially then.”

And she believes him.

--

The discharge paperwork takes nearly an hour, and even then, Carlisle insists on reviewing every detail twice. Y/N waits in her wheelchair, already dressed in normal clothes again for the first time in nearly six weeks; loose sweatpants, a faded t-shirt, and a zip up hoodie that smells faintly of lavender detergent. Her hair’s tied up in a lazy bun, her skin still pale but with life beginning to return to her cheeks.

Jasper never leaves her side. One hand rests on her shoulder, his thumb moving in soothing circles, grounding her in the middle of all the bustle.

“You’re sure you don’t want to go back to my house?” he asks softly as they guide her through the hospital doors.

“I’m sure.” She tilts her head to glance up at him. “I want to be at my grandma’s. It’s quiet. Familiar. I need that right now.”

His brows pull together in concern, but he nods. “Alright. Alice already had it cleaned after the tenants left.” He pauses, “Am I allowed to stay with you?”

She smiles, soft and sincere. “I wouldn’t ask to go there if I didn’t want you to come with me.”

“Good,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he opens the car door for her. “Though, I should warn you…”

She arches a brow as he slides into the driver’s seat beside her.

“Emmett might be impossible to shake off. He’s been talking about your release like it’s the Super Bowl.”

Y/N laughs, genuinely, for the first time in a while. “Please tell me he doesn’t expect a party.”

“He might already be blowing up balloons as we speak. He’s going to be so mad when we don’t show up.”

Jasper grins at her and puts the car into drive.

--

Her grandmother’s home is a modest, cozy house tucked between towering evergreens on a sleepy street in Forks, just a few houses down from Chief Swan’s residence. The moment she steps inside, it smells like aged wood, vanilla candles, and something comforting she can’t quite place, maybe the ghost of Sunday dinners and rainy afternoons curled on the couch as her grandmother braided her hair.

Jasper helps her up the stairs without a word, matching her pace, letting her lean on him when her legs falter. When they reach her old bedroom, she hesitates for a moment in the doorway. It’s exactly how she left it.

He peers past her shoulder, lips twitching with amusement. “Well, well. This is enlightening.”

She follows his gaze and groans.

The walls are plastered with posters, some tacked up with colorful pins, others curling slightly at the edges. Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Heroes. The Weasley twins grin mischievously from above her dresser. Draco Malfoy, looking tortured and broody, stares out from beside her bookshelf. Aragorn, grim, glorious, and mud-streaked stands above her bed. And Peter Petrelli is everywhere.

“I forgot how many posters I had.” She rubs her face. “God, I was such a nerd.”

“I’m not sure you’re allowed to say was,” Jasper teases, walking around the room like he’s in a museum of her childhood psyche. “You’ve got Milo Ventimiglia in here four times.”

“He was hot,” she defends.

He smirks. “Mmm. Mr. Save the cheerleader, save the world? Sexy.”

She narrows her eyes, amused. “Wait… You know who Peter Petrelli is?”

He shrugs, casual. “What can I say? I’ve had a lot of years. Fantasy books, movies, shows…they're a decent way to pass the time. And,” he pauses with a smirk, “you can learn a lot about people by what they gravitate toward. Especially young, dreamy girls.”

Her mouth falls open, scandalized. “Hey!”

“You’re cute when you’re surprised.”

She pouts. “You really know Heroes?”

“I may have watched the entire first season… more than once.”

She steps closer, lips twitching with a smile that borders on flirtatious. “Okay, I take it back. That’s sexy.”

“Only the first season, though,” he adds with a mock warning. “It goes off the rails after that.”

Her head tilts. “God. You are a nerd.”

He leans in slightly, voice lower, warmer. “Your nerd.”

The air shifts, just slightly, charged with electricity like before a thunderstorm. She meets his gaze and suddenly feels grounded and unsteady all at once.

“Guess I have a type,” she whispers.

He brushes her hand gently, fingers curling around hers.

“You hungry?” he asks after a pause, voice soft again. “I can heat up that soup Esme left for you.”

“Only if we can watch Harry Potter and you let me explain why Draco was misunderstood.”

His eyes sparkle with amusement. “It’s a date.”

--

The lights are low, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the television. The opening notes of Hedwig’s Theme drift through the speakers as the first Harry Potter movie plays. Y/N is curled up against Jasper, her head resting on his chest, one of his arms around her shoulders, the other tracing idle circles along her arm. His body is freezing, his stillness oddly comforting, like lying beside a statue that somehow breathes just for her.

They’ve barely spoken in the last hour, but the silence has been anything but empty. It’s her who breaks it, pausing the movie.

“Jasper?” Her voice is small but certain.

“Mhm?”

“What was your life like... before? Before all of this?”

She feels the shift in him before he answers; a subtle tension. His fingers stop moving on her arm.

He exhales slowly. “Not much to tell.”

“Please,” she murmurs, lifting her head just enough to look at him. “If you’re comfortable.”

He doesn’t look at her. His eyes stay fixed on the screen, staring at the golden letters.

“I don’t remember a lot of it,” he says, voice rough with something heavy. “Bits and pieces. I know I lived on a farm. Small place. There were animals…lots of them. Horses, mostly, some chickens, pigs, a few cows. I liked the quiet. The early mornings. The smell of fresh hay.”

There’s a distant smile in his voice, but it doesn’t last.

“My parents were still alive when I left. My dad… he got hurt trying to help a neighbor with his roof after a storm. Couldn’t work after that. And the farm was struggling. I joined the war for the money.”

He finally looks at her, his jaw tense.

“I was on the wrong side of things. A Confederate soldier. Not proud of it. At the time, I told myself I was doing what I had to do for my family.”

He looks away again, eyes settling somewhere far past the television. She doesn’t speak, just lets him go at his own pace.

“I don’t know what happened to them. My parents. The farm. I never got the chance to find out. Maria turned me before I could go home.”

The name lingers in the air like a bruise.

“She was... compelling,” he says, almost bitterly. “I thought I was in love with her. I wanted to believe it meant something, the way she chose me. She saw my rank, my ability to influence others, and she turned me to help her build an army.”

He falls quiet, haunted.

“I did things I don’t talk about,” he continues after a long beat. “Terrible things. To help her. To survive her.”

Y/N doesn’t rush him. Her hand has moved to rest gently on his chest, just above his quiet heart.

“I stayed with her for years. Too long. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, the killing, the emptiness. I left. Wandered. Tried to do better. I had friends… Peter and Charlotte. And when I left…I wasn’t a good person, until Alice found me. She showed me another way.”

She watches him closely, noting the way his eyes avoid hers, how his hands have stilled completely. He looks ashamed. She reaches up and touches his face gently, brushing her fingers along his jaw. Her touch is featherlight, but when she places a finger under his chin, coaxing him to look at her, he does.

His golden eyes meet hers, glassy with emotion.

“You’re not that person anymore,” she whispers. “I’m proud you found the courage to find another way. Another life.”

His throat works around the words he doesn’t know how to say, his lips part slightly, but all that comes out is a shaky breath. Her fingers trail along his cheek now, tender, unafraid. He leans into her touch like it’s the only real thing he has.

And in that moment, she thinks, no, knows, that she’s not just comforting a vampire with a dark past. She’s touching a man who has been punishing himself for over a century, who finally let someone in far enough to see the shame and still choose him.

Jasper’s voice is almost inaudible when he speaks again.

“Thank you.”

She doesn’t say you’re welcome, just lays her head back on his chest, wraps her arms around his torso, and holds him like she’s holding something precious that had almost been lost.

As Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone continues to play across the screen, Jasper’s arm remains wrapped around Y/N, but his mind drifts. The movie plays on, charming and magical, but his expression subtly changes as moments unfold.

The first scene that truly pulls at something buried inside him is the arrival at the Hogwarts Great Hall. Candles floating in the air, enchanted ceilings reflecting the night sky, the echo of clinking silverware and joyful noise. Y/N shifts slightly against him. Jasper doesn’t speak, he no longer breathes.

It reminds him of something.

A long-forgotten memory flickers to life…not of magic or castles, but of candlelight. Hundreds of them. Lined up across a church hall one winter during his childhood. There was a Christmas mass, and he remembers sitting with his younger brother, boots muddy, faces ruddy from the cold. He remembers the scent of pine. The sound of a choir song echoing through the wooden beams. His mother held his hand. He hadn’t thought of her face in decades, but for a fleeting second, her laugh plays in his mind like an echo from the past. His heart aches.

The Sorting Hat scene pulls another chord, when Neville is nervous, bumbling, afraid of being inadequate. Jasper doesn’t realize his hand tightens slightly on Y/N’s arm until she glances up at him.

“Hey,” she whispers. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he lies. Then softly admits, “He reminds me of someone I used to know. A boy from back home. Real gentle soul. Died in the war. Shouldn’t have been there.”

Y/N doesn’t press. She just rests her hand over his heart again, grounding him.

When Harry is told “you’re a wizard,” and he replies, stunned, “But I’m just... Harry,” Jasper’s chest tightens. He remembers the moment Maria told him what he was now. The moment he knew he wasn’t just Jasper anymore. That something had been taken from him: his future, his humanity. But unlike Harry, there was no magic, no safety, no belonging. Only blood and war.

Later in the film, when Hagrid gifts Harry a photo album of his parents, Jasper almost looks away. The image of a boy staring at the only connection to the people who loved him, it hits too close. Jasper never got that closure. He has nothing to remember his family by. He remembers riding off to enlist with a satchel and a half-assed promise to send letters home. He remembers his mama crying on the porch, his father standing tall despite the limp. He doesn’t remember their voices anymore. He never got to say goodbye.

Y/N senses his withdrawal. She looks up at him again, cupping his cheek this time. “What did it remind you of?”

Jasper swallows hard. “Of what I lost,” he admits. “What I never got back.”

A long silence follows. But she doesn’t fill it with empty words. Instead, she leans up and presses a gentle kiss to his jaw.

“You still have time to build something new.”

..

It’s just past sunset when Y/N convinces him to go for a walk. They’ve been cooped up in the house for days now and she felt ready for more tasking challenges. She doesn’t feel weak anymore, nor do her legs betray her. She can do more and this is how she will prove it to him.

The forest behind her grandmother’s house stretches endlessly, painted in fading gold and sleepy greens. Trees stand tall, unmoved by time, and the quiet is so complete it makes the world feel like it's holding its breath.

Jasper’s movements are silent, fluid, his hand brushing hers every so often as they step over tangled roots and moss covered stones. She walks slowly, still careful after her injuries, but steady, more than she was. He watches her feet more than the path, ready to catch her if she slips.

They stop near a clearing where moonlight spills through the canopy like silver wine. A fallen log sits at the edge, wrapped in ivy and old bark. She sits, breath visible in the cool air. He joins her, just close enough that their knees touch.

Y/N tilts her head up toward the sky. “You always seem calmer out here,” she says softly.

Jasper doesn’t answer at first. His golden eyes are distant, lost in the trees, in the wind threading its fingers through the branches.

“I am,” he finally says. “It’s quiet out here. Quiet in a way the world rarely is.”

Her brow furrows slightly. “You mean… like in your head?”

He nods, slowly. “When I’m around people, it’s like drowning in emotion. Even if they’re not saying a word, I feel everything. Their fear. Their anxiety. Desire. Grief. It never stops. It used to drive me mad.”

“And now?”

“Now…” He glances at her, and his voice is softer. “Now I have moments where it doesn’t win. You help.”

A silence falls between them, not heavy, but filled with understanding.

“I used to come here with my grandmother when I was a kid,” Y/N says, voice dreamy. “She said the forest listens better than most people do. That it holds your secrets like tree rings.”

Jasper huffs a soft laugh through his nose. “She wasn’t wrong.”

A breeze stirs the leaves, and Y/N leans her head on his shoulder. He stiffens for half a second, he always does when she touches him like that, like he’s bracing against some storm inside him, but then she feels it: the slow, steady unwind of his tension.

His hand comes up to her back slowly, rubbing gentle circles. She listens to the quiet sounds of his breath, she hears no heartbeat, and yet… he feels alive. More alive than she’s felt in a long time.

“Do you ever miss it?” she asks. “Being human?”

“I miss the simplicity of it. I miss not knowing what it was to be a monster. I miss being able to hold a woman close with no worries…” he says honestly, voice low. “But I don’t miss the weakness. I don’t miss the hunger. And I don’t miss the numbness that came with not having anyone to share life with.”

She lifts her head to look at him. His eyes reflect the moonlight like mirrors, soft, glowing gold. He looks at her like she’s a constellation he hasn’t named yet.

“You’re not a monster,” she says. “I don’t like you calling yourself one.”

His smile is crooked, skeptical. “Sometimes I feel like one.”

She reaches for his hand, threading her fingers through his. “Then come here. Let the trees hold your secrets too. Let the quiet remind you you’re more than what you were made into.”

And so they sit like that, a vampire and the girl he nearly lost, tangled in silver light and stillness of the evening, the wind in the trees whispering not of war or hunger or grief… but of peace.

For the first time in years, Jasper lets go. He rests his forehead against hers, closes his eyes, and breathes, not because he has to, but because in this moment, surrounded by earth and leaves and the girl who touches his soul, he wants to.

The stillness lingers between them, a quiet, soft and heavy. Jasper stares out into the trees for a moment longer before shifting beside her. Then, without a word, he stands.

He dusts his palms on his jeans, glances down at her, and offers his hand with a gentleman’s grace. His Southern roots flash through in the way he straightens his spine, his expression warm, inviting.

“May I have this dance?” he asks, his voice low and smooth.

Y/N blinks, staring at his hand. “Dance? Here?”

A slow grin tugs at his lips. “Yes, here.  Allow this charming vampire to sweep you off your feet.”

She snorts, folding her arms. “Charming vampire, huh? Bit of a stretch.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You wound me, darlin’. I’ve fought wars with less offense.”

She laughs then, but her hand drifts toward his, hovering just above his fingers, not quite touching. There’s a moment of hesitation. Not because she doesn’t want to, but because something about this feels... different. Special. Like if she breathes wrong, it might disappear.

Still, she slides her hand into his.

He tugs her to her feet gently. When he places his hand at the small of her back and clasps her hand in his, he does so with tenderness, not pressure. The moment he pulls her close, everything slows. She’s acutely aware of the way their bodies align. Of the coolness of his skin, the steadiness of his hold.

And then, softly, so softly she almost thinks she imagines it, he begins to hum.

It’s just a hum at first, low and melodic, until it slips into something more whole. Words.

“Wise men say… only fools rush in…”

Y/N’s eyes widen as she lifts her gaze to him.

His voice isn’t loud. It isn’t showy. But it’s beautiful, velvety and rich, with an old-world kind of gentleness that wraps around the lyrics like a promise. He sings quietly, intimately, as if the song was meant for no one else but her.

“But I can’t help… falling in love with you…”

Her breath catches. Every word sinks into her chest like a stone dropped in still water, sending ripples through her.

His hand trails up her back as they sway. There’s no real choreography, no practiced moves, but there’s something elegant about the way he leads her, guiding her gently under his arm, spinning her slowly, catching her when she turns back to him, his hand brushing her jaw in one of those lingering, almost kiss moments that makes her knees go weak. She’s sure she must be glowing, because her face is hot, her adorned with a blush and completely betraying just how in awe she is.

“Like a river flows… surely to the sea… darling, so it goes…”

He lifts her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles, keeping their eyes locked.

“Some things… are meant to be.”

She can barely breathe as he sings the last line. Not because it’s perfect, but because he’s perfect in this moment. So achingly beautiful it hurts.

“Take my hand… take my whole life too…”

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until the wind dries the tear from her cheek.

When the song fades into silence, the moment between them fills with something unbearably tender, and she leans in. Her hands cup his jaw, rising on her toes, her lips parting just slightly. But just before she can kiss him, Jasper turns away sharply. It’s like someone snuffed out the warmth of the moment with a gust of cold air.

“I…” he mutters, voice tight. “I can’t.”

She freezes. Confused. Embarrassed. “Jasper?”

He’s standing with his back to her now, fists clenched at his sides, head bowed.

“I wanted to,” he says, voice cracking, “God, I wanted to. But I - I can’t. If I let myself… If I lose even one second of control…”

She takes a hesitant step forward. “Jasper, I trust you.”

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t. I’m always walking a line with you, Y/N. You don’t know what it’s like. To feel it, your heartbeat, your scent, your blood, so close! So goddamn close when all I want is to love you and not become the thing I hate!”

“But you’re not that thing,” she says, voice fierce. She comes closer, touches his arm. He lets her. Barely.

She smiles, voice dipping into a cheeky lilt. “I crave you. All of you. Sometimes all I can do is think about touching you. And being touched by you.”

His head snaps toward her, lips twitching with reluctant amusement.

“You’re impossible,” he murmurs.

“And you like it.”

He huffs a breath. “Maybe I do.”

Their eyes lock again, the hurt and longing still there, but the warmth returns too. The tenderness.

She doesn’t press for more. Not yet. Instead, she threads her fingers through his and leans her head back against his chest again, swaying gently where the last note still lingers between the trees.

And Jasper holds her.

She can feel the rise and fall of his unnecessary breaths, can sense the subtle tremble through his muscles from how close they’d just been. For a while, neither speaks. The only sounds are the distant rustle of branches and the faint ripple of water somewhere beyond the clearing.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she says quietly. “With the kiss.”

His hand runs slowly down her back, grounding her. “You didn’t.”

“I wanted it too much,” he continues, voice low. “And when I want something… deeply… it’s harder to control everything else. My instincts, the hunger. Even now. You don't know how hard it is to hold back when you're looking at me like that. It sets me on fire.”

Y/N studies him. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

“You believe that,” he says. “And maybe it’s true and nothing bad would happen but that’s a risk I am not prepared to take. Not with you.”

She searches his face, fingers finding the space over his heart. “I understand. I’m just happy you’ve been by my side this entire time. I cherish every touch, every moment spent together.”

“I am terrified the whole time,” he admits, but a small, helpless smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Terrified… and stupidly happy.”

That softens her. She mirrors his smile, brushing her thumb over his collarbone. “You really are a gentleman, though. Didn't even look at me when I was getting out of the shower with nothing but my underwear last night.”

He laughs, reluctantly. “Oh, I looked. I just did it when you were getting dressed.”

She gasps in mock outrage, slapping his chest lightly. “Pervert.”

He grins wider now, but then he catches her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. His voice gentles. “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.”

Her teasing smile falters slightly, replaced by a quiet vulnerability. “Then want me. Let yourself. We don’t have to rush, but don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” he murmurs. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“You’re not Maria, Jasper,” she says, voice suddenly firm. “And I’m not some fragile thing made of glass and fear.”

“No,” he agrees softly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “You’re made of fire and iron and honey. And it kills me sometimes, how much I feel for you.”

Her throat thickens, heart fluttering wildly. “You already sang to me. If you keep saying things like that, I might get ideas.”

“Dangerous ideas?” he teases.

“The best kind,” she replies with a wink.

They’re close again. His nose nearly brushes hers. Their breath mingles. But this time, neither of them moves to kiss. The tension lingers, aching and sweet.

Instead, she leans back against his chest, and he holds her like he’s never letting go.

“I don’t need the kiss right now,” she says after a while. “Not if it scares you.”

“It doesn’t scare me,” he replies quietly. “It’s what I’d do next that does.”

“Then we’ll take it slow. One step at a time. But promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t pull away again,” she says. “If you ever feel overwhelmed… just tell me. Let me help. Let me be someone you lean on, not run from.”

Jasper exhales a shaky breath and presses a kiss, soft and lingering, into her hair.

“I think I need to feed.”

Jasper’s golden eyes settle on her immediately, alert, protective, but softening when he sees the slight shake in her hands, the way she hasn’t quite met his gaze since she said it.

“It’s been too long,” she agrees. Her voice is steady, but underneath it, there's a rawness that betrays her restraint.

“I’ll take you home,” he offers quickly. “Emmett will probably want to come over and stay until I get back. It can take days…sometimes weeks to fully satisfy my hunger.”

Weeks? Swallowing thickly, she narrows her eyes at him with a smirk. “You do realize I don’t need a babysitter?”

He nods, that crooked smile of his ghosting over his lips. “For my sake?”

Her eyes linger on him a moment, reading all the quiet worry in his expression. The way he’s been hovering since the hospital. It’s endearing and infuriating all at once.

Sighing, she shrugs, feigning reluctance. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

He smiles wider, pressing a quick kiss to the back of her hand before walking back the way they came.

Emmett arrives not ten minutes after Jasper leaves, breezing through the door with popcorn, root beer, and an obnoxiously large blanket he declares as his “movie cocoon.”

“You pickin’ the movie or am I?” he asks, already flopping onto the couch.

“I trust you,” she mutters with a yawn.

“Good. Fast & Furious 6, it is.”

The movie begins, the absurd action sequences playing out while Emmett makes ridiculous commentary about who could out-punch whom, Dom Toretto or Jasper. She lets him ramble. The banter is easy, comforting. Almost enough to distract her from the anxiety pooling in her chest.

But then her phone buzzes.

She checks it instinctively, expecting maybe a message from Jasper, or Alice reminding her of something sweet and irrelevant. Instead, her blood runs cold.

Her father’s name flashes on the screen.

“You need to be in New York by Friday. Keep up appearances until I return.”

Her fingers tremble around the phone.

“Everything okay?” Emmett asks, catching the shift in her posture, the way her breath hitches.

“Yeah,” she lies, too quickly.

“Try again.” His eyes are too sharp for her usual brush offs. He lowers the remote. “Who is it?”

She hesitates.

“My dad,” she says finally. Her voice is distant, raw. “He’s demanding I come home. Says he needs me to take his place while he goes to Europe for some business conference.”

“Okay,” Emmett shrugs. “So… New York trip for all of us?”

She swallows, the weight of the message still burning in her palm. “I think I have to do this myself.”

Emmett straightens. “Jasper won’t like that.”

“I know.” She looks up at him now, her eyes serious. “But he can’t follow me everywhere.”

Emmett studies her face for a moment, then leans forward, his voice low. “This isn’t just about your dad, is it?”

Y/N looks down. Her voice drops to a near whisper. “I have some things to handle.”

Emmett’s face darkens, all playfulness gone. “Sounds dangerous.”

“It could be,” she whispers. “But if I don’t do this now, it’s going to follow me around forever.”

“You shouldn’t do that alone.”

“I have to,” she insists, fierce now. “If Jasper comes, he’ll feel what I feel. And I can’t…” her voice breaks. “I can’t let him feel this. He’ll try to protect me, but for once I need to protect him. He doesn’t need to carry this burden. I do.”

Emmett doesn’t argue right away. He looks at her like he wants to. But after a moment, he nods slowly.

“You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she says.

“Does this have anything to do with that Garreth dude?”

“Yes.”

“And if things go sideways?”

“They won’t.”

She grabs a piece of paper, writing a note for Jasper.

“When he returns, he will want to follow me. Give him this note.”

Emmett takes it reluctantly, tension in his shoulders. “He’ll kill me for letting you do this.”

He watches her pack a bag then grab her coat, slipping it over her arms with practiced ease. She looks stronger now. Steady. But the fire in her eyes, he’s only seen that kind of fury in Jasper before battle.

“Be safe,” he says, almost reluctantly.

She nods. “I’ll be back within a week. Maybe I’ll come back before Jasper.”

But Emmett watches her walk out the door, a strange chill settling in his chest, because something in her eyes looked too final.

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

Tags: @moonmark98 @formulas-bitch @ronniesreverie @anongirl007 @foxycrafterofgreenwood @lamelover @sl4t4darkling @megaprincesscakes @aj3684 @xnarixkimx @rhysology @piya-re @wolfndragonfly @redwitchbitch1 @smh-anon @yoosmekihyun

A/N: If you want to be tagged for future parts, leave a comment and make sure your blog's visibility is on (in settings) otherwise Tumblr won't allow me to tag you.

[lookuptotheskiesandsee]

Star Log #1: Round Two, "A Universe Collapsing." (Time: After Results)

TRIGGER WARNING: suicidal thoughts, shooting, death

Star had always been a good student. Quiet, attentive, and inquisitive. They were always under control, it seemed; never having problems or outbursts or anything of the sort. What everyone didn't know is that they did. They did have outbursts. Problems. Rage. The public just didn't see it, and now would be the first time they would.

Star was in disbelief. "I...won?!" they thought in awe. This can't be right, they had been checking near the end....Nad was winning! WHY didn't he win?! He felt puzzled, victorious, and devastated all at the same time. "This wasn't supposed to happen." he says under his quickening breath. He was the one who should be dead. He was supposed to lose and then stab himself before the aliens could get him as his grand "FUCK YOU!"...but now that plan was ruined. Now one of, if not his closest people was going to- Nadohan.

Star whipped his head to look at his....whatever Nad was, he didn't care. She was so important to them. Her face was growing paler by the minute, she looked like she was about to collapse. Star couldn't bear the sight, but all they could do was stare. "DO SOMETHING" they thought over and over again until they could finally force their body to sprint over to Nad, who was slowly being drained of their life like a dying star. "NADOHAN! NAD PLEASE SAY SOMETHING. I'M SO SORRY NAD I NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN MAD AT YOU. IT'S SO STUPID NOW. YOU'RE STILL MY BEST FRIEND." Tears started to pour from his eyes, meteors of emotion harshly crashing into the cold floor as he sobbed into a fit of hiccups. "NAD...PLEASE STAY...Please..I love you, Nad. I do. I know I got snappy I know I got distant just please. Don't leave me here..don't leave." They pleaded, feeling like they were losing their voice.

Then, Nadohan's body fell to the ground. The echoing "thud!" leaving a permanent scar in Star's brain. He held his most important person's corpse in his arms, feeling them going cold.

"The aliens." he thought. "It's their fault." "It's THEIR fault." "IT'S THEIR FAULT." he couldn't do this anymore. He could not care less if he was killed in that moment, all he could feel was himself exploding in rage and sorrow like a newborn supernova.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!"

His raw, guttural scream would stay with all of those spectators for as long as they lived. No one had ever seen Star like this, not even he himself had. He pounded at the ground as if it was a punching bag. He snatched Nadohan's blood-stained mic from her hands, careful not to scratch their limp hand. He screamed again. "I HOPE YOUR EARS HURT LIKE HELL, YOU HELLISH FUCKS!" he shouted at the REPULSIVE creatures surrounding him. "YOU THINK THIS IS FUN?! I'LL FUCKING SHOW YOU FUN!" He was so done. "This is ending now." He thought, kicking down a guard and grabbing its gun. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU ALL!!!!!!" He exploded, and shot wherever his enraged state let him. "I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU" was all he could think, his thoughts deafening him to any other sound. "YOU SHOULD ALL ROT." Is the last thing he could yell before being restrained and sedated by a guard he had so foolishly missed.

As he faded out, all he could think about is how he would no longer have flower to their stem.

[greendest1ny]

hello again ninjago fandom, it's me, your self-proclaimed oniologist, greendest1ny, here with some more traditional oni lore!!

today, i'll be telling you how oni were created in the traditional japanese mythology!

the way that oni were created is quite a long story, and requires some trigger warnings: sibling incest between two gods (gross, why do most mythologies do that??), death in childbirth, and child murder.

Created by Ame-no-Minakanushi and Kuni-no-Tokotachi, Izanami-No-Mikoto was the primordial goddess of creation and death and her brother, Izanagi-No-Mikoto, was the primordial god of creation and life. The two of them were created to make the islands of Japan, and were given a magical spear to do so, the Ame-no-Nuboko. To make quite a long story short, they created the islands of Japan and married. They had multiple children, one of them being the god of fire, Kagutsuchi.

Unfortunately, Izanami-No-Mikoto died in childbirth, as Kagutsuchi burned her to death while being born. Izanagi-No-Mikoto was driven into a grief filled rage, and murdered the newborn Kagutsuchi, cutting him into eight pieces, which turned into eight volcanoes, and causing multiple deities to be born from his dead body.

During her final moments, Izanami-No-Mikoto bore the water goddess, Mizuhanome, and instructed her to calm Kagutsuchi should he become violent, unaware of what Izanagi-No-Mikoto had done.

After Izanami-No-Mikoto's funeral, Izanagi-No-Mikoto could not accept what had happened, and journeyed to the underworld, Yomi, to retrieve her. When he arrived, Izanami-No-Mikoto's figure was hidden by the shadows, and Izanagi-No-Mikoto couldn't see her. She informed him that she had eaten the fruit of the underworld, and she couldn't leave.

Izanagi-No-Mikoto refused to leave her, and while she slept, he took his comb from his hair and lit it on fire, and was horrified to see that Izanami-No-Mikoto was now little more than a living decaying corpse, with foul creatures running over her body, with oni being born from her very corpse, most notably being the thunder, lightning, and storm god, Raijin, and the wind god, Fūjin. (you can learn more about them here!!)

Izanagi-No-Mikoto was horrified, shrieking loudly and running away, intending to abandon poor Izanami-No-Mikoto in Yomi. Izanami-No-Mikoto awoke and was enraged, sending a multitude of demons after him, and pursuing him herself.

Izanagi-No-Mikoto escaped by the cave he had entered through, blocking the entrance to Yomi with a large, impenetrable boulder. Izanami-No-Mikoto screamed from the other side of the boulder, and declared 'if you leave me here, i shall destroy a thousand of the living everyday!'

Izanagi-No-Mikoto angrily exclaimed 'then i shall create a thousand and five hundred humans everyday!' and abandoned Izanami-No-Mikoto in Yomi for the rest of eternity.

Izanami-No-Mikoto became the goddess of death that day, and Izanagi-No-Mikoto the god of life.

—

i like how Izanami-No-Mikoto parallels firstbourne, though, as they were both all-mothers to their respective species.

i can just imagine mystaké telling wu and garm this story, and wu being all sympathetic to izanami-no-mikoto, while garm would be a little more like 'why didn't she just break the boulder??' and mystaké going 'it was impenetrable!! did you not listen at all, young garmadon?! do not disrespect our mother in yomi!!' as i imagine most oni would really respect izanami-no-mikoto because of her creating their ancestors, and her being the goddess of death and all that,,

i can also link parts of her story to the oni masks: vengeance being how she kills a thousand humans a day to make izanagi-no-mikoto pay, deceit being how she tried to hide what she had become from izanagi-no-mikoto, and hatred being her clear hatred of izanagi-no-mikoto after her abandonment.

—

other oni lore

how oni were created, oni and cannibalism, kijin/source oni, traditional oni weapons, traditional oni stories, what repels oni, oni gods of thunder and wind

feel free to leave any questions in my ask box!!

taglist (ask to be added or removed): @mx-mizaqx

[fastlikealambo]

the scratch letters: an agathario au fic

Summary: Even with all her powers as a modern witch, cancer takes Agatha’s little boy. One lonely night, a grief stricken Agatha writes a letter to Death.

One year later, Death writes back.

I wrote this listening to the bridge of that’s so true by gracie abrams nonstop, do with that information what you will.

Trigger warnings for cancer, death of a child, grief, wound description.

This is something I’m not sure about yet so let me know what you think!

Chapter One: Letter No.1

Agatha Harkness measured her son’s death in numbers.

135 visits from Jen.

Armed with potions and tinctures she eased his pain and brought referrals to the best doctors in and out of Westview.

123 times Lilia told Agatha her boy was “young and strong.”

Agatha believed the words but not the cards Lilia shuffled and cut, again and again.

87 flower bouquets and tuna noodle casseroles from Sharon Davis.

1 time Alice took them straight to the hospital in the back of her squad car to cut through traffic because Nicholas was scared of ambulances at the end.

When there was nothing, magic or medical to be done, Agatha Harkness tucked her son into her bed, the one in which he came into this world, and rocked him in her arms. In his final moments he heard his mother’s lullaby of whispered spells and pleas to those above and below, mortal and infernal, to save her baby.

All of Westview heard when Nicholas Scratch left the mortal plane.

In the silence that followed after his funeral and daily check-ins from her coven and nervous neighbors, Agatha held a bottle in one hand and her grimoire in the other.

When neither brought her comfort, grief dressed Agatha head to toe in rage and when one moment led to another, Nicky’s baby box ended up in the fireplace.

No longer afraid of pain, Agatha retrieved what was left, blistered and blackened hands cradled a charred teddy bear with the weight and tenderness of a newborn babe.

Through tears, Agatha put pen to paper, an amalgamation of ink, gin, and peeling skin poured out of her to compose the following letter:

Dear Death,

Fuck you.

-Agatha Harkness

Either too drunk or too sad, Agatha did not notice the letter vanish from existence and completely forgot about it when her coven got her off the living floor and helped her begin again, one foot in front of the other.

Approximately one year later, the clock in Agatha’s house struck midnight, waking the snoring witch from her place sprawled on the couch.

Agatha had all but shut her eyes when a soft plop made her sit straight up and hastily flip the light switch, light flooding the living room.

In the middle of the unlit fireplace sat a black envelope.

Agatha lazily snapped her fingers and lit the fireplace to destroy the unwanted and unknown piece of mail, eager to go back to her dreams where Nicholas resided.

Yet beneath the soot and smoke the letter was still there, completed unharmed.

“Fuck it, this better not be about my car’s extended warranty.” Agatha grumbled, snatching back the blanket tangled around her legs and haphazardly plucked the envelope from the ashes. With all the delicacy of a cat presented with a plump mouse, she ripped the envelope open, dead flower petals and beetle wings spilling to the ground.

On black paper in bottle green ink, the letter read as follows:

Dear Agatha,

That’s rude.

Yours,

R.V.

As Agatha turned over the letter to see if there was more, she noticed that the ever present burn scars that littered her hands were now nowhere to be found.

It would appear that Agatha Harkness had a penpal.

[bloghyperfixes]

Taliesin is now holding his newborn baby between his arms and Mohito is next to him, Kampari and Rick totally succeeded this time but Eyre is having a few toughs on the baby suddenly dying after few seconds, minutes, hours or days.. Nobody knows

So, I overdid it. I was only supposed to answer about the hug, but it was like a fanfic.

English is not my first language!

Warning: lots of character OOC, crossovers, "crack relationships", discussion of genetic material and the presence of embryos, mention of death, attempts to kill a hybrid embryo for a scene or two, space angels and their effect on the environment

——— This evening ceases to be fun.

Moments earlier, Talsien was having fun and joking around with his angelic husband, but some short minutes later, the scientists of universe 3 appear in front of them and drag them to their lab, hastily showing them upon arrival....small creature? Talsien, blinking from the colored spots after teleporting, takes a better look, but he doesn't understand what it is. The creature, apparently not fully formed, is floating in some sort of transparent solution in a special huge equipped fixture with multicolored cables flashing around it.

- "It's a baby!" - Bulma chirped happily, looking extremely pleased with herself for the successful experiment, and looking at Mojito and Talsien for praise.

- "It's your baby” - Rick said with clinical indifference, belching loudly to the side without getting into a detailed explanation of what was going on.  He looked like genetic engineering and clone creation was nothing to him.

The elf blinks in confusion, a second later belatedly shifting his gaze to an equally lost Mojito. They both don't understand what's going on or WHERE this child came from, because mating them with a pregnancy was not an option.

- "We collected your genetic materials, and attempted to create your shared child”, -Camparri obligingly prompts, as if amused by the scene unfolding before his. - "Unfortunately, there were several failed attempts...."

- "Wait!", -Talsien is the first to come to his senses, shaking his hands as if trying to remove the tension from them. - "Are you saying that this creature, floating in a strange liquid, is a small homunculus, a future child?"

The scientists nod, Talsien sighs fearfully, and looks at Mojito again for support. But Mojito doesn't answer, staring blankly dumbfounded at this little experiment. Normally, Angels have to think fast to make a decision favorable to their god, but right now there's no Hakaishin around for Mojito to explain anything to. It's Mojito himself who needs clues to what's going on right now

Talsien touches Mojito's hand and the angel finally reacts, looking up at the elf. Mojito licks his lips, trying to hold them in place and not raise them up, baring his teeth.

- "What is the meaning of all this, Camparri? Creating offspring is only available to the Grand Priest"

- "So your father isn't the coolest at it. We wanted to create a hybrid, and we were able to do it!", - Rick laughs, sipping from his silver flask. - "We're waiting for this thing to fully form, do some more research, and when we're sure it won't die like past embryos, we'll give it to yous"

Talsien swallowed nervously, glancing at the incubator again. For some reason, the very existence of this thing has begun to freak him out, triggering a strange sense of unease before it, as if he's seen the cosmic form of Mojito so deeply lodged in his brain again, planting images of something creepy. Because, Talsien thinks, there's a difference between having a "kink to reproduce", and actually having offspring. And he's not sure he's even considered procreation at all. And even though these are genetic samples found and collected by someone else after sex, Talsien feels embarrassed and like he's being used for some dumb joke. There's a thought hovering on the edge of his mind that this is exactly how his former little toys feel, but he only brushes it off.

He hears a quiet " Mojito seems to like it!", looks at the source of the voice and back at the angel. Mojito has turned away from the scientists, looking at the incubator flask, lips parted in a smile, tail wagging behind his back and his head tilted in a studying gesture. Bulma takes it as an expression of happiness, Talsien knowing these micro expressions well, realizes that Mojito is on the verge of panic. And now, to top it all off, Angel's wolf ears are pressed against his head, his fingers on the staff beginning to tap on its surface. Mojito looks like a frightened wild animal.

Bulma shrieks as the test tubes next to her crack ringingly, she steps back fearfully. The space near Mojito shimmers, his humanoid sheath distorting for a second, almost disintegrating into mist before a smiling Camparri appears in front of him, blocking his view on of the homunculus, diverting attention to himself. Mojito growls indignantly but his brother doesn't back down; Talsien and the others crinkling their eyes away as the head in his temples begins to throb unpleasantly.

- "Oh, dear brother, calm down"

- "You allow your little friends too much, Kamparri. What will Father say about this?"

- "We won't tell, he won't know. Wouldn't you be interested to see what happens?"

- "You think you're a kaioshin?" - Mojito growls, his gaze falling to Eyre, who hides behind Rick fearfully, and back to Camparri. His brother only snorts.

- "No, just a little scientist wanting to do various shit. But you'd like to procreate if you could reproduce?"

Rick interrupts their conversation with a foul grunt: - "I'm pretty sure that if angels were free to reproduce, they'd be freely spreading their gene remnants everywhere. Or, well..."

- "Oh, if my main job was to come and bless mortals to procreate and leave puppies in them, rather than being an angelic conduit for the god of destruction, I might well be doing that," the words oozed with sarcasm and irony, interrupting a drunken Rick. - "But no, I don't think I've ever been interested in having children. Training chosen children to replace the old god of destruction, if there is no other choice in recruits for that role is not on this list."

- "Why didn't you...try it on your genetic materials?" - Talsien asks, inspecting the equipment.

Bulma and and Eyre hysterical laughter erupts in response, this dilutes the already tense atmosphere, causing Mojito to relax considerably as he watches them in surprise, his form gradually ceasing to club and reverting back to its normal state.

- "These two," Bulma points to Camparri and Rick, "were the first test subjects. You think you're the only ones they collected garbage from? They were so happy to collect their genetic materials!"

- "We tried many times, but the experiment died at different stages of planning, at the beginning, in the middle, even at the end. We tried to get to the point where we could form cells and a nucleus, but we could never get it to come together. Your materials have proven to be the most resilient so far," explains Camparri. Confident that his brother is not attacking the small creature, he steps back, but stays in the moment to defend himself.

- "Mojito",-Talsien, who has been pondering this topic for a long time, calls out to her husband. - "What if...What if we actually tried it? Would we have a family?"

- "You know kids are a responsibility? I know babies are loud and smelly. Plus we were shown a little creature, told it was our baby, and then hoped it could survive long enough? What were you all counting on?" - Mojito mooed unhappily.

Talsien sighs and snuggles up to the angel, his gaze occasionally dropping to the running equipment, Mojito leaning in when the man asks for it: "We could imagine you really did give me a puppy."

The way Mojito rolled his eyes and wrinkled his nose showed it was an unfortunate choice of words, but it seems the angel loves the elf too much, so he didn't dare deny his request to leave the little creature and see the result of the experiment.

- "Could I dream of it being the world's coolest boy?", - Talsien smiled flirtatiously.

- "We're not a toy store, asshole," - Eyre sighs.

--

When Mojito and Talsien arrive at the lab again, an already formed baby's body lies in the incubator. Their scientist friends are moving around the location, checking data, notes, electronics connections, and most importantly the baby's life status

They both slowly approach this little unusual thing lying quietly on a diaper under of dome

Eyre: I"'d advise you not to even breathe in his direction, but I'm too tired to fear that he could die at any moment. Readings indicate that the body is stable, and there's nothing wrong with his system. You can gently take him in your arms".

Talsien emits a sigh of surprised relief, looking over to her husband. As Rick opens the box, carefully pulling out the infant, Mojito sniffs, snorting at the smell of various medicines, Talsien extends her arms to take the little creature.

It is a baby. He holds a creature created from their genetic material, it is small, strange, warm and has weight in his hands. So...it.... it has bone and muscle structure, and internal body structure, because it's probably initially very difficult to take something from a blob of cosmic space…

Amidst the hum of the instruments working, the all too familiar sound of a teleportation vortex was heard and all noises fell silent. The first figure to emerge from the portal was Celestia, and she could have served as a shield between the lab and Daishinkan, but there was no smile of joy on her face, only displeasure. Daishinkan appears next to her, and a multitude of eyes open in the space around him, and a few on his face, as if he was partially controlling himself to keep his physical shell from shifting into the form of a space creature.

Eyes surveying the location, Bulma, oblivious, shakes her head from the pressure in the air, backs away, the angel's pupils catching her movement, stop on her, stop on the other members of the lab, and then all eyes are on the small child. The halo behind his head glows brighter, Daishinkan lets out a guttural growl and Mojito stands in front of Talsien and the child, literally challenging her father. Talsien cradles the child in his arms

As it begins to get colder and several test tubes are covered in frost, Ayr whimpers fearfully, exhaling a cloud of vapor, "Sir, please! Your anger is only making things worse, I wouldn't want anything to happen to the baby!", and huddles fearfully against the wall as Daishinkan glares at him

- "What made you think that was a good idea in the first place?" - Celestia hums, placing a hand on Daishinkan's shoulder reassuringly, and walking around the tables, approaching the reason for her appearance. The Grand Priest looks at her, grumbling quietly, but the temperature slowly drops and he walks, but on the other side. They are like two predators on the hunt, the others belatedly realizing that they are almost-then locked in the same room with the ancient gods.

- "Because we can do this" - Rick shouts.

Rick was itching to rub Daishinkhan's nose in it, to mess with him and start creating more angelic mutants, to show that he could be cooler than a god, but when he saw the tense look in the eyes of the silent Camparri, his fervor and adrenaline began to subside, realizing that he had read his drunken thoughts. It looked like he'd overdone it, but the idea was still tempting.

- "And it's definitely not up to you to be above divine and do weird experiments" - Answered Celestia, ignoring the protective Mojito, stepping closer and studying the child.

To Daishinkan, the existence of this creature is nothing more than a great anomaly. He is the one who controls the population of angels, creating them «when the time is right». At this point it is not known what this flesh child represents, it could cause trouble in the future, and...

- "Ah, perhaps I've jumped to conclusions? I don't like the way this baby appeared, but it looks cute enough", - Celestia purrs, catching Daishinkan's attention. - "And besides, from what I've heard, this baby could die at any moment due to its unstable components. Could we observe him? What do you think of that, Grand Priest?"

The many eyes surrounding Daishinkan blink stupidly, he makes a chirping sound at this moment of surprise: -"...what made you change your mind? Did your maternal instincts kick in?"

Celestia shrugs uncertainly:-"As I said, I am disgusted by this experiment, but I am not forbidden to be curious. Aren't you curious? To try and watch it once?"

- "If I give them a leniency, they'll keep using angels and breeding anomalies because they've learned how to do it" - Daishinkan pondered.

Celestia didn't hold Daishinkan's brain cells in her hands, but she realizes that if he had come here alone, he would have gotten rid of the problem without further conversation

And now she waited for the Grand Priest's decision, watching as the brightness of his halo gradually diminished, the eyes hovering around him fading away, and a few  remaining on his face.

- "Hmm. This child will remain the only artificially bred hybrid, I'm not going to let humans experiment with angelic materials" - Daishinkan gives a wave, allowing this experiment. The scientists exhale in relief, Bulma, who has survived the wrath of the divine beings, clings to the kaioshin's shoulder.

- "His life is still unstable, I'm afraid he could die at any moment. We've put so many resources into this, I've even shared my Ki with all the embryos" - The kaioshin speaks softly.

- "Yeah, I wonder why a child, that has a space angel, Which shouldn't have even a hint of DNA or anything like that in it,  in it as a second parent is so unstable that the experiment dies while still in the embryogenesis stage" - Celestia chuckles, Daishinkan mooing something.

He raises his hand, which has CI and angelic energy sparking on it, and touches the infant, transferring that bit of energy to it - "I'm not sure if my energy will help and strengthen the experiment's body, but let's see how this goes.

Daishinkan ignored the tense Mojito and Talsien, who froze as the angel performed strange manipulations on the child. They breathed a sigh of relief when he allowed them to keep the genetically engineered miracle, and smiled weakly as they gazed at the little face, wondering what the child would be like.

[gvfmarge]

My first fic????!!! Who am I??

Jakey blurb:

I’m so so nervous to post this. I don’t have many followers and I haven’t really interacted with many of you. But I just had this idea in my head and I had to write it down, it’s super duper short. I’m not a writer by any means and I didn’t really edit this, so please be kind. 🥺

This is loosely based off of my experience with my 2 babies and our first days at home. (It’s really not as beautiful as this makes it out to be and the exhaustion is REAL- in case you don’t have kiddos)

This is probably a flop and I doubt anyone will actually read but here it is. Also, I’m on mobile so I hope this posts okay and is readable. Again, please be kind and I would always love some type of feedback or critiques!!

Trigger warnings: Newborns and exhaustion. Really nothing but pure sickening fluff.

Jake (husband/dad) x Reader

~~~

“Are you just soooo hungry, is my sweet girl just starving to death?” He hums to her as he zips up the lilac colored floral footie pajamas. As he scoops her up from the changing table, he turns to you with his toothy grin. “Momma’s right here baby.” He hushes her cries with his whispered promises. Jake slips Nora into your arms and gently sinks down into the bed beside you.

You’ve always loved Jake. You’ve loved him since the first time you met eyes. He takes up every ounce of your heart. But there is just something in the way he rocks your daughter, something in the way he sings to her, the way he looks at you while you’re holding her that makes you realize you never knew how much you actually loved him. You never believed your heart could hold any more love for this man, but watching him love the child you created with him has made you feel like the world has stopped for only you and your new family.

Today is your second full day of being home from the hospital after giving birth. It’s nothing like you imagined, it’s harder than you ever imagined but Jake has been nothing short of amazing. You have never felt more taken care of and cherished before.

“I can’t believe she’s actually real.” He says looking down at her in awe while she nurses. You can see the love in his eyes, you can feel it radiating off of him. It has enveloped your entire life now. Every inch of your house is full of love because of this new life you have brought into it.

“I know, I still feel like it’s all a dream actually.” You whisper back, leaning your head on his shoulder. “It felt like she would never be here and here she is.” He hums in response and turns his head to kiss your forehead. You both sit tangled together while you feed Nora until she finally falls asleep in your arms.

Jake eventually slides off the bed when he notices your eyes getting heavy. “Let me take her for a while baby, you need to nap.” He says stretching out his arms to lift her off of your chest. “Are you sure? I’m okay, I really don’t feel tired.” As you’re yawning, you realize just how exhausted you are. Jake has barely let you lift a finger since you’ve been home from the hospital. He’s changed almost every diaper, cooked every meal, woken up with Nora almost every hour at night to help you feed her. “Aren’t you tired too? You’ve done so much, lay down with me and we can cuddle while she naps.” You’re hoping he agrees, you really don’t want him to take her and you really don’t want him to leave either.

He places Nora in her bassinet beside the bed and places his hand on her chest and she settles back down into sleep. He slowly walks to turn off the lamps around the room and closes the curtains, stretching his arms above his head as he walks back to his side of the bed and almost crashes his body into the mattress. “I’m so glad you said that because I think I might die if I don’t sleep.” He says muffled into his pillow.

You giggle at his dramatics and curl into his side, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders. “I love you so much, Jake. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to show you just how much.”

“You already have baby, you’ve given me everything I could ever want and more. You’ve given me the perfect little family, that is all mine. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

As you both drift off into your nap, you both can’t help but smile through the exhaustion. Understanding now just how much this is all you’ve ever wanted.