#with everyone all the time but sometimes I use it more and sometimes I have to because I’m in a position where if I don’t we’ll get nowhere

[dreamseersystem]

This hits hard.

I was the provider in the relationship in the beginning. Did the back breaking work while the wife got sick and couldn't work for awhile. Sometimes she got a job, but I never put pressure on her. Moved a few times trying to still be the main one taking care of things, the head of household since at the time we had another person who only worked part time or not at all mostly.

Moved in with our best friend and his wife and me and his wife were the providers since no one else had a job at the time. Wife was the one to take care of the house since best friend was disabled. Other person left, two more came and left again so it was just us left.

Right before covid was claimed to have hit I got sick really bad. Had to call out of work because of how sick I was, but went back in within a day or two since, well I had to work, despite still being sick. Never saw a doctor. Didn't have time to go see one and didn't think it was that bad. But now its suspected that I had covid when it really started, not when it was claimed it started.

Kept working, had a few scares from collapsing one day. Kept having health scares since wife is immunocompromised. So I quit my physical job in April 2020, and didn't find another job till Sept with a work from home position. Got laid off at the end of the year.

Best friend died that Jan. Not only did my mental health just collapse (he died in front of us), but my body finally gave out from all the abuse of overworking. I went from provider, to the disabled person. Wife was able to get a job, but stuff happened and we moved around, living out of motels.

Got sick again, went to the hospital. It was pneumonia. Couldn't breathe, needed an oxygen machine for awhile after that. Got somewhat better, but my walking ability became nonexistent. I was using a cane all the time, but I really needed a walker which I eventually got.

This woman has stayed by my side this whole time, going from the one being taken care of to the caretaker. Its still this way today and I don't know how she puts up with my bullshit.

Its hard. Mentally... Physically...

I was raised that I always had to take care of everyone else. I took care of my grandfather, no one else helped. I took care of my grandmother, no one else helped. From highschool till I hit age 20 when my grandmother died a day after my birthday.

So I always had the mindset I had to provide. My wife, this amazing woman helps me deal with all the mental anguish I go through almost daily because I can't do what I once did. She reminds me that it just takes time to get what I lost back even if its possible, she doesn't let me think its impossible like some would do.

She is my light, my guide, my support and I do what little I can in return. This picture and those words. Made me cry, because this is her.

my partner said something that kinda rocked my world

[darlingdream1010]

He was just fourteen.

Danny had moved on, taken the high road from his little place in Amity Park to Gotham. City of dark and damp, festering alleyways of crime. He left behind swooping battles with rogues and late nights catching up on late homework. He gave it up for a normie life.

Danny lives the right way.

In his apartment, paycheck to paycheck.

At his school, passing grade to passing grade.

He’s living his dream, he tells himself. He doesn’t have to fight evil, he whispers. Bats fly by his window at night. Sometimes, gas creeps in and the rest of the neighborhood screams. He can’t hear them over his own.

Isn’t it humiliating, having a grinning hero coddle you through triage as if you were just like everyone else?

Danny feels ashamed. For the first time, he feels a fiery pettiness pushing him to help.

He resists.

He studies for midterms instead, not like he’s much better at that than…

…he needs to stop thinking about it.

It doesn’t help when the very next night, he sees Red Robin grapple right past his window with a gaping wound in his side. He looks back down at his study guides and textbooks splayed out before him, filled with jargon and equations that would never apply in daily life. Equations doesn’t stitch wounds up. It’s stupid, but it sticks in his head and festers.

When he looks at them, even he only half understands them. Just like how he gets only half-decent grades, and places near the middle of his class.

He loves this.

But sometimes…

Sometimes it seems like he should be better at it.

If it’s his favorite thing, he should be amazing at it.

If he’s going to pursue something so useless when vigilantes risk their lives and swing with open wounds, he ought to be a prodigy.

Be better, or do something useful.

Save the world as a scientist, or save the world as a hero.

Either way, it feels like everyone’s suffering is his responsibility.

All these thoughts corner him deep into the night.

They push and prod him with visions of Dan and Freakshow, and he closes his eyes and can’t breath fast enough.

He falls asleep plagued by them. His dreams are filled with visions of him swooping in and saving Red Robin in a tight spot. He imagines countless victims vying for his help. He pictures himself saving every last one, stretching himself as far as he can just so he can help everyone.

The flowing ideas of being one of Gotham’s saviors, being the untouchable one amongst human vigilantes, lured him into sleeping far past dawn.

Far enough, that by the time he awoke, his alarm clock was screaming at him.

“Oh, goddamnit,” he cursed, smacking the thing till it stopped and stumbling out of his chair. His back ached from the hunched sleeping position.

“This sucks,” he muttered to himself, aggressively brushing his teeth and spitting into the sink.

No time to rinse his mouth out, he threw pants and a hoodie on before rushing out the door. He was beyond late—and what a wonderful start to his day.

He just managed to catch the subway train running to the University, and he nearly consumed billions of germs thriving on the subway floor when the train started moving. He staggered to the side and caught a hold of the pole, apologizing to those he bumped into.

“Do you see this shit, Dauna? All because you’s making me stand.”

For a heart-quickening moment, Danny thought the burly, potbellied man was talking to him.

A young woman in a seat evaded his gaze. “It’s just for one more stop, Andy,” she muttered.

“What’d you say, bitch? You wanna speak up?” A glob of spit from the man’s mouth landed on her cheek.

“I said, it’s just for one more stop! My foot hurts and I sat here first, okay? I’m sorry, but it ain’t worth pitching a fit over,” she reasoned, clutching her purse tightly.

The man eyed her handbag and made a swipe at it.

“Ugh—“ the woman struggled, but the man was stronger.

He waved it around and smirked cruelly. “Not so stubborn now, huh? Get outta my damn seat or I’ll empty this hog’s mound of a purse right here, woman.”

She didn’t budge, and he followed through with his word. He shook it like it was filled with money, when really all that came out was a precious few lipsticks, a ring, and coupons.

Danny watched in abject horror. He wanted to help—he should just tell that man off right then! Yet, something held him back.

She would be happy, perhaps, but what about when they went home together? Where Danny couldn’t see, wouldn’t he just take out his anger two-fold, leaving her worse off than before?

So Danny doesn’t budge. Danny glances away politely when the woman cries while he empties her stuff all over the place.

The only thing he can do is silently pick up the pieces and hand them back to her. She’s left to put them back together herself.

Danny feels empty when he steps out that train.

Was that really the right choice?

A sticky note flutters in front of his face—

You tried your best, Danny. It’s worth more than you think.

Clockwork? That’s Danny’s first thought, but surely, that couldn’t possibly be the case.

“Time, out,” a ghostly voice echoes across the station, eerily familiar.

A robed blue ghost floated out from behind a column, smiling slightly at Danny.

“Clockwork? But, I thought I—“

“I know your teenage self proclaimed your heroic days were over and left the Infinite Realms, but I thought for today, you might appreciate a familiar face and a head start to make it to class.”

Danny stared, flabbergasted. “You’re helping? You never help.”

“I think I should feel offended.” The ghost flickered to his child self and chuckled.

“Wait, no, I mean, thank you, just-I have a few questions I need to ask you,” Danny said.

“You’ve got ten minutes to make it to class, Daniel,” Clockwork evaded his request. He then took a step back and walked to the column he’d appeared from. “Remember, you’re always welcome in the Ghost Zone.”

He was gone.

Danny stared aimlessly for nearly an entire minute before he remembered Clockwork’s words. Ten minutes.

The two morning encounters were momentarily forgotten as Danny ran for his classes. He swerved around pedestrians and hopped over cars. Ultimately, he decided to take to the air for the fastest trip. Danny didn’t intend to get sidetracked, as this was one of his favorite classes, but when he saw Signal midair about to catch a projectile to the face, he couldn’t help hovering up and moving it out of the way.

Danny snickered at the silly expression on the hero’s face and flew extra fast to class, not regretting the delay at all.

Maybe it was okay that he got to enjoy the life of a normal citizen. Didn’t these people fight for students like him to bomb tests and cry over ice cream and throw stupid parties like normal people?

Danny Phantom would live his normal life to the fullest.

After all, he was just nineteen.

[winterswift]

can we pretend?

pairing: bob reynolds x f! reader.

summary: when you asked bob to pretend to be your fake boyfriend, you had no idea you'd fall so hard for him.

word count: 4,4k.

tags: fake relationship, pining, this is sort of grumpy x sunshine, except that instead of grumpy, he is shy and introverted. he fell first AND harder, mentions of y/n, a lot of fluff, sentry makes his appearance (kind of).

—there are mentions of a man harassing the reader but nothing overly excessive.

a/n: english is not my first language so there might be grammatical mistakes. this took longer than i expected, but i'm happy with the end product. the fake relationship trope is one of my faves, and i was quite excited to use it in a Bob fic. i hope you like it :).

Bob couldn't help but observe you. He didn't intend to do it; he was meant to be reading, but the sound of your voice distracted him. There was a man nearby, possibly too close to be regarded proper.

You did not appear to be comfortable; your body was rigid and your eyes darted around in search of an escape. Every time he approached closer, you took a step back.

He understood how it felt because he felt the same way with practically everyone. But he wasn't used to seeing you like this; you used to be confident, a ray of sunshine whose demeanor didn't quite suit with the grim New Avengers. He didn't like seeing you like that, small and insecure, almost afraid.

He felt compelled to do something, but he wasn't the sort to harm, so he waited. When the man left and you breathed a sigh of relief, he continued his reading. He pretended he hadn't noticed your footsteps approaching.

“Bob!" you exclaimed. You were overjoyed to see him; normally, no one reacts that way when they meet him. Except for you. "I was looking for you."

You settle next to him with a huff, your cherry smell overwhelming his senses. He adored your perfume but would never express it aloud. "I need to ask you a favor," you said, blushing as if embarrassed.

"What can I do for you?" he inquired, anticipating that you would want a book, as you occasionally did.

"I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend." He almost didn't understand you because you spoke so fast. He gazed at you with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Please!" you begged, anxiously. "I'd do anything for you. I will buy you anything you want, but please say yes."

He wasn't sure it was a good idea; he wasn't exactly boyfriend material, but seeing your eyes almost to tears, he couldn't turn you down. Not if you looked at him like that.

"F-fine," he agreed, hesitantly.

You let out an enthusiastic giggle and threw yourself into his arms with such vigor that you nearly knocked him off the couch. He gave you a few pats on the back before pulling away.

He wasn't used to that type of affection, especially after what had taken place in New York, but that was just how you were, warm and dazzling. You didn't appear concerned that he would use his powers on you.

"Thank you so much, seriously, it means a lot to me," you stammered. "It's just for a couple of days, until that guy stops bothering me. I've told him several times that I don't want to go out with him, but he will not take no for an answer. I'm desperate.”

He was enraged at the thought of someone making you uncomfortable; he told himself that he would pay more attention to that man and would not allow him to get near you. He may not have been the most intimidating member of the team, but he was confident he could get him off your back.

"Don't worry, I'll help you." Your thankful smile made it all worthwhile.

He had absolutely no idea what he was getting into.

The following days went by normally, but Bob noted the small changes. You appeared to want to spend more time with him; nothing was overstated; you simply sat next to him at breakfast and smiled. Sometimes you'd sit next to him as he read.

You never interrupted him because you were too gentle for that; instead, you remained by his side as a warm and soothing presence. You never compelled him to speak, you never exceeded his space; you were simply present. He appreciated it.

He began to feel safe by your side, not that he hadn't before, but that he did so more frequently.

It was one of those days when they simply existed next to each other that you started a conversation.

"Bob," you called, and he noticed your soft tone. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I know I practically forced you to say yes, but you may always decline. I don't want to make you uncomfortable; if you don't want to, I can ask someone else if-”

He had noticed that you spoke too quickly when you were nervous, which he found very adorable.

"No!" stopped you, and he grimaced instantly, realizing he had sounded overly enthusiastic."It doesn't bother me; if I hadn't wanted it, I would have said no. It's fine, really.”

That was only half the truth; it wasn't that he couldn't say no; rather, he couldn't say no to you.

“Good,” you replied with a relieved smile. "Thank you again; you really help me a lot."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he told you with a little smile. "Did you see him again?"

"No, I've been avoiding the places he usually goes," you answered, visibly annoyed. "I know he comes a couple of times a week, but I'm not sure when."

"Don't worry, we'll keep an eye on it," he assured you.

Bob kept his promise to her. The next day, he had asked Yelena for a list of everyone who worked for Valentina. The former assassin lifted her eyebrows and smiled, but said nothing.

It took him some time to find him, but there he was. His name was Daniel, and he worked on the tower's repairs. None of the workers were permitted to enter the floor where they lived, but this man seemed to disregard the rules in order to come closer to you.

Daniel had not returned to the tower, but that did not prevent him from staying near to you. It was embarrassing how closely he followed you like a lost puppy, but he wanted to guarantee your safety.

He didn't see him until a week later, when he was bothering you again. As you attempted to distance yourself from him, your face flushed with discomfort.

"Come on, beautiful, just one date," he urged, smiling condescendingly. Bob had a brilliant gleam in his eyes before approaching you.

You saw a tiny shift in his posture: his steps were firmer, and his hands were no longer fidgeting. His eyes no longer avoided you; they focused on you with such intensity that you blushed.

He approached you with a smile, standing next to you and wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

"Hello, darling," he whispered, kissing your forehead. You attempted to hide your amazement; Bob had never been so affectionate with you, and even though you had technically asked for it, you had no idea how to react. "And who are you?"

Daniel swallowed hard, clearly intimidated. "I'm a friend of Y/N," he explained, shaking his hand. "Daniel."

Bob grasped his hand harder than needed. "How strange, she never mentioned you," he said, smiling. "I'm Robert, her boyfriend."

You tried to disguise a smile by hiding your face in his shoulder. You didn't realize Bob could be that petty.

Both enjoyed Daniel's annoyed expression; from that perspective, they appeared to be a loving couple. Nobody would assume they rarely touched hands.

"I don't want to take up more of your time, Daniel," you said. "See you later."

You instantly grabbed Bob's arm and pulled him out of the room. You did not want to spend any more time with that man. You spoke once you had gotten far enough away.

"That was incredible!" you exclaimed, laughing. "Did you see his face?"

Bob's shyness emerged at that moment. "Yeah, I hope that keeps him away from you."

"I hope so," you sighed. "Thank you, Bob."

He grinned at you, with a lovely blush on his cheeks. You wanted to express your gratitude for everything he was doing for you, so an idea began to shape in your thoughts.

"Hey, do you want to get out of here?" you said. The glitter in his eyes revealed the answer.

You led him to a new café that had opened a few blocks from the tower. When you heard out it was a cat café, you immediately felt Bob would enjoy it.

And you were not mistaken.

His smile when a kitten approached him warmed your heart. Bob surrounded by kittens was not an image you wanted to forget.

You took care of his order, and when you returned with two coffees, he was holding a little cat against his chest. You snapped a picture before he could resist.

"What are you doing?" he asked you.

"You two looked too adorable," you said with a smile. "I couldn't help it."

Bob shook his head with a smile, rebellious strands of hair fell over his eyes. You wanted to tuck it behind his ears, but you lacked the courage.

Both of them drank their coffees silently; you didn't want to press the conversation, and Bob was distracted with the kittens. You were astonished when he talked first.

"Can I ask you something?" You nodded slightly to encourage him to speak.

"Why me?" he questioned. "Why did you choose me?"

The question threw you off; choosing him felt natural, even instinctual. Furthermore, you did not want to confess that he was perfectly your type.

You inhaled deeply. "Because you are a good man, Bob. You are sweet and gentle, and you know how to listen to others. You make them feel seen. Not to mention that you're handsome," you admitted. "Who wouldn't want to have you as a boyfriend?"

You blushed beneath his gaze; he gazed at you as if you were the sun peeking out from behind the storm, as if you were something that only happens once in a lifetime. Doubt appeared in his eyes; he didn't believe the sincerity of your remarks, but you were speaking from the heart.

When he saw you weren't going to change your mind, he smiled at you; it wasn't exaggerated or overly bright. It was a warm smile, the type that brings out people's beauty and makes you want to get closer to them.

You wanted to be close to Bob.

Something shifted between you two that day, an unsaid understanding, an invisible string forming between you. A gravitational pull that neither of them could resist.

But not everything is perfect.

What about their little getaway? It was the cover of every magazine at the time. Their faces and furtive smiles had been shot, revealing the intimacy of the moment to everyone.

Valentina had something to say about it.

The woman showed up in the tower with a stomach-churning smile. You didn't like the glow in her eyes, and your body was screaming at you to get away from there.

Bob and you exchanged perplexed looks when she threw a magazine at you that had you on the cover.

"My little superhero lovers, I wanted to speak to you.”

They were certainly in big trouble.

You approached Bob, unintentionally seeking the reassurance his presence brought. Valentina must have noticed their fearful expressions when she spoke to them.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not angry," didn't help them relax. "In fact, this is perfect. Two Avengers in love is just the type of PR we need right now. People enjoy good romance.”

You shifted uncomfortably; you two were not even dating. You would not be in that position if you hadn't made that idiotic request.

"But we don't—" you attempted to say.

"I don't care if you love each other or barely tolerate each other," she exclaimed, frustrated. "I need you to sell it to the public. Next Friday, there will be a charity gala; I need both of you to attend and be the perfect pair. Mel will send your outfit within a few days.”

Both attempted to object, but a single glance from the woman hushed them. "I'm not asking you. Do not fail.”

With that, she went out the door.

"I'm sorry, Bob," you apologized instantly. "This is my fault, I should have realized they were taking pictures of us. You don't have to go; I can tell Valentina that this was entirely my idea, and-"

"Hey, Y/N, breathe," Bob interrupted you, holding your hands. It's not anyone's fault; besides, I agreed to do this, remember? We're now a team, and I'm not going to leave you alone.”

Your frown softened as he spoke; he always manages to calm you down.

"What about the party?"

"We just have to show up there, I think I can survive a party," he told you. "Only if you go with me."

"Deal done," you said with a smile.

It was the night before the gala and you couldn't sleep, the mattress sank uncomfortably under your weight, the sheets that wrapped around you made you feel suffocated. Every time you closed your eyes, thousands of scenarios where everything went wrong began to emerge.

You took a couple of breaths, trying to calm the rapid beats of your heart. You couldn't help but feel anxious; generally, the public events you attended never ended well.

You began to reflect on the previous several weeks, thinking about how the situation had slid out of your grasp. You hated yourself for doing this to Bob.

Bob had been nothing but kind to you, and he chose to help you even though it was not his responsibility. Bob who gazed at you as if you had hung the moon and stars for him.

You had no idea what to deal with those feelings, and you never expected to feel anything for him. Of course, he was always handsome to you, but a relationship required more than just that.

And yet, there you were. Unable to resist your heart's longing for him.

You wanted to be the one who made him laugh out loud and earned his trust. You wanted to see the gorgeous blush that appeared on his cheeks whenever someone complimented him, and you wanted him to take you in his arms and never let you go.

However, he most likely did not feel the same way. You were sure that Bob was too kind to reject you, if you had the courage to declare your feelings and stop pretending.

Soft knocks on your door distracted you from your thoughts, and you reluctantly got up, wondering who was calling you at such a late hour.

Bob's blue eyes gleamed when he saw you, his hair was ruffled, and the deep black circles under his eyes made him appear exhausted. You raised an eyebrow when you saw the pillow he was holding under his arm.

It seemed that you had called him with your thoughts.

"Sorry," his scratchy voice from sleep made you shudder. "I didn't want to wake you, it's just that I couldn't sleep and didn't know what else to do."

You gave him a slight smile before opening the door. It was Bob's first time in your room, and he couldn't help but notice every single detail that made the space yours.

"Don't worry," you murmured, gesturing to the mess of blankets that composed your bed. "I couldn't sleep either."

Bob gave a tiny mumble of understanding; he was too nervous to say anything. Your scent was everywhere, and it was driving him insane.

You stifled a yawn as you took his hand and dragged him to bed. Bob followed you with unsteady feet, and the sight of you with tired eyes and a soft-looking pajama made his heart race.

They lay down with a good gap between them, but after a few minutes, you couldn't help but desire to be closer to him. You moved around, placed your head on his shoulder, and rested your arm on his stomach. You let out a relieved sigh as you felt the warmth of his body on yours.

Bob remained completely still; it was the closest they had ever been. Your breath tickled his skin. He lovingly enveloped you in his arms, and you almost fell asleep immediately.

He noticed your serene expression, the contour of your nose, your slightly parted lips, and how you clung to him. Unconsciously, he began to touch your hair, finding it difficult to understand that someone could feel secure with him.

"Y/N," he muttered, afraid to wake you. You made a sound that resembled an response. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," you sighed. "I don't trust Valentina's intentions, and it's my first time attending a gala with a partner. Well, you are not actually my boyfriend, but for them—"

Bob's laughter interrupted you. "I got it," he said, smiling at you. "To be honest, it's the first time I've attended an event like this. So I'm nervous, too."

Your fingers intertwined with his, and your thumb caressed his knuckles. "Don't worry, they'll love you," you remarked in a sleepy voice.

"It's not their opinion that matters to me," he murmured, but you were already asleep.

Bob let out a defeated sigh and closed his eyes. He instantly fell asleep with you beside him.

When you awoke the next morning, your bed was empty, but you were holding a pillow that did not belong to you.

They both ignored one other all morning, they were embarrassed and too frightened to engage in normal conversation. And the team's relentless taunting of you did not help.

Since they discovered you were in a "relationship," the comments haven't stopped; they never miss a chance to make you blush with their words.

So you decided to hide in your room until it was time to go to the party; however, you still needed to prepare.

You took your time showering and perfuming your body; Valentina had hired numerous people to do your makeup and hairstyle, so you didn't have to worry about it.

The makeup enhanced your looks; they applied an eye shimmer to you that complimented your clothing and made your glance appear more alluring. Your hair was done with gentle waves that cascaded down your back.

You couldn't help but huff at the color of the dress, yet it was still perfect for you. Valentina did her best.

The cloth was comfortable and hugged each curve of your body. It truly made you feel beautiful.

They gave you matching shoes and jewelry, and once you'd completed changing, you glanced in the mirror. You took a deep breath, attempting to settle your nerves. You needed to think that everything would be alright.

You strode down the hallway with your head held high, attempting to radiate confidence. Bob was probably waiting for you in the common area, so you increased your pace.

You spotted him before he noticed you. You were left breathless.

He was dressed in a black suit that appeared to be tailor-made, fitting perfectly around his shoulders and the muscles in his arms. His hair was slicked back with gel, and you were surprised to see that he hadn't shaved; his stubble appealed to you.

He spotted you at that very moment. You gave him a little smile when you saw his open mouthed expression.

His gaze swept over your body, admiring how the dress highlighted your beauty, hugged your physique, and made you appear like a goddess descending to earth.

"Golden?" he inquired with a playful smile, admiring the hue of your garment.

You rolled your eyes. "Well, I'm supposed to be Sentry's girlfriend, with the power of a thousand suns, blah blah," you stated as you approached him. "I had to match, you know?"

"What-what are you doing?" he stammered as you placed your palms against his chest.

"You have your tie crooked," you said, removing the knot with ease. Bob held his breath as you completed your assignment. "Done."

"Easy, Bob, I don't bite," you winked. He murmured something you didn't understand before offering his arm to let you start your way to the door.

"Let's get out of here."

The venue was full, and the sound of so many voices mingling assaulted your ears. You gripped Bob's arm a little tighter.

He was equally nervous, his body shivering slightly against your side. You felt compelled to soothe him, so you entwined your fingers with his and gently squeezed them.

You moved closer, your lips brushing across his ear. "Breathe. We're in this together."

He offered you a faint, strained smile, but it was enough for you. His arm wrapped around your waist, warm and firm, as you both entered the building.

All eyes were on you, the star-crossed lovers, as Valentina had described you. Something about you grabbed attention: your silent complicity, the way you orbited one other, and your inability to stop looking at each other.

Nobody would ever suspect it was a meticulously planned performance. Or that's what they wanted to believe, but you knew some things couldn't be faked.

Bob let you lead the discussions, watching with interest as you enchanted others with your charm. He only spoke when necessary because he still struggled with social interactions. Instead, he remained by your side, always with you.

He hadn't missed the looks some men gave you, so he made certain they knew you weren't alone. That someone was looking after you, even if he was aware you didn't need it.

The night flew by as you both approached the bar for a drink. The lights had darkened, and there were a few couples dancing. You had a small grin on your lips and a sparkle in your eyes, as if you wanted to dance but didn't dare to ask.

Bob didn't want to pass up the opportunity, even though he didn't like the thought of so many people watching him. He extended his hand to you in a subtle invitation. You could barely conceal your surprise.

"Come on," he said, guiding you onto the dance floor. You restrained a smile.

"I didn't know you liked to dance," you joked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and drawing closer to him.

“I'm a terrible dancer," both of them began to sway to the beat of the music. "But it would be a crime not to dance with you."

“Smooth" you chuckled as he spun you around. "Thank you, you are the perfect partner."

When he glanced at you, his eyes had a golden shine in them, but you didn't say anything; you just smiled and put your forehead on his shoulder. That simple act of confidence touched Bob's heart.

Your hair tickled his chin, and your perfume dulled his senses. Your skin felt warm where his hands touched you, and the steady ebb and flow of your breath helped him stay grounded.

He genuinely wanted to kiss you, but he didn't dare. Not there, not where they were exposed to the eyes of others. So they continued to dance, till their feet hurt.

And when you were bored of the music and the people, you proposed leaving. It wasn't your first time attending an event in that building; you were familiar with the space and knew you had to show Bob the view from the terrace.

You led him along the empty hallways, hands clasped and bursting into little giggles of hardly restrained joy. You could feel the excitement in the air, the expectation of what could happen.

The cool night air sent shivers down your spine, as you walked closer to the balcony to take in the view; you'd always enjoyed seeing the city at night.

"Isn't it beautiful?" you stated, feeling Bob's warmth next to you but not taking your gaze away from the city.

"It is," he said, staring at you.

Bob took advantage of your distraction to look at you, noting the way the moonlight reflected on your features, the sparkle in your eyes, and every mole and freckle on your skin. He gazed at you as if he wanted to remember you forever.

You were heartbreakingly beautiful, and it took his breath away. And, God, he loved you with such devotion that even the worst parts of himself yearned for you.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your fingertips gently brushing against his knuckles. "I hope tonight wasn't too much for you."

He shook his head slightly. "It was...fine. I had fun, how about you?”

"I always have fun when I'm with you, Bob," you remarked, smiling sweetly.

His heart raced, and he knew he needed to kiss you. He couldn't leave the night without trying the taste of your lips.

"I've wanted to do something all night," he said, his voice dropping an octave. The intimacy in his tone caused you to lean closer to him.

"Oh, really?" you inquired with bright eyes. "What is it?"

"This," he said, and then he kissed you.

He kissed you desperately, like a beast eager for you, as if he wanted to take every breath that left your lips and claim it for his own.

He claimed your lips as if they were all he needed to survive. And perhaps it was.

His fingers trembled as he grabbed your waist, not out of nerves or fear, but out of barely restrained despair. For the desire to explore your skin.

The world melted away under his touch, the sound of the city scarcely audible in your ears; on that lonesome terrace, only he and you existed.

Your lungs burned, but you didn't want to let go, so you clutched to him tighter, wrinkling the neck of his shirt with your fingers. Bob's arms gripped you securely, and you knew he wasn't going to let you go either.

Your heart raced as his darker eyes met yours, he placed his forehead to yours. They remained motionless for a minute, the only sound coming from their heavy breathing.

You let out a giggle. “God, I like you so much. I'm glad I asked you to be my fake boyfriend.”

Bob laughed, and his chest vibrated against yours. "Yeah, maybe we should change that," he told you. "What do you think? Do you want to be my girlfriend? This time, for real."

"I would love to," you smiled, sealing your words with a kiss.

Asking him to pretend to go out with you was the best decision you'd made. And as for Daniel, let's just say your boyfriend made it clear to him that you were no longer available.

thanks for reading!

[salix-exigua]

P sure Julian isn't Jewish, and they def weren't when they wrote that tweet—their partner at the time was Jewish, and they were inspired by a conversation they had with their partner about Jewish ideas.

[ID: Tweet from @JulianKJarboe that reads, "The terminology of 'Good Works' is Catholic, the argument is Jewish, the interfaith adaptability is on purpose, the sentiment is sincere, and *also* the context is me writing sad fucky gay sci fi and trying to use the residual specialness of Sundays to remember to take my T shot." /End description.]

Their short story collection, Everyone on the Moon is Essential Personnel, has a lot about religion and interfaith dialogue. I like that, even as they find the idea relevant in their own life, they also make sure to attribute it to its original source in Judaism.

[ID: Tweet from @JulianKJarboe that reads, "if you're not Jewish btw and you're like 'wait what Jewish theology is this in dialogue with, like a bible passage or something?' first of all no and also that's not how that works, but it's in the mishnah via rabbi akiva, literally second paragraph here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rabbi_Akiva#Selected_legends'

Included in the tweet is a screencap of part of the Wikipedia article that reads:

Tinnius Rufus asked: "Which is the more beautiful—God's work or man's?" Akiva replied: "Undoubtedly man's work is the better, for while nature at God's command supplies us only with the raw material, human skill enables us to elaborate the same according to the requirements of art and good taste." Rufus had hoped to drive Akiva into a corner by his strange question; for he expected quite a different answer and intended to compel Akiva to admit the wickedness of circumcision. He then put the question, "Why has God not made man just as He wanted him to be?" Akiva had an answer ready: "For the very reason, man must perfect himself."

/End ID]

Image descriptions for previous images under the cut:

[ID for first image: Hand embroidery on denim that reads, "Wheat but not bread, fruit but not wine," with embroidered wheat and grapes. /End ID.]

[ID for second image: Text that reads:

God Needs Humanity. Traditionally, religious thinkers have stressed the need that people have for God, but Heschel stressed the reverse: that God needs humanity. In doing so, he developed concepts put forth by the Talmudic rabbis on one hand, and by Jewish mystics on the other.

Heschel carefully distinguished God’s need for people from what earlier civilizations felt their gods needed from them. For example, whereas the ancient Phoenicians and Ammonites believed their god Moloch demanded that children be burned as offerings, Heschel said that what God needs of us is a partner in developing and helping to redeem this world. /End ID]

[ID for third image: Text that reads:

According to the Talmudic rabbis, from the moment of creation God intended human beings to be such partners in creation, making wheat but not bread, clay but not bricks. Heschel developed this ancient idea of human responsibility as one of “active assistance.”

Heschel also developed and idea from Lurianic Kabbalah and later Hasidic thought that each person is God’s partner in the redemption of the world. “The meaning of redemption is to reveal the holy that is concealed, to disclose the divine that is suppressed. Every man is called upon to be a redeemer, and the redemption takes place every moment, every day.”

Heschel summarized these two strands of Jewish thought by saying that God “is in need of the work of man for the fulfillment of His ends in the world." /End ID]

[ID for fourth image: Text from Julian K. Jarboe's About page on their website. It reads:

Hey, I saw somewhere that you sometimes describe yourself as a “transsexual” instead of transgender. Can I ask why?

No.

Isn’t “transsexual” an out-dated and insulting word?

No.

Can I change the wording of that theology thing you wrote that keeps getting plagiarized and going viral for other people? The way you carefully and deliberately phrased it in the context of your art and personal life makes me uncomfortable, but I also kind of want to use it for my own thing.

No. /End ID]

Pride month vest project, a patch a day #29: Wheat But Not Bread, Fruit But Not Wine

[sweeethearts]

let go

a/n: hello cuties! per the poll results… here we are!!! this is basically needy girl but like the alternate robby version. hes just soooooooooo !!! and i just really need to break him, so this is exactly that. hope you guys enjoyyy mwah xx

summary: robby is used to being the one in control of a situation, but little does he know giving in to his beautiful kryptonite can turn out to be far more satisfying.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: SMUUUT!! fem!reader, lowkey stubborn!robby, also lowkey bratty!reader, age gap relationship, oral teasing, robby loosing his control over the situation, cum in pants lols

taglist: @robbyslittlelamb @beetmaster @pitterr-patter @silversprings-mp3 @fallenxjas @oldmanbunnylover

it had been a long shift. longer than robby’s scheduled time. each issue growing more dire and macabre. each case requiring more attention and effort. 

is it sick that he's too pleased to be leaving, to clock out and go home and leave everyone else with the neverending cycle of turmoil?

he’s tired. sore. muscles tense, back stiff. he cant help but picture himself relaxing with you, a nice calm night—food and sleep. so the last thing robby expects when he walks through the door is seeing you all smiley and mischievous and in nothing but one of his old med school t-shirts, sitting on the floor between his knees the second he sinks his body down onto the couch. 

you don’t even wait for him to change. you press kisses on his clothed thighs, nuzzling your face there. you’re talking sweet and soft unlike the roguish twinkle in your eyes. you ask him about his day, about how he felt, if he managed to eat anything. simple basic inquiries one asks another after coming home from work. the usual routine, except this time he's struggling to speak out an answer with the way your breath hovers over his pubic line. 

“sweetheart—” his voice is strained. 

“i missed you,” you say, and he knows it’s true.

of course he does. of course you do, and that’s the problem. you miss him like it’s a need. like not having him near makes your skin buzz and ache. but what he also knows is that he misses you more. every second. every case. every code. every life that slips through his hands.

you make it all go quiet.

but tonight, it’s the quiet that scares him.

because you're not begging to be touched. not whining to be fucked. no, you’re serving him. worshiping him. touching him with reverence and devotion he sometimes feels he hasn’t earned. he’s not used to being the one taken care of. and god, it’s humiliating how fast he’s losing his grip.

you want to watch him unravel.

and he’s letting you. worse—he needs it.

he groans when you touch him—real, aching exhaustion in his body. when your hands run up his thighs and inside his shirt, feeling his snail trail under your fingertips. letting one of your hands fall to pass against his crotch, cupping it softly in your palm. he takes a deep breath, sitting forward to put a hand on your shoulder watching as you look up at him. 

“sweetheart please, not now” he says softly, cupping your blushy cheek and cooing ever so slightly at the pout on your lips. you lean into his hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist before leaning your body further into his. you allow your head to reach his crotch more clearly, press your lips to the line of his bulge through his cargos. 

you look up at him so smug, so sweet, like you’ve been planning this all throughout the day and you're intent on making him feel good. 

that’s what starts to crack him.

“just let me robby. you don’t have to do anything.” you nose along the seam of his pants, tongue peeking out, pressing hot and slow. “just let me help you relax.”

“you don’t have to do this” he tries again, his fingers twitching slightly on top of your hand. “you don’t need to—sweetheart,” his voice is weaker this time. he thumbs your cheek like he’s soothing a child, like he’s trying to coax you into stopping—into being good.

but you are being good, you’re doing this for him. 

if only he lets you. 

you just blink up at him, all lashes and impish smile. “you always say that when you’re tired but your cock doesn’t agree.” you say letting your finger graze the zipper, the growing tightness in robby’s pants can’t go unnoticed. 

he grits his teeth, his hand moving back to your cheek, to the warmth radiating off your body. he still holds you like you’re fragile, although he's the one beginning to lose his composure. “that’s not the point.”

“you work so hard, baby. lemme take care of you for once, please”

you nuzzle again against his bulge, more insistent now, and even through the cargo material you feel it twitch. it’s just enough to make you smile harder.

god why can’t he just give in. 

“you don’t need to serve me like that, angel. you know i get off on making you feel good.” he murmurs, pained and fond all at once.

“and i get off on seeing you lose control.”

that does something to him. shutting him up and making him sit back in a hard slump, eyes fluttering shut and head falling back for just a second—like he’s begging for strength from the ceiling.

you unzip him, moving the flaps to the side just enough to let you kiss up the length of him again through his boxers. 

slow and warm and mean. 

his breathing is heavy now. back laying fully against the cushion, legs spreading wider than he already was. hes tired and stretched thin and trying so hard to hold the line but he can’t ignore the way his shoulders are loosening up. the way his stomach is tensing in that nice way. 

you look up through your lashes, lips brushing against the curve of his small old man belly. kissing it so sweetly, letting your tongue peak through your lips just enough. 

“what’s the worst that could happen, baby?”

both of your hands running up his thighs, fingertips teasing, holding your ground 

“you’ll cum in your pants like some needy little intern?”

your lips set a wet kiss right against the thick heat of him. pressing down enough to force a sigh out of the man in front of you. watching you with lidded eyes and a small warning grin on his face. 

“or just like a pathetic old man who can’t handle his girl being a little sweet to him?”

you watch the way his jaw clenches, the soft noise that catches in his throat like a whimper strangled into a deep groan. his eyes shut again, his fingers twitch into his hand like he wants to drag you onto him and shut your bratty mouth up, and yet he doesn’t move.

he can’t.

because he likes it. loves it. every word. every brutal implication that you love him. every silly reminder that he’s older and that you’re young and clever and cruel in all the ways he secretly aches for.

and maybe he’ll never admit it, but you know it breaks him faster.

“careful.” he bites out, and it sounds like a threat but it tastes like surrender.

you weigh the consequences of continuing in your head, of pushing him to the brink despite his continuous warnings. but the impulse wins. 

your desire to see someone like robby—someone who's required to be so precise and presentable and controlled—surrender to someone like you. someone who has spent countless nights at his feet for your own dire need of his experienced hands and clever mouth. 

the opportunity to watch the tables turn for once?

it’s too intoxicating to put down. 

you need to see him like this just as much as you know he does. 

he jerks. just a little. just a twitch.

and you smile, even squish your thighs together at the view in front of you.

you’re not even touching him properly. not pulling his boxers down and settling him deep in your throat. but it doesn’t matter because the way your lips press over the dampening fabric and your hands palm at the bottom of his bulge, its enough to make robby grit his teeth and remind himself to breathe. 

he’s gotten so good at bottling up his meltdowns, to push people out of those dark places in his mind, that finally letting go feels so fucking appetizing. 

and with who better than a god-given gift like you. 

honestly? he looks quite adorable. his entire upper body flushed a deep red with exertion and attraction, all the way up to his ears.

your fingers curl around the backs of his knees like you’ve claimed him. and hes whipped for the way your hot breath and wet tongue tease him. body loose, shoulders falling back, such a pleasant feeling low in his abdomen. 

his mind is starting to slow. every nerve in his body focused on you. 

he’s a grown man. a doctor. your boyfriend. he’s surely not going to cum in his pants, right? 

but he groans—that deep, ragged grown-man sound that rips out of his chest before he even realizes it. because yeah. yeah, he fucking might.

you lick slow and long deliberately over the middle pannel of his boxers, and he shudders, chest rising. you can feel that he’s trying not to buck up into your mouth. trying so hard to be in control like he always is.

but his shaky voice betrays him.

“fuck, sweets”

you look up at him again, wide-eyed, feigning innocence. tilting your head like you don’t already know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“hm? something wrong, handsome?” you ask, voice syrupy, mouth brushing the bottom of his bulge. “you sound kinda desperate there.”

you pause, give him that gruesome smile. your words roll off in a soft mocking tone. “poor thing. is it already too much?”

he chokes on a breath, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck to calm himself. 

your lips press over the wet spot now blooming through the cotton, and you murmur against him

“don’t fight it, robby. i want you like this.”

a soft, strangled sound stutters out of his throat—somewhere between a groan and a gasp. his hips twitch involuntary, his body trying to chase the heat of your mouth through the fabric.

he could stop this. could pull away, shake his head, say something, assert his dominance on the situation, but all that control he guards so fiercely is already slipping through his fingers, dripping out of him like water from a cracked cup.

and your voice—that voice—is in his head now. “don’t fight it.” yeah, like it’s that easy. like he isn’t gripping onto the edge of the couch just to keep himself from falling apart.

robby swears under his breath. his jaw clenches, nostrils flaring, chest rising with a shudder. he throbs through his boxers. 

“jesus christ,” he whispers. “you’re gonna make me—fuck—” 

he doesn’t even finish the sentence.

can’t.

his hips jerk again, shoving your face into his crotch. he moans, the sound caught and ragged and he glares down at you, but it’s useless now. his hand finds a home in your hair, fisting a handfull but not guiding, just holding on. trying to ground himself, breathing heavy, like he’s fighting a war you’re determined he’ll lose.

“you don’t play fair,” he mumbles.

“never said i did.”

you kiss the thick shape of him through his pants one more time. wrap your lips around the silhouette of the tip, and suckle just a bit.  

“just let go, robby. let me win tonight.” you whisper against his skin. 

and that’s it.

he bucks once, curses sharp through clenched teeth, and the hand in your hair runs deep into your strands, fingertips reaching your scalp and gripping on firmly. you feel the warmth spill out into his briefs—wet, hot, and helpless—while robby groans like he’s ashamed to enjoy it this much.

but fuck did he need that. 

you can feel the edge whenever robby comes home from work after a bad day. can sense the way he needs to be taken apart by something other than death and pressure and the neverending rot. the feeling of being undone by love and want and the sweetest girl in the world kneeling between his knees like he’s something worth touching. and god, would you give it to him every time. 

so when it happens—when the overwhelming, but undeniably gratifying warmth floods through him, messy and uncontrollable and maybe a little shameful—he doesn’t even fight it.

robby just lets it hit him like a tidal wave, lets his breath catch in his throat, lets his eyes flutter closed with a whisper of your name on his lips.

and you sit there and just smile. like you’ve won something.

because you have.

you give a kiss to the stain in his briefs. moving up from your position on the floor and holding yourself onto the arm rest of the couch as you lean forward to kiss his nose. robby’s head is still thrown back, his eyes still closed, his chest finally beginning to find a healthy rhythm. 

“bet you haven't done that in years, huh?” you say, quietly, as his arms wrap around your waist, yanking you to sit straddled on his lap. 

he breaths in deeply, letting his brown eyes look at you. and finally, just for what might be the rest of the night, you feel like you won't see that sad glimmer anymore. 

“don’t start.” he huffs, wiping a hand down his face before letting his fingers caress your cheekbone. 

“you’ve been evil enough for tonight”

you smile, giggle into his neck as you sit down on the pool of warmth under you. but when your hands roam around his torso and shoulders you can feel the fluidity in him. muscles not constricting or deemed achy under your touch like other times. 

perhaps, your brattiness can be a therapy. 

he breathes out, deliciously defeated. arms curling around your waist like you’re the only thing keeping him alive. “god help me,” he says, smiling softly into your hair. 

xoxo, liliana <3 | if you enjoyed reading, join the taglist!

[bunnwich]

im so happy that attachment worked! im glad u like the gift, bunny (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

if it's alright with you, i'd love your take again on what conflicts one would have if they were dating leona. after all, relationships aren't perfect and im assuming in the beginning, lots of things could be difficult to manage.

im under the impression leona isn't used to compromising. he's more used to people adjusting for him than the other way around. at least at the start. what other conflicts do you think could arise and how will you get past them?

thank you again, bunn! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) have a great day!

Conflicts When Dating Leona

Hi friend! YES, THIS IS A REALLY INTERESTING QUESTION. First off, I think irl most people have emotional baggage based on trauma, how they grew up, and often, unfortunately, this can get projected onto a partner in their lowest moments. 

I think that there could be some smaller issues that would arise when dating Leona, but I think that depends on what a person can tolerate in a relationship in general, and what each individual can vibe with. We ALL have imperfections, and often in long-term relationships, it comes down to finding someone whose flaws are compatible with your own and being able to balance and nurture each other in healthy ways. Also letting the other person have “ugly” moments and still being able to love them.

Here are a few things I think might come up in a relationship with Leona that could be hard to deal with.

1.) Messy Lifestyle: 

I think Leona is used to others cleaning up after him and making his own meals. It’s not that I think he couldn't do it himself, I think he just chooses not to learn bc of his privilege and the acceptance that his life will "always be like this", so “what’s the point.” He lacks the motivation to improve his life. Half of it, I think, is depression, and the other is…he's just a brat. He's a spoiled rich kid.

So a S/O who comes from a poor or humble background (like Ruggie) or someone with a strict routine (Like Vil)  wouldn't be able to tolerate something like this. I think there's a difference between “dirty” and “messy” and I don’t think he's unhygienic (contrary to old fandom HCs), BUT he IS messy. He’s a complicated man, I think he both cares little about his appearance and cares a lot. Obviously he cares little about wrinkles and buttons, BUT he cares enough to braid his hair and wear flashy jewelry. Though I suppose the fact that he has a deal with Ruggie to care for him and his room, he at least has some standards. He’s a prince!

I do wanna believe (at least in my timeline with Yuu) that Leona learns to live more of a humble life and bonds with the common folk of his kingdom as he takes a job in the community. (Maybe one day he’ll figure out the microwave.)

2.) He Has Toneal Issues/He’s Bossy:

 I think while it may not come from a bad place, Leona tends to think he knows best for everyone. I think he tends to view everything as “big picture”, a chess board, if you will. And he feels as tho he sees everyone clearly (He doesn't), but he feels he does so sometimes while “trying to help you improve” or “giving you advice.” I can see him being a pushy or a know-it-all. And even if coming from a place of “I see your potential and I just want you to be better”, for someone who is more…sensitive, this could be an issue. I can see him having issues sugarcoating things or always using a “nice” tone. It's not that he can't, he just doesn’t mostly. Now, as his S/O I think he is softer on you, but when he gets too stuck in the “mentor Leona” mindset, I can see him being a bit too harsh.

3.) He HATES Being Ignored/Not Listened To:

To kind of go hand in hand with my above point, I think Leona feels as though important people in the past have ignored or not listened to him. And if he feels as though you don't trust, listen or respect him, I can see him getting hung up if in a bad way, OR projecting this past pain onto a partner. Again, this wouldn’t be all the time bc I choose to believe Leona is a self-aware person. Based on the reflections we’ve seen in Chapter 2 light novel and his Chapter 7 dream. HE KNOWS HE'S KINDA A MESS. But, if he feels as though he’s not receiving “adequate attention,” I can see him being a bit clingy or overbearing. We ALL have insecurities, and I firmly believe that nurturing each other’s inner child in a relationship can be key, so making sure he feels like he takes a high precedence in your life is very important to him, considering how highly he would think of you. 

4.) Letting Him Be Right (Sometimes):

Futhermore, Leona is VERY opinionated and I think that while he needs a strong personality to square up with him, you might need to pick your battles and let him take that mentor role he loves so much. He’s got a bit of an ego, and I think he values his intelligence and thrives on the idea of being a caretaker and giving advice. So when he sees others take his advice and “need” him, he feels valued and validated. I do firmly believe in caretaker Leona. He’s smart enough to know when you got this and when to step back. He loves that you're independent! (He wouldn’t choose you if you weren't tough.) BUT, he does like to be needed by you. And if he’s having a low point, I can see this popping up from time to time as a point of frustration for him.

5.) Mood Swings/Clinginess

I do think that once he is invested in someone, all of his insecurities about being needed and wanted will surface. He wants to feel acknowledged by you, to be reassured that you love him. You DON’T have to worship the ground he walks on, but since you would be one of the closest, if not the closest to him, that can be a heavy burden to bare. He can be moody and will need reassurance, even if he doesn’t know how to ask, but he acknowledges himself in Chapter 7 that he “craves attention” more than most. This sort of codependency could be too much for someone who is easily overwhelmed.

Leona’s got Flaws, but He’d Never Stop Trying Being the Best For You.

I think it is a bit of a taboo subject in a way, but dating/marrying someone with deep trauma or a mental illness is NOT always easy. They can sometimes act in ways that are unfair to you based on their trauma, and working out a healthy balance can be hard. I like to read Leona as mature and self-aware, and so I think with time and patience, he would learn how to balance his emotions and keep himself in check with his partner. He’s used to being alone, so it might take a little getting used to. Even so, he’d always apologize (despite what people think). A serious relationship would be all-encompassing to him, and he considers you a “team.” I do think that through disagreements and even fights, Leona would be surprisingly easy to talk to after or through it. He’s logical and empathetic in his own right. 

I think that when ppl “give Leona” flaws, they usually go the “he's aloof.” or “he cares but he's never says I love you out loud" route. And meh, I just don't believe in a SERIOUS established relationship, Leona would be “low-key.” about anything. It would be very apparent how much he loves you. He would never want you to feel how he did. Contrary to popular HC, I don't believe he would have an issue saying how much he loves you either. He's just a bit of a grump and can be a handful. “Mm, I'm sorry. Truly. You know your Lion loves ya.”

That's just what I think anyway, and what I HC! Thank you for your ask!! This was a really interesting one to unpack! I love the subject of imperfect love and relationships bc I feel like it's such a nuanced subject that isn’t brought up a lot. AND THANK YOU AGAIN FOR YOUR ART I LOVE IT SM! 💚💚💚

[docholligay]

Doc, a serious question about calling your reps.

The reps in my state have repeatedly shown that they will outright ignore what their constituents say and bend the knee to whatever whims the current administration has. In fact, some of them have introduced legislation that is completely abhorrent.

What do you suggest I do in this situation, when it seems likely that any message I send to them is just going to be ignored anyway?

You gotta get some nagging Jewish grandmother energy! I do not expect anything from it except a constant, low grade level of irritation from my reps, but it will be constant and low grade for us both. You call and you write and you keep doing it because what they want is for you to shut the fuck up forever.

I am SOOOOOOOOO good at never ever shutting the fuck up.

There is a large protest this weekend, and I encourage you to go. If they won't listen to your calls, maybe they will listen to your body, but even if they do not, we do and say things not so that we will change the world, but to make it known that the world will not change us. I've been arrested before. My ass has been in the fire more times than I can count. And sometimes, this has even been for a good reason.

My grandfather used to tell me, "Whatever you do today, you have to sleep with tonight" and I think that's true, but I also think that "whatever you DON'T do today, you have to sleep with tonight" they want you to believe there is nothing to be done. But...America is so fucking big? There are so many of us, and so much space, and all it takes is courage and willingness to say "My fear is not stronger than my morality." Not everyone is going to do this. But, I like to be the sort of person I can live with.

Nag nag nag nag nag nag. Think of that way. You are NAGGING. and Nagging only works if it is annoying and constant.

I am, obviously, very naturalyl gifted in being an annoying argumentative fuck, as a Jewish American Woman, but I believe the rest of you can get on my level.

[unluckilyimnot]

Not alone – yelena x fem!reader

Post Thunderbolt, friends to lovers, ~3k

Summary : Your job is hard sometimes, and you have a hard time dealing with it alone. Thankfully, Yelena is there.

Note : Again, I'll do something with bucky too for sure with the same base.

masterlist

Your heart stopped beating as you pulled the trigger. Everything happened quickly afterwards. The building was falling apart : there was smoke building around the room as the walls started to collapse on themselves, a powerful and noisy crack indicating that the other walls behind were doing the same. People were screaming, running around, panicking until they find a way out. The mission was finally over.

But everything was silent for you – you couldn't get anything past you. The screams were far away, muffed into the distance, or maybe it was you. You could hear someone calling, screaming your way but you didn't move. Your arm fell to your side, the grip on your gun was light, it almost hit the ground as you breathed in – you forgot how to do it for a moment. You were still staring at the young girl's body you just shot and a wave of discomfort ran through your body. It got harder to breath, got stuck in your throat and before you realized it, you weren't getting anywhere to try to catch it. Your vision blurred in the corners of your eyes– a rough hand gripped your arm, pulling you with their fall through the window. Bringing back to yourself.

Your body crashed onto hers, Yelena was holding your head to her chest as she made sure you weren't letting go of her, landing on one of the quinjet's wings by some miracle. She never let go of your hand, not even when you rolled away from her a little as the jet got higher in the city. You got back to your senses real quick, grabbing her hand better, your distress long gone, replaced by adrenaline, as you did your best to make the both of you back inside the jet.

Your body hit hard on the cold, metal floor. You were panting, it was nearly impossible to catch your breath now, feeling suddenly cold and all your body screaming in pain. You flinched when you sat up, exhaling deeply at the pain in your shoulder. Yelena was still laying down on the floor, catching her breath as well – her lips were bleeding, along with her arm and you were sure her knee hit badly when you landed on the wing. Then, you heard heavy steps coming your way. You closed your eyes, already knowing what was coming.

John didn't take more than a minute to plant himself next to you and grabbed you by the collar, lifting as if you weighed nothing to him. You looked at him dead in the eyes, unbothered, reading on his face what was coming. His cheeks were red, his jaw locked in place as his breath was ragged. You hold yourself from closing your eyes again.

"Let me go," you whispered.

"Let you go ? When you put EVERYONE in danger ?!" He spat to your face, not caring about what you had to do.

You knew you fucked it up, you put your teammate in danger. You put Yelena in danger. They waited for your signal to leave, to be sure you were done before they could leave. But you didn't. Instead, you froze. And you were sorry.

"I didn't mean to," your voice got stuck in your throat again and this time, the sob you were holding down earlier hit harder.

You try to compose yourself, focus on your breath instead of John bad breath in your face – it all faded when Yelena pushed him away.

"Ok we get it, it sucked, it almost got us killed but we're all fine. So let's not make a big deal about it."

She pushed him away as she talked, calming everyone down with her gentle tone. Neither of you could get anywhere without her, really. Despite herself, she was the cool head of the team. She shushed him down before he could speak again with a warning finger and hold your arm again, gently, as she led you away from the mess going on, now ignoring the rest of the team. One step at a time.

Your vision blurred as you walked away, her hand fell around your wrist and you found yourself holding on to mere contact like your life line. That's the kind of day you find your job too hard. You just can't handle it alone.

"You good ?" Yelena asked softly when she finally stopped in her tracks.

You could still hear John arguing about your incompetence in the background, but it was nothing compared to the sorrow filling your heart. Your breath hitched when you met her eyes – all you could find was worry, her eyes lingering into yours as she tilted her head, searching for an answer. Then you broke.

You shook your head, once, before the tears ran down your face.

Yelena coo quietly, moving quickly to pull you in her arms, cradling the sweaty hair in your neck.

Your breath got stuck in your throat, your head hurts and you were discovering new bruises on your ribs but it wasn't the worst. Getting hurt was normal for you now, but as should killing be. The worst was how bad you felt for shooting that girl. It was like her lifeless body was printed on your eyelid, you couldn't get it out of your mind, you remembered every wound she had, the way her hair spread around her head like a crown, got soaked in blood after you shoot. It was too much, and you couldn't help but grip on Yelena's waist after your arms rolled around it, searching for something to ground yourself.

She was just a kid, but already so dangerous – it broke your heart. She didn’t have any choice either, that’s all she had ; and she wouldn't have any chance like you did, like anyone on your team did. It broke your heart like nothing before.

Yelena didn't think twice, didn't ask any question, simply let you cry on her shoulder, stroking your back softly until the jet landed at the tower. The second you landed, you disappeared into your room without a word, not even to her, and didn’t show up at dinner either. But she had a little idea where you could be.

Without a word to the others, she made her way to the rooftop with nothing but a jacket in her hand. She wasn’t surprised to find you sitting at the edge of the building, an open bottle of vodka sitting next to you. Leaning into your arms resting against the barrier, you were watching the lively city. She sat on the other side of the bottle, leaving some space in case you needed it, but she could get a glimpse of the lights in your eyes when she looked at your face. You seemed somewhere else, somewhere she wasn’t sure she could get to you and a chill ran through her body at the thought.

You heard the door, and you didn’t have to look away to know it was Yelena. Nobody ever came to see you there but her – you’re not even sure they know, in fact. Maybe Bob ? He knows way more than he says, but he never came anyway. Not that you ever really wanted to bother anyone when you feel like this, you learn to manage it all by yourself. Until Yelena started to tag along, sometimes. It felt lighter, always, even if neither of you talked.

Your eyes shifted to her, lingering along her body. She took a sip from the bottle before landing it where it was. She was looking at the sky, her weight resting on her arms as she sighs and closes her eyes. It felt nice, calm, with only the roaming sounds of the city below. You rest your head on your arms again, chewing on your lips as your vision blurred again.

“It's hard sometimes,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper as you hid your eyes in your arms. “This job. I didn't want to do it.”

You paused, she knew what you were talking about without you really mentioning it. Yelena didn't talk, but you heard her shift beside you – she was probably looking at you now, waiting for you to continue. Leaving you the space you needed.

“She was so young, Lena.” your voice broke into a small sob. “So young… she had so much time.”

You shook your head, trying to push the tears away. You try to look up, blink fast, so they will stop falling but some still manage to roll down your face. You brushed it away quickly and composed yourself quickly. You smiled her way, apologetically, doing your best to cover the sadness in your heart.

“Sorry, this has nothing to do with you,” you said fast, shaking your head again, never catching her eyes. But she was watching you all this time, scanning your face intensly. Like she didn't want to miss something.

“I'm sorry you had to come get me. I put you in danger and I regret it, I didn't mean to–”

“You always put your emotions away or keep it to yourself,” she noted out of nowhere, stopping your rambling. “Why ?”

You froze at her words. A small silence fell between you two. Her green eyes were staring at you, studying your reactions with a sharpness you wish you got used to – but you didn't. It still cuts deep into your soul, trying to get to know more of you through small pieces you left here and there, but it was never judging you. She was never trying to corner you, making you feel like it was a problem, no. All you could ever see in her eyes was worry, something warm or even something closer to yearning and it frightened you. People never looked at you that way, you never was enough for anyone to have this privilege.

“I mean, we all have hard times and, sometimes, talking about it with one another helps sort things out, you know” she started, moving her hands around like she was trying to make you guess something.

“But you,” She pointed at you. “You never talk. You always make yourself small like a mouse and run away, stay alone – you need to stop doing that.” she said disapprovingly, her accent thick as the words rolled on her tongue – now pointing her finger accusingly.

By now, she's frowning at you, disapproving every bit of your coping mechanism and, surprisingly, it made you laugh. Genuinely laugh, even you couldn't see it coming. You fell flat on your back, she was still frowning at you but she laid down next to you anyway, following you as your laughter calmed down. A fragile sigh left your lips, and you kept your eyes shut so she wouldn't stare at your soul again. You couldn't handle it at the moment.

“You're funny, Yelena.”

“Yeah I can tell, but do not use flattery to ignore my question.” she warned, you could feel her frown at you again.

The corners of your lips curl up slightly as you open your eyes again. They fell into hers instantly, and you let them linger a little in silence before you spoke again.

“I used to be with people who always told me I was asking for too much,” you confessed, not breaking eye contact this time. She'll learn about it eventually, she probably already guessed it anyway.

“I was never enough,” you said quietly, now looking away to the sky. “But also always too much for some reason. I was always selfish and childish, so I learned to not ask for too much. No comfort, no sweet words when I was crying… You must know what it is.”

Again, you tried to guide the discussion somewhere else. Away from you. But she wasn't ready to let you – you finally opening up was too precious for that. She rolled to her side, her hand finding yours, holding onto your fingers gently. You blinked her way quickly, not expecting that from her and yet, it was such a Yelena thing to do.

Her eyes were full of warmth as she stroked your knuckles gently. She nodded once, not tearing her eyes away from yours. “Yeah, I know.”

She stayed silent for a second. Open her mouth and shut it again without saying a word. Pondering if she should say it or not, hesitation shining in her eyes.

“But we are not alone anymore.” Her fingers hold your hand tighter. “I don't think you were asking for too much. You were just asking the wrong person.”

Her voice got quieter, like a secret she was scared to say. Like one she was only sharing with you, and your heart started beating faster. She shifted a little closer to you, holding your hand tighter.

“Ask again. This time, ask me.”

Your heart beats faster, and you could feel the tears building up for the third time today. You already cried in front of her, it wouldn't be so bad but a part or you still had a hard time accepting to be vulnerable around someone. Slowly, she brought your fingers to her lips and kissed them softly – showing you it was ok, she still means it. Your lips trembled.

“Lena, I regret doing it, so much,” you broke, closing your eyes as you let the tears run down your face again, but this time you didn't hide away.

You let the tears roll into your hair while she looked at you, accepting her help. Silently asking her to be there for you. Her other hand find your cheek, kindly stroking your tears away.

“I don't wanna be alone,” you plead, your voice cracking from all the emotions crashing into you at the moment.

Regret. Sadness. Comfort – something warm you never really experienced before. Her hand feels hot on your cold skin kissed by the wind, and you cling to it like a lifeline. To her even, maybe.

“Please don't leave me alone.”

Your voice was so soft, you were scared she wouldn't hear it. When you opened your eyes again, she never looked sadder – she hated seeing you like this.

“Never.”

In a swift move, she pulled you onto her, laying all your weight on her small body and her arms wrapped protectively around you one more time.

Just like earlier, you crashed out on her shoulder, crying like you're never cried before. But this time, knowing damn well she was there for you, that you could come to her – stay with her until your grief ended.

She kissed your temple, holding you closer. “I'm never leaving you.”

You have no idea how long you've stayed there, on the cold concrete. Well, her mostly. You were done crying, it didn't really last long since you exhausted yourself earlier, but it still helped. You felt better now, Yelena's arm resting around your waist grounded you into your new reality – where you're not alone anymore. She didn't move, slowly stroking your hair and waiting for your signal to go back inside.

You got up slightly, resting your weight on your arms as you stayed on top of her, looking straight into her eyes. She looked up to you, searching for any sign of discomfort on your face before her features relaxed. Her eyes almost seemed brown with the lack of light, and you missed how the light hit it just right during the day. You let yourself get lost in them, the whole world disappearing around you two. For a second, it's just you and her on that rooftop.

“What's on your pretty little mind ?” She asked as she stroked a stand of hair hiding your face from her.

“Why ?” Was all you could say, even after trying to think of a better answer.

She chucked and rolled her eyes playfully before they started into yours again. “Because I care about you, idiot. I don't want you to be alone.”

She waited a second, thinking whether she should go on or not. Her eyes fell to your lips for a second and, after a beat, she got up on her arms as well and kissed the corner of your lips. It was delicate, mindful, like she waited years to do so and yet so cautious like she was about to break something. Your breath hitched in your throat, positively this time.

“I want you to rely on me, because you're not too much. And I want to.”

You sat back on the floor, shaking your head as a warm feeling bloomed in your stomach. She sat up with you, staring at you softly like she tried to remember every detail of her favorite painting. A soft giggle left your lips and she swore her heart stopped stopping for a second. For once, it was because of her – and just for her. A smile curled up on her lips.

“Thank you, Lena.” It was genuine, she could feel your smile in your words and the warmth in your eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“Anytime.”

After a beat, she spoke again.

“But I'm cold, let's get back inside now.” She was frowning as she got up and held her hand out for you.

“I thought Russian don't get cold,” you joked, holding her hand, before making your way to the door. Not forgetting your bottle.

Her frown deepened. “Stop talking before I take everything I said back.”

She clicked her tongue your way but you only laughed, knowing damn well already that she would never stop caring about you. It was too late for her.

Let me know if you liked it ! Comments and reblog are always appreciate <3

[whisperedmeg]

CONVERGENCE ZONE ―.✦ s.r. soft animal series ∘ part ix

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: when her parents show up unannounced, domestic peace turns stormy. but spencer holds steady — apron-clad and unshaken — and later, in the quiet, love reclaims the space.

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

w/c: 3.3k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, strained familial relationship, judgmental parents, spencer being comforting and lovely as always, vague suggestion of reader’s age (“three decades of subtle parental judgement”) but you can ignore it if you want to imagine her differently

a/n: this chapter was so fun (& weirdly healing?) to write. as always, appreciate all comments/ likes/reblogs more than I can even express! thank you sm to everyone who has followed this series so far 🫶🏼 I have most of part 10 written, so i should hopefully get it posted sometime early-ish next week.

this is part of a series, but can be read as a stand-alone one shot! (just ignore the first couple paragraphs)

series masterlist

We’d gotten good at quiet again.

Not the brittle kind that used to crack between us when one of us pulled away too fast or said too little — but the soft kind. The kind made of inside jokes and shared breath, a rhythm built slowly and held with care. In the months since the world nearly tilted off its axis — the lamp, the distance, and the night our bodies finally stopped resisting gravity — things had settled into something gentler.

Some mornings still felt tentative. Spencer still had bruises beneath the surface I didn’t always know how to sooth. But love lived in the mundane now — in crosswords and burnt toast, in the way he reached for me in his sleep and didn’t flinch when I kissed his scars.

And on that morning, it lived in pancakes.

My apartment smelled like maple syrup and cinnamon, warm and clinging to the walls the way the early sun clung to the blinds. Spencer was shirtless, clad in just pajama pants and one of the cheesy aprons I’d owned for years but never worn — navy with a faded cartoon pig that said “Don’t go bacon my heart” — and flipping flapjacks with precision, like it was a high-stakes science experiment.

He was concentrating hard, spatula poised, tongue poking out just slightly between his lips as he studied the pan. His hair was still damp from the shower and curling at his temples. I leaned against the counter, biting back a smile.

“You’re taking this very seriously,” I teased.

“Pancakes are delicate,” he said matter-of-factly, eyes still on the griddle. “Too much force on the flip and you risk structural collapse.”

“Tragic,” I deadpanned. “All those poor, collapsed cakes.”

“Hey, have some respect for the breakfast sciences,” he said with a teasing grin, finally sliding the spatula beneath the pancake and flipping it with an elegant, practiced motion. It landed perfectly.

I clapped. “Wow, that was beautiful.”

He beamed, and I crossed the kitchen to press a kiss to his cheek, tasting the salt and steam on his skin. His free hand found my waist, pulling me in gently.

“Almost done,” he murmured. “You want blueberries or chocolate chips in yours?”

“Mmm, surprise me.”

He nodded, turning back to his work with the kind of focus he usually reserved for criminal interrogation or Tuesday evening Scrabble games. I stole a piece of bacon from the paper towel-lined plate beside him and popped it in my mouth just as a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

I blinked. “Were you expecting someone?”

He shook his head. “This is your apartment. Were you?”

“Oh…right,” I chuckled. “Nope.”

Another knock, more insistent this time. I frowned and padded toward the door, pulling it open, and then — I froze.

“Surprise!” said my mother, smiling too brightly. Behind her stood my father, holding a paper grocery bag.

My brain stalled. “Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?”

My mom brushed past me like she owned the place. “We were in the area.”

“We were in Bethesda for a wedding,” my dad clarified. “Your mother insisted we stop in.”

“You didn’t answer your phone last night,” she said, dropping her purse onto the entry table like she hadn’t just completely ambushed me. “We figured we’d catch you in the morning. And we brought oranges!”

“Oranges,” I repeated slowly. She just nodded, a wide, oblivious grin on her face.

And then Spencer stepped into view.

Shirtless.

Wearing a cheesy apron that said “Don’t go bacon my heart.”

Holding a plate of pancakes.

My mother blinked. My father looked at the floor like it might offer him answers.

“Uh,” Spencer said. Then, valiantly, he extended the plate. “Pancakes?”

—

The silence was almost painfully comical. Like a scene from a play where someone forgot their line and the audience could feel the pause awkwardly stretch.

Then, my mother recovered, her voice overly bright. “Well, aren’t you a surprise.”

Spencer gave a small, tentative wave. “Hello. I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid. Dr. Spencer Reid. Uh—sorry. Just Spencer is fine.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Doctor? Medical?”

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the doorframe. I’d told her in one of our infrequent phone calls what he did for work. Probably while she was reorganizing the freezer and only half-pretending to listen, but still, it was definitely something she could’ve at least tried to remember.

“No, PhDs,” he said quickly. “Uh, three of them. Chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.” He was visibly trying to stop himself and failing. “And, uh, bachelors in psychology and sociology and, more recently, philosophy. And, uh, I’ve done post-doctoral work in—”

I touched his elbow lightly. “Spence.”

He exhaled. “Just Spencer. Really.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” my mother said smoothly, which I knew for a fact was a lie, because I’d told them maybe six sentences total — one of which was his name, another his job, and the rest were carefully vague things like he’s very thoughtful and yes mom, it’s serious.

My dad gave a vague nod of agreement, still holding the bag of oranges. I watched as his eyes flicked toward the apron, then quickly away again. I could see him filing it under “information to never speak of again.”

“Would you guys like to stay for breakfast?” I asked weakly, trying not to sound like I wanted to die.

“Oh, no,” my mom said breezily. “We’ll head back to the hotel and take you two out for dinner later. Our treat.”

“You just said you brought oranges, mom.”

“Those are for juicing, not breakfast,” she said, as if that made perfect sense. As if we were ever a family who juiced.

Spencer glanced at me. I gave a subtle shrug. We were stuck in it now.

—

We saw them off with promises of dinner and fresh-squeezed orange juice, and then closed the door like we’d just survived a hostage negotiation. I sank onto the couch. Spencer leaned against the wall, still holding the plate of pancakes.

“Think they liked me?” he asked with an awkward, adorable smile.

I gave him a long look. “You were shirtless in a punny apron and offered them pancakes. I think you did fine, given the circumstances.”

He grinned, a little sheepishly, and finally set the plate down.

—

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I tried to clean, and then stopped. I tried to nap, but couldn’t. I paced the apartment while pretending not to pace, rereading texts from my mother and glaring at my phone like it had personally betrayed me.

Spencer tried to distract me — he suggested chess, then reading side-by-side on the couch, then an episode of some old British crime drama where everyone wore tweed and called each other “Inspector.” I couldn’t focus. My stomach felt like it had been spun in a centrifuge.

“They’re going to hate anything I wear,” I muttered, rifling through my closet two hours before the reservation. “Too casual, too dressy, too plain, too loud. Last Christmas, my mom told me I looked tired while I was wearing a full face of makeup.”

Spencer leaned against the doorframe, watching me turn my closet into a disaster zone. “Okay,” he said, slowly, “but what if you just wore something you liked?”

“That’s not how this works,” I said with a sigh, pulling out a navy dress and holding it up to myself in front of the mirror before immediately tossing it on the bed. “You don’t understand — they’ll find a way to be disappointed no matter what. It’s like a sport to them.”

He stepped forward, sliding his arms around me from behind. “Then let’s just disappoint them together.”

I couldn’t help the lopsided smile that curled at the corners of my lips when he said that. I spun around to face him, giving him a look. “You’re weirdly good at pep talks.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice. High-stakes hostage negotiations, fresh-off-a-breakup Garcia after three mimosas at brunch, et cetera. You learn.”

I rested my forehead on his chest. “I’m sorry. I know I’m acting neurotic.”

“No, you’re acting conditioned by three decades of subtle parental judgment,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Big difference.”

I laughed, even though it caught in my throat.

Later, when he changed into a starched button-down, vest, navy slacks, and a blazer that made him look like he was about to give a lecture on quantum mechanics, I could tell he was nervous. He switched ties three times. He checked his reflection and stared at it like he was waiting for it to blink first.

“You look handsome,” I told him softly.

He looked at me then, a flicker of something vulnerable in his expression. “I just want them to like me, even a fraction of as much as I love you. Honestly, I’d settle for not being actively hated. But I’d really like them to know I’d do anything for you.”

That undid me a little.

—

Eight hours after my parents’ initial intrusion, we ended up at a too-fancy steakhouse across town from my apartment. Spencer sat beside me in the booth, his posture uncharacteristically perfect, his hands folded neatly in his lap until the waiter arrived with a charcuterie board the size of my coffee table.

My mother looked delighted. My father looked vaguely overwhelmed by the cheese selection.

“So,” my dad said, swirling his gin and tonic like it might hold answers. “What is it you do again?”

Spencer gave the faintest smile, polite and practiced. “I’m a supervisory special agent with the FBI.”

My dad blinked. “Oh. That’s… intense.”

“It can be,” Spencer agreed. “I’m part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We do criminal profiling. Local police departments and FBI field offices bring us in to consult on serial murders, kidnappings, that sort of thing.”

“Profiling?” my mom echoed, eyebrows rising. “Like they use in those shows on TV?”

He hesitated, then nodded slightly. “Kind of. Though it’s much less glamorous in real life.”

There was a pause. My mom tilted her head, faux casual. “And you were… also…” She let it trail off, like she’d flung a trap in the middle of the restaurant and was waiting to see who’d step in it.

Spencer didn’t flinch. “Yes. I was framed for a crime I didn’t commit and sent to prison. Then I was exonerated.”

My stomach twisted under the weight of it. Not because of what he said — we’d long since made peace with the facts — but because I could feel the discomfort ripple across the table.

“Well,” my mom said, adjusting her napkin. “That must have been… quite the experience.”

Spencer nodded. “It was.”

Silence fell. Long, awkward, aching.

Then, mercifully, my dad jumped in. “I heard you’re a big reader?”

And just like that, the tension broke. Spencer’s whole body shifted — like someone had finally spoken to him in a language he actually knew.

They launched into a rapid-fire exchange about literature, poetry, Russian novelists, used bookstores. My dad even laughed once, nodding along like he wanted to keep up. My mom watched the whole exchange like it was a foreign film without subtitles.

I didn’t even try to join. I just stared blankly at the gouda and salami and tried to remember how to breathe.

—

The fleeting moment of bonding between Spencer and my father was just that: fleeting. Everything got worse after that.

“Still working at the prison?” my mom asked me as the entrees arrived, slicing into her filet with surgical precision.

“Yep,” I said too quickly. “Still there.”

She smiled tightly. “It just always struck me as… a difficult environment. Not exactly what you dreamed of doing when you were graduating nursing school.”

“I don’t remember telling you what I dreamed of doing,” I said, keeping my voice light even though I could feel Spencer tense beside me.

She laughed like it was all good fun. “It just seems like a lot of stress. All that… violence and confinement. Don’t you ever want something more normal?”

Spencer’s knife paused mid-cut. Then, without looking up from his plate, he said gently, “Most people wouldn’t last a week doing what she does.”

My mom glanced up.

He went on, tone calm and unassuming. “It’s not just handing out meds and charting vitals. It’s care, in a place where care is rare. Where it’s easy to forget people are still human. But she doesn’t. It’s incredibly admirable, truly. You should be proud.”

I swallowed hard.

He didn’t look at me when he said it — didn’t need to. His voice did the work. Steady. Quiet. True.

I picked up where he left off. “I like the work,” I said, shrugging. “It matters. It’s good for me right now. I’ll probably go back to the ER one day, but for right now, correctional health is where I’m staying.”

“It’s just not what we imagined when you were studying,” she said, as if that made it better. “You were always the one who could do anything.”

“And I did,” I said calmly. “I chose this.”

Spencer’s hand brushed mine under the table. A soft, invisible tether.

—

By dessert, my mom had moved on from dissecting my career to probing Spencer’s future — or maybe, more pointedly, our shared one.

“And what about you, Spencer?” she asked, swirling her spoon through the remnants of her crème brûlée. “Do you have… plans? Long-term?”

The question was casual in tone, but not in intent.

Spencer straightened slightly beside me. “Well, I’m still with the BAU,” he said, polite and measured. “But yes. I’ve been thinking a lot more lately about what kind of life I want — what it means to build something lasting.”

Her eyebrows lifted a fraction. “How nice. And do you see that life including my daughter?”

There it was — barely veiled, lightly sugar-coated, and sharp underneath. I groaned and gave my mother a look of complete exasperation, which she conveniently pretended not to see.

But Spencer didn’t miss a beat. “I do,” he said simply, a calm, soft smile on his face.

She looked at him blankly as if that answered nothing and took a sip of wine, plastered her smile back on, and continued, “Well, I suppose the kind of work you do can be hard on a relationship. All the travel. The danger. The unpredictability.”

“It can be,” he said. “But I also teach, part-time. Graduate seminars in behavioral analysis and criminology. I’ve been doing more of that lately, a little less traveling with the BAU.”

“Oh,” she said, as if that somehow helped. “That’s nice.”

I could feel the tension tightening across his shoulders, the effort it took not to shrink or bristle.

“I think we’re building something solid,” he added, voice still calm, then looked at me a moment before turning back to my parents. “I love your daughter, and all I want is for her to be happy.”

My mom hummed, noncommittal, and reached for her wine again. I grabbed Spencer’s hand beneath the table and squeezed.

—

When the check came, my dad reached for it at the same time Spencer did.

“Oh, no,” my dad said, too cheerfully. “I’ve got it.”

“Please,” Spencer said. “Let me contribute.”

My dad blinked, caught off guard. “That’s not necessary.”

“I insist.”

“I insist,” my dad repeated, a little too sharply this time. He tugged the check free and handed his card to the waiter before Spencer could speak again.

My mother looked like she might combust.

I wanted to scream.

—

“I’m sorry,” I said once we were finally alone and back inside my apartment, kicking off my heels with more force than necessary.

“You don’t have any reason to be,” he said gently, but I could already feel the tears pressing behind my eyes, hot and embarrassing.

“I do, though. They were so condescending toward you. And they don’t understand me. They hate that I work at Millburn.”

Spencer walked over and pulled me into his chest like gravity. His voice was low, steady.

“You know what I see when I think about your job?”

I swallowed. “What?”

“Someone who runs toward the fire when most people would rather look away. Someone who stays in the room with the people everyone else has already given up on.”

The words broke something open. I exhaled shakily into his shoulder.

“They don’t get that,” he continued. “But that doesn’t make your work any less valuable. Or any less brave.”

“They think I’m wasting something,” I said. “My education, my potential, I don’t know. They’ve never said it outright, but I’ve felt it for years.”

“They’re wrong,” he murmured, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles along my spine. “You’re not wasting a thing.”

I nodded into his shirt, my voice barely audible. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he said. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t particularly care if I’m not who they pictured you with. They don’t really know me yet. I’ll get them to like me eventually, I promise.”

That part — the quiet determination in it — undid me.

I squeezed him a little tighter and let out a breath that almost resembled a laugh. “They think I should be with someone who works in big law and wants to file joint taxes.”

“I could always add another degree to the list and get my Juris Doctor,” he offered, tone mock-serious. “And I’m very good at doing my taxes. I itemize with passion.”

I laughed for real then, the kind of laugh that caught me by surprise and made my chest ache a little with relief.

“You handled it all so graciously, Spencer,” I said. “You really did. Thank you.”

He kissed my temple. “So did you.”

We curled up on the couch after that, legs tangled, a blanket tossed over us. I rested my head on his chest and let the sound of his heartbeat lull me back into my body.

Outside, the rain started up again — light, rhythmic, like fingertips against glass.

Spencer pulled me closer. “They’ll come around.”

“You think?”

“I think they’re stubborn, not heartless. They love you. And they saw how we looked at each other today. That’ll stick with them more than anything you or I said.”

I smiled softly at his optimism and tucked my head under his chin.

And for the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe again.

—

Later that night, I found the oranges still sitting on the table.

“We should juice those,” I announced.

He looked at me a little dumbfounded. “You don’t have a juicer.”

“No. But we have hands.”

He raised an eyebrow, already smiling. “You want to hand-squeeze oranges at midnight?”

“It feels poetic,” I mused, shrugging.

“You’re poetic.”

I giggled. “And you wore a bacon pun apron for me. That’s love.”

He grinned as he walked closer, soft and slow. “I’d wear so much worse for you.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

We didn’t squeeze the oranges. But we did dance barefoot in the kitchen, the way we always did when the world got a little too loud. His hand slid up and down my back in slow arcs. My head rested against his chest, and I listened to the sound of him breathing, steady and sure.

We didn’t say anything for a while. We didn’t need to.

And as if the universe knew I needed to hear it, even the rain sounded like applause.

ᝰ.ᐟ

[kierongillen]

On Writing Team Books

A friend asks me about writing about team books, which reminds me I wrote an essay to a friend about it a while back, and put it in my newsletter. I figure I could put it on the tumblr for easier access. If you like this, I do stuff like this fairly often in the newsletter so sub.

I get the occasional mail from creator friends, asking me for advice on a topic. Last week, Alex Paknadel (he outed himself on twitter) asked me about writing team books, and I downloaded my brief thoughts to him. None of my thoughts are brief. Here’s an edited and slightly tidied version…

Right!

After I got the mail I wrote a list of five topics off the top of my head. I’m now going to go in and fill in some details beneath them. Fear the download.

1) Killing artists.

More than any other kind of book, the chance of breaking an artist on a team book is highest. You have a bunch of characters, which often do some stuff together. So you’re writing a 6 person team? That’s 6 people together. They’re in a fight? Maybe another 6 people against them.

So call your shots carefully when they’re together. Don’t call for shots of everyone in the same panel, unless you’re really giving it the space to land for the reader and you absolutely need it.

Worth noting sometimes you do: at least part of the team book is folks want to see a team doing the thing. That said, there’s exceptions to that…

2) Black Hole/Bad company . Probably Authority.

I usually say I learned to write team books by a teenage exposure to ABC WARRIORS: THE BLACK HOLE and BAD COMPANY VOL 2: THE BEWILDERNESS. This is classic 2000AD hypercompression - both explicit team books told in 5-6 page chunks. How did they do it?

ABC Warriors primarily does it by having a team member be the narrator in each episode, and then rotating the narrator between episodes. So you are both introduced to each character, and also (because the narrators are so different) introduced to the perspective of the character who is speaking., This also means this constant reintroduction isn’t in any way boring, because the characters are all so individually warped. You want to know what a sadistic fuck like Blackblood makes about everyone, right?

BAD COMPANY goes the other way, and has a strong single narrator in the form of Danny Franks, and uses them as the perspective we explore the rest of the cast. Some stuff is almost explicitly Franks interviewing team members.

Both speak to an underlying truth – a big chunk of team books are about moving the pieces around in new combinations, and seeing what they do.

I mention Authority, but the first run dose some key basic things of modern team story books – this almost procedural mode was especially popular in the 00s, and is something of a break of the Classic American Superteam approach. Speaking broadly, it does very cleanly some things superteams have always done - you can see where it moves from separating the group (so all team members gets a chance to do cool shit) and then bringing them together (so you get to do the big team book money shots).

But also note that when they’re together in a non-violent scene, someone - usually Jenny - takes lead, and almost everyone else shuts up. You may view this as the Authority becoming a solo book with a supporting cast rather than a true team book when the story demands - that speaks to it being a plot-first book. There’s not really much for the team to debate about - they all know what they’re going to do (kick people in the head, save the world).

TL;DR: Go breakdown some of your faves. How do their stories work?

3) Spotlight time.

That’s the main thing, and what all the above do, in various ways. If it’s a team book, characters need to be able to be on panel and do their thing. That it’s being sold as a team book implies that’s the promise to some degree. When planning an issue ensuring everyone gets to do their cool thing for a moment is not a bad perspective to take.

(This is pretty close to running an RPG group, btw. If someone’s not done something for a while, it’s probably time to give them a chance to do something.)

The alternative - especially in a one off - is to make the issue explicitly about an individual. Like the Black Hole, maybe this is just a single character in the team, and about how they work in the team. Of course, the effects do overlap - like in Bad Company, having the story be from an individual’s perspective you get to show how the other people are viewed by them, and so how cool their cool thing may be.

4) Team book vs ensemble cast.

That links to the above - like, what is the book, really?

There’s team books which aren’t really teams - they’re actually ensemble casts. WicDiv was one of them. DIE is much more of a team book - it’s a literal party (with Ash as the main narrator, ala BAD company). Watchmen has one scene when there’s a team, and they’re not called The Watchmen – it is absolutely an ensemble cast. Hickman’s X-men isn’t a team - it’s an ensemble cast (to the level where I think it’s more of a permanent event, or even a social novel). My Journey into Mystery is abstractly a solo book, but at times it became an ensemble book - and even a SERIES of team books, because Loki was always having to put teams together to do stuff. My Uncanny X-men run was primarily an Authority-mode procedural team book, with Cyclops taking the Jenny position and everyone having lots of focus time to do their cool thing (though see later on the exceptions).

The core difference between Ensemble books and Team books is that in a team book “I want to see the people together doing their thing” is part of the promise.

5) Split the Party.

You ever seen Dan Harmon write about Community? Clearly the story circle, but there’s also the sense that most episodes are about dividing the cast into smaller pairs and threes, and exploring that dynamic. This is in a lot of sitcoms, and an approach that 100% crosses over into team books.

5-9 people in a team normally means 7 of them standing around in a blob, with 1 person taking the leader role, and maybe one other takes the person to argue against the leader. Who is arguing likely varies, but it’s normally who feels most strongly about a situation. I suddenly find myself thinking like a team book is a zoom call, and most people are just standing and listening.

So you need to split that up.

Split up a 6 team into two groups of three, and you’ve got proper potential for actual drama. Each scene can be about those people, and by changing up the people you group together, you get to show different aspects of the characters. The Uncanny Run had a core team of nine, which is ludicrous… and when the book isn’t doing the widescreen mode, you’ll see I split the team into 3 groups of 3, and I get to play with all kinds of dynamics.

This is what team books do best, I think – in that you’ve got no single element which “needs” to be there (As in if opposed to you having a group cast around a a daredevil or a batman, readers are still broadly pissed off when you don’t see anything of the lead character). You get to see what emerges from all these different combinations, and then being able to bring them together to do the core TEAM beat when you need that.

Think about the subtext of “Avengers Assemble”. It implies that the Avengers were apart.

[lillie98]

I have a strong feeling Will has been dead this entire time. The entire story is a Comic Book series he and Mike started together, but Will never got to finish. Mike takes each book and crafts it into a new reality where he and Will are the Heroes. Will always survives, Mike always saves the day, and their friends and family live happily ever after. Unfortunately, Story!Mike doesn’t know this manipulation is happening and keeps screwing up the plot (hence the monsters) and putting himself and everyone else in danger. Real!Mike must step up and become the leader and set everything back the way it was supposed to be…even if it means letting Will go.

He’s [Will] connected to the Upside Down. He created it, so he must die with it. As much as this story revolves around Will coming into himself and his manhood, it also revolves around Mike and his survivor’s guilt. In order to break the loop and set everyone free, Mike must let go of his guilt and self-hatred. He must look Will in the eye, accept their shared fates, and realize NONE OF THIS was his fault. He did EVERYTHING he could to save Will—even rewriting reality, but sometimes, you can’t save those you love. No matter how hard you try. Will doesn’t resent him for what happened, and he never will, because without Mike, he never would have experienced such an incredible adventure.

Mike gave Will the ultimate gift: Time. He gave Will time with his friends and family, time to experience the joys and horrors of adolescence, and time to live. He can never repay Mike for this gift, and he wishes more than anything that he could stay, but he can’t. That’s why everyone (especially sweet Noah) sobbed during the final Table Read. The Duffers finally peeled back the last frame and revealed the true message of Stranger Things: Unconditional Love.

I love all the religious undertones of Stranger Things and I thought of this verse from Romans 8:38-39:

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

NOTHING—not even Death itself—will separate Mike and Will from each other. NOTHING. Even if they no longer inhabit the earth together, their love endures as a testament to unending faith. I also associate “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story” from Hamilton with Byler, particularly Eliza’s lines:

“Oh, you could have done so much more if you only had time”

and

“I can’t wait to see you again, it’s only a matter of time.”

Mike is telling us Will’s story. He’s using this show and the books they wrote to bring awareness to Homophobia, HIV, and the horrors of staying trapped in the past. He can’t bear the thought of anyone else experiencing the grief and heartache he and Will experienced, so he tells their story as a Cautionary Tale. Tell your people you love them, make a move, and advocate for them before it’s too late. Don’t wait until “The Perfect Moment” or “When Life Gets Easier.” It’s never going to get easier, you have to act now. Otherwise, you may be too late. Think about Robin and Tammy. Robin was head-over-heels for her, but she never made a move. What happened? Tammy moved away and was gone forever. Robin told that story for a reason (beyond her Coming Out). She’s paralleling Real!Mike and Will’s experience and warning the audience to not make the same mistake. If you love someone, tell them while they’re here. Every moment could be your last, and do you really want to live the rest of your life regretting the one move you didn’t make? We only have so much time on this earth, and we must use it wisely.

Henry/1/Vecna is obsessed with clocks and time for a reason. It’s the one thing Will needs that he can’t get. Mike will be on time this season, but only because he wrote it that way. He wrote himself as the Hero—the VICTOR—that swoops in and saves the day, right at the last second. Will’s KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR. The Duffers have made it painfully clear the story we’re seeing is not what actually happened. It’s an Allegory (story rooted in symbolism) for a horrific event in history that claimed far too many lives. So, the next time you sit down to rewatch your Comfort Show, remember: It Was Always A Matter of Time.

Ps: I also believe the choppy message STWriters posted comes from Mike’s letter he reads at Will’s grave—just like Max. Except, this time, he leaves the letter (and possibly the finished Comic Book) at the gravesite, symbolizing the end of their journey and his final attempt to connect with Will. Maybe Will smiles from Above, accepting the letter and beaming with pride, knowing his story will inspire the world forever.

Long Live William Byers

What Letter to Willy tells us…

Two scenes. One song. How both scenes tell us a lot in hidden details…

Letter to Willy… interesting title, no? Not “letter to Billy”, no, the “W” needed to be added to clue us in on how this is about Will.

Not just about Will, but about November 6, 1983.

To begin, let’s talk about both of these scenes. The first one is of Max in the episode Dear Billy. She’s seen at his grave reading her letter to a deceased William. She reads out her feelings and regrets.

The second scene is in the next episode The Nina Project. The song begins playing when Mike and Will catch each others’ eyes while digging and have a heart to heart on top of a car. During the heart to heart, Mike expresses frustration and regret.

Both scenes feature someone who has passed away and their headstone.

Both scenes feature characters dwell on the “what if”s.

Here’s where things get interesting…

Mike referencing someone giving a number… notice how both scenes here involve a car? In fact, it’s almost like we’re viewing the scene on the left from a different perspective (through the car) on the scene on the left. Don’t believe the callback here? Well…

Look at what Mike is holding. 7up. Yup. This is absolutely intentional.

It seems like to me that they’re showing us Mike’s guilt over what happened to Will that night. He has regrets. Possibly because Will actually did die. At least in some timeline.

A little hint to that here too. Associating the “last day of life” with “Mike Wheeler’s basement”…. Can’t really get more on the nose than that. Mike Wheeler’s basement… aka the last place Will was before he “vanished”?

As a writer, he likely wished he could explain himself through writing… in a letter… to Will. Perhaps hoping that an explanation could somehow prevent a tragedy from occurring?

This line makes me suspicious that there’s some sort of time loop 🔁 on the day of Will’s disappearance.

And of course… this all leads back to…

And of course, another possible Back to the Future reference.

For those unaware, Marty saves Doc’s life by writing him a letter and giving it to him in 1955… preventing his death in 1985

What I’m getting at is this: this letter is more significant than you might think. Yes, it is a love letter, but it also is what likely ends up saving Will’s life.

[vevobly]

yellowjackets reaction eating loverfem!reader's body during winter? i aint got no babe but I want angst broo 😭😭😭

Yellowjackets Eating You Headcanons! [Peri-crash] (1)

A/N: Timeline set where Laura Lee is already kebab and Jackie is snackie 😋

Shauna Shipman:

Shauna doesn't let herself mourn you the way she wants to. You were hers. She loved you. And when you died? It felt like she lost herself. But she tells herself there isn't any time to grieve. She volunteers to be the one to butcher you because she believes she owes you that much and also because she can't let anyone else do it. She talks to your corpse as she works, her hands steady despite her voice trembling. “You’d laugh at how this turned out,” She murmurs, almost fondly.

She doesn't allow herself to think after, every bite she takes out of you is mechanical. But after eating you, and when everyone else goes to sleep? She vomits outside and thinks about just curling up in the snow to feel you somehow. She thinks better of it and goes back inside the cabin. She'd dream about you constantly since then. Sometimes you're warm and alive, sometimes you're just looking at her and quietly judging her as she mourns you.

She tells herself it was the right thing. That you would have wanted to help. But she never ever forgives herself. Sometimes, she takes something that belonged to you and carries it wherever she goes. When she's alone, she takes it out and just looks at it. Then she starts whispering to herself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.” She wants to cry, but she just can't. It seems as if all her tears are just unable to come out. Her grief and her hunger? It becomes entangled.

“It’s just meat,” She tells herself. “It’s not you.” She refuses to spare a glance at what you used to be you.

Taissa Turner:

Tai tries to rationalize it at first, it's just survival. She's pragmatic and grounded (at least in her waking self), but this? This is one of the few things that breaks that. She looks at your body and sees the person she fell asleep beside every night, the one who used to trace her jaw with cold fingers. But she can't not see you. All she sees is the dead body of a girl she loved, a girl who held her through her lowest and always kissed her doubts away.

She refuses to eat you at first. But as the days go by, her hunger grows and her body starts to give out. The others are watching, and they're all looking to her for permission to eat you, even if they don't say it. And eventually, Van convinces her to. “You’ll die too. Do you think she’d want that?” Tai shakes her head, before forcing herself to do it. Just a small piece of you. Just enough to survive. That's all it is.

That night, she dreams of you. You have blue skin and you're lying beside her, whispering. “Why did you wait?” The sleepwalking only gets worse after that. The other Tai starts to take over more frequently. And that version? She doesn't hesitate to eat you. She whispers thank you whenever she chews. And the next morning when Tai wakes up? She finds her mouth is stained red. She doesn't have to go back and look at your body to know why.

“She’s gone. That’s the truth,” She whispers to herself. “That’s all there is. So why does it still feel like I’m betraying her?” She buries her head in her hands.

Van Palmer:

Van pretends to be okay. She says things like “she wouldn’t want us to starve” or “she’s still with us” but she doesn’t actually believe it. She just needs to cling to that idea to keep herself from falling apart. She frames your death as a gift, a form of love from the grave. Because Van believes in signs now. Patterns and purpose. And if you died, there had to be a reason for it, right? Your death had to have meant something other than god punishing her for the sins she's committed here.

She leads a little ritual around your body before she and the team eat you, saying things like “she gave us the strength to keep going” and so. And when she does eventually eat you, she jokes while doing it. Because if she stopped joking for even one moment, she thinks she might start crying. And once she started crying? She doesn't think she could ever stop after. After she eats you, she wraps your old scarf around her wrist like a bracelet and carves a symbol into the snow with your initials

For the following days after it, she pretends to be fine. But the bags under her eyes say otherwise. She's always lying awake at night, holding onto something that was yours before in her hand until her knuckles go white. She doesn't cry during it, just breathes and breathes again as if everything was just a dream she has to wake up from. But it isn't. You're actually dead, and you're never gonna come back home with her. Sometimes when no one's around, she talks to you like you're still there.

“You would’ve wanted us to live,” She mutters. “At least, that’s the story I’m choosing to believe. So I can keep going.”

Natalie Scatorccio:

Nat just completely breaks down and loses it. She tries to carry your body away from the cabin at first, sobbing and screaming that they can't have you. She tells them they can't touch you, and that she'll kill anyone on the team who tries. But it's the middle of winter. There's no food left. And eventually, even she can't deny what's coming. She knows how this will end with the hunger gnawing at everyone, even her.

But Nat refuses it. She punches a tree until her knuckles split. She screams at Lottie. She screams at the sky. And anything she can to relieve herself of the pain of losing you. Then for the past few days after that, she doesn't eat anything. She just keeps staring at nothing until her lips are cracked and her hands are shaking. She starts to hallucinate you at times in the cabin when everyone's asleep, always sitting by the window and telling her.

“You couldn't save me. But you can save yourself.” And eventually? She caves in and eats you. Not because she wants to. But because has to. For you. Because that's the last thing she could do for you, keep herself alive until all of this ends. When she eats you, she does it by herself when everyone's asleep. And then she sits by the fire, crying silently to one of your shirts in her lap. The next day, she doesn't speak. Just smokes a cigarette she's been saving and drinks snowmelt.

“I didn’t protect you,” She sobs. “I’m still breathing, and y-you’re not.” She rubs furiously at her eyes. “And fuck, that’s the most cruelest thing in the world.”

Lottie Matthews:

Lottie stood over your body and told the others that you were a blessing. That the wilderness took you away for a reason, and now it's giving you back. That your death wasn't an ending, it's the beginning of something wonderful. And your body was an offering. She frames the whole thing as something sacred. Holy, even. She genuinely believes (or convinces herself) that your whole death was a gift to the group.

She leads a ceremony. Makes almost everyone, even the ones who don't believe in the wilderness, on the team to form a circle around you and pray. Lottie places flowers around your body, brushes your hair, and speaks to you while you're being prepared. She thanks you and leans into your ear so she can whisper something no one else can hear. “She’s guiding us now,” She says. “She wanted us to survive. And this is her gift from above.”

Then she eats you. She's the first one who eats you on the team. And she does it quietly with her eyes closed, before leading the others to do the same. After everyone eats you, Lottie decides to sit alone out in the snow and look up at the trees. “Did I do the right thing?” She whispers to herself. No answer comes, but just the wind. Then she claims you've visited her in her dream a few weeks later. That you're proud of her. Whether she's just deluded or not, no one really knows.

“Her spirit hasn’t left,” She says. “She's in the wind, watching over us.”

Misty Quigley:

Misty is calm. Disturbingly calm. She cleans your face up, braids your hair, fixes your clothes, sets you down like a porcelain doll, and talks to you like you're still alive. “You were so special,” She says, smoothing your cheek. “They didn’t deserve you. But I did.” For a few days, no one really does anything to your body but Misty. Until eventually, it's time to eat you. She offers you up herself with a little speech. “She loved us,” She says. “She wouldn’t want us to waste this.”

Misty has no hesitation in eating you. No revulsion. Just hunger, and something else too. Devotion. And when she does eat you, she makes sure to take small careful bites with her eyes closed. She smiles a little as she eats you like she's savoring the taste of you in her memories. Knowing Misty and how she is, she probably is doing exactly that. And just a few days later, she's back to her cheery self.

No one knows this, but she managed to take certain parts of you with her before everyone on the team ate you. A fingernail, a lock of hair, a bone—just anything she can have of you to remember you with. She puts that piece of you in an old jar she found lying around in the cabin and keeps it entirely hidden under a floorboard. “You're still with me,” She says it more to herself than anyone else. “Forever.”

“They don’t understand how much you loved me,” She whispered. “But I do. And I’ll keep you close always.”

[just-nc-tea]

ᛪ༙ SACRIFICE (EAT ME UP)

CHATER ONE

⭑.ᐟ Park Sunghoon ⭑.ᐟ Wang Nichloas

You were supposed to die. It would have been so much easier just to die. But it chose you before you could do so. Picked your weak body to anchor itself in. Making you one tether between the human realm and the shadows clawing at its edges. Alive purely to keep the balance, to stop a war no one saw coming. Vampires, witches and werewolves all try to use your magic to prepare themselves. They watch you. Train you. Use you. But your powers aren’t gifted and can't be used and abused. They’re given to keep the world from burning, even if it means burning you and everyone you love in the process.

ᝰ word count. 24.7k .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ genre. fantasy, supernatural, Vampire!Sunghoon x supernatural!Y/N, Werewolf!Nicholas x supernatural!Y/N, ANGST, fluff, Friends to Lovers? Enemies to Lovers? .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings.character death, violence, blood, gore (more will be added during the writing process) .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ disclaimer. heavily inspired by &Teams and Emhypens lore, the vampire diaries, city of bones, supernatural and numerous fanfictions i have read over the years ⤷ series masterlist

It’s weird, being a passenger in your own body from time to time. Feeling your feet move, your hands gesture, your head turn, not being able to blink on your own, caged in only with your thoughts. 

You sometimes wondered if this was how people in a coma felt. 

Unable to do anything. 

You felt the leaves brushing against your naked skin, the cold breeze that made your body shiver, the uneven pathway underneath your feet. 

At least it remembered to put on shoes. When it took over the last time your feet were bleeding at the end of the night. 

It ran through the woods behind the small brook in your hometown, searching for something. You weren’t entirely sure what it was searching for. 

There wasn’t much in the woods; a few stray wolves had claimed it as their territory, so humans mostly stayed clear of it. 

Your body stopped in front of a small pond. The bright light of the moon was softly reflecting off the surface, soft ripples causing it to reflect like small sparks of glitter. 

It took a step towards the water, kneeling down and softly touching it with your fingers. It was cold, and your body shivered. It made a pleased sound and plunged your whole arm into the water, the cold engulfing your limb. 

It hurt. 

It was around the freezing point outside, the middle of January. You wanted to instinctively pull your arm backwards, but the creature just tutted and put your second arm into the water. 

A sudden noise made your head shoot upwards. A wolf was staring at you from the opposite end of the pond, growling. Its white fur was tainted with blood at the snout. 

The creature just cocked your head to the side. Tingles of pure power ran through your veins. You couldn't see your arms while it was staring at the wolf, but you knew your fingers were starting to taint black, your veins turning a dark shade. You hated it when it did that. Whenever it did whatever it was doing right now, you felt awful the next day. 

The wolf growled even louder, and you heard more footsteps hurtling through the woods, probably the rest of its clan or whatever it was called. Pack? You weren’t sure. 

If it were only you in the woods right now, you would be shaking in fear, your heart hammering almost through your chest, but you knew it would never let anything hurt you. You were too precious. Or well, your body was. 

A few years ago, it broke into one of the crypts in the graveyard, the Lee crypt, as you learned when you returned a few days later to assess the damage it or you left behind. In there, it stole a few old, torn-up books, the pages being yellow and almost crumbling under your touch when you started flipping through them. 

Virethar – that’s its name.

Or at least its race? You weren't sure if the creature had a name on its own or not. So you just named it Creature. It's a veil-keeper, it's not bad or good per se, it just simply is. It existed to preserve the boundary between the human world and the supernatural world.

You learned that day that they were true; all the stories you were told as a kid were true. Vampires, demons, werewolves, warlocks, they all existed and lived among humans, even sometimes mixing with your kind, or what you would call your kind. You weren’t even sure if you were still human.

The creature made you read hours upon hours that night. Repeatedly reading over passages that were apparently important before continuing. His and somehow also now your job was to ​​make sure no supernatural force overwhelms or exploits the human realm, and that no human meddles too far into forbidden knowledge or magic.

It taught you that a Virethar does not seek power or worship. It rarely spoke, only if necessary, to not blow its cover whenever your mother or father would catch you being awake or outside in the middle of the night. They were thinking you were sleepwalking. Somehow, you were. 

The creature preferred to appear or take over during the dark hours of the night. Your parents started locking all doors and even put a fence around their precious garden to keep your body from wandering around during the night.

That didn’t stop the creature. 

According to the book, it can walk between realms. It can appear and disappear from shadows or reflections and travel through the dark. The first time it happened, your body felt like it was ripped to shreds when it started to disappear into the shadows, and for a split second, you took control of your body and screamed. The Virethar took control back, and you were suddenly not in front of the tall fence anymore, but lying in your bed, panting and whitering in pain. 

The creature spent the next few nights teaching you how to travel through the shadows. Those nights were the only times you actually heard it speak. A dark growl, almost a gargle. You couldn’t remember much of those nights aside from how to actually do it, and you assumed it just rearranged your memories slightly. Virethars are able to read and rearrange memories to remove traces of forbidden knowledge. In your case, it was most likely the memories of the searing pain you were in. Your parents thought you were just sick when you had fevers during the daytime. The Virethar stood in one of the corners of your room, watching over you while you used the day as well to train to shadow travel. It can hold up a physical appearance for a limited timeframe, feeding of chaos around it. You weren’t really sure what that meant, but your neighbour's dog was never as friendly as it was during those few days. You suspected Bruno's sudden death was in direct correlation to the creature watching you. 

The wolf was still staring at you, and you felt the Virethar pulling your lips into what probably resembled a smile, moving your arm, and reaching towards the wolf. The bright moonlight seemed to dim down as it unleashed a black fog from your fingertips. The wolf's eyes opened in what looked like shock or fear, and it yelped, turning around and running before the darkness could reach it. The Virethar chuckled in your body and slowly stood up from where it was crouched on the floor. It made instances to step into the water but stopped when you yelped, or well, thought: “No! Don’t let the Pyjama get wet, you will freeze when you get out!”

It just nodded and started to undress, leaving you only in your underwear, before stepping into the water. 

Even the creature hesitated after it took the first step. The cold made your feet almost freeze up the second it was plunged into the water. But after a few seconds, it seeimngly changed its mind and your body walked into the pond. It didn’t stop walking even when the water got too deep for you to stand, taking a deep breath and continuing underwater. You started to panic slightly, yes, it might be able to control the shadows, but did it remember you needed to breathe? 

“Calm.” The voice grumbled through your mind, and you just yelped again at the intrusion. Hearing its voice reverberating in the space that was usually only yours was a weird sensation, and if you were in control of your body, you would have gulped in fear. 

The creature suddenly moved your arms and swam back to the surface, taking a deep breath when it reached the air again. 

It slightly turned your head, locking eyes at a rock and swimming towards it. The texture of the rock was rough, and when it pulled your body onto you felt how your hands, knees, and feet were sliced open, but the creature didn’t let itself be deterred by that. 

When it sat on top of the rock, it took a deep breath and closed your eyes. But instead of darkness, you saw everything. 

Everything around you, as if you were running through the woods at high speed. 

You realized what it was doing. It was searching for whatever it had been trying to find for the last couple of weeks. 

It stopped for a second when it saw the wolf again. The wolf was running, its white fur reflecting in the bright light of the moon, and as if it realized it was being watched, it stopped suddenly, turning around. The creature stopped as well, and whatever form it was traveling in right now crouched down to look into the wolf's eyes. 

You could feel the subtle tension in your mind, a sharp vibration humming through your head. The wolf froze as if its very instincts buckled beneath the weight of the gaze. A thick tendril of black mist leaked from the creature, or whatever form Virethar was in right now, and slithered across the ground toward the wolf.

The wolf didn’t move. Its breath grew shallow. Its eyes went glassy, hollowing out for a heartbeat too long. 

Then it exhaled calmly, its stance relaxed, and its growl faded into a quiet whine. The darkness slithered back, dissolving.

It turned and ran. And the creature followed.

It sprinted after the wolf, moving through the shadow, deeper into the forest until the trees grew thicker. They stopped before an old mansion, with rotting wood, ivy-strangled windows, and iron gates.

Then. Nothing.

Darkness swallowed the connection.

You woke up with a sharp inhale, the kind that burns.

Air teared into your lungs like ice water, and you jerked slightly, your body stiff and uncooperative. Your cheek was pressed against the slick stone, skin numb where it touched the freezing surface. The water lapped  gently at your legs, a slow rhythm that only makes the cold worse.

You tried to move, but your body was unresponsive. It is almost like when Virethar took over, but you were almost a hundred percent sure you were in charge right now.

You tried again, your fingers twitched , barely, but the rest of you is too heavy. 

Where was it?

You searched inward, mentally reaching through that place in your mind where it always waited. But there’s nothing.

Not quiet.

Not stillness.

Just absence.

Your breath caught in your throat and came out in a ragged, hoarse gasp.

No, no, no –

He would never leave you here. He chose you. You barely remember life before him. If he ever wanted to leave, he had years. Why would he do it now, leaving you in the freezing water, your body slowly going numb.

You tried to lift your head. It lolled slightly, then dropped back down with a dull thud. 

You couldn’t feel your legs.

Virethar!, you called inside yourself. Or maybe out loud. 

Nothing answered.

The sky was so bright it hurt. Moonlight reflected off the pond and blinded you when you tried to look up, and you let your eyes flutter shut again.

You promised, you screamed in your thoughts. 

Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe that was just what you told yourself, night after night, when it moved your hands like they weren’t yours and spoke in your voice when it needed to.

It could’ve left you any time.

It didn’t have to wait until you were dying, because it left your body in a freezing pond.

Your skin started to tingle. 

Not the sharp pins and needles of cold, it felt like a dull kind of tingling. 

You remembered learning that hypothermia makes you feel warm before it kills you.

You felt warm now.

That terrified you more than the cold did.

You heard a crunch.

Something in the distance. Footsteps.

You couldn’t turn your head, couldn’t focus your eyes. But you heard the snow crackle. A low growl. Voices. Human ones.

The snow crunched louder and closer, and you forced your eyes open. 

The wolf returned first. It stopped a few feet from the edge of the pond and let out a low whine.

It wasn’t alone.

Two men appear through the trees behind it. Human. 

One of them halted dead in his tracks and muttered something you didn’t catch. 

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both.

“Is that a–?” one of the men said and cut himself off.

The other answered for him. “A human. Sunghoon found a human.”

They stoped at the edge of the pond, both staring in your direction. Your chest spasmed from the cold, and a weak, broken sound escaped your throat.

The closer one moved first.

“What the hell–?” he said, sounding stunned. "She’s alive.”

His boots crunched over the frozen mud around the pond, and you heard the quick splash of him stepping into the water. 

The first scoffed. “How the fuck would a human survive this deep in Grey Pines? Let alone end up half-naked, in that.”

The second didn’t answer right away. You heard his boots crunch as he took a few slow steps closer to the water’s edge. “Look at her arms.”

He paused and continued quietly. “They’re all torn up.”

Were they? You couldn’t tell; everything was hurting.

“She’s not moving. Shouldn't she be like shivering or something? I can still hear her heart.”

“No human could survive out here. Not in this cold. Not alone.”, the first man muttered.

The wolf let out a low, warning growl. You couldn’t tell if it’s directed at them or something else in the woods.

“I don’t like this,” he continued. “It feels like bait. This could be a glamour. A lure. She could be some kind of witch construct or worse. We’re not dragging a skin puppet back.”

“I don’t think she’s veilspawn,” the quieter one muttered again.

“She’s in the middle of the damn pond. On a rock. How does a human even get there without dying of hypothermia?”

“I don’t know.”

You heard the sound of leather creaking, cloth rustling. You thought he’s trying to study you more closely, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides like he wanted to reach for a weapon.

“She’s looking at us.”

You were. Barely. Your eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, but locked in their direction. How did he even see that from this far away? 

“She’s blinking,” the quiet one added.

The first cursed under his breath. “You’re seriously thinking of going out there”

“She’s gonna die if we don’t get her out of this water now.”

“Don’t touch her,” the other warned, stepping around the wolf and eyeing you. “You don’t know what she is. You know what walks out of the veil this time of year.”

You hand twitched, barley. Just enough to get their attention again.

The second one saw it. You felt his gaze sharpen, even in your almost delirious state.

“She moved.”

“Yeah, I saw it.”

Silence stretched, thick with tension.

You tried to move, but your body was still unresponsive.

“She’s freezing,” the first one said again, more quietly this time.

“Then leave her, Jake,” the other guy snaped. “She’s not our problem.”

Jake ignored him and suddenly shrugged off his coat.

You heard him sigh, and then the unmistakable splash of water. The slow, squelching footfalls as he steped into the pond, each one followed by a hiss through clenched teeth.

“God, it’s freezing. Why couldn’t Heeseung come tonight?” he muttered. “He’d just hover her out with his mind and be done.”

“Or he’d tell you not to touch a strange girl in the middle of a cursed pond,” the other one snaped. “This reeks, Jake. Humans don’t just end up here.”

“She’s barely breathing, Jay.”

“Exactly.”

Jake didn’t answer. He waded in deeper, the water lapping just below his knees now. “We can’t just leave her.”

He cursed under his breath, when he reached you, his hand touching your naked shoulder tentatively. “Damn. She’s ice.”

“Hey,” he said, softer now. “Hey, can you hear me?”

You blinked slowly. That’s all you can do. 

He looked over his shoulder. "She is still awake. If she’s just some unlucky girl who wandered in–”

“No one wanders in,” the second one shook his head. “She’s here with something. No way a human crosses the Grey Pines without a guide. ”

He gestured to the woods behind you. 

Jake exhaled sharply, like he was forcing something out, and suddenly, his hands were hot. Not just warm from blood and skin, but radiating. Like touching the sun wrapped in human form.

The heat poured into you in waves. Your body twitched once. Then again.

You gasped violently, coughing, air scraping your throat like broken glass. Jake steadied you, holding you close to his chest to keep your head above water.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was firelight. Not a literal flame, but the glow coming from Jake’s skin. It dimmed the moonlight and warmed the space around him like a living furnace.

You signed and relaxed into his hold, and then you saw his face, wide eyes, jaw clenched, like he’s trying not to panic.

“Fuck I don’t know if she’s a human,” he said louder towards the ones he came with.

“Shit,” Jay cursed from the bank. “Told you. This is bad news. No one ends up in this part of the woods by accident.”

Jake didn’t respond right away. You felt his grip tighten, shifting your weight so he could carry you back toward the shore.

Your head lolled slightly against his chest, and your eyes threatened to fall shut. At the shore, Jake carefully set you down on the cold floor.

“She’s marked,” Jay said, standing next to your shaking body. “She reeks of veil magic. Look at her eyes.”

You didn’t know what’s wrong with your eyes. You were too tired to ask.

You were not sure how long you were laying there while they argued about what to do. Minutes, maybe hours. Time felt like it was leaking from you, dissolving like mist.

Until finally, Jake, lifted you into his arms again.

The pain of your frozen limbs bending made you whimper.

“I got you,” he said, muttering to himself as much as to you. “We’ll get you warm, and then you’re telling us what the hell you’re doing out here.”

You wanted to tell him you don’t even know yourself.

You wanted to ask where the creature went. 

Why did it leave you? 

“Can you open your eyes?” Jake asked, his voice low and oddly soothing.

You forced your eyelids open. The second your eyes met his, you knew what was coming. 

They were glowing faintly at first, then brighter, red bleeding into his irises like ink spreading in water. The books warned you about this. Taught you to look away. To resist. But it was hard to remember how, when your mind was already feeling so slow and tired.

“Good,” he murmurs, and his voice was different now, silkier. He reached forward, his touch gentle as he tilted your chin up with his fingers, keeping your gaze on his. 

“You’re going to close your eyes now,” he said, and it didn’t sound like a suggestion. “You won’t notice the path we take. You won’t remember the way. You’ll be safe, so just sleep.”

You wanted to fight it, you should fight it. Being left alone with two vampires without the Virethar to protect his earthly host didn’t feel like a good idea. But the warmth of his voice wrapped around your mind like a blanket, and your body listened. Your lashes fluttered once, twice, and then fall shut.

You were not even sure if it was your choice.

The world slipped out from under you the moment your eyes shut. You weren’t asleep, not fully, but your head felt so heavy and keeping your eyes open felt almost impossible. 

You didn’t know how long it was until there was a sudden pulling sensation in your chest, and your scalp started tingling. It was back. It came back. 

A low, guttural growl reverberated inside your skull, and you almost signed in relive. 

It came back.

It came back. 

It. Came. Back.

“Found.”

Joy flooded your body. It's joy. Your chest swelled, and it giggled.

A bright, brittle sound, too sharp for the night.

You shouldn’t be laughing. You knew that. You were still half-frozen, half-dead. But the giddiness rushing through you was impossible to ignore, and you couldn’t tell where the creature ends and your conscious mind begins.

Jake's hands started feeling even warmer but the heat was different than before. YOu didn’t feel it on your skin, you felt it in your bones. 

His magic.

It was draining him.

The creature wasn’t stealing whatever body warmth Jake had; it was draining him. 

You felt his magic sliding into your body like syrup, thick and rich and burning hot. And it felt so good, like waking up inside sunlight. The creature was pulling it through you, eating it up like it was starving.

You tried to stop it. 

“No,” you whispered inside yourself, but the word is hollow, useless. “Don’t hurt him. He’s helping-he’s nice-”

Jake stumbled, his grip tightening, and you felt his chest tense beneath you.

"Keep you alive."

The creature's voice rumbled through your head, and he pulled even more energy from Jake now, a foreign heat flaring in your gut. You felt your limbs twitch slightly, your spine arching.

Jake stumbled.

It giggled again and opened your eyes. Your vision blurred a bit and then sharpened

Jake flinched. You felt it in the stutter of his breath.

His arms jerked, trying to let go of you, to drop you. But it was too late, the shadows started moving.

“Whoa, what the hell?” he gasped.

They wrapped around you, curling out from beneath your hair, your skin, the hollows of your eyes. Tendrils of inky black coil-like snaked around Jake’s forearms, snaring you to him as if the darkness itself refuses to let him drop you.

Jake panicked. “Jay?! What–what the fuck?! She’s doing something!”

Jay’s voice cut from nearby, alarmed. “Put her down!”

“I can’t!” Jake shouted. “She’s–she’s stuck to me!”

Your body shuddered again. The air rippled with heat and the scent of smoke. Jake groaned, staggering under your weight.

It kept happening. You couldn’t stop it. The warm waves of whatever the creature was stealing from Jake pulsed through your body, and with every pulse, the darkness around you blackened. 

It giggled again. You tried to bite it back, stop the creature, but the sound slipped free, breathless and feather-light. You started to feel like you’re drunk. Or dreaming. Or both.

Jake tried to let go again. You felt it. The twitch of his fingers.

But the shadows spilled out from under you like ink, curling around his arms and ankles. Holding him still.

Your limbs tingled from the heat still pouring into them. You felt high on it. 

Jake choked and staggered, dropping down onto his knees.

You didn’t want to hurt him.

But you were so warm now.

Somewhere, you heard its voice whisper through your mouth, giddy and breathless.

“Found.”

“Stop.”, you tried to say, but you were caged in the part of your subconscious that's yours and purely yours. You didn’t feel strong enough to even try to regain authority over your body.  “Please.” 

Somehow it listened. The flow of warmth ebbed, flickered, and cut off like a candle being pinched out.

And suddenly everything hurt.

The cold came crashing back. The pain in your limbs. The bite of wind on your wet skin. You gasped again, this time not with relief.

But with pain.

The shadows that had curled around Jake loosened. 

You blinked slowly, then lifted your head just an inch, enough to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed, voice raw and broken. He froze at the sound.

Your lips were trembling from the cold and exhaustion. “I didn’t… it didn’t mean to hurt you. It was just trying to help me stay alive. I told it to stop.”

Jake’s jaw was clenched, breath ragged, eyes flicking from your face to the now-drifting shadows.

Your head slumped back against Jake’s chest, and you curled inward with a shiver so violent it nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.

Your body was on fire and freezing at the same time. Your pulse staggered, skipping beats.

The Virethar shifted softly inside your mind.

“I told it to stop,” you whispered again, barely audible.

Neither of them said anything.

Jake’s arms were still around you, but his grip was tighter now. Almost rigid. 

You tried to speak again, to tell him to just go, the creature would know what to do, but your throat was too raw. 

“It stopped,” Jake muttered, voice clipped. 

His breathing was ragged. 

Jay snorted beside him, not even trying to hide his alarm.

“Yeah? After it drained half your strength and wrapped shadows around your goddamn wrists?”

You blinked slowly, head pounding, they kept on talking, but your head felt like it's underwater, and you only caught fragments of their conversations. Jake’s arms trembled slightly under your weight. 

You wanted to tell them you’re not a threat.

You wanted to believe it yourself.

“She shouldn’t be this deep in Grey Pines,” Jay said, quieter now, but his voice drifted through the dizziness. “Not past the veils.”

Jake swallowed hard.

“Veilspawn, don’t just wander this far,” Jay continued. “It’s either lost or looking for something.”

You tried to lift your head but your body refused. 

“I don’t want to bring her back. Even if a veil spawn has taken her body, she is still human. Maybe the coven can do something to get it out of her.” Jake admitted.

Get it out of you? No! They couldn't! You would die the second it completely left your body. They can't!

Jay’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The Park Vault.”

“No,” Jake muttered, almost to himself. “That place is-”

“It’s warded. Sealed with witch-iron. If she so much as breathes veil magic in there, it won’t let her move. Maybe not even survive.”

You could feel your heart straining now. You try to speak. Beg. Tell them it was just the creature, not you. That you told it to stop. That you’re still you.

But nothing came out. Just a soft, broken noise.

“She’s not staying between our lines and theirs,” Jay’s voice drifted through the fog. “If this sets off a blood war, it’s on us. Not happening.”

Jake didn’t answer.

He just adjusted his grip, tighter now, like he’s afraid you’ll wake up and tear your way out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the same way you did earlier.

And then they started moving, carrying you deeper into the woods.

The walk was silent, even the forest seemed to hold its breath.

You were  barely aware of your surroundings anymore, just cold air against your skin, the scrape of branches, as the two picked up speed again. The world turned blurry again, not because of your head, but because of the speed they were moving.

The creature in your mind stired.

It creeped back from its place in your mind where it rested when you were in control, and you felt its presence uncoil like smoke, lazy but alert, drawn forward by something in the distance.

 It was interested.

Excited almost.

The air grew colder. You felt it even through the numbness.

Jake ducked low to enter the tomb, and the scent of damp earth and incense flooded your nose.

The moment you crossed the threshold, something clicked in the air. He stepped into a circular chamber, the walls carved with deep runes and overgrown sigils. The faint pulse of witch-magic clings to the space like mildew.

He lowered you to the stone floor, carefully, almost gently. You didn’t deserve him to be this gentle after you just almost sucked him dry. 

The instant your back hit the cold slab, the entire room responded.

With a sound like a slow breath, the tomb awakened.

Flames sparked to life in the sconces lining the walls. One by one. The runes etched into the floor blazed white, circling your body in a perfect ring.

Jake jerked backward, stumbling and Jay cursed under his breath.

Even the wolf let out a sharp, guttural snarl.

You completely forgot the wolf was there. 

It stood near the threshold, white fur streaked with old blood. Its eyes, glowing red, lock onto you. 

The runes should burn, you know that. They were there to keep creatures in pain, to weaken them until witches knew what to do, or to immediately get rid of weaker veil-spawns. 

But they didn’t. You felt them thrumming beneath you, alive with power but not against you. 

The Virethar hummed.

It was… pleased.

“Witchcraft,” it’s voice vibrated though the back of your mind, “not for us.”

Your gaze slipped back to the wolf.

Big. Broad. Muscles coiled beneath fur like armor. A predator made of snow and shadow.

It should be terrifying.

You woke with a startled gasp, blinking your eyelids open. 

“Awake.”, grumbled the voice in your head, and you startle.

You needed a second to remember what happened and why you were waking up on the cold stone floor of a tomb in the middle of the woods instead of your bed in your apartment. You signed and tried to sit up, only to be stopped by something bound around your wrist and ankles.

Shackles. You were in shackles. 

Thick iron circlets with different witch marks etched deep into the metal, glowing softly. They were connected to a central ring on the floor by short, heavy chains, long enough for you to sit up, barely. There was no chance you could stand up in these. 

“Great.”, you mumbled, taking a deep breath. Being a carrier of a Virethar means you rarely felt strong emotions anymore. Its presence altering emotions to promote balance, calming rage, tempering the euphoria of not only the creatures around you, but your own as well. Right now, you would love to feel enraged. 

“What kind of situation did you get us in again, Creature?” you signed and leaned back onto the cold stone floor. 

It just made a grumbling noise in your head again, and you felt it retreating into that part of your consciousness it liked to stay when it wasn’t currently playing puppeteer with your body. 

Your throat felt scratchy, and you were already dreading the cold you would have to deal with in the middle of your exam period, only because it had decided January would be a great idea to take a swim in an almost frozen pond. The cold metal was slightly burning against your ankles and wrists, but a lot less than it probably should. 

You moved again into a more comfortable position when you noticed a bundle of fabric on the floor. A blanket. 

You carefully moved to reach for the item. It was a heavy, thick kind of fabric. 

The creature grumbled again, apparently in the mood to talk, but not in any human language, but rather in whatever Virethars spoke. Sometimes you wished it would actually talk to you. 

You blink, then giggle. You don’t know why it’s funny—it shouldn’t be funny—but the creature seemingly started to remember that it got what it wanted and was thrumming with satisfaction.

“Awake.”

You want to be angry. You want to panic. But it’s infectious, bleeding through you. 

A low click echoed through the room. Your head shot to the side, where you assumed the entrance to the tomb was supposed to be. Whatever witch or coven created the bonds and seals for this tomb made sure to include one to disorient its inmate. No matter where you looked, the was no door, just walls with rows and rows of candles. 

The creature went quiet and tempered down its joy, as if it didn’t want you to be influenced by its feelings. 

A tall man stepped into the chamber, the wall flickering as he stepped through the glamour. His eyes were glowing, almost burning red. 

A vampire.

Just like Jake and Jay. 

A very angry vampire. 

If he weren’t as scary and intimidating as he was, he would have been beautiful, but the expression on his face made you want to disappear.

He stopped in front of the rune circle and stared at you. 

You open your mouth to speak, no idea what you’d even say, but he cuts you off before the sound can form.

“What are you?”

His voice was sharp and demanding. 

You flinched. “I–I’m–”

“What did you do to Jake?”

There was venom in his voice now. He stepped closer. And you swallowed down your panic, that the creature oh so greatly let you feel.

“He’s sick.”

Sick? But vampires didn’t get sick. You knew that. Whatever happened in the woods, what the creature did, it must’ve—

Your heart stuttered.

“I didn’t–” your voice came out hoarse. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not an answer.”

You shrank back, only to be jerked short by the chains. The iron bit your skin, and you could already see the red rings forming on your skin.

“I swear–I didn’t–I stopped it–I told it to stop–”

He crouched suddenly, too close, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to see whatever was inside you.

“That thing inside you,” he growled. “The one that made the shadows move. That laughed through your mouth. What is it?”

You didn’t know how to answer. You didn’t know if you could answer. Speaking about the Virethar caused whatever host, if human or supernatural, unimaginable amounts of pain. Every time you tried to explain, to tell someone what was going on, your throat and lungs felt like they were on fire.

You looked into the vampire’s eyes, barely breathing, your voice a whisper:

“It’s not from the Veil.”

That was as much as you could actually tell him.

“You’re lying.”

He stood in a flash, towering above you again. “Tell me what you are or I’ll open every single rune in this Vault and drag the thing inside you into the light.”

Terror coiled in your gut. You didn’t even know if that was possible. And if it was, you weren’t sure you would survive it.

He didn’t let up and circled you slowly now, like a predator testing a cage.

You shifted slightly, the chains clinking loudly in the silence, the blanket slipping off your shoulder.

“You say it’s not from the Veil,” he murmured, stopping behind you now. “Then what is it?”

You opened your mouth, but your voice failed. Nothing came out.

He stepped closer. You heard his boots scrape against the stone, then felt the heat of his body at your back.

“You pulled in dark magic, controlled shadows. Maybe it’s some kind of shadow demon,” he said, thoughtful now. Coldly clinical. “A parasite. Like those cursed husks in the Northern Divide.”

You flinched. So did something else.

The Virethar shifted. The moment the vampire said “demon”, something inside you recoiled in disgust, and the creature growled loudly. You shuddered at the feeling.

It was offended. Deeply.

The vampire moved around you again. Stepping in front of you, crouching down.

“You don’t look possessed,” he said, voice quieter now. “You look scared.”

You actually were scared.

He leaned in and lifted his hand, his long fingers reaching toward your cheek.

And that was when the air stopped.

The torches stopped flickering, and the runes pulsed one last time before they dimmed.

The shadows moved quickly, not around you but behind him. They gathered like a thick black cloud, crouching over him, and you felt how the Virethar took control, pushing you back into your corner within a millisecond.

The vampire paused, fingers just inches from your skin. His eyes widened, and he jerked his hand back before touching you.

“What–” he whispered, standing up fast, scanning the chamber. “What is that?”

The Virethar didn’t answer him and just stared at him. Ready to kill if he came too close to you again.

You tried to regain control of your body, fighting against whatever power the creature had, and choked out: “I’m not possessed.”

The vampire looked down at you again, but this time, he didn’t come closer.

The temperature hadn’t gone back up, and the room was still engulfed in unnatural stillness and darkness, the shadows watching and waiting.

You didn’t know how long the vampire just stared at you, but he didn’t step closer again.

And then the vampire made a mistake. He sneered. Just a little. A shift of his mouth.

“You’re right,” he muttered. “You’re not possessed. You’re infested. A puppet for something that shouldn’t even be breathing in this realm. You reek of veil magic, and I don’t care what name it hides behind, demon, god, wraith, it’s all the same rot in a different dress.”

The Virethar moved, took over, and you didn’t even have time to scream, to warn the vampire.

Shadows tore off the walls like living things, surging across the floor. They slammed into him, engulfing him in darkness.

You heard him grunt, staggering, his boots skidding across the stone, as the creature pulled him towards you, into the rune circle. You saw through your eyes how he tried to fight it. He was strong, but the creature was stronger.

As soon as he was close enough for you to touch him without hurting your wrists, the creature reached out. Wrapping a hand around his throat, his face distorted into shock, and his eyes flared up in an even darker shade of red.

Then flickered.

You felt it happen.

The creature pulled his magic into your body, your magical core hungrily reaching for it.

Heat.

Strength.

Power.

You felt it pour into your body, molten and raw. So much stronger than whatever Jake had to give.

The vampire choked, his hands wrapping around your arm, trying to pry it off his throat, but the creature didn’t even flinch.

You felt your muscles snap tight.

Your spine arched.

Your lips parted, and you heard the Virethar’s voice echo through your mouth, guttural and low: “Enough.”

And then the shadows folded in, a black explosion of smoke and wind, and the world bent.

You lurched through the shadows. You found yourself running.

The Virethar was running through the dark forest. Your lungs were screaming, and your legs were burning.

It only slowed down, your chest heaving, when the mansion came into view.

You saw lights glowing inside, flickering orange behind warped glass.

The Virethar exhaled through your lungs, slow and satisfied, as it continued its way just before the heavy iron fence.

The shadows folded in around you one more time.

And a second later, it had to screw your eyes shut, as light flooded your view. Your feet touched something soft. A rug?

The creature opened your eyes and looked up, scanning the room.

Three pairs of red eyes were locked on you.

A boy on the couch closest to the TV, gripping a game controller, had frozen mid-move, his mouth slightly open.

The second one sitting next to him had already half-risen, muscles coiled, confusion morphing into panic.

The third sat in a chair near the fireplace, a book halfway to his face.

They all stared.

You realized, distantly, that you had just shadow-traveled into their living room.

The one with the controller was the first to react, jerking upright from the couch, his game controller falling with a plastic crack against the floor.

“What the hell–” he breathed, fangs out, voice tight with something like dread.

The creature turned your head, slowly, deliberately, and looked directly at the one whom he had been playing against.

It parted your lips, and his deep growling voice echoed through the room.

“Found.”

The creature raised your hand, slowly.

Fingers outstretched. You felt your magical core stretch out again, black tendrils reaching out, moving toward the vampire.

All three men moved to stop you.

But it was too late.

The shadow touched his chest and he collapsed, like a puppet with its strings cut.

His eyes rolled back, a choked sound escaping his lips, and his knees hit the floor with a crack.

The one next to him lunged forward, catching him just before he hit the ground completely.

“Niki!” the one who was previously reading turned to you, “What did you do–what did you do to him?!”

The creature didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. It just tilted your head slightly to the side and growled:

“Shadow Shifter.”

Niki lay limp in the other vampire’s arms, his chest barely rising. His skin had gone from pale to ashen.

You tried to speak, tried to wrestle the Virethar back, but it wasn’t listening.

The other two vampires were on edge, one kneeling beside Niki, checking his pulse, the other standing like a coiled spring between you and the rest of the room.

“Give him back,” the one by the fireplace said. “Whatever you took, give it back.”

The Virethar still didn’t answer.

Instead, it stepped forward. One step.

“Don’t move!” one of them snapped, his red eyes fixed on you like a hawk.

And you didn’t, you couldn’t. Your legs trembled, and for a moment, they almost gave out beneath you, as the creature suddenly pulled back.

Magic churned under your skin, burning at the edges, wild and hungry. Your breath came in short, shallow bursts.

Oh god.

You killed someone.

A vampire.

Someone from their clan.

Your mouth opened, and all that came out was a shaky, broken noise.

“I didn’t–I didn’t mean to–” Your voice cracked, raw and barely there. “It wasn’t me-I–I mean, it was, but I didn’t want–”

The door to the living room slammed open.

You flinched, spinning toward the sound.

Jake stood there, breath sharp, eyes wide with panic. “What the hell–”

Another vampire was with him.

You turn just in time to see him skid to a stop in the entryway. His eyes find you immediately, wide, burning red, and then they flick down to Niki. His whole face changes.

Another man follows him in, a scarf still wrapped half around his neck like he forgot to take it off.

Jake’s voice is tight. “She was in the Vault. Sunghoon was guarding it—how the hell did she get out? How did she find the mansion?”

“I don’t–I don’t know,” you stammered, heart pounding. “I don’t know how I got out. I didn’t want to–please–I didn’t mean to hurt him–”

You take a breath too sharply, and it tears at your throat. You try to move toward Jake, to do something, to show them you’re not dangerous, but he flinches.

Like you’re the monster in the dark.

Maybe you are.

You feel the creature in the back of your mind shifting again, watching, too satisfied for your liking.

“I’m not a demon,” you try again, the first tears spilling out of the corner of your eyes. You just killed someone. “I’m not a veilspawn–I’m not–I–please.”

“Then what the hell are you?” the vampire holding Niki snaps.

“I–a-a human?”, you said, your voice wavering slightly as you wrap your arms around your body and take a step back, your back hitting a wall.

“A human?” the vampire at the fireplace snapped. 

You whimpered and nodded, screwing your eyes shut, afraid he would pounce and kill you, even though you logically knew the Virethar could probably kill all of the vampires in the room faster than you could blink.

“A human?” the vampire at the fireplace snapped again, incredulous. Angry. “A human doesn’t just appear out of thin air. A human doesn’t rip the life out of someone with shadows!”

You pressed your back harder against the wall, arms curling tighter around yourself. The magic still crackled beneath your skin, too hot and too much and not yours. The Virethar shifted in the back of your mind again, readying itself.

No. Not now. Please, not now.

You didn’t want it to hurt anyone else.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered. “I swear–I didn’t–I didn’t even know I could–he just–it moved me and–” Your voice broke, a sob catching in your chest. “I tried to stop it. I told it to stop.”

“Maybe it’s playing human,” someone said. You couldn’t tell who anymore. The voices blurred. “Maybe it’s trying to look harmless.”

“She doesn’t feel harmless,” someone else snapped.

“I’m not–I’m not dangerous,” you gasped. “I’m not–I didn’t want this–I don’t even know what this is–please–please don’t kill me.”

Your knees buckled slightly.

They were going to kill you.

You killed someone from their clan. 

The vampire that came in with Jake moved.

You flinched as he stepped toward you, slow, careful, but not gentle either.

“Don’t,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please–don’t come close to me. I’ll–I’ll lose control again–I don’t want to hurt anyone–”

“I know,” he said. Quiet. Almost soft. “That’s why I’m not giving you a choice.”

And before the creature could react, before you could scream, he moved.

His hand closed around the back of your head, the other catching your jaw with practiced ease.

Your body froze, the Virethar roaring in protest inside your skull–but it was like your limbs had turned to stone. 

“No–” the creature snarled through your teeth, but it was too late.

A pulse of magic slammed through your body.

And you dropped like a ragdoll.

You woke up slowly.

Heavy.

Your eyelids felt like they were glued shut, your limbs like they were filled with sand. The air was cold and stale, carrying the scent of incense and old stone.

The Vault.

Your body ached.

You blinked once, then again, and your vision began to form.

You were back on the stone floor, shackles cold against your wrists and ankles. The rune circle beneath you pulsedfaintly. You tried to sit up and regretted it instantly. Every muscle screamed, your spine sparked with aftershocks of borrowed magic, and your head felt like it was cracked open and hastily patched.

But worse than that, you weren’t alone.

The vampire that was in the vault with you before was standing right in front of you, his hands crossed in front of his broad chest. He was talking to the tall vampire from the living room next to him.

But it’s the man standing just beyond the rune circle, fingers laced in front of him, head tilted slightly, that frightenedyou the most.

They brought in witches.

You forced your eyes to move on.

Niki was leaning against one of the walls, his eyes fixed on your figure.

He was alive.

You almost killed him.

The realization crashed down on you like a wave, your stomach lurching violently.

You wanted to say something. To tell him you were sorry. That it wasn’t your fault. That the creature did something. It wanted to do something right now.

Hot, magic coiled in your ribs, humming through your bloodstream, seething. You felt the pressure pushing against your bones like it wanted out.

You bit down hard, clenched your fists, and forced your breath into something steady.

Not now.

Not here.

They were all watching you.

Niki tilted his head slightly. “Yeonjun. She’s awake.”

“I can see that,” the witch muttered.

He stepped closer to the rune circle. The magic flared faintly, reacting to him.

You tried to sit up straighter, to speak. You needed to explain. You needed to say something before they made a decision you couldn’t come back from.

“I–” Your voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to hurt him–”

Yeonjun didn’t blink. “And yet you did. How? How did you do that? Drain not only one but two vampires.” He started walking around the rune circle in slow, calculated steps. You forced yourself to swallow, and your mouth tasted like ash.

The creature pressed against the condiments in your mind again. You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Don’t,” you thought, hoping to keep it inside. “Not now. Just stay down.”

It growled in your skull, a low, furious sound, but listened, and you stayed in control of your body.

You didn't know how to answer. What to say to make the whole situation better. "I'm not a veilspawn."

“You almost killed Niki,” Jay said, stepping closer. 

“I didn’t try—I’m not veilborn,” you manage. “I’m not a demon. It–"

Your throat closed up.

Literally.

The words stopped mid-sentence, a pulse of something magic seizing your lungs. It felt like invisible hands around your neck, not tight enough to kill, but enough to burn.

You gasped, trying to cough it out, but nothing helped. The pain spread, dragging down your chest.

The witch stepped forward, eyes sharp. "I didn't say you were."

Your lips parted.

You wanted to explain.

To say something, anything, that might make them believe you. That might make them understand this wasn’t you. That you never meant to hurt anyone.

But the words wouldn’t come.

The pain started in your throat, sharp and searing, and then spread like fire through your chest.

You choked on air, eyes going wide, a hand jerking toward your throat before the shackles clanked and yanked you still.

“Stop,” you managed to rasp.

Jake stepped forward, but the witch beside him raised a hand. He stopped dead.

“Don’t,” he said. “If she’s trying to speak of what’s forbidden, the binding will kill her before she finishes a sentence.”

“She’s choking,” Jake snapped.

“She’s alive,” a new voice chimed in. A tall figure walked into the vault, his shoes softly clicking against the stone floor. He stopped just outside the rune circle, where the magic burned white and sharp between you, and knelt. His eyes were dark. Calm. Almost cold.

“You tried to speak,” he said. “That’s good. But you can’t, can you?”

You shook your head, mouth still open, breath shallow and pained.

“She’s bound,” Yeonjun said from behind him.

“Ancient magic,” the man murmured, touching one of the runes.

“I want to tell you,” you gasped, every word scraping your throat like glass. “Please. I’m not–”

Your body jerked forward as the magic flared again, sharp as a blade.

Yeonjun raised a hand. “Don’t try. You’ll burn your voice box if you keep pushing.”

You fell back with a strangled sob, tears streaking down your cheeks now, your chest heaving with effort.

Jake took a step forward. “Her body is close to giving out, Soobin. Her heartbeat is slow; you should hurry if you need information."

Soobin glanced at him. “She also broke a sealed Vault and crossed half a forest in shadow. Alone. She will be able to stay alive for a few minutes until we know what she is.”

“I didn’t do it,” you wheezed. “It—he—”

You bit back a scream as your throat seared again.

Soobin watched you.

Then he leaned in just a little.

“Whatever you’re carrying–it isn’t from the veil, right? It’s something else. And if it keeps protecting you like this, we can’t extract it. Not without killing you.”

Your breath stuttered.

The creature stirred.

You felt him tense in your bones.

Extract? No. They can't.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Soobin said. “But I need to know what you are. And if the thing inside you isn’t ready to tell us, then maybe we need to ask differently.”

The other witch stepped forward again, reaching into his coat for something. 

The creature inside you growled, low and dangerous. And before you could stop it, the Virethar took over.

It stirred, pushed against your skin, and without your permission, your mouth opened.

“Shadow Shifter.”

The witch in front of you didn’t react right away.

But the Vault did.

The runes flared and dimmed down, and the temperature dropped. 

Jake took an unconscious step back.

Soobin's eyes narrowed.

“Shadow Shifter,” he echoed. 

He straightened slowly, gaze unreadable, and turned slightly toward Niki.

“Only one type of being ever required a Shadow Shifter,” he said, turning back to you. “They weren’t made to protect humans. Not vampires. Not witches. Not even demons.”

He paused, and you felt his magic dragging the air tight around your lungs.

“They were created to serve Virethars.”

Yeonjun moved forward, standing next to Soobin.

“They're older than the Veil. Older than this world’s divide. Creatures that didn't belong anywhere. Not quite gods. Not quite monsters. But powerful enough to warp entire bloodlines. They created Shadow Shifters to anchor themselves in this realm.”

Your pulse roared in your ears.

“I didn’t try to kill him,” you rasped.

“I know,” Yeonjun said.

And then he stepped into the circle.

The runes flared white-hot as he crossed them, but didn’t reject him.

You tried to scramble back, but the chains held you still.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said and knelt before you.

You shook your head. “Don’t–”

“You know what this is, don’t you?” he asked.

You don’t answer. Your throat was still burning. And what good would it do? They would still think you did want to kill them.

He studies you for a moment. His eyes narrow.

“The shadows,” he says quietly. “The voice. The draining. You’re not possessed.”

He paused for a second to study you.

“You’re the anchor.”

Soobin stiffened behind him.

“I’ve never seen one in real life,” Yeonjun continued. “I've read about countless sightings and warnings about your kind. But I never thought it was real.”

You breathed in slowly, mouth dry, but your face stayed blank.

Because what else could you do? Panic?

Yeonjun rose, slowly, gaze never leaving yours.

“Shadow Shifter,” he said. “That’s what it said itself, right? The Virtehar only acquired Shadow Shifters when their current host was insufficient,” he murmured. “Too weak. Dying. Or unable to do what must be done. It found someone else. Tethered itself to them instead.”

He looked down at you.

“The Virtehar doesn’t come unless something is out of balance,” he said.

He took a breath. “And if it’s here, if you’re here, then something is already wrong.”

You tried not to flinch, but the words hit like a stone to the chest. You had suspected it. You had felt it. The way the creature started moving was more. Watching. Taking over more frequently.

Yeonjun crouched again.

“I want to see it,” he said.

You froze.

“No,” you whispered, hoarse.

“I need to,” he insisted. “If it’s tethered to you, then maybe I can extract part of its signature. Not all of it–just enough to see what kind of magic it carried. It might help us stop whatever’s coming.”

“No,” you said again, sharper this time.

But Yeonjun was already moving.

He placed one hand against your jaw and gently moved it up so you were looking into his unnaturally blue eyes. The weight of his magic sank into your skin.

It hit your core with an unbelievable amount of power.

And you screamed.

Your body arched against the stone, shackles groaning with the force, every nerve set on fire as his power dove through you.

The creature roared.

It surged upward, slamming into your ribs, clawing for dominance.

You felt yourself being shoved back, like your own awareness was nothing more than a curtain pulled aside.

Yeonjun’s eyes stayed locked on yours, his magic pouring through your skin, through your blood, through every cell in your body. It flickered around the two of you, bright for a heartbeat.

And then died.

He stumbled back a step, brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “I couldn’t even touch it.”

You breathed out slowly.

Yeonjun exhaled and straightened. “We need to figure out how to speak with it willingly.”

You shook your head.

“No,” you whispered. “You don’t.”

“Why not?” Sunghoon demanded. “If he’s what’s breaking the world open, then–”

“He’s not,” you cut in. “He’s here because it’s already broken. He is here to mend what's broken.”

They fell silent.

You let your head fall back against the stone. You have never used this much magic within such a short period. 

The Vault had gone still.

Yeonjun stepped back, magic flickering uncertainly at his fingertips. 

You felt the creature shift.

You gasped, the breath hitching in your throat, not from pain, but from the cold pressure that bloomed behind your ribcage, slow and precise. He wasn’t surging through your body. He was slipping out of it.

Your fingertips tingled. The shadows beneath you curled like steam rising off the runes, ignoring the sigils entirely.

Yeonjun’s head snapped around. “It’s doing something.”

Thin tendrils of shadow snaked across the floor, slow and elegant, trailing outward from beneath your body. No one moved at first, too stunned.

Until the first strand touched Niki’s boot.

And didn’t stop.

It slid up his ankle, then his leg, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Jake shouted. “No!”

Yeonjun raised his hands to cast something, but the shadows recoiled instantly, not away from Niki. But towards the rest of the vampires, spinning a net of darkness around them. 

You felt their magic curse through your veins and toward Niki’s body. 

The creature had been searching for him.

The shadows didn’t consume Niki, like they did with the rest of the vampires.

They fed him.

The darkness thickened around his body, and it jerked once. His spine arched, a violent gasp tearing out of his throat. 

You watched, heart pounding, as the shadows soaked into his skin.

He opened his eyes.

They were still red, but a few shades too dark. 

Yeonjun stumbled back. “Oh no.”

The Virethar spoke through your mouth, a low and steady growl reverberating through the vault:

“Shadow Shifter.”

Yeonjun stepped forward, back into the circle again. He crouched in front of you again, his fingers seizing your jaw, forcing your face toward him before you could look at Niki again.

“Don’t,” he hissed. “Don’t look at him.”

Your lips parted to answer, but Yeonjun’s breath stuttered. His eyes widened.

He reeled back with a sound halfway between a curse and a prayer, stumbling to his feet. His hands shook.

“Shit,” he whispered. 

It opened your mouth, and the creature’s voice slid out like smoke: “Too late.”

And then one moment you were on the floor, and the next hands slammed into your chest and you were hurled across the chamber.

Your body should’ve cracked against the stone wall, but the shadows caught you.

They surged from the floor, wrapping around your torso, your shoulders, your neck like ropes of living night and held you in midair. 

Sunghoon stumbled back, eyes wide.

You hovered above the floor for a breathless moment, eyes probably pitch-black, hair drifting in the weightless dark around you.

Everyone was staring.

Niki, still crouched in the corner, his eyes glowing like burning coals. Yeonjun froze where he stood. Jake and the others were held in place by a web of darkness.

Let me down, you whispered internally, your voice a scratch in your own skull. Please–The shadows obeyed almost immediately.

You gently sank back to the floor. Your knees hit the stone first, your palms next.

For a moment, no one dared move.

The second witch took a cautious step forward and you fliched backwards.

You could have died. Sunghoon would have killed you.

Panic surged through you. 

Hard. 

So you reached for the only thing that had ever gotten you out of something worse.

The shadows.

They curled under your feet, reacting to your panic faster than thought.

“Wait!” someone yelled.

You landed hard, a few meters outside the Vault.

It was still dark outside, hopefully the same night, the full moon still illuminating the forest floor. 

Your knees sank into wet leaves, and your hands braced against the cold dirt. 

You blinked once.

Twice.

You had to go. Fast.

Something crashed behind you, and the vault's doors slammed open.

“She’s outside!”

You turned around.

Sunghoon was standing in the entrance.

The second you saw him move, your magic reacted like a struck nerve.

The shadows at your feet leapt upward and–

You vanished again.

Your boots skidded across wet leaves as you landed near the edge of a ravine, heart clawing at your ribs. You didn’t know how many jumps you’d made now – four? Five? Your head was spinning, magic crackling under your skin like static.

You didn’t know where you were.

Behind you, voices cut through the dark.

“She went this way!” 

They were tracking you. You didn’t know how. By scent? Sound? Magic? All of it?

You scrambled forward, blood pounding in your ears.

The sun was just starting to stretch across the horizon. Weak, golden light crept over the forest floor.

You whirled around, panting, shadows flickering at your heels.

You didn’t want to fight.

You just wanted this all to stop.

Then a shape moved between the trees, fast, red-eyed, closing the gap in a blur of speed.

But before you could move again, before your legs even fully straightened, a gust of wind hit you from behind.

Then arms.

You barely had time to scream.

A hand slammed around your throat and dragged you backward mid-step. Your feet left the ground. Your body twisted as you were thrown like a ragdoll into a tree trunk. The impact knocked the air clean out of your chest. Your vision blurred.

You collapsed to your knees and scrambled backward, coughing, until a figure landed in front of you, too fast, too inhuman. Dirt kicked up in all directions as he crouched, fangs bared. Not just bare, elongated. Glinting in the half-light. The vampire from the Vault. 

His eyes were glowing red. His beautiful face twisted in fury.

He moved so fast you didn’t even see it, just felt the snap of your body against the forest floor again, his hand crushing your throat.

“You’re going to tell me what you are,” he hissed, his face coming closer to yours. 

“You’re going to tell me,” he said again. “Or I will rip you open and find out myself.”

Tears blurred your vision. You choked against his grip. “I-I don’t-”

“You drained Niki.” His voice cracked like a whip. “You bled him almost dry. If he dies, we all know what happens to you.”

You shook your head, panic rising. “I didn’t-I didn’t know-”

“You’re not a witch. You’re not veilspawn. You’re not anything we’ve seen.”

“I’m human,” you gasped.

 “Bullshit.” 

He slammed your head lightly into the dirt, not enough to knock you out, but enough to daze you.

His power crushed down on yours like a fist, pressing the air from your lungs.

“You think you’re dangerous now?” he snarled, mouth at your ear. “Try lying again. I’ll show you what dangerous looks like.”

You whimpered, fingers scrabbling at the dirt. “Please-”

And the shadows took you. Your scream was ripped out of your throat mid-jump.

You landed near a broken fence post. 

You didn’t mean to come here.

You didn’t know how you got here.

You just wanted to be safe.

And in your panic, your body delivered you to the place that had always felt like safety.

You took a slow, ragged breath and staggered forward. You didn’t know if you’d made it far enough. 

The sky was changing faster now, streaks of purple and deep blue peeling back the stars.

Sunrise.

Please let them have turned back.

You pushed through one last jump and collapsed in the middle of the clearing. 

And then you heard it.

Thudding paws.

Five wolves emerged from the woods.

One pure white.

One ash gray.

Two shades of deep brown.

And Nicolas, a wolf in black, streaked with silver. The second he saw you, his feet moved faster, and he skidded to a stop in front of you.

You sank into the ground, sobbing in relief, shadows curling off your skin like steam as your panic finally cracked open into exhaustion.

“Help me,” you whispered.

He whined and pressed his snout to your face, lapping up your tears, ignoring the black tendrils of magic around you. 

One of the other wolves pressed its head under your arm when it reached you. Another circled your back.

Your chest was heaving. 

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you whispered, “I didn’t mean to–I just–I just wanted to get away–”

A gust of cold wind cut across the clearing and made you look up.

They’d followed you.

Even into werewolf territory.

They didn’t speak at first.

Just stood at the edge of the clearing, red eyes locked on you.

The wolves moved instantly.

Nicolas stepped forward, baring his teeth in warning. The others spread into a loose semicircle around you, hackles raised, low growls vibrating in their chests.

You didn’t even try to move. You were too drained, too spent, your hands still trembling, shadows twitching faintly along your arms like restless smoke.

“She’s in our territory,” one of the wolves growled, his voice laced with the unnatural sharpness of someone mid-shift. Probably Maki or Fuma.

“She ran from containment,” Sunghoon snapped. “She almost tore the Vault apart from the inside. She attacked Niki, she drained him, nearly killed him.”

“I didn’t–” your voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to–”

Sunghoon’s glare cut toward you. “You didn’t mean to drain him? You didn’t mean to throw half a coven into the walls? Or disappear into shadows like a fucking cursed wraith?”

Nicolas let out a deep, guttural growl and took one step forward.

“She’s not veilspawn,” Sunghoon said suddenly, eyes still on you.

Silence.

He stepped forward. “She’s an anchor to a Virethar.”

The wolves tensed, fully knowing that already and knowing the consequences of someone else knowing.

“She’s not just hosting it,” Sunghoon continued. “She sustains it. She feeds it. Every time she breathes, every time she runs, it pulls the world around her.”

You didn’t deny it.

You couldn’t.

Sunghoon took another slow step forward.

“If you keep her here,” he said, voice like ice cracking underfoot, “your territory will burn like ours almost did.”

Nicholas growled again, low and sharp.

And then he shifted.

The silver-black wolf twisted mid-step, bones breaking, flesh shifting, fur sliding into skin.

His voice was quiet.

“You chased her across the forest. Into our sacred ground.“

He looked at you.

Then back at Sunghoon.

“If she’s so dangerous,” he said, “why do you look like the one she ran from?”

Sunghoon went still.

You felt something in your chest tighten, guilt, maybe. 

Regret.

Nicolas knelt beside you again and said to no one in particular, “She stays here. Until she can speak without shaking. Or until she says she wants to leave.”

The other vampire hissed, stepping forward.

But Sunghoon stopped him.

He stared at you for a long, impossible moment.

Then turned. And vanished into the trees.

The moment the vampires vanished into the trees, something inside you cracked open.

A sob tore out of you like it had been waiting hours to escape.

You didn’t even realize you were falling forward until Nicolas caught you.

He pulled you in without hesitation.

His hands cradled your face gently, so gently, like he was afraid you'd shatter under him.

“Hey,” he whispered, brow furrowed, voice soft in that way it only got when no one else was around. “Hey, I’ve got you. You're okay.”

You shook your head, choking on the word.

“No.”

He pulled you closer, letting your head press against his naked chest, one hand in your hair, the other rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades.

“What happened?” he asked, quietly.

“It ran ….it was feeding… chose Niki… I didn’t mean to–” You gasped inbetween sobs. “He threw me–Sunghoon–”

“Easy.” Nicolas tilted your face back up, gently brushing the tears off your cheeks with his thumbs. “You’re not making sense.”

But he knew.

At least some of it.

He knew.

Because years ago, in a much smaller version of your world, Nicolas had been the one to come over when you stopped showing up at school. He stood on your porch for hours, waiting for you to come back from the hospital, for your mom to come back alone to tell him you were sick.  

Really sick.

He came as often as he could, bringing in snacks, books, even school work, anything to distract you from your slow but steady death.

He told you everything about the pack he could, promised you he would show you his wolf form after you got out, that you had to get out so you could see.

He held your hand through every scan. He was there when they told you it had spread again. He stayed even when the nurses asked him to leave.

You remembered him curled in the armchair beside your bed, legs too long, hoodie pulled over his face as he napped there between visiting hours.

You noticed him flinch every time they adjusted your IVs. You saw the way he gripped the hospital chair too hard. The way he paced after every scan. The way he looked at you when he thought you were asleep

You saw him cry once. Just once.

And then, suddenly, impossibly, you got better. After days of not even being properly conscious, you got better.

Fast.

Too fast.

You remembered the look on his face when the doctors said “remission.”

Relief. Disbelief. He stared like you like you were a miracle.

You remembered EJ and K crying in the hallway.

Taki almost tackling you to the floor because your last blood test meant you could finally eat spicy food again.

You remembered smiling. Laughing. Celebrating with them and the rest of the pack.

Because you couldn’t tell them it wasn’t real. You weren't healed.

That the Virtehar had only paused your death.

That your life came with an expiration date.

That you were never meant to stay.

And he wasn’t supposed to have to watch it twice.

Nicolas had already mourned you once.

You wouldn’t let him do it again.

And one night, when your parents were out and you were in your room, he knocked over the wrong stack of books. 

You still remembered the way he’d gone quiet. How the energy in the room changed, how his magic changed. 

He wasn’t scared or angry. He was just…stunned. 

Not scared.

Not angry.

Just… stunned.

You couldn’t speak about what you were, but you could show him, like the creature did to you. You gave him paragraphs and pages to read, to show him you weren’t a threat, you weren’t a monster. You were here to protect the peace between humans and the supernatural. 

And then you pushed him away.

He shouldn’t have to be there when you inevitabley die. He should have a beautiful mate, that loved him and could grow grey and old with him. Not bind himself onto you. So you carefully told him you couldn’t love him how he loved you after he confessed. He was hurt, unbelievably so. But after a few weeks of almost no contact, of you giving him space you asked him if he could try to stay friends with you. His answer was that he never stopped, and he would love and protect you until he died.

He never told anyone what you were. Or, well, he didn’t tell anyone you didn’t approve. He asked you if he could tell his pack what was going on.

“I should’ve stayed near your flat,” he murmured.

“You couldn’t have stopped it,” you whispered.

You shut your eyes, pressing your forehead to his.

“I didn’t want to be this,” you whispered. “I just wanted to live.”

“I know.”

The rest of the pack gave the two of you some privacy and walked towards the house at the edge of the clearing. 

“I jumped so far,” you rasped out when you realized how close you were to the edge of the woods. 

“Mhm. If you came from the Park Vault, you did,” Nikolas said, carefully caressing your cheek. “Do you want to go inside? You are ice cold.” You nodded weakly. 

The door creaked open with a groan of old wood, and Nicolas stepped through it like it was the most natural thing in the world to carry a shadow-wrapped girl in his arms while dawn broke behind him.

You barely registered the warm scent of pine and old floors. Your limbs hung heavy with exhaustion, head pressing weakly to his chest as your body sagged deeper into him with every step.

Inside, the pack was already stirring. K, still shirtless and wiping dirt off his arms, froze mid-step in the hallway.

“Is that–?”

“Y/N,” Nicolas said, low and quiet. “Fire. Now.”

They moved fast. Someone cracked the hearth open, others dragged pillows and blankets in from the corner. 

Nicolas knelt in front of the flames and set you down gently on the thickest fur blanket in the room. A heavier one was wrapped around your shoulders a moment later. You blinked slowly, the light from the fire licking at your skin.

Your body suddenly felt like it was on fire. The heat was just too much. 

You shivered.

Your skin was too hot, but your bones felt like ice.

A white wolf padded silently across the floor, ears swiveling toward your breath, and curled around your back, making the heat even worse.

You exhaled a broken breath and leaned into him, pressing your face into the fur on his shoulder. The heat of him seeped into your spine, into your ribs.

When Nicolas returned, shirt clinging to his chest, hair damp from a very quick shower, you felt like you were burning from the inside out, your skin flushed with too much heat.

You coughed once.

Then again.

His face changed the second he saw you.

Kneeling beside you, his hand brushed your forehead, then hovered over your cheek, hesitant and gentle.

“You’re burning,” he murmured, panic bleeding into his voice. “God, you’re actually–how long were you out there? How many jumps did you make?”

“I dont know,” you finally managed after clearing your throat multiple times.

He pressed the back of his hand to your jaw, and his breath caught. “Your magic’s flaring.”

The threads of shadow were indeed still twitching around you.

“I’m fine,” you whispered.

He didn’t look convinced.

“You’re not. You’re–shit, Y/N, you’re shaking.”

You blinked slowly. Your lips moved, but the words didn’t make it out.

He swore under his breath and looked at Taki. “Keep her still. If her temperature climbs, you call me.”

Taki made something akin to an agreeing rumble.

Nicolas touched your cheek again, just briefly. “I’ll be back in a second.”

You just nodded. 

You woke up because you couldn’t breathe. Your lungs were not able to expand properly. 

Heat pulsed beneath your skin, clawing up your spine and twisting in your stomach.

You were sweating. Your heart pounded like it couldn’t remember its rhythm.

The first thing you saw was the ceiling. Wood grain. Shadows flickering from the fire.

A voice pierced through the soft drowning of your ears. 

“Fuck you. She’s not stabilizing. What do you want me to do?” Nicolas snapped.

You recognized Fuma’s voice. “We have to get a witch. They surely can help with whatever is going on.”

“We don’t need the Choi coven sniffing around out here.”, EJ said. He was much closer than the other two.

“She’s burning alive, EJ.” Fuma protested.

You turned your head weakly.

Nicolas was standing by the doorway, his jaw clenched, arms crossed tightly. Across from him was Fuma, looking equally as pissed as Nicholas.

“She’s not dying of a fever,” Jo said, voice flat. “She’s unraveling. Her magic is coming apart because she can’t anchor it while being sick.”

“They don’t even properly know what she is,” Nicolas bit back. “How are they supposed to heal her?”

“She’s dangerous like this. She doesn’t have her magic in control.” Fuma intervened

“She’s scared.”

Taki was curled beside you again, still in wolf form, but his head snapped up the second you shifted.

Nicolas crossed the room in three quick strides. “Hey. Hey Y/N. How are you doing?”

You blinked slowly, vision swimming. “Hurts,” you whispered.

He crouched beside you, brushing damp hair off your forehead. “I know. I know. Your body’s not regulating your magic.”

“I didn’t mean to run here,” you choked.

“It’s okay,” he said, gently. “You did what you had to.”

Behind him, Fuma’s voice cut in. “She can’t stay like this.”

“Then help me help her,” Nicolas snapped across the room, while softly wiping the sweat from your forehead with a wet towel. The cold was not bringing you any kind of relief. 

“You don’t know what happens if she loses against the magic.”

“I’ll handle it.”, Nicolas said, his voice uncharacteristically harsh.

You heard someone breathe out forcefully and a door slam shut. 

Nicolas looked back down at you, his jaw tight. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You wanted to believe him. But the magic crackled through your limbs like it had a mind of its own, and you felt so, so tired. 

You blinked up at Nicolas, his face was pinched with worry. Then his whole body stiffened. His head snapped toward the door.

A low, guttural growl unfurled from his chest.

You tried to lift your head to see what he was growling at, but it felt like your bones had melted.

The door creaked open.

Fuma stepped back into the room, followed closely by someone else.

The second witch from the vault.

He stopped a few feet from the edge of your mattress, eyes scanning the room before landing on you.

“…You meant her?” he asked, voice quiet but cutting. “This is the girl with the unstable core?”

You flinched. He saw it. So did Nicolas.

He was already in motion, putting himself between you and the witch with his shoulders squared and his jaw tight.

EJ crossed the room in three strides, posture radiating tension. “You weren’t supposed to bring him here.”

“She’s unraveling,” Fuma said. “Soobin is the only one who’ll know what to do.”

“She doesn’t want him near her.” Nicolas’s voice was low, dangerous. “Look at her.”

Soobin stepped closer, slow and deliberate. His eyes flicked down to you, sharp and unreadable.

“Don’t,” you whispered, throat raw. Your hands twitched at your sides, but you couldn’t move.

“Relax,” he murmured, and you wanted to scream because you couldn’t.

You tried to shift again. Tried to crawl back. Tried anything.

But your body was ice and fire and nothing in between.

Soobin crouched and reached for your forehead.

You whimpered.

He touched you anyway. His fingers were cold.

You shuddered beneath him.

Then Soobin hissed through his teeth and yanked his hand back like it burned him.

“Shit,” he muttered.

Nicolas grabbed his shoulder. “What did you feel?”

“She’s–she’s already slipping past the veil line,” Soobin said, standing quickly. “Her magic is too fractured. It’s feeding on itself.”

“Then help her,” Nicholas demanded.

“I can’t. Not here.” Soobin’s eyes locked onto you again. “She needs to be with the other half of the tether.”

“What tether?” Fuma snapped.

“You all know what she is.” Soobin’s voice was suddenly very quiet. “You have to. She’s a Virethar host. And that means–”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Nicolas cut in, voice sharp with fury.

Soobin didn’t tear his gaze away from your face, scanning it over and over again. “She has to. The Virtehar chose a Shadow Shifter. If her bond doesn’t settle soon, her body is going to burn itself out trying to carry the magic alone. She’s clearly the weaker side of the bond. When I left the mansion, Niki was fine.”

The room went dead silent.

You wanted to scream.

To say you didn’t want to go. 

But your mouth wouldn’t work.

Your vision blurred, black static lining the edges.

And all at once, the shadows in the room surged, rising in smoke like tendrils. They curled along the floor, pulsing to a slow beat.

One.

Two.

Three.

Like a second heartbeat.

Fuma swore and backed away from the walls. EJ stared at you. Taki whined from beside the sofa, pressing his warm body against your side.

“I think,” Nicolas said, voice shaking. “I think you’re right. She’s not stable.”

“No,” you croaked.

Soobin turned to you, surprised. “You can still talk?”

You blinked once. Asshole.

“Don’t–don’t want to go,” you whispered. “Not again. It hurts.”

His face shifted slightly.

“I know,” he said softly. “But if we wait, it won’t just hurt. It’ll kill you.”

You wanted to fight him.

Wanted to push back, crawl away, scream.

But the shadows surged again, your magic lashing out at the room.

Nicolas didn’t speak as he picked you up, one arm under your knees, the other bracing your back after the shadows have calmed down.

You stirred slightly in his hold, brow furrowing.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, almost too soft to hear.

You didn’t respond, accepting that you had no other way of surviving than going back to the vampires and that creepy vault.

The cold air hit you like a wave of mercy when Nicholas stepped outside. It licked at your fevered skin, swept along your sweat-soaked spine and face.  But the light. The light was wrong. It felt too bright, too sharp, bleeding through your closed eyelids.  You groaned. “I know,” Nicolas said, his voice low, barely audible over the crunch of boots and paws in snow. “I know. Just a little longer, okay?” You couldn’t tell how many people were walking with you. You heard Jo say something and thought Fuma responded, but you couldn’t make out the words. The sun bled through the branches above. Pale gold. Too loud. Why was the light so loud? Your head lolled back slightly. Nicolas adjusted his grip immediately, hand sliding beneath your shoulders to keep you steady. You caught the edge of his voice, like it was being filtered through water. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” You weren’t sure who he was saying it to. You didn’t feel okay. You blinked slowly, your eyes focusing on his jaw, the furrow between his brows. He looked worried. You wanted to tell him not to be. But the magic surged in your blood again, and you bit back a cry. The shadows curled tighter around your spine. It wasn’t the soft, steady pulse you were used to. It felt like a pull, like it tried to pull energy from around you to feed it to your magical core.  It started in your fingertips. Then your ribs. Then the back of your throat. And then the trees. You couldn’t see them clearly, but you felt them. The ancient, massive Gray pines that were drenched in the wild magic. And something in you reached for it.  The ground trembled faintly, and the pine your shadow reached for made a very sickening cracking sound. “Stop,” Jo snapped. “Do you feel that? The pines– “They’re dying,” Fuma breathed. “She’s draining the land.” “No, no, no–” Nicolas looked down at you, his face stricken in panic. “Y/N–” “I’m trying–” you whispered, choking. “I’m trying–” A wave of pure magic surged through your body. The snow nearby melted into brittle ash. Bark continued to crack as the shadows moved on to a new tree, it’s leaves curling and turning grey. You clenched your fists, your whole body screaming in protest. You didn’t want to feed of the forests magic. You didn’t want to hurt the forest. Or the wolves. Or the earth. Everything tilted. And for one long second, the world went black. You weren’t unconscious, but everything just went dark. The trees, the snow, the sky. Everything You heard someone scream. Then it snapped back. The light felt harsher than before and you squinted your eyes closed, burying them in Nichoas chest. The forest was dead quiet and the only thing you heard was the groups raged breathing.  “She’s going to rip open a leyline if we don’t get her to the source now,” Soobin said, breathless. “What’s the source?” someone yelled. “Her bond. Her tether. Her shifter.” You felt Nicolas' pulse jump under your cheek. “Y/N, hold tight,” he said and started running. The closer you got to what you presumed was the vault the more frantic the shadows seemed to get, almost leading the way.  Nicolas stumbled, nearly tripping as your body spasmed in his arms when they stoped for a second to steal magic from something again. You didn’t even want to start to imagine what kind of damage you did to the forest. The Virtehar was still quiet.  You hated it. You hated being alone in your body. “I don’t wanna go,” you breathed, barely a whisper. “Please–don’t take me back–” Nicolas’s voice cracked around the edge when he answered. “I wouldn’t. Not if it was my choice.” You shut your eyes and curled your fingers into Nicolas’s jacket.

You were chained down. Again. But this time the chains actually burned. No, not only the chains burned. Everything burned. Your wrists felt flayed where the cuffs dug in. Your chest was splitting apart, as if every breath was both too much and not enough. You felt your magic rushing through your bloodstream, trying to find a way out. Trying to tear through you to get there. It wanted out. Now. You tried to give it space, to let it flow out of your system like you did hundreds of time before. But whatever contained you to the floor was not letting you use any magic. The bindings drank your magic like a sponge, and every second that passed, the world blurred at the edges. The floor you were laying on was rough against your back and the air tasted stale. You peeled your eyes open and realized you were in what looked like a cave.  They brought you into one of the caves the witches used to hold the veiled.  There were only a few places like this in the sacred grounds. Hidden deep in the bones of the mountains, carved out long before any human nation existed. Places not meant for witches. Or wolves. Or vampires. Or well…humans. And now you were here. Contained. Like a monster. Your eyes flicked toward the runes glowing faintly at your wrists, the chains humming with suppressed magic. The air was thick with it, old magic. Your breathing picked up again.

Nicholas allowed them to bring you here. Nicholas brought you here. Nicho.

Nicho thought you were dangerous. 

You were. You knew that. You’d seen what you’d done. You could still feel the weight of Sunghoon’s magic clinging to your ribs like smoke. The pulse of the trees as you bled them dry. The way the shadows had leapt from your skin.

But they never touched Nicho. Never. You would never. He knew that. Didn’t he?

You were breathing too fast. Or maybe not at all.

Your vision swam and the stone walls of the cave twisted and bent in strange directions, the glowing runes flashing in nauseating rhythm. You tried to close your eyes,  but behind your lids was just light.

White.

Gold.

Burning.

Panic curled up in your throat. You gasped against the weight of it.

You barely registered the sound of boots echoing down the tunnel. 

“Is she awake?”, you barely registered the voice echoing down the tunnel.

“Barely,” a familiar voice replied quietly. K. He sounded strained. Tired. “She’s burning through the seal faster than Soobin predicted.”

“She needs to stabilize her magic. Quickly.” Another voice.

“She needs to breathe,” K snapped. “Look at her.”

You couldn’t focus enough to lift your head, or do anything particular aside from trying not to panic, but your heart rate spiked up the more consciousness you gained. 

Why was it hurting so much?

Where was the creature. 

Why were you feeling so much? 

“I think she’s having a panic attack,” K said, more quietly. 

There was a rustle of cloth, and then K crouched down beside you. He didn’t touch you. But his voice was closer, softer than the others. “Hey. Hey, Y/Nie. Can you hear me?”

You choked on a sound that clawed its way up. Your throat burned but your eyes cleared a bit and you were able to make out K’s worried face and Yeonjuns looming creature behind him. 

“She’s trying to let it out,” Yeonjun said, his face pulled into a frown. He looked almost scared.

“She should let it out,” K said. “It’s eating her alive.”

“How can we be sure that she won’t kill anyone if she lets it out,” Sunghoon appeared next to Yeonjun, crossing his arms infront of his chest. You flinched back, further away from him.  

K almost growled. „I‘ve seen her use whatever magic is in her and she never hurt any of us.“

You didn’t hear whatever Sunghoon answered over the sound of your own heartbeat that suddenly increased tenfold. Your magic - or the Virtehars magic?- roared in your veins, too much for your body to handle. Your human body wasn’t made to keep in the dark magic, only to redirect it. You’ve siphoned so much from the vampires, from the woods and from the runes in the last hours, and it had to leave your system.

Soon. 

The magic trembled.

You tried to lean into it, to let it flow out of your limbs in those creepy shadow tendrils you learned to perfect over the years. 

It wanted out. 

You wanted it out. 

Just anything to stop the pain.

But whatever magic they used in the seals wouldn’t let you. You couldn’t move, no matter how much you tried. 

The chains burned.

Your chest hurt.

A quiet sob ripped its way out of your mouth and all three supernaturals sets of eyes focused back on you. 

K’s breath hitched and he was about to touch you but stopped, when he relized he shouldn’t touch whatever magic was swirling around you right now. “We need to do something.” “We can’t break the circle,” Yeonjun said. “Not until she stabilizes. She might die if we try.” “Good,” Sunghoon said darkly. “Let her.” K turned his head sharply. “Die?” “She’s already dying,” the vampire shurgged, “her heart seems to be giving out any minute now.” Your head rolled to the side, hair plastered to your sweat-slick face, to look at him. Stupid prick. Who did he think you were? You weren’t about to just die on a random cold ass cave floor, no matter how storng their magic was. You survived having cancer, this was noting compared to chemotherapy. Where was that stupid Virtehar? Why was it so quiet. In the 6 years of it being bonded to you it never pulled back so much.  “We’re going to lose her,” K said, and this time his voice cracked. “And if we do—if the Virtehar has to search for another host, we might not survive what comes next." Your eyes shot to K’s face. He looked so worried and quite frankly a bit panicked. None of the other two answered him and for a few long seconds the only sound in the cave was your harsh brearting.  “I’ll call Soobin,” Yeonjun finally said. “Tell him the wards are failing. Maybe he found something we can do to save her.”

You didn’t know how long it had been since the voices faded. But you felt a familiar pressure in the back of your head and almost cried out in relief.  It was back.  And within seconds you felt your panic ebb away, replaced by the unnatural calmness that came with being a host to a Virtehar.  The moment it took over the chains burned brighter, as if they realized that the true creature they were meant to hold down finally emerged. The runes flared up once, but the soft glow didn’t stop.  Darkness snapped around your body like a second skin, the wall of the caves bleeding shadows that had no source.  You weren’t even sure your body was still breathing anymore.  The firelight, that illuminated the cave in that strange bright light was swallowed first, snuffed out like a breath extinguishing a candle.  Then the glow of the runes. The chains cracked. Not broke. Cracked. Like old bone under too much pressure. And then they shattered. Magic exploded in every direction as the runes ripped apart, unraveling beneath you like threads. It moved your arms and legs, shaking off the pisces of the chains and stood up. You felt the cold stone floor under your naked feet and how your legs shook in exhaustion, but it didn’t stop. It shook your head as if trying to shake off the dizziness, making everything worse and huffing out a breath, steading itself against one of the walls.  You felt your lungs expand as it took a deep breath and when it exhaled the stone walls trembled. Dust sifted from the ceiling like falling ash onto the floor. Your head shot up when frantic and rushed footsteps echoed down the tunnel that led towards you. You could hear them before the light returned. A sliver of firelight tore into the room as the heavy wooden door slammed open. Sunghoon.

Oh. You shouldn’t have heard his foot steps. Maybe you felt them instead of heard them? He stared at you, blade drawn, glowing faintly with defensive sigils.  Yeonjun and K came stumbling in behind him. But neither of them made it far. The creature moved your hand, stretching it out towards the three men and before you could scream at it to stop it, all the magic that was brodeling within your veines moved towards them. The tendrils made a grabbing like motion for them and before they could react they were evloped in darkness and lifted of the floor. Within mili-seconds their faces went from angry, frightened and worried to what you would consider as neutral or almost calm. The shadow around Sunghoon pulsated with more vigor than the ones around the other two men.  The virethar took another deep breath and lowered you hand, shaking it. You, or the thing inside you, turned toward the men again. It opened your mouth: „Shadow-shifter.“  It‘s voice resembled a growl more than any humanoid sounds you could have made but it seemingly made it‘s point.  Yeonjun’s throat bobbed. He tried to move his mouth again, tried to speak through whatever was holding him locked in place. The creature tilted your head to the side with agonizing slowness toward Yeonjun. Just barely. A croak freed itself from the witches mouth. „Niki.“ The Virtehar nodded your head, seemingly satisfied that Yeonjun understood. „Here,“ it growled again. „I-I-We we can get him here.“, Yeonjun stammered, sounding out of breath.  The creature nodded your head again and reeled the shadows back in. Sunghoon made a sound, baring his teeth the second the shadows pulled back slightly and the Virethar moved your head so fast your body got whiplash. The shadows around the Vampre tightened again and there was a flash of panic in his eyes.  His eyes then suddenly darted towards the door and you only then realized the new set of hurried footsteps that were coming in the cave behind the three men. The creature didn’t even react, keeping your eyes locked onto Sunghoons body.  “Nicholas, don’t-!” Yeonjun managed, voice strained.

Nicolas burst into the chamber, eyes wild, hair wind-whipped and damp with sweat. Behind him, EJ followed, looking similarly disheveled.  Nicholas didn’t listen to Yeonjun and walked past his Alpha and the two other men, coming towards you. The shadows seemed to completely ignore him. He didn’t even stop when your head turned in a way that wasn’t quite human. He came to a halt when he was staning directly infront of you, tentatively trying to reach out. When the creature didn’t seem to disapprove, Nicholas carefully cradled your face into his hands. They were so warm. “Y/N.”, he said with a calm voice, his fingers shaking slightly against your cold cheeks.  The shadows stopped moving, froze halfway up his leg. “Y/N,” Nicolas said again, softer this time. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” The creature took in a deep breath and you swear it rolled your eyes in annoyance. It never really liked that you were this close to a werewolf. To anyone really.  “Come on girl. Fight you way outta there,” Nicolas said again, eyes locked on yours, on whatever was behind them. “Let her come back.” For a second, everything was too still. Then the shadows sighed and pulled back. The Virtehar pulled back into its corner of your mind and you almost cried out in protest. As long as it was in control you could’t feel pain. Or well, not directly.  But now it came back with full force.  The places where the chakels touched your skin was burning. Your magic felt scraped out of your bones, and your head was pounding so hard your vision blurred. You were shivering and sweating. Burning up and freezing from the inside out.

Your legs gave out and you stumbled into Nicholas. You collapsed against his chest, your fists curling into his hoodie, breath coming in shallow, shuddering gasps. “Nicho–I didn’t– I’m not–” “I know.” His voice was softer than breath against your temple, while he guided you to sit on the cold floor again. You almost got dejavu. “I know, Y/N. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” EJ moved to kneel beside you, his voice pitched low. “You have to let go of the magic. You’re still holding them.” You blinked and relized that the room was still engulfed in the unnatural darkness your shados brought with it. Sunghoons figure was almost completely engulfed in darkness, while K and Yeonjun were suspended by just a few tendrils of darkness. A few of them were even wrapping around EJ and Nicholas. You drew in one more shaking breath. And finally let go. It felt like the pend up pressure in your body snapped and the light returned to the room with a blinding force.  And in that moment, all you could do was bury your face in the curve of Nicolas’s shoulder. The silence barely lasted five seconds before it shattered. “You saw what she did,” Sunghoon spat, his voice sharp enough to cut. He shoved himself upright, fury seething just under his skin. His eyes glowed faintly, still bloodshot from the Virtehar’s hold. “Don’t tell me you’re still pretending this thing is human.” You flinched. “Stop it,” Nicolas growled, arms tightening around you protectively. “She’s not a thing.” “She’s a shadow feeder,” Sunghoon snarled. “Whatever she did just now. It touched my magical core!” You didn’t touch his magical core. The Virtehar did. And it gave back. It gave Sunghoon all the magic you took earlier back, balancing out your magical core in the process. 

You tried to take a deep breath in but your lungs rattled and insead of defenfding yourself the only thing your body was able to do was to cough, heavy deep coughs that shook your whole frame. Nicholas cursed and tried to steady your shaking form while EJ removed his jacket and draped it over her figure. “She touched my core as well,” K retorted, “but she didn’t drain me and neither did she drain you.” “It-I’m-It gave back.”, you forced out, “whatever-” a cough interrupted you, ” it took in the vault back.” Sunghoon’s mouth twitched, his jaw clenching. “It shouldn’t have taken any magic in the first place.” He took a step forward. In an instant, the Virtehar surged just beneath your skin, and your head lifted sharply toward him. You felt the whites of your eyes vanish into black. Nicholas’s grip shifted fast, one arm curling fully around your back, the other bracing your head. “Stop,” he barked at Sunghoon, low and dangerous. “Back off.” “Or what?” Sunghoon’s voice was quieter now, but it had lost none of its threat. “You think you can shield her from that thing?” Nicholas didn’t answer. Instead, his hold on you grew firmer. The Virtehar shifted inside you again, unsettled by the tension and ready to reach out incase someones emotions took over. Your body twitched, and your hand spasmed with the pull of shadow. Sunghoon’s fangs dropped. Nicholas bared his own teeth in return. “You don’t touch her,” Nicolas said, voice vibrating with fury. “Not unless you want to deal with me next.”

K held a hand out between them, his voice urgent. “Both of you, stop. It won’t help anyone if you kill each other.”

Both of them kept staring at each other, seemingly listening to K but not really content with not killing each other. You tried to breathe through the ache.  You needed it to stop. You needed something to stop. Your eyes snapped to the black smear of shadows still wrapped around Sunghoon’s boots. There. You didn’t even think. You just reached for it. But nothing happened. No pull. No shift.  You tried again, harder this time, mentally grasping for the threads of his magic, even just a flicker. Something you’d always been able to do. Still nothing. You blinked. Why wasn’t it working? You tried to focus, forcing your magic forward, but the shadows at Sunghoon’s feet didn’t move.  “Why can’t I—?”, you whispered to yourself. Nicolas turned to you quickly. “Y/N?”

You clutched your hands to your chest. “The shadows– the magic– It’s not answering to me?” “You’re just exhausted,” EJ said from nearby, crouching again. “You gave too much. You need to let it settle.” “No.” Your head shook violently.  You locked your gaze on Sunghoon, who hadn’t moved.  You tried one last time. Your vision blurred from the effort but nothing came.

You slumped forward before you realized it, chest heaving. “It won’t come back.” “Y/N,” Nicolas said, gently steadying you again. “It’s okay. You’re not–” “No, it’s not,” you whispered. “If I can’t control it…why doesn’t it listen?” “Shadow Shifter,” the creatures voice reverberated through your head and you flinched at the sudden sound.  “It wants Niki”, your voice sounded more stable than you felt.  Sunghoon laughed. A sound with no joy, only disgust. “You’re a fool if you think we would allow you near him after what you did in the vault.” “I didn’t… mean to,” you breathed. “Please. I just…need…” Honestly you didn’t realy know what you need but considering the Virtehar asked for Niki, repeatedly at  this point, you guessed his magic could help even out the mess that was your magical core right now “No.” Sunghoon stepped closer. “You don’t get out of this cave. You don’t get near him. You don’t get to lie your way out again.” Your whole body shrank against Nicolas as the cave’s shadows stirred faintly, responding to your rising panic. You weren’t supposed to feel panic, what was the Virtehar doing? “She’s not lying,” Nicolas said, low and dangerous now. “And if you come closer, I’ll ignore K’s command.” K stepped between them before anyone could move. “Enough,” he turned towards Yeonjun, who was watching you intently, “do you have any idea on what to do? Where is Soobin?”  Yeonjun tentatively took a step closer and when he relized that no one saw him as a threat he crossed the room in three quick strides to kneel down next to you and Nicholas.  “I am not sure,” he said quietly, “Y/N. Can I touch you? I promise it won’t hurt, but i want to see what your magical core is doing, I can feel your magic freaking out…or the Virtehars magic.” You shawlloed but nodded weakly, bracing yourself incase it did hurt, but Yeonjuns hand only felt warm against your temple. You almost signed when his magic touched yours.  After a few seconds he pulled his hand back. “I think we should try bringing Niki here.”  Sunghoon turned to him. “You can’t be serious.” “She’s unstable,” Yeonjun said flatly. “Not dangerously, but if whatever is in her asks for Niki, repeatedly, we might just try and get him here. I have no clue how to contain her and rather that her and the thing kill us while trying to get to Niki, why don’t we try bringing her to him?”  “And then what?”, Sunghoon growled and Nichoas head shot into his direction. “Then we do whatever we need to figure out what to do with this mess.”  You shuddered involuntary.  “Can we go somewhere warm?”, EJ asked while he wrapped his jacked closer around your body.  “What would you recommend?”, Yeonjun asked, “We can’t go to your house, you would never let a vampire in, I don’t want to bring her close to other humans so our flat and wherever she lives is definitely not an option.” Sunghoon’s mouth tightened. His eyes burned as they met yours and then wandered to Yeonjun. „You want us to take that thing in?“  „Considering that all we know this ‚thing‘ is bound to one of you anyway. I don’t know much about whatever is going on but I know if two magical creatures bond in any way they should be close. And I don’t think Niki would appreciate being in this cave for a longer time than necessary.“, Yeonjun shrugged and stood up again, his tall frame towering over Nicholas and you. Before Sunghoon could answer K interrupted him: “We have a warded hut in the woods, a old lookout of the pack. We can bring her there and all of us can stay in there to keep an eye on her and Niki. I don’t want Y/N alone with vampires.” Yeonjun nodded and looked at you. “Can you stand?” You shook your head. Your legs were shaking from exhaustion.  “It’s fine, I’ll carry her,” Nicholas shifted you in his arms and stood up, careful not to jostle you too much. 

“I’ll get Niki then,” Sunghoon grumbled, turned around and before anyone could stop him, he was gone, disappearing in a blur of speed. “Great,” you mumbled and rested your head on Nicholas shoulder.  “We can take my car,” Yeonjun a few seconds after, breaking the silence. “I didn’t feel like walking through the woods while it was snowing like this.” “I’ll tell the rest of the pack whats going on.”, K walked over to you and Nicholas, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, “you scared he shit out of us Y/N. I had to comand Taki to go home, he wouldn’t leave your side.”  “Mhm,” you said, closing your eyes, “I am his favourite, what can I say.” EJ snorted behind K and you felt the rumble of a laughter coming from Nichos chest.  You’d always imagined the tunnels ran deep beneath the mountain but after only a few unsteady steps and what couldn’t have been more than five minutes, you were spilling out into blinding white. Snow fell in thick, wind-whipped sheets, tumbling sideways through the air. The clouds above were heavy, a deep iron-gray that swallowed the horizon.  The cold cut through you instantly. Your skin prickled as the wind bit down to the bone, and within seconds, your teeth were clattering against each other, your whole body wracked with violent shivers. “We’re amost there Y/N,” Nicho pressed you closer to his warm body. Due to his lycantrophy his body was warm no matter how cold or warm it was outside. You shamelessly used that fact during the winters, using him as your personal hand warmer.  You just nodded and buried your face into his chest, taking in the familiar smell of his perfume.  K changed into his wolf form and darted away while Yeonjun, EJ, Nicho and you  continued your way down towards a stretch of dirt which was used as a road.  Yeonjun opened the door to the backseat.  Nicholas set you down in the car, crawling in behind you and pressed his chest against your back. EJ opened the door on the opposite side and sat down so you were sandwiched between two unnaturally hot people.  The witch started the engine and started the drive along the uneven path deeper into the woods, following EJs directions.  “Nicho,” you said closing your eyes and curling into him. “Mhm?”, he hummed and brushed through your hair, the tips of his fingers softly grazing your scalp. “I haven’t started on my essay for pathology yet,” you huffed out against his collarbones. He snorted and shook his head, his hand momentarily stopping his ministrations. “That’s what you’re worried about right now? Not the fact you almost died multiple times this night?” You nodded weakly against his chest. “I don’t want to fail. I’d rather die than fail.”  “You won’t die,” he said and pressed you closer to his chest. “We’ll figure out what is wrong and you won’t die. You promised me we’d go to the States in the summer, you can’t die before that.” His hand shook lightly when he resumed brushing knots from your hair. 

The hut, as K called out turned out to be a small house on the edge of the packs territory. The woods around you were a swirl of gray and white, trees stripped bare, snow piling thick on the low roof. Smoke curled gently from the chimney. Yeonjun parked behind a set of paw prints that led straight to the front door. Nicholas opened the front door and didn’t even stop to peel his dirty shoes of him before carrying you to the living room. The room was small but warm. Taki, Jo, and Maki sat on the floor near the hearth, tense and quiet, their heads snapping toward you the moment you entered. Taki was on his feet before Nicolas even reached the couch. “Y/N,” he breathed, already moving toward you, but K caught his arm. “Give her space.” Nicholas crouched and gently set you down on the sofa, adjusting a worn blanket over your body as your limbs gave a violent shiver. The warmth from the fire helped, but not enough. Your skin still burned and froze in waves, your magic flickering like a broken fuse. Your fingers curled into the fabric of the blanket, and you fought to keep it all inside. God was this annoying. You usually weren’t the princess that had to be saved but rather the princess that saved. EJ stepped in and closed the door behind him and Yeonjun, locking it. “How are you?” Jo asked softly. “She’s crashing,” Yeonjun said without turning. “Hard.” “Lies,” you rasped out. “I am feeling peachy, Jo. You are just a teeny tiny bit blurry. And i’m cold. But aside that i am feeling peachy.” Nicholas softly hit your head. “Shut up Y/N. You’re pale like a sheet of paper and shivering. Peachy is something different.” You gave him a weak smile. But before you could answer a loud knock interrupted you. Nicolas immediately tensed, Taki froze and Maki sat up straighter. K moved to the door, and opened it slowly. Sunghoon, Niki and two other vampires were standing in the doorway. All of them were snow-dusted, their expressions taut and unreadable. Niki was at the front, eyes already locked on you before he even stepped over the threshold.

“You gonna invite us in?” one of the vampires asked lightly, but his voice was tight. K stared at them for a second then glanced back at you, at your shaking form, the sweat on your brow despite the cold, your eyes that were slipping in and out of focus. Then he let out a low, exhausted sigh. “Fuck it. Whatever helps.” He stepped back. “Come in.” The moment Niki crossed the threshold, your breath caught. The creature stirred and you felt it pressing on the imaginary wall in your subconsciousness that separated the two of you. Heat rippled through your chest, chased instantly by a wave of nausea and cold. Your magic, or its magic, reached forward without permission, twitching toward Niki like a magnet. You curled your fingers into the blanket, jaw clenched. The creature presseed against your mind from the inside. “Give magic.” The vampires made their way into the living room. “Protect.” Your breath snaged in your throat. Because this time... you weren’t the only one who heard it. Niki stumbled mid-step. “What the fuck was that.” You didn’t answer. You couln’t answer. Because the Virthear was pushing again. Your body archeed in his Nicholas’s arms without meaning to, fingers curling against his shoulder as your magic pulsed outward. “Touch.” Niki snarled. “Get out of my head.” He crosseed the room and gripped your wrist rather harshly. Your voice was barely a whisper. “It’s not me. It’s him.” “I know it’s him,” he snaped, eyes wide with something closer to fear than anger. “I can feel him.” The creature stired again, its voice curling like smoke behind your teeth. “Anchor.” Your chest rose unevenly, and Niki breathed out a curse under his breath. You felt the magic latching on again, but not like before, not draining. Not consuming. Linking.

Threading his energy into yours like patchwork. “I didn’t mean to,” you rasped. “I didn’t think you did,” Niki muttered trying to ease his grip from your wrist but a tendril of shadow stopped him from doing so.  “Bond. Stay close. Safe. Feed.” Nikis jaw clenched. His eyes flickered toward Nicholas, who was staring at the vampire with something akin to disgust and then back to you. “You need to shut that thing up,” he hissed, “before I do something really fucking stupid infront of your little guard dogs.” You wanted to say sorry but got interrupted by the creature when Sunghoon came closer to the sofa. “Danger.“, it said using your mouth and turned your head towards Niki, reaching to grab his arm with your free hand. Niki’s eyes widened. “Wait–” But it was too late. Within seconds the shadows were moving towards Nikis body, engulfing his body in darkness and you didn’t even have time to relaize what it was doing. Niki and you moved through the darkness. You hit the frozen earth. Snow crunched beneath your knees, your bare palms scraping against ice. Trees surrounded you in every direction. “What the hell was that?!” Niki’s voice cracked through the clearing. He stumbled backward, brushing melting snow off his coat, shadows still flickering faintly at his boots like static that hadn’t discharged. “Why would you touch me!” His voice cut through the trees, harsh and loud. You winced and doubled over slightly, trying to press your hands to your chest, as if that might hold everything inside. Your magic was leaking, shadows dripping off your fingertips like smoke, curling around your knees. Niki backed away another step, hand twitching toward the dagger at his hip. “I don’t know what it wants!” you cried. “I didn’t mean to take you with me! I didn’t even want to shadow travel!” “You grabbed me!” he shouted. “It used you! You don’t even know what it’s doing anymore!” Your knees buckled before you could answer him, and the shadows thrashed outward in every direction, slamming into nearby trees, cracking bark, turning snow into a swirl of black mist. Birds shrieked and burst from the canopy above.

Niki stared at you, chest rising and falling, the panic now plain on his face. Your knees sank into the snow, legs crumpling beneath you as the last of the shadow pulse recoiled. The woods were deathly quiet. Niki stood a few paces away, chest rising and falling too fast, mist curling from his mouth in uneven bursts. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but the Virtehar was faster. “Closer.” Niki flinched. “No,” he snapped. “Stay the fuck out of my head.” You reached toward him. Or rather it did. Your hand lifted without permission, fingers twitching in the air, shadows curling faintly from your knuckles like smoke grasping for something. Niki staggered back a step. “Don’t–don’t do that.” But your body moved anyway. It stood up. Your legs were trembling, your breath shallow, and it took a step toward him. “Tether.” The Virtehar’s voice was gentler now. Almost reverent. “Balance.” “I’m not your fucking anchor,” Niki said, voice cracking on the last word. Your hand reached his shoulder, and for a split second, your magic stilled. His core, raw and brigh, brushed yours. And something inside you sighed. It was like exhaling after hours underwater. But Niki didn’t look soothed at all. His expression twisted. And then he shoved his hands under your knees and behind your back, lifting you into his arms in one quick, rough motion. “Fuck this,” he muttered. “I’m not standing in the middle of the woods waiting for you to explode again.” You blinked. “Where–” “The mansion,” he snapped. “I’m taking you back to our house, the way to that stupid hut is wareded, I wont be able to find it again.” The wind bit into your face as he moved in vampire speed. “You feel like a damn furnace,” he muttered under his breath when he slowed down infront of the gates of the mansion. “Why are you burning up if you’re half shadow?” “Hypothermia,” you muttered.  “Fuck. Wait, you’re dying because your body can’t hanlde being cold?”, he asked and shook his head. “I don’t know,” your head lolled against his shoulder. The gates creaked open. Jake, you thought his name was Jake, was the first one to see you. He froze mid-step, expression dropping like stone. “Niki?” Within seconds a second figure appeared in the doorway. “What the fuck–” he started, but stopped cold when he saw you lying limp in Niki’s arms, magic pulsing out of your skin in threads. “What did she do,” he said, not to you but to Niki. “She’s burning up,” Niki bit back. “She fucking shadow traveled us here.” “She’s draining you,” the other one growled. “Look at you.”

“I know that,” Niki snarled. “You think I don’t feel it?” The shadows hissed louder under your skin. Your head lolled back as the world spun in slow circles around the white sky. “She’s bleeding magic,” Jay said, lower now, eyes narrowing. “I need to bring her inside,” Niki said, tone flat. “Now.” “Are you insane?” one of them spat. “You want to drag that thing back into the house?” “I don’t care.” Niki’s voice was hard now. “You don’t like it, tell the stupid thing inside her. It wouldn’t let me get further away than a few steps.” Jake just opened the door further and the three vampires stepped aside. Niki laid you down gently on a bed in a room colder than it should have been after he walked through the gigantic mansion the vampires lived in. The curtains were drawn, but the light bled through the heavy fabric. You blinked up at the carved ceiling beams. “Why are there so many rooms?” you mumbled. Niki paused, halfway to pulling the blanket over you. “That’s your only problem right now?” “No,” you whispered. “I’m cold. And I have a headache. And I’m warm. And– I think I’m dying. Again. It should’ve just let me die.” Your voice cracked halfway through. “Fever,” he said simply, after a beat. “You’ve got a high one.” You groaned and flopped sideways, rolling into the cold pillow. “Fucking great.” There was a long silence. You thought he had left the room, but then you heard the shift of fabric. You rolled halfway onto your back just in time to see Niki bite into his wrist. Your stomach twisted. “No.” “You need it,” he said calmly. “Don’t be dramatic.” “I don’t want your blood.” “Too bad.” He leaned forward, holding out his wrist, blood welling up. You recoiled. “No, seriously, I don’t–I don’t want to be addicted to that shit,” you hissed. “Oh my God,” he groaned. “You’re burning up, and you’ll pass out again if I don’t fix it. Your little guard dog will killme if anything happens. And then you’ll die and whatever that thing is will have to search for someone different and everyone else will die. So just drink it.” “I’ll pass out anyway. Let me just sleep through the fever,” you argued weakly.

“Exactly. Might as well make it less dramatic.” You shook your head again. And that’s when Niki’s voice dropped. “Y/N.” You blinked at him. “Look at me.” Your eyes lifted, reluctantly. His pupils were dilated. “You’re going to drink. It’ll make you feel better. You won’t get addicted. And then you’ll sleep.” The moment your gaze locked fully with his, your breathing slowed. And your thoughts felt… fogged. You knew what he was doing. You knew it. But your arms felt like lead and your thoughts were loose threads. You were so tired. When he moved his wrist toward your mouth again, you didn’t resist. You hated that the blood was warm. Hated that you started gulping it down almost immediately. Hated how your stomach immediately stopped churning, and how the cold in your bones ebbed away almost instantly. You pulled back before he could move. He stared at you for a second, watching. “See?” he murmured. “Not so bad.” “Fuck you,” you whispered hoarsely, settling back against the pillow. But your body sank deeper into the mattress. Your eyelids fluttered. “Mmhm,” he said, pulling the blanket over you. “Save the thank-you for when you don’t feel like roadkill.” You let out a weak huff, already half-asleep

You were asleep. At least… your body was. Your mind floated somewhere in between. Everything felt thick, your thoughts, your breath, the shadows coiled in the corners of the room. Your limbs were too heavy to move, but your ears still worked just fine. “She hasn’t stirred?” Soobin’s voice broke the silence in the room from somewhere near the foot of the bed. “No.” That was Niki. Closer. His voice had that strange tone again, like he didn’t know whether to be annoyed or unnerved. “She’s not really asleep, though. Her breathing keeps changing.” You wanted to tell them you could hear them. You wanted to tell them to be quiet. But your mouth wouldn’t cooperate. “Her fever went down,” a voice you didn’t recognize muttered, followed by the cool pressure of a hand on your forehead. You twitched, just barely, and he stilled. “I’ve read about things like this,” Soobin said. “But not this. Not exactly. I thought Virtehars were just myth. Stories witches told when anchors broke down in the middle of battle.” The voice scoffed. “So now we’ve got an anchor–what? Hosting an ancient parasite? Is that what you’re saying?” “No, Heeseung,” Soobin said calmly. “I’m saying I don’t know what the hell we’re dealing with.” Another silence.

“I’ll consult the ancestors,” Soobin added. “This magic—it’s not the same as ours. It predates covens and circles. I’m a bit lost on what to do, maybe they know what to do.”  Books. You flinched. Books. You had books. Journals. Notes. Nicholas had some. Where was Nicholas? Fuck you just dissapeared right out of his arms. He must be worried  sick. Your heartbeat kicked a little harder, and the shadows rippled under your skin. “She moved,” Niki said, and you felt him step closer. “Y/N?” You pried one eye open, throat dry. “Books,” you rasped, voice barely audible. The room went still. “Books?” Soobin echoed. His voice sharpened. “What do you mean books?” You opened your eyes halfway. It took more effort than it should have. “Books,” you murmured. “You know. Pages. Ink. Binding. The old-fashioned Google.” “You’re not funny,” Heeseung said. You weren’t trying to be. Okay…maybe you were. “Do you have books? Where are they?” Soobin asked, taking a step closer. “Do you still have them? Did someone else take them?” You stared up at him, jaw twitching. “I can’t tell you. There is information in there that is not meant for not anchors to know.” Niki shifted beside the bed. Soobin didn’t move. Heeseung exhaled, slow. “You do realize we can compel humans, right?” You closed your eyes again. “Unfortunately.” He paused for a second and then suddenly leaned over your frame, two fingers under your chin, tilting your face toward his. “Y/N,” he said softly. “Where are the books?” His magic softly threaded into your mind coaxing, soothing, digging.

Your breath hitched but before you could answer the creature pushed forewards. Heeseung’s hand jerked back, eyes going wide. “Shit–” he swore, stumbling back and dropping your head in the process. “Why do your eyes look like that again?” Heeseung demanded, trying to recover. His voice was sharp but rattled.

You blinked at him slowly and reached to your neck, which made a cracking sound when he dropped it. “Ouch,” you said flatly. Heeseung scowled. “Ouch?” “Yeah.” You licked your cracked lips. “You dropped my head. I probably have a iron deficit or something, my head hurts and that fast movement didn’t make it better.” “What happened? Why didn’t it work? It woked yesterday?,” Niki said, staring at you like he didn’t know what he was seeing. Yesterday? How long were you sleeping?  “They do that sometimes,” you muttered. “The eyes, I mean.” “Do what–go full demon?” Heeseung snapped. You shrugged, or tried to. It came out more like a shiver. Soobin was still watching you, his expression unreadable. “Fascinating” he murmured. “It just took over to protect her.” “Great,” Heeseung muttered. You rolled your eyes, or tried to. “Can I go back to sleep now? Or do you wanna try the Jedi mind tricks again?” Niki let out a short breath that might’ve been a laugh. Soobin didn’t. “I’ll come back in the morning,” Soobin said, tone clipped. “We need to know what’s in those books.” “I bet you do,” you mumbled.

You woke to the softest touch. Fingers brushing along your cheek, tentative but warm. For a second, you thought it was a dream. Maybe nothing happened last night, you went home after uni, studied went to bed and woke up again. No vampires, no grey pines, no pain. But you would have been alone. “Nicho?” you whispered, voice scratchy, unsure. “I’m here,” he said, softly, like he didn’t want to wake you further. His hand stayed on your face, thumb swiping gently along your cheekbone. You blinked blearily up at him. The room was dim now. “I brought him,” Soobin’s voice came from somewhere off to the side. “The anchestors think… maybe it’s the kind of magic you need to be surrounded with for your own to calm down enough to bond with Niki’s. Something familiar.” You ignored them and looked up at Nicholas instead. “Familiar magic?” you asked, still half-lost in your sleep haze. He gave a tired half-smile. “I don’t know. Apparently your magic latches onto other magic it has grown to like.” You blinked. Then dropped your head back into his palm. His thumb stilled, resting just beside your temple. “You okay?”

You weren’t sure. You were hot again. Tired. But the magic cursing through your veins didn’t feel as frantic anymore. You concentrated on it for a second and when you felt the familiar feeling of the magic within Nichoas veins it went haywire again. Just for a second. And then it calmed down again, as if nothing had happened at all. Your fingers twitched against the blanket and you pressed your face a little further into his hand, almost involuntarily. He laughed. Quietly. “That’s what did it?” he said, brow lifting. “That made it even out?” You nodded faintly, eyes fluttering closed again. “Mhm.” There was a beat of silence. Then a snort from across the room. “You’re all disgusting,” Sunghoon muttered, clearly trying not to look at either of you. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Sunghoon,” Nicholas said, not even bothering to look his way. Your lips twitched. Barely. “You’re in the vampire mansion,” you said blinking up into his face again. “Yeah,” he murmured, “You disappeared. You scared the shit out of me Y/N. When Jake called Heeseung we all came here as soon as we could. But you were out cold,” Nicholas shifted beside you, fingers brushing your wrist softly. “How long did was i sleeping?”, you asked sitting up slowly. “Almost 15 hours.”, Niki answered from the corner of the room. “You’re like scary as fuck yesterday. You broke out f the vault and the caves. Those places were built to hold things like you.” You blinked. “Things like me?” He shrugged. “You melted vampire and witch containment runes. That’s not normal and I don’t know what you are so yeah things like you.“ Then you hummed and tilted your head toward him, your voice dry. “Guess that makes you one of those things too now.” Before he could reply, you let your magic stretch, just a little. One long, shadowy tendril slid across the floor like mist and brushed against his ankle.

Niki jolted, eyes snapping down, but the shadow had already curled around his leg, up toward his hip in a lazy loop before coiling softly across his chest like a sleepy cat. He stared at you. “You are literally proving my point.” You grinned faintly, too tired to hold it for long. “You don’t seem to mind.” “I didn’t say that.” He reached up and tapped the shadow draped over his collarbone. “It’s just… weird. I think I should be scared but somehow i’m not.” “It does that. The Virtehar,” you murmured, gaze sliding shut again. “You’ll get used to it.” “That’s the most terrifying thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he muttered. Nicholas chuckled under his breath and you felt the weight of his palm settle lightly over your ribs. The Veirthear, seemed to purr. “Y/N, do you hink i can leave you alone for a second? I’ll get some clothes for you. I don’t think you should leave the mansion in the next few days. Soobin said you should stay close to Niki, so your magic can settle and I’ll come back to help if it wanst familiar magic.” “Sure. I think I’ll just go back to sleep anyway. But nice warm PJs would be great. The ones with the toast on them,” you nodded and nuzzled into his and one more time before shoving him off the bed. He just laughed lighty. “Okay okay, I’ll get going.” You watched him crawl out of the oversized bed and towards the doorway. He hesitated for a second. “I’ll be back soon. Just… try to sleep while I’m gone.” You gave him a nod and a weak smile, which he accepted as the best assurance you could give and walked out.

That left you and Niki. And the shadows still laced around his legs. For a second, neither of you said anything. You just stared at the tendrils as they pulsed faintly. His magic was brighter now, clearer somehow. You could feel it, your magic felt drawn to his. You inhaled slowly. Then, quietly, almost absently, your magic reached deeper. Niki flinched. “Niki,” you murmured, “I think i wanna try something.” And with that you cracked his core open. Niki screamed. A sharp, guttural sound ripped from his throat as he doubled over, hands clawing at his chest. His magic pulsed erratically, ribbons of pure, ancient energy threading into your body. Before you even realized what was happening, you slammed into the far wall. All of the air in your lungs was forced out as you crumbeled to the floor. Jay stood between you and Niki, breathing hard, his red eyes glowing, and fangs out. “Would you stop trying to kill Niki, if we have to keep you alive. I promise, if anything 

happens to him, I don’t care about you being a anchor, you will die,” he snarled. “She was stabilizing,” Niki gasped, barely upright, holding himself on the bed frame, pale as bone. “No,” Jay snapped. “She was killing you.” You tried to sit up, failed, and then everything went very, very still. The Veirthear surfaced. Not fully. Not visually. But its power rolled through the room like a pressure wave. Jay’s anger ebbed first. His posture loosened, his shoulders unlocking. Niki’s pain seemingly dulled. His breathing evened. The shadows curled gently away from both of them. You pressed a hand to your temple, bile rising. Your head spun. “Fuck,” you choked out. You had to furiously blink your eyes to get them to focus. You probably had a concussion. Great. A fever, a concussion, a magical creature induced drainage of your magical core, what else could come up.

Jay looked furious but uncertain. His eyes darting from Niki to you and back. Niki was still breathing hard, but he nodded, staggering closer to you, his hand catching your arm and pulling you up, the touch immediately calming the magic that was buzzing around the two of you. “You stabilized,” he said quietly. “It worked.” You gave him a watery, apologetic look. “I didn’t know it would hurt you. I’m sorry,” you whispered and grasped Nikis arm. The whole room was spinning. Niki didn’t answer right away. “Yeah. Well. Magic’s a bitch. Turining into a vampire also is supposed to not hurt and i still thought it was horrible.” “I think I have a concussion,” you said your eyes still not focusing, “my head hit the wall pretty hard.” You weren’t sure when the door had opened again. You only knew there were footsteps, sure and quick, and a calm voice cut through the haze. “I think you do,” the vampire said, crouching near where Niki still steadied you. His voice wasn’t sharp like Jay’s or cold like Sunghoon’s, it was… almost gentle. “I’m Jungwon,” he said. “Would you be alright if I gave you some more blood? I’m not sure how creatures like you process it, especially in this state, but maybe now that your magic is stabilized, it can actually help your human body.” You didn’t hesitate. You just nodded.

You were too tired to be proud. And if you got addicted, who cares. You just were so sick of being in pain. Jungwon offered his wrist, and the moment your lips closed around his skin, you tasted the difference. His blood was colder than Niki’s. Not temperature-wise but spiritually. It held less wildness. But it still burned down your throat with heat. Your stomach curled gratefully around it. Something inside your chest loosened. Bone knit. Veins stopped screaming. You leaned back slowly once it was done, panting a little, blinking to clear the fuzz from your eyes. Niki hadn’t moved much. He was breathing shallowly, clearly still recovering. You felt his magic in your veins now. Your core has never been this calm before. It felt controlled, the pressure behind your ribs where it usually swirled around dissapearing. Then Jungwon’s voice came again, quiet, soothing. “That worked well, didn’t it?,” he said, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek. You turned your head slightly, eyes half-lidded. “It stopped hurting.” “Good.” He smiled faintly, tone even. Jungwon’s gaze held yours a second too long. “Y/N, how much do you know about the Virtehar?”

You blinked, slow. Your thoughts were too heavy, your tongue too slow. You looked away. “Not… not much.” It wasn’t a lie, not entirely. You didn’t know too much, enough, but not too much. “Hmm,” Jungwon murmured thoughtfully. “But you said you have books?“ You swallowed. “I… I just wanted to understand. What it wanted. What I was becoming.” “And did you?” he asked, voice smooth, almost kind. “Do you understand now?” “I… I understand enough.” “Enough to be afraid?” he asked, brushing his fingers lightly against your temple. You barely felt the touch, but your eyelids fluttered shut for a second. You nodded, small and weak. “Mhm,” he murmured. "Can you tell me a bit more? So we know what we are dealing with? That we can try helping you and Niki?" Your mouth opened—then shut. You clenched your jaw. The Virtehar stirred faintly, like it knew what he was doing but wasn’t stopping it. Watching, maybe. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you said, the words thick in your throat. “I know,” he said gently. “But you will.” His hand came up again, fingers brushing the edge of your jaw featherlight, like a leaf brushing against your skin. Your magic twitched.

“Tell me what you learned, Y/N. Answer all of my questions truthfully.” You tried to shake your head. But your mouth moved instead. “I’m an Anchor,” you heard yourself say. “Bound to a Virtehar. It exists to preserve the boundary between the human world and the supernatural. It picks creatures near death to host, granting them a chance to live longer while being a host.” Jungwon’s eyes didn’t blink. “What kind of death?” “I was sick. Cancer. Stage four,” your breath hitched, and you braced yourself for the pain that usually came when you talked about the creature, but the words kept going, unraveling from your throat, “I wasn’t supposed to make it.” Jungwon was quiet, unmoving. “And then… it came,” you whispered. “The Virtehar. It didn’t heal me. It just… replaced the dying part. I was already half gone. I think that’s why I could hold it.” “How long do you have?”, Junwon asked. “Until it’s done. When the balance is restored, it leaves.” “And?” “I die.” There was a pause. “What about Niki?” You shifted slightly, trying to break eye contact with Jungwon. “It pulled him in,” you murmured. “His core. It’s strong. Stable. I think he already had a huge amount of shadow magic in him. The creature… locked onto him when mine started slipping.” “What does that mean?” “I don’t know,” you mumbled. “I think it wants me to be preprared. It has been active, searching, using more and more magic, as if its training my body”

Jungwon studied your face for another beat. Then, almost gently asked: “Where are the books?” You were barely holding onto the thread of conversation now. “Nicolas has some,” you said softly. “But most… are in my flat.” “Which ones matter?” You exhaled, eyes fluttering. “The flat.” „Mhm,“ he hummed letting his fingers grade along your jawline, holding it up slightly so you were still looking in his red eyes, unable to break the spell, „how much do the wolves know? Or is it just Nicholas?“ „Only the necessary parts. I didn’t translate everything,“ you said, your head felt so woozy. „Oh, why?“, the vampire crooked his head to the side, never breaking eye contact. “Nicho can’t know I will die. So no one of them can know.”, you murmered. “Isn’t he your boyfriend?” Jungwon asked, tilting his head slightly. “He’s an Alpha, right? Don’t they usually bond young?” Your eyes stayed on his, wide and glassy. “He wanted me to be,” you said simply. “He asked.” “And?” You blinked slowly. “I said no.” “Why?”

“Because I’m going to die,” you murmured. “He’s supposed to find someone who builds a life with him. Who stays. Who runs beside him until they’re old and slow and safe. But if he knew i am going to die, he’d stop treating me like Y/N.” Jungwon’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And how would he treat you?” “Like I was breaking.” A breath. “Like I was something to mourn early.” He hummed again, soft and satisfied. “You love him.” “Yes.” “Thank you Y/N,” Jungwon said. You swallowed thickly. Niki stirred behind you and within a blink Jungwon and Jay disappeared out of the room. Your heart stuttered when you relalized what just happened. They were going for the books. They knew you were lying to Nicho. You told them too much that could be used against you. Your eyes snapped to Niki who was still slumped, jaw clenched in pain. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, trying not to show your panic.

He blinked at you. Just once. You reached out slowly, palm hovering over his chest. “Please… I’ll fix this.” You didn't wait for his answer. You closed your eyes and focused not on pulling or ripping, not on the sheer force of draining, but on tuning into what the Veirthear had been trying to show you. Syncing with his magic instead of grabbing and stealing it. It hummed low and soft at first, then surged. He gasped. Your fingers curled at the sound, but the magic ignited in your spine, your ribs, your throat. You didn’t stop to think about what you were about to do and let darkness shallow you. The first jump was back into the forest, close to the mansion. You knew if you were running jumping would be easier so you turned away from the mansion and ran as fast as you could, jumping through the darkness of the woods. After a few minutes you staggered, clutching the wall of a building you didn’t immediately recognize. A few seconds passed. You were close. Near your apartment complex, if the crooked lamppost and the chipped paint on the corner deli meant anything. You were drenched in sweat, and your lungs felt tight, but you were impressed on how well that has worked. You’ve never traveled this fa in daylight, when the shadows were weaker and more sparse.

You wiped your sleeve across your mouth and forced your legs to move. The shadows pulled reluctantly behind you, drained and flickering like tired ribbon. And froze. There was light. Through the second-floor window, your window, a faint, unmistakable glow. Someone was inside. Your breath caught. No. No, no, no. How did they know where your apartment was? How did they get inside without you inviting them in? How could they have possibly be that fast? You pressed your hand to the door and eased it open as quietly as you could. Every nerve in your body screamed as you crept up the stairs. You reached your apartment door and hesitated. Light spilled out from beneath it, warm and yellow. You pushed it open with a shaking hand. And froze.

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[yuurivoice]

Hey gang.

This is Haru, he's my tummy ache survivor who has been through hell over his two and a half years of life. For over the past few months we've been dealing with vomiting, sometimes a tweak of food or eating schedule would fix it. Sometimes not, but he was keeping enough down and was still his usual playful self, so we kept playing tetris with his food and powered through.

His stomach has always been sensitive, so a flare up of tummy stuff was not exactly unusual.

Things recently got worse, and even more consistent. Daily, multiple times. We'd done all the preliminary work (food type, meal size/frequency, etc) so we got to skip a few trial and errors with the vet and got an ultrasound and bloodwork.

Unfortunately, it was bad news. He's got what is likely a cancerous growth right where stomach meets intestine, and its blocking his food from getting down consistently. At two years old, my vet was pretty shook. But Haru don't know any better, he's been a fighter since he was a little constipated baby.

As we get ready to tackle whatever is on the horizon as quickly as possible, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who has purchased their Finn plushie(s)! We hit 200 sold and he is officially being made! The funds from the plushie will be going directly towards surgery and treatment as we figure out what the future looks like for Haru.

If you'd like to contribute and get a plushie of your own, you can order here!

And of course, I have to thank everyone who has flooded the tag with kind words and encouragement and a ton of things that I have not yet read, because the moment I found out about it I had just gotten the news from my Vet and was in the process of selling off some Pokemon cards because I was preemptively trying to cover my ass for veterinary costs......surprise! Haha...haa.......

It's a shitty time for many people right now, and I don't want to add to the doom and gloom. Me and my cats are gonna be okay, no matter what the future holds for us and Haru. If you're able and would like to contribute to upcoming veterinary costs, please consider getting a plushie, indulging on Patreon, or tuning in to any upcoming streams. I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to do yet in terms of a stream, but I'd be happiest if you'd treat yourself to some of what I have to offer so you get something in return!

I'm taking care of things at home and hopefully returning to work in the coming week to fulfill what I owe folks. I'm sorry for all the delays and waiting right in the midst of what should be a very busy time. I've only just beaten my cold (though I'm still coughing 🙃) and then life kicked me square in the balls.

Thank you all for being so kind and patient and loving. I needed y'all real bad today, and you showed up when you didn't even know I needed it. Love y'all, for real. 💖

I'll share a recent Haru picture that isn't cleverly veiled marketing to fundraise for removing his mutant growth.

[maybankslover]

saw it coming- drew starkey

drew starkey x ex!girlfriend

drew starkey x singer!reader

warnings: kinda angst, mentions of infidelity but it doesn't actually happen, drew not being a good partner with someone else. fluff. this is all fiction.

summary: she knew she wasn't the one for him, they all saw it coming.

she knew she had known for years she wasn't the one he'd marry. maybe it was because she tries so hard to be cool, to fit in his life and family, to get along with his mom even when they both know the older woman didn't really like her.

maybe she should've been less cool, less chill maybe if she had drawn the line. if she had asked to be displayed in public not as a company, not as someone he wouldn't hug for a picture but exposed for once and for all as his girlfriend. if she asked him to not keep everyone guessing.

it was funny at the start being "secretive" and all, it was funny to read the theories but it wasn't funny anymore and the lamp was being turned off.she was quite young when they started dating, freshly twenty and he was already pushing into his late twenties.

maybe she should've known, there were all so many songs about it but he was so tall and handsome as hell. everyone and their mother would've ignored the age difference too.

almost three and a half years together when she started to ask for more.

"so i was thinking about posting this picture, can i?" she showed him a picture that showed her resting against his chest with a small bouquet of flowers in hand.

"isn't it too intimate to show? like I love it but for us." he replied and she nodded.

"no yeah you're right." he hummed and kissed her cheek. she didn't include anything about him in that photodump.

"i have a netflix event next week, want you to come with me." she watched him as he prepared to leave her house. "you free on friday?"

"is there a dress code?" he laughed.

"as if you'll ever follow them baby." she smiled at him and welcomed the kiss he pressed to her lips.

when friday came along she already knew the drill.

"what's up?" one of his cast mates hugged her. "it's been a long time since i last saw you."

"finished filming last month." the one's beside her nodded as they remembered what drew had told them.

"heard it's quite a big project." she felt so comfortable with them, they included her in pictures and gatherings.

"it's pretty cool. one of the things i've enjoyed the most to make if i'm being honest." the conversation didn't last long as the cast was called to go on stage.

the pictures the next day looked the same as always, his hands inside his pockets never touching her waist, shoulders or any part of her body.

"why can't you just hug me for a picture? everyone already knows we're together." she had every right to be as angry as she was right now.

"don't want anyone going on and about on our relationship." he shrugged his shoulders, they both knew that was a lie.

"everyone knows about us, everyone talks about us." she ironically laughed. "are you ashamed of me?"

"god no baby no." he rushed to her side and placed his hands on her cheeks. "i love you alright?"

"i love you too but sometimes you make me feel awful drew." he sighed.

"i'm sorry for that but i'm not ashamed of you." she believed the lie he told her.

he did love her in his own weird way but she sometimes made him feel embarrassed of how she acted in public.

maybe it was on his thirty-first birthday when he realised, without actually letting the thought come through, it was probably time to start settling down as if having a girlfriend for the past three years wasn't serious enough. she didn't feel the shift on him.

she should've.

she saw it coming but not in the way it unfolded. schedules, as usual, got busy this time of the year, she was doing promo and he was filming another movie and a music video.

that music video was the shift, not for her but for him. when he met the singer he would be working with it was like a light ignited inside him that said 'this is the one'.

she was so pretty, nice and genuine. there wasn't a show around her when the cameras weren't on, down to earth and extremely similar to him.

both born and raised in a big family, tons of siblings and extended family. she had just received her degree as a kinder-garden teacher when her career blew up.

that was the one for him, he knew it. such a particular thing doesn't really has an explanation on how he felt.

and she hadn't said anything because she knew he had a girlfriend of some kind but she felt it in her gut. he was the one for her too.

"hope to catch up sometime." she said, giving him a hug. "thank you for being part of this."

"it was a pleasure to work with you. maybe we'll coincide in the same city." he smiled back before they said their goodbyes.

he went back to his apartment in los angeles with a clear thought in his head. it was moment to end his three year long relationship, the girl he had been stringing along all this time and he knew he was an awful person for not releasing her sooner but she was never the one for him.

for the plans of a family he wanted to have someday. she wasn't the one he saw as the mother of his kids.

so when two days after she came back from the promo of her movie three weeks from the last time they had seen each other, he sat her down.

"what i'm going to say isn't easy and i don't expect you to be alright with it but this is how i've been feeling for a while now, this isn't working for me anymore." he sighed as he looked her eyes lose the sparkle they'd whenever she looked at him.

"what do you mean?" it was obvious what he meant.

"i want us to break up. this isn't what i want for myself anymore." he knew the conversation wouldn't end in her agreeing just because even if he wanted it to be that way.

"is there someone else or what happened in the past three weeks?" he denied with his head.

"there isn't anyone else. it's about me and what i want for my future." she scoffed.

"three years drew. three and now you realise that i'm not the future you want?" she stood up. "you can actually go fuck yourself."

"hey i'm not being mean to you." but he was being mean to her. "i know it's fucked up but it's what i feel and i'm sorry i'm hurting you because i love you even if this isn't what i want anymore."

“drew shut up.” her voice raised a bit.

he tried to say something else but she didn’t let him.

"don’t say my name. i j-just go, please leave." he sighed but followed her orders.

“I’m sorry.” he wasn’t.

they met a week later at her place to give eachother their things back.

"was there someone else?" she sighed. "at any point, was there someone else?"

"no, there wasn't. i can promise you there wasn't." at least he was honest in what he was telling her.

five months later she was still mourning what they had been. what they could've been if she hadn't been so permissive from the very start.

five months later he was having dinner with the singer from that music video, he had taken his time before going out again. didn't want to rush it, to fuck it up by starting something with someone else fresh out of his relationship.

they were playing some game that ended with them asking random questions and losing the train of how it had started.

"so old man" it made drew laugh. "you were in a relationship last time we saw each other. six months ago?"

"yeah."

"what happened?" it was normal for her to be curious, she was interested in him but wasn't interested to get herself into a threeway kind of mess.

"wasn't what i wanted for me anymore, couldn't see the future i want with her." he sighed. "she's a great woman but not the one i wanted to have a family with." he looked at his glass of wine.

"I get it." his sight shifted towards her this time. "ended my last relationship for the same reason."

"how long ago?"

"a year, we were together for two and a half i think." he nodded signaling for her to continue. "realised a bit late that he didn't really had a brain in his head and only wanted me for the ibiza nights i could get him into" her shoulders bump up for a second. "so i decided i won't ruin my life with some lowlife who would in the long run."

"different goals" he said and she agreed.

"already have my career, my success and i want more in my private life someday too, he wasn't the one to create that with."

they locked eyes without saying anything, there was like a secret moment of understatement there weren't any words to be said. their night continued, laughing and chattering as if they had known each other their whole lives. 

“so drew listen i had a great time but i don’t want to dive into anything if you aren’t over your last girl.” they stood on the front door of her house. “because i’ve been there, hung over a guy that used me to get over someone else.” 

“I get it and you don’t have to trust me because you don’t really know me but i know i’m over her.” she gave him a small smile. “I would like to keep seeing you if that’s alright with you.”

“yeah i’m alright with that.” he didn’t expect the kiss on the cheek she gave him, lingering there for a moment. “ ‘night starkey.”

“goodnight sweetheart.” he walked back towards his truck. “see you soon.”

many coffee dates in deserted places. late night drives by the beach, secret kisses in the privacy of her home and oh if it didn’t feel like love. 

‘he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown’ taylor swift’s lyrics as the background of their lazy sunday morning. drew still in bed while she stood in his kitchen making breakfast wearing the shirt he discarded on the floor when they came back from dinner last night. 

“hey pretty girl.” a sleepy smile on his face as he saw her walk inside the bedroom. 

“the toasts are a bit burned.” he chuckled. “but the rest it’s alright, I think.”

they ate in silence, the birds could be heard outside the window.

“I’m going home next friday for my mom’s birthday.” drew said placing his plate on the bedside table. 

“are you gonna drive or you’ll be taking a flight?” she didn’t think much about it they’ve been dating for almost five months only and they didn’t met the other one’s friends yet. 

“I’m gonna drive but i wanted to ask you something.” she gave him a nod. “I want you to come with me, only if you want of course.”

“isn’t really a question.” she smiled at his soft laugh. “you want me to meet your family? like for real?”

“yeah for real.” he smiled back. “I want them to meet you.” 

“I want to meet them too.”

right there they knew what it was, love, true love. 

the days before the upcoming trip she wrote three whole songs. 

“do you think i’m going too fast?” she asked her best friend on the phone. 

“nah honey i think he loves you so good it was inevitable for you to fall in love so quickly.” vic saw the glimmer in her friend’s eyes, the smile in the pictures she sent her. the look in his eyes when he looked at her in some silly video.

she was nervous to meet his family, one of his sisters was still close with his ex-girlfriend, what if they didn’t like her and they missed the girl from before?

back in new york city a brunette received a message which content broke her heart. from his younger sister.

text 

b ‘i wanted to tell you before you found out via instagram or somewhere else.”

b ‘he brought a girl home. It’s pretty serious, i’m sorry’

he took a girl home when he said he preferred to spend time alone with his family most of the times he went back home, an excuse to not bring her along. now she knew what she should’ve realised all those years back, she didn’t know how to get clean even after more than ten months later. 

his family adored her, their interaction seemed straight out of a christmas movie. 

“I hadn’t seen him so happy in ages.” his mom said in a moment they were left alone right before everyone would say their good night to go to bed. “thank you, he’s my boy again.”

“you’ve done an amazing job with drew, i’ve never had a boyfriend as amazing as he is.” the older woman involved her in a tight hug. 

“he’s never had a girlfriend as genuine as you.” it felt so real, the possibility of a future together. 

two weeks later when her family found out she had gone to north carolina to meet his family, they insisted of having a reunion to meet him. the man on the screen who was making her come back straight home to him.

“I’ve never seen him like this.” his friend madelyn said, the group of outer banks castmates watched as the couple who had reached their year anniversary, they had met her a small number of times but she had grown in all of them. 

“It’s like a light is around him everytime you see him with her.” jd added. “I’m happy for him.” 

they had managed to keep it as lowkey as possible, people were already talking about them running in the same circles but nothing about them actually being together had come out. 

“I want to play you something. I’m writing the new album.”  her music room was a big representation of who she was. the things adorning the walls, the little details on her guitars.

he loved everything about her. so he sat down on the floor, right in front of her. 

‘you are everything to me and I, I would die for you’ 

she tilted her face up a flicker of light on her cheeks. 

‘I'd give up all I have, in exchange for who I love more than anything’ 

he was trying so hard to not let a tear fall.

‘how could I never let you know? I would die for you’ 

and he failed terribly.

“Baby?” she said softly in the same way she always talked to him. 

“I love you so fucking much.” she laughed at his words. 

“I love you so fucking much more.” he pressed a firm kiss to her lips. 

maybe he had been a shitty boyfriend to someone else but she couldn’t say the same. he was the best man she had been with, he felt as a forever kind of love. 

“I want to stop hiding.” she didn’t expect him to say those words. “just want to hold your hand in public and all that romantic shit people do.” 

“I’d like that.” a fight of kisses unfolded in the instruments filled room. 

but a walk wasn’t their ‘hard lunch’ it was him posting a photo dump, the first one of them both on the backstage of his new movie. 

drewstarkey 

liked by ynln, madelyncline, danielgraig and 2.236.002 more

drewstarkey ‘life lately. pretty girl spotted’

comments have been restricted 

ynln ‘love you pretty boy’

shit blew up on twitter real fast and a girl who he had now forgotten still wondered what it was that she was missing, what the beloved singer had for him to choose her. 

“it doesn’t matter anymore, we told you for ages he didn’t love you in the same way.” one of her friends said and she knew he was right, it had only taken him a year and a half to post his new girl. 

It only took him two years to marry her. It’s true when they say a man always knows, he knew from the start she was the one for him and the forgotten girl knew from the start she was never the one. 

drewstarkey & ynln 

song beauty and the beast by celine dion and peabo bryson

liked by sabrinacarpenter, brookestarkey, taylor swift and 4.569.023 more

drewstarkey & ynln something happened… two and a half from our very first day with the very first movie we ever watched.

tale as old as time

comments have been restricted. 

If you see it coming baby, just run. It’ll never be you.

It’ll be the one who fits he’ll actually love, don’t settle for someone who won’t settle for you.

the singer and the actor had found eachother, fate working in their favor even when they felt bad karma would be coming for them it never did.

fate and soulmates can't be stopped from finding the other.

please if you liked it reblog! it helps me a lot

taglist: @droppedyourhnd @congratsloserr @rafesbabygirlx @gillybear17 @theoraekenslover @silkylovey @frankoceanluvr11 @ethanthequeefqueen

[fourstarsoutofnine]

(Headcanon ramblings at 2:30 in the morning. But it’s like… done in a poetic way. I’m half asleep and this is helping me drift off. I may be putting too much emphasis on how badly Koholint affected the vet but also I don’t think that’s possible bc everyone he loved disappeared so)

Legend having storm anxiety and panic attacks every time there’s a thunderstorm. Legend’s chest getting tight when he sees the ocean.

Him freaking out the moment they arrive in the sailor’s Hyrule. It takes the traveler using magic to make him sleep just to calm him down and get him into the sailor’s house.

The captain teaching him tactics to help with flashbacks.

The captain teaching the champion those same tactics to help him with his memories.

Breathing techniques and self soothing methods are passed around the chain.

The chain learning from each other. Learning about their lives and experiences

Both young and old realizing that they each have things to learn from the other.

Time giving life lessons to the sailor, and the sailor doing the same.

Every bit of information is cherished and appreciated.

The traveler sneaks extra potions into the veteran’s bag cause he knows he needs them. He sees him hurting

The veteran paying attention to everyone, seeing their needs and discreetly trying to meet them without making a big deal out of it. He thinks no one notices him, but oh the traveler does. Ever the kindest man, that traveler.

The champion trying his best to teach the traveler how to cook.

The rancher helping with this^.

Four’s not bothered by the short/baby faced comments. He’s used to them and finds them amusing—he just wishes people would be more creative with them. The same ones get old QUICK. (speaking from personal experience)

I’m bouncing between the veteran loving hibiscuses(is that the plural of hibiscus?) and not being able to look at them without feeling his throat close.

The sailor helping the champion get things from high places by using the Wind waker to make gusts of wind form under his paraglider. Once they found out they can do this, they do it all the time. Sometimes(most times) it’s just for fun and shenanigans.

Sky teaching the vet how to whittle. The two get closer because of this. They talk about life and their experiences and it helps them get closer.

Sky also teaches four how to whittle, and in turn four teaches Sky how to sew.

The captain sticks his tongue out a bit when he’s planning and going over maps and such. It’s an old habit he can’t break.

The traveler hums to himself a lot, any little tune. The champion picks up on it cause he does the same. They get songs stuck in each other’s(and the rest of the chain’s) heads.

The rancher likes to make good ol’ country comfort food for the chain sometimes. Everyone whines each time not because they don’t like it but because they love it and know they’ll crave it when the journey is over.

Okay I’m done I’m very sleepy now. Goodnight everyone thanks for joining my half asleep ramblings.