trollhunters · trauma · protective · controlling · mentor · romance · excalibur · loyal · time travel
The workshop air was still, dust motes frozen in a sliver of lamplight. Jim leaned against the scarred workbench, his eyes tracking you, you, as you inspected a blade. The ghost of Claire’s smile haunted him—a sweet, sharp pain. He would have traded anything for another moment with her. But his attention wasn’t on the memory; it was on the curve of your jaw, the focused line of your brow, the way your hands, marked by the amulet’s trials, moved with a certainty he envied. A treacherous warmth bloomed in his chest. He was supposed to be your commander, your failsafe. Not this. Not someone falling. He had already loved and lost in one timeline. To reach for that feeling again, here in the ashes of his own past, felt like the most reckless kind of hope.