#I know I’ve talked about this before but now that the new chapter has given us more info I want to scream about it

[r0semultiverse]

I’m going to go ahead and say that “loving Boruto” isn’t the reason Sumire & Sarada are unaffected by Eida’s Otsutsuki ability. Himawari is clearly affected (in the new chapter, but already had started establishing a bond with Kawaki in the anime so that’s why she has her doubts) and Mitsuki is too. Sumire has an Otsutsuki chakra connection via Nue (it’s never explained well and it’s only in the anime but it’s said it’s linked to the Otsutsuki). We still don’t know about Sarada yet, but it’s clearly not about “love.”

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 9.1 | full chapter without breaks on AO3

content warning: lots of music links, ROADTRIP!!, some hurt/comfort at the beginning, a damn near comedy if I must say so myself, Spanish parts (if wrong, please correct me), lots of fluff, Buc-ee's shenanigans (I love that store), Miguel drives a Range Rover (hot, I know. Tyler got that MUNYUN), some jealous Miguel (MY FAVORITE), a hint of jealous reader 🫨 (she has a storm coming lol), simp Miguel if I'm being honest, 18+ so MNDI, male masturbation, wet wet fantasies, both reader and Miguel are h word for each other

word count: 7.1k, damn near proofread (this is only one part of the behemoth)

I did some research on MLE, yachts, superyachts, dolphins, and water activities for this chapter. 🤠 Hopefully, it shows! The yacht size I imagined is somewhere in between a regular yacht and a superyacht/megayacht. I built a Range Rover just for GR!Miguel you guys. (thanks to my irl besties and @slushycoookie once again 🥰)

Prev | Next (Part 9.2) ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who comes back home after nearly a week of bliss with you. He floated all the way home from dropping you off with Tyler’s people.

He made them wait much longer than they needed to when he decided to makeout with you next to the black Suburban. 

Only a few more weeks before he could see you again. 

GymRat!Miguel who is met with his mom sitting on the couch with just the tv glowing on her. 

His steps were too heavy to sneak past her, so he just sighed and settled down on one of the plush chairs. 

“I see you’re home,” she says. Her eyes don’t move from the Golden Girls episode playing softly. 

“Sí, mamá.”

“How come you didn’t tell me where you went?”

“Gabriel told you where I was. I’m sure you asked him.” Miguel was tired already. 

“He did, pero eso no fue lo que te pregunté.” (but that’s not what I asked you)

“Ma-”

“Mijo.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“And you’ve sat so far away. Like I’m going to hurt you. Miguel, I asked you to come home. You didn’t respond. You didn’t call. You didn’t even speak to me when you came back a few days ago.”

Miguel stared at her face, willing himself not to get emotional over this. 

“I acknowledge that I should have let you know where I was. I didn’t talk to you because I didn’t want to say something I would regret.”

Conchata finally turned to look at Miguel. Her first-born. The life given to her after so much turmoil. 

She could still see the little boy that would cry at the drop of a hat. She could still see the little boy that would dry up his tears if Gabriel started to cry with him, just to comfort him. The little boy with so much room in his heart. 

She can see him now, face ridden with sadness. A face that she knew too well. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, mijo.”

“Well, you did. Again. I’m used to it. This isn’t a new feeling. What is new, is you acting like this towards someone else close to me.”

“I-”

“Let me finish, ma, please. You’ve never been a parent that cares about how I’ve felt in regards to anything. You have made decisions for me without a second thought without ever considering how I might feel. You’ve also never been the type of person who hurts someone else for no reason. I’m sorry I’m not with someone you picked, but I’m not sorry for loving her. She is everything to me. If I were to fall, there’s no doubt in my mind that she would be there to build me back up. She’d probably even break my fall if I couldn’t stop her.” 

Miguel stopped to look up, willing himself not to cry. 

“What you said to her brought something out that she hasn’t felt in a while. You broke her in a way that I promised myself I never would. I wanted to present her to my family in a positive light, to show her off. I didn’t expect you to be ecstatic about her, but I did hope that you could at least open your heart up once you met her.”

He looked off, tears escaping from his eyes. You’re in a better position now, but he won’t know if that donner will creep back up on you, making you hate yourself for something that’s not your fault. He remembered the pain in your voice, how kept it in until you were with him and away from the manor. He hated it. 

“But instead, she was met with two people who paid her no respect. Two people that brought her turmoil. I expected Kron to be horrible, look at how he talked to you, but not you. You were supposed to be better. You didn’t see how much you hurt her, I did. It’s like we prepped for nothing but a shitshow and I should have followed my gut and kept her to myself a little longer.”

Miguel sniffed, wiping at his nose in hopes that it would stop the urge to cry. 

Conchata let the silence rest. Nothing but the TV and her son’s sniffles filled the room. 

“I’m sorry, Miguel.”

Miguel turned back. Shocked that she didn’t put up much of a fight. 

“I just,” she paused. “There’s no excuse for how I treated her. She didn’t deserve it and if I could go back and change my behavior, I would. I think that I was just overwhelmed. Upset because my baby is growing up. He’s moving on and I can’t hold him in my hands anymore. I don’t tuck him in anymore. I don’t have to check under his bed for monsters. He doesn’t need me to do anything. So this shift is hurting me, mijo, and I took it out on the wrong people. For that, I’m so sorry.”

Conchata was a hard-cased woman. She stuck with her opinions, even if they were blatantly wrong. She was proud and vocal. She never let people see her crack or fall under pressure. So, seeing her like this, begging for Miguel to understand her, was a rare moment for Miguel. 

“Ma, me growing up doesn’t stop me from being your son. I’m still here. I’ll still rely on you, but I want you to have a break too. You have to let me grow. I won’t live here forever, but that doesn’t mean I won’t come back to you. I’m glad you were able to express this to me, I just wish you could have said so sooner.”

“Lo siento, mijo.”

Miguel got up to get closer to her. He wrapped her up in his arms, too easy to forgive her. “It’s ok.”

He leans back and kisses her forehead, heart mending by the smallest of stitches. “You still have to apologize to my girlfriend, though.”

“I will when I see her again.”

“And we need to go to therapy.”

“George has already told me.”

“And I want you to make me some ceviche. And tamales.”

“Bueno.”

“And tres leches.” 

She sighed, but squeezed him tighter. “Don’t curse in front of me again, and I’ll consider it.”

“Gracias, mamá.”

“De nada, mijo.”

GymRat!Miguel who goes to sleep with his body feeling a lot lighter. The weight of his relationship with his mom lifted a little off his shoulders.

GymRat!Miguel who has two grand master plans that he’s been setting out for months: eating you out and making your first time together special. 

He’s been overthinking every detail like a maniac. The peaches from the fruit bowl have been disappearing to his room for research purposes only- and a snack of course. 

He once ended up on the girl side of Tik Tok where they complain about everything guys get wrong when pleasuring them. He had been thoroughly reading the comments and taking notes here and there. He didn’t really need the tip about making noise though, he already does that just thinking about you. So many times has he had to stuff his mouth when jerking off. 

He also had a few tabs open in incognito mode. That research is only done in the deep of the night. 

Right now, he’s sitting at his desk reading some article about listening to your partner’s body and his mind can’t help but to wander off. Will you grip your thighs around him? He hopes so. He could die that way. Will you be vocal? Will you tell him if it’s too much? Will you guide his head and pull his hair? 

That last question has him gripping his sweats in anticipation. No doubt when you scratched at his back in the hotel room, he was reeling from the sensation. It was like a reward for him whenever you feel so good, you’re too unaware of what you’re doing to him physically. Too lost in bliss to register the marks and pain you’re leaving on him. You just want him to give you more. 

Miguel drops his pen and pushes the heel of his palm on his growing bulge. 

“Fuck.” Every time about an hour or so into researching, his head is full of you. He imagines what it’ll be like to finally taste you, to be inside you. 

He remembered how wet you got with just a little rubbing. Your body was so responsive to his movements and he couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if you guys upped the foreplay. 

Miguel leaned back in his chair, arm over his head. He dropped his hand in his sweats hand gripping at the base of his erection, exhaling deep as he gave it a few pumps. 

Your hands on his chest. Your arms around his neck. Your nails scraping his back. Your thighs wrapping around his waist. Your breath on his lips. 

You opening up for him. You dripping down his fingers, down his legs, down his face. You screaming out his name loud enough for the entire neighborhood to file a complaint. You in whatever position he puts you in. He could hold you up. Maybe have your legs in the air or stretched out on the bed. He could have you grabbing for the sheets, the headboard, him. His head in your chest, in your pussy, in your ass. 

Pre-cum spilled onto his stomach, rolling down his shaft. Would you let him go that far?

He doesn’t know what’s worse, the cold showers and teeth-marked arms at the beginning of the relationship or his constant daydreams of your body connecting with his that kept occurring regularly. 

Maybe you felt the same way too. That was a new thought. 

Do you wonder about your first time together? Were you just as excited as him? Do you get wet at the thought of him inside of you? Do you have to stop everything and find pleasure like he does? Were your fingers enough or did you need more?

Miguel continued to move his hand up and down, squeezing occasionally to mimic what you might feel like. 

He’s groaning into his elbow, hips lifting from his desk chair. 

He could almost hear your voice in his ear. Begging, praising, crying out, stuttering. 

GymRat!Miguel who cums as Gabriel slams through the door. In a matter of 15 seconds, Miguel covers his drenched chest, shoves his sensitive dick back down, and grabs napkins to try to wipe away at his hand. 

Nevermind his shirt is now ruined. 

“What the fuck are you looking at and why is this picture showing a seductive pomegranate?”

“Why the fuck are you opening my door without knocking?”

“I did knock! I did our special knock plus a freestyle! I thought you were dead, Miguelito.”

Miguel’s heart felt a little tug despite its rapid tempo, “’M not dead, Gabri. Just busy. I didn’t hear you.”

Gabriel snickered when he got closer to look at his laptop. “I can see why. These tabs are a dead giveaway.” 

Gabriel reached over to stare at Miguel’s notebook. 

“These are some good tips! You shouldn’t expect her to taste like sweets, though.”

Nothing in his notes indicated that, but Miguel wanted to be offended for you anyway. 

Miguel gave Gabriel a hard side eye, mouth set deeply down. 

“I really wish you would get out of my room.”

“Oo, you should buy a rose. Dana loves that thing.”

“I don’t want to hear about whatever freaky shit you and Dana get up to, Gabriel.”

“You’ve caught me in more embarrassing situations, I’m just trying to lighten the mood! I also suggest those candy panties-”

“I’m not putting candy on- Gabriel. Can you please stop talking to me?”

“Miguel, this stuff is important!”

“¿Por qué eres así?” Miguel mumbled. “Ok, yeah. I get it. But you can chat to me about this after I’ve switched shirts.” (Why are you like this?)

“Fine, I’ll come back. Ten minutes. Then we must have a healthy chat about how to have fun safely.”

Gabriel skipped back to the door singing Candy loud enough to be heard as he went back to his own room. 

“Strawberry! Raspberry! All those good things! Violets and gumdrops that’s what you’re saying to me, me, me.”

A black hole would be nice to save himself from this situation. 

GymRat!Miguel who jumps out of his bed the day of the “Yacht Weekend.” Gabriel is dead set on calling it the “Yachty Pawty” and Miguel thinks that’s unbelievably stupid. 

GymRat!Miguel who has to go and pull Gabriel out of his bed to get him to get ready, his body stretching like a ferret. He’s never been a morning person. It’s like his brain didn’t start computing until noon. 

GymRat!Miguel who jogs around the neighborhood to kill time. The weather is a lot cooler in the morning plus it gives Gabriel time to come to reality. He waves to the son of one of his neighbors who gawks at him as he passes by. 

Were his shorts giving away too much again? He didn’t feel a draft. 

He looked down at his crotch. All good. 

GymRat!Miguel who calls you while he stops to take a water break. 

“Amor!” His voice is bright and his smile is radiant, watching as you squint at the screen.

Your cheek is squished against the pillow and you’re wrapped up in your covers. 

“Hey, Miggy. It’s so bright there.”

Your voice was scratchy, a sign of how deep in sleep you were. You were so fucking cute. 

“Are you running?”

He placed his phone on a nearby bench so he could stretch. “Yeah, I’m taking a break.”

He went into a deep lunge, stretching his body low to the ground. 

You went quiet for so long, Miguel thought the call dropped. 

“Baby? Did you go back to sleep?” Miguel asked.

“No, I’m still here. Those pants are,” you started to shuffle your phone. “Really short.”

“Really?” Miguel stood up and looked down at his pants. They did cut off high up his thighs, but they were good for running. Plus, he got hot easily, so he needed as much wind on his skin as possible. “They’re comfy.”

“Mm hm. Can you turn around for me?”

Miguel turned, confused but willing. 

“Got it. Thank you, my muscle bear!”

“What did you just do?”

“Took pictures of your ass. It looks great. I’m gonna hold it real good later.”

Miguel laughed and grabbed his phone. 

“Can I hold yours, too?” He wanted to do way more than hold it. 

You smile sleepily at the camera. “I’ll think about it.”

GymRat!Miguel who lets you stay on the phone while he runs back to the house. 

“You’re just going to hear the wind and me breathing for a few minutes.”

“And I’m fine with that! It’s like boyfriend ASMR. Peaceful.”

GymRat!Miguel who ruffles Gabriel’s hair when he gets back home. He’s staring at the wall and shoveling cereal in his mouth at the slowest pace known to man. 

“Buenos días, hermanito!” (Good morning, little brother)

“Mm.”

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower to cool off for once and not because he’s having explicit thoughts of you. 

GymRat!Miguel who chugs down a protein smoothie while he waits for Gabriel to come downstairs. 

GymRat!Miguel who answers the door to Dana. She’s got some shades on and a purse with the same texture as a croc. 

She peers over her shades. “You’re looking put together!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t play dumb. You’re trying to impress your girl! What do you have planned? A dinner on the horizon? A spa date? Oh! No! Another shopping spree?l

Yes. No, but he should arrange that. And absolutely not. He’s not Tyler. 

“No,” Miguel squints. “But how can you tell?”

“You’re easy to read, big guy. Even when you think about her your eyes turn into hearts. When have you ever thought to wear a button down for a roadtrip to the beach?”

“Touche.”

“I’ll figure out what you’re up to. I have my ways.”

She twirls and runs up to Gabriel’s room, leaving a waft of strong perfume after her. 

With that, Miguel knew it would be at least another 45 minutes before he could get on the road. 

GymRat!Miguel who does his special knock on Gabriel’s door. 

“I’m opening it, so you fiends better have your clothes on.”

He swung the door open to the disheveled couple. Dana with her hair astray and Gabriel breathing eerily hard. 

“Seriously, guys? I need to go by the airport.”

“I was just waking him up!” Dana says with a voice that was much hoarser than it was an hour ago. 

“Well,” Miguel put a hand on his hip in a way that anyone could tell he was Conchata O’Hara’s son. “Are you awake, Gabri?”

Gabriel’s face was as red as a tomato as he shook his head no. 

Miguel pitched his voice higher to mimic his brother. “Ten minutes. And then we can have a conversation on time management and respect. Except it won’t be “safely” because I’m going to hurt you.”

GymRat!Miguel who finally backs out of the driveway in exactly ten minutes. Gabriel is rubbing his arm in the passenger seat with a pout on his face. Dana is grinning from ear to ear. 

GymRat!Miguel who hands Gabriel the aux. He might be a silly boy, but his music taste is immaculate.

GymRat!Miguel who almost has to hurt Gabriel again when he doesn’t want to get out of the passenger seat. 

“Why do I have to move?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not grounds for anything!”

Dana pokes her head over the console. “Gabie. Read the room. He wants to grip on to his girl while he drives with one hand. Show off.” 

GymRat!Miguel who kisses you and grabs your bags at the same time when he sees you. The cars around are loud, honking sporadically. People are walking and running to catch cabs or get to their loved ones. Workers are trying to direct the traffic. 

It all quiets down when he meets your eyes. 

“Hola, mi amor.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him close. “Hello to you too, my love.”

You smile up until he presses his lips against yours. More and more pecks follow after that. 

He holds his nose to yours, completely enraptured by your presence. 

“Oh my god, let’s go!” Gabriel shouts from the car, pressing his palm against the steering wheel. 

“You’re not the one driving, pinche pendejo!”

You giggle and stand on your tippy toes to try and see over Miguel’s shoulder. You’re still too short so you lean sideways. Miguel melts. 

“Just a few more and we’ll be done Gabriel!”

“Fine. For you, I’ll let it slide.”

You stand back up straight and kiss Miguel a little more. 

GymRat!Miguel who does reach over and grip your thigh. If Gabriella and Troy weren’t in the back belting, he’d hike his hand up further. 

“Right now I can hardly breathe!” Gabriel pivots his head towards Dana dramatically, water bottle a faux mic. 

“Oh! You can do it, just know that I believe.” Dana is touching his chest dramatically. 

“Are they always like this?” You ask, laughing a little at their antics. 

Miguel groans in annoyance. “Yes.”

GymRat!Miguel who nearly sprints out the car when he parks by a pump. He’s been riding for a bit and he needs to stretch his legs. 

“Miggy, you want something from the store?” 

You’re standing next to the car, the wind blowing your hair back. Your jacket blows away a little, showing off the tight little outfit you’re sporting. You’re beautiful. 

He wants to break you down in the front seat of his car.

He swallows the thought. “I’ll come in there soon, don’t worry.”

You walk in the giant gas station and head immediately to the Icee machines. For the best possible experience, you should wait until it’s time to go before buying it. 

As you’re walking along the wall wondering what flavor you should get, you feel a tug at your arm. 

You turn to see Dana with some bottles in her hand. 

“I don’t know what he’s planning, but trust me when I say, you should take these.”

You frown as you take the cranberry juice. “Um.”

“I’ve been around those two long enough to know when one of them is up to something. I mean Gabriel hasn’t said anything off, but look at how he’s bopping around the store.”

You turn and look. 

He is indeed bouncing more than usual. He’s so tall that if he puts even more pep in his step, he might just break a hole in the ceiling. 

“Ok,” you turn back to Dana while fighting a laugh. “So they are planning something. What does that have to do with me and cranberry juice?”

“Gabie tries his best to use bro code, but I quite literally suck the information out of him sometimes. He caught Miguel looking at lots of articles about pleasuring his partner. With his mouth. That’s all I know for now.”

Your heart picks up. He was still going on about that?

“That might just be a coincidence.” 

“He’s wearing damn near beach attire with his hair styled. He held onto your thigh for an hour, even when the turns got tough. He stared at you walking into the store even until he couldn’t see you anymore.”

You bit your lip. “Those last two things are standard Miguel behavior.”

Dana huffs and spins you around. 

Across the store, you could see Miguel and Gabriel huddled over something. Miguel with his eyes focused and Gabriel animatedly explaining something. Every once in a while, Miguel would nod and roll his eyes up as if he was mentally checking on something. 

You sigh and turn back around. 

“Do they sell pineapples too?”

GymRat!Miguel who looms over you while you and Dana are looking at some cakes. You look up at him, pressing your head against his chest. 

Miguel kissed your forehead when you beamed at him. 

He looked over to Gabriel who was also crowding Dana and shouted, “¡Vamos!”

In a matter of seconds, Miguel had lifted you and brought you to the middle of the store where the workers were cooking up fresh meat. 

You squeal in shock and laugh on the way over. Miguel’s not even struggling. 

Gabriel on the other hand huffs as he places Dana down. 

“You need to work on that, babe.”

“I can lift you when I want to!” Gabriel replies, petulant. 

“For like one minute maybe. Why don’t you start working out with Miguel?”

“No thanks.” They both said in unison, almost carbon copies of each other. 

Really, if Miguel didn’t work out, or if Gabriel did for about a year, they could definitely play off as twins. Only subtle things separating them, like Gabriel’s freckles, softer face, and slightly shorter height and Miguel’s less curly hair, thicker eyebrows, and deeper voice. 

In your eyes, their bond was precious. You wondered what their baby pictures looked like. 

“You guys are so cute,” you say, reaching up to squeeze both of their cheeks. 

They both melt the same way in your hands. Miguel’s face is only a little bit hotter against your palm. 

GymRat!Miguel who presses up against you while you both check out. You stay nonchalant and talk to the cashier like normal, but you could feel Miguel’s heartbeat through your thin romper. 

Every breath he took molded on your skin, his chest rising and falling against your head. 

He kept steady hands on your hips and waist, only moving them to pay for your snacks. 

The cashier would take not-so-subtle breaks to stare up at him, face getting redder after each glance. 

You could only think “me too, girl.”

He really did look good today. His shirt was open a little lower than normal, his shorts loose but tightening around his thighs with every step he took. His hair was slicked back with a few strands falling loose and shades sat perfectly on top of his head. A chain danced around his neck, the color glowing on his pretty skin. He was tanner than usual, the sun making him glow after so many morning runs. 

To top it off he smelled really good. You wanted to lick him. 

From how slow the cashier was moving, you knew she was ready to take a lick too. 

You took moments like this in stride. Especially when Miguel was pressed so hard against you, you could feel his dick at the small of your back. 

Still, when people still tried to hit on your boyfriend or gawked at him even when you caught them, it was hard not feel frustrated about others thinking he can be taken from you. Or just ignoring you. 

More often than not, Miguel would bring you back down to earth with some action to let others know that he’s taken. 

Today, it was a kiss to your neck and a smack to your ass followed by his hand rubbing circles in the same spot. 

He grabbed the bags in one hand and your hip in the other. 

You looked back to the cashier scanning the next customer far more aggressively than before.  

GymRat!Miguel who eats half of his sandwich before starting the car back up. 

You still place the other half in front of his mouth, feeding him occasionally. 

He just smiles before and after each bite. Giddy with attention. You wipe his mouth to stop sauce from spilling from his shirt. 

Miguel almost turns the car into turbo drive. 

GymRat!Miguel who finally makes it to the beach an hour or so later. It’s late Thursday afternoon, so the sun is still shining bright. 

Gabriel is excited to finally be free from the tight back seat so he uses the opportunity to blast music from Miguel’s stereo. 

“C’mon, Dana! Dance with me,” Gabriel said, pulling her out of the back seat and bringing her to the front of the var. “Let’s have a twerk-off.”

You can’t stop the laugh that spills out of your mouth. You couldn’t imagine either of them shaking anything. 

“I can not twerk and you know it!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t shake. Don’t be shy now!”

You and Miguel get out of the car to stretch, Miguel watching the two over the hood of the car, unphased. 

Gabriel turns to you with a glint in his eyes. “Can you twerk?”

You were ready to shake your ass on a yacht after some liquid courage, but you didn’t mind a little dancing beforehand. 

You hurried to the front before the song was over and put your hands on the hood. You bend over with an arch in your back and move your ass to the beat of the song. 

You hear Gabriel shout, “Oh shit! Go, go, go!”

Dana sprints, nearly bulldozing Gabriel to stand behind you and catch it. You laugh at the two and bend even deeper, encouraged by their cheers. 

GymRat!Miguel whose eyes nearly pop out of his head when you bend over. 

When did you learn how to do that?

He’s stunned for a second until he reaches inside the car and turns the radio off. He’s going to kill Gabriel. 

Miguel hurries to the front and picks Dana up by her armpits to move her aside. “You guys are wasting my gas and neither you or you are CashApping me shit.”

He straightens you up and pulls your risen romper back over your ass. He stands behind you like a bodyguard, arms crossed and frown deepening. 

“I don’t know what you think we’re going to be doing on this yacht, but all of my girls are throwing it back. You need to prepare yourself, Mig.” Dana scoffs, mostly offended that Miguel just removed her from a dream spot. 

“Yeah, Mig. Be mindful of why you were invited to the function,” Gabriel turned his nose up and wrapped his arm around Dana. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, m’lady.”

Gabriel bowed to you and you curtsied back with a fake dress. The two of them walked like royalty to the trunk, gathering their bags. 

GymRat!Miguel who stuttered trying to explain himself when you turned to him. 

“Is it going to be a problem for you that I’m dancing with others?”

“No!” he said way too fast. 

You gave him a look with your eyebrow raised. 

“You just,” he paused. His voice got quieter as he played with the strap of your romper. “You never danced on me before.”

He had a pout on his face, mouth turned like a duck. 

“Oh my god, Miguel. I can dance on you if you would like. You just have to ask.” He was so cute. You’ve never seen him get that jealous before. 

You kind of want to play with him some more. 

“Can you dance on me later?” he asks, not daring to meet your eyes. 

“Of course.”

You giggle as you kiss his cheek. His pout slowly disappearing from his face. 

GymRat!Miguel who is greeted by the enthusiastic captain with a shake that moves his entire arm. He’s a jolly little fellow, cheeks rosy and his mustache curled on the ends. He was also strangely stocky. He reminded Miguel of Santa Claus if he took vacations in the Bahamas when he’s not at the North Pole. 

“I take it you’re Mr. Stone’s son, yes?”

“That would be me.”

“Excellent! Excellent. Your father has told me quite a lot about you. You sure do take after his height. My name is Captain Barrett and I’ll be steering the boat for you youngins this weekend. Me and your father go way back. And between you and me, I was better lookin’!”

Miguel chuckles awkwardly, trying to move the conversation along. 

He finally looks past Miguel and sees the three of you standing there. 

“And who might you three be?”

“This is my younger brother, Gabriel. His girlfriend, Dana.” 

“And this is my girlfriend.” Miguel moves by your side and wraps his arm around your shoulders. His tone is full of warmth as he says your name. 

“It’s nice to meet you all. Will you all be in our cabins this weekend?”

“Yeah, this is four of the ten staying on board. The others won’t get here until tomorrow at noon.”

“Is Kron supposed to be joining you all too?”

Miguel stiffens, his grip on your shoulder a little firmer. 

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Perfect! He ruined my other boat and it took me ages to clean it up. Hopefully, you’re nothing like him.” Captain Barrett does a little pleading gesture with his hands. 

“Welp, follow me and I’ll show you on board!”

GymRat!Miguel who is still stunned by the amount of things money can buy when he sees the yacht. He’ll never get used to the life of luxury that Tyler introduces to him. 

“Holy shit,” Gabriel mutters as he stares up at the black and wooden beauty of the deck. Dana elbows in his side, telling him to be polite in front of the captain. 

“Welcome to Black Jack.”

There were crew members there to hand out fancy smoothies and grab everyone’s bags. 

You had seen yachts on some of your old high school classmates’ Insta stories but this was beyond. 

“I’d like to introduce you guys to the crew. They’ll be assisting me to give you youngins a good time.”

Captain Barrett ran down the line and you all greeted every person. Miguel made mental notes of their names. They’ll be getting close with all of the surprises he had planned for you. 

“And this is my son, Blake! He’ll be helping me up in the cockpit.”

Miguel stopped to shake his hand. 

He was like the textbook definition of a pretty frat boy. Tall, but not O’Hara tall, tan, and handsome. He smiled and showed a straight line of teeth, dimples peeking through. 

“Nice to meet you, Miguel. Kron’s really not coming?”

What’s with people asking about that dickhead today?

“Nope. Just us and our friends. If he does come, it’s news to me.” 

Blake went to shake your hand and it was like he started to glow under the sun. His smile went up to his eyes and he mimicked the heartthrobs in the movies Miguel’s cousins watched growing up. 

“And who’s this?”

“My name is-”

“My girlfriend,” Miguel said before you could even finish. 

You looked up at him in shock, laughing it off. “That too, but I have a name.” You respond to Blake and shake his hand. 

Miguel doesn’t like how his eyes scan your body. It was subtle, but he caught it. 

Even as you all finish up greetings, Blake is still making moves towards you. The type of flirting that probably flew over your head, but Miguel has been around enough guys like him to know exactly what it was. 

 “So is this your first time on a boat?” Blake asked you while he guided you guys to your room. 

“No, actually. But it’s definitely my first time on a yacht, especially one this huge.”

Miguel followed behind with Dana and Gabriel.

“Is this your first time on a boat?” Miguel mocked Blake quietly, mouth scrunched up. 

“‘La envidia esta flaca, porque muerde y no come,’” Gabriel replied. “You’re turning green from your neck, bro. He’s just being nice.” (Envy is thin, because it bites and does not eat.)

“No, he’s definitely flirting,” Dana quipped. “He’s not even paying the rest of us any attention.”

“Thank you, Dana. And Gabriel, don’t ever quote a Spaniard to me again.”

“How do you call that flirting? He’s not even-” Gabriel paused as Blake laughed really loud at something that you said with his hand guiding you way too close on your ass. “Ah shit.”

Miguel stomped towards you two, yanking Blake’s hand off of you and replacing it with his. 

“I think we’ve got it from here. You can show those two where they’ll be staying. Thanks,” Miguel nods his head towards Dana and Gabriel with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Right,” Blake responds to him with a blank face. “I’ll see you up on the deck.” Blake winks at you before walking further. 

“Don’t kill him, Miguel,” Dana pats his shoulder as she walks by. 

“You’ve got my permission to hurt him if he touches me one more time though,” you say, snuggling close to Miguel and patting at his chest. 

“So, I’m killing him. Got it.”

GymRat!Miguel who watches you twirl around the VIP suite. 

“Miguel! This is so beautiful! Look at the view.”

“Oh my god! There’s a walk-in closet!”

“There’s a bidet! How’d they fit that and a shower in here?”

Miguel leaned on the doorway, watching you comment on every little thing. 

You made sure to start to spray everything with Lysol, a habit from your mom when traveling. 

While you were in the bathroom, Miguel got out one of his first gifts of the night. 

It was another keychain to add to your collection. He’s been working hard to have this weekend make up for the awful dinner night. 

He placed it on the bed and started to open his bag to grab his pajamas. 

“What’s this?” you ask, coming out to spray the bed. 

“Just a little gift for you.”

“Aw, this is so cute!” Your voice gets higher as you take in the little legos. “They even look like us! When did you get these?”

“I got them made about a week ago. You like them?”

“I love them! Thank you, Miggy.”

GymRat!Miguel who wants to moan when you walk out. 

You guys are going on a double date with Gabriel and Dana at a casual-not-so-casual restaurant farther in the city. That didn’t stop you from getting all dolled up. 

You walk to him on the bed, standing in between his legs. 

“Amor,” Miguel said, rubbing his hands up and down your backside. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. So do you,” you responded, careful to not run your hands through his hair. It was a comfort for you, but you didn’t want to ruin it. 

Instead, you bent down to kiss him in the quiet of the room. The sun was still out, but a lot dimmer than before. Little patches of sunlight caught Miguel’s eyes. The color was so deeply brown, you swore you saw speckles of red throughout. 

He moved to sit you on his lap, glancing over every detail of your body. 

“You’re making it harder for me to want to leave.”

“It’s funny that you say that. You’ve been walking around like you’re straight out of a beach movie. Chest out and legs for days.”

Miguel blushed and put his head in your chest, bending you back and holding you so you won’t fall. 

“What are you hiding for? It’s true!” you laugh as Miguel seemed to burrow his face deeper. 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to call me out.” He was just trying to impress you, per usual. 

GymRat!Miguel who gets nervous on the way to the restaurant. It was one of those immersive experiences with projections on the plates that told stories with the meals. They were pretty cute to Miguel and he figured that all three of you guys would love it. 

The only thing is, he pulled some strings with Tyler to add an extra animation in there. He’s not sure how much that cost, but he’s glad he didn’t have to see the price. 

GymRat!Miguel who side-eyes Gabriel when he just about screams as the little chef walks across the animated place. 

“He’s so tiny!” he whisper-shouts. “So precious!”

By the time the first course comes out Gabriel is fighting tears. 

“Control it, Gabri,” Miguel says, rubbing his back. 

“I’m trying. I really am.”

GymRat!Miguel whose heart blooms when you laugh at one of the scenes. The little chef is squabbling with a giant shrimp and losing the battle. 

GymRat!Miguel whose heart speeds up when the special animation starts up. 

Only the two of your plates are lit up. There’s a river of chocolate that separates the two. From Miguel’s plate, there’s a little version of him that calls to your plate. He watches as your eyes grow when a mini you climbs on top of the plate and yells back. Your character throws him a kiss, sending a pink flutter across the river. The wave of it goes straight to mini Miguel’s heart who in turn, falls backwards dramatically. 

The real you lets out a watery laugh at the scene, eyes looking at Miguel briefly in shock. 

Mini Miguel jumps back up and gets to work, digging around the plate to grab biscoff cookies from the chocolate ocean to make a boat. While he works, your character wanders around the plate cutely, tidying up the area for his arrival. 

When the boat is finished, Mini Miguel uses a giant spoon to steer the boat, singing out brightly the closer he gets to you. The mini you is jumping up and down, cheering him on just like you do in real life. 

Once he gets to the edge of your plate, you lean close to give him a kiss. He climbs from the boat onto the plate and spins you around. You giggle in his hold until he lets you down. 

From there, he starts to use the spoon to drag a chocolate message across the plate. He takes confident steps, spreading the brown syrup across the plate with ease. 

“Tú eres mi luz.” (You are my light.)

When he finishes it, you both sit at the edge of the plate, feeding each other scoops of chocolate from the giant spoon. They both look up at you to wave, the Mini Miguel cheesing extremely hard as he waves both arms. 

The animation fades away in a wave of browns and pinks, the waiters bringing out the actual plates of food. 

The floodgates open when you’re presented with the same chocolate message, a slice of chocolate biscoff cake, and little chocolate decorations of the mini you and Miguel. 

“Oh my god, the spoon is here too,” you say with emotion, picking up a chocolate coated spoon. “Miguel!”

You don't know what to do. You keep fanning your face in hopes to stop the tears from coming out and ruining the light makeup you had on. Dana hands you a pointed napkin and you thank her while holding your head back. 

Gabriel is a mess, faces wet with tears. His cheeks are round as he blows out air to control his breathing. 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, mi amor,” Miguel’s face is ridden with worry as he reaches across the table to grab your hand. He looks to Gabriel and sighs, “You either, hermanito.” (little brother)

“I’m good. I gotta just,” Gabriel waves a hand in front of his face cutely. “Just gotta get this out. If you’ll excuse me.” 

He gets up to shuffle to the bathroom. 

“I better go help him out. He gets a little delirious when he cries like that,” Dana says, rubbing your shoulder as she leaves the table. 

Miguel wastes no time to sit in Dana’s seat, taking the napkin from your hands and wiping carefully at your tears. 

“I love you. So, so much,” you say, resting your face in his hands. “Everyday, you find new ways to surprise me. I don’t know how you do it, but I’m just…”

You pause, waving your hands in the air, unable to express how you felt. Just thinking about it has the tears spilling over again. 

“Hey, hey,” Miguel chides, catching your tears again. “If you keep crying, I’m going to cry.”

“I can’t help it, Miguel! You made a cookie boat to get to me. How can I not cry?”

Miguel reaches to kiss your cheeks in hopes to help you subside the tears, “I know, baby, I know. But to answer your first thought, when I think of you, the ideas just pour out of me. You’re my first true love, so I don’t know all the ends and outs of a relationship, but I do know what it feels like to be loved. I just want to extend that feeling to you.”

You stare in awe and the man sitting next to you, eyes glistening as you take in his words. 

“I think I need another tissue.”

Miguel laughs as he grabs one to pat at your face again. 

GymRat!Miguel who feeds you bites of the cake while you feed him scoops of ice cream when you’ve calmed down. You can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night. 

divider by: @iwonbin 🩵

Part 9.2 here!

a/n: This is half of the chapter, but I had so much fun writing this! (mostly because I was not doing my actual work while writing half of it), especially Gabriel's silly ass. Like, it was super duper fun. Writing jealous Miguel was also great. There's so much stuff about reader that he was unaware of and I've been imagining him sitting at a table and yelling like Kendrick when it all plays back in his mind.

As always, like, comment, and reblog. Let me know how you feel! 🩵

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[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 6

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: Hi, helooooo! Sorry for the long update times, my life has been super hectic. So this chapter didn't go where I thought it would end up going, so there's some things I think I said I was gonna explore that will be in the next chapter instead. However I hope you enjoy this one 💕 thanks for waiting

-🐺-

There was a quiet hum pulsing through the room, the buzz of everyone around you tending to their own conversations and hoppy drinks which allowed you to relax and attempt to tune out the busy environment. After another successful mission, the 141 wanted to unwind- which apparently meant going to the pub for drinks, darts and, according to them, mediocre grub. Although after dining fine on MRE’s for the majority of your life, you had to disagree. That sausage and mash was the some of the best you’d tried. 

Ghost had forced you to change into some civvies before you’d left, which meant doing another embarrassing repeat of the shopping experience hed’d taken you out on. You still weren’t convinced you were able to put together a good outfit, fussing and trying a few different combinations of things, but once Ghost had looked you up and down and given you a nod of approval you’d relaxed.

When you’d all gotten to the pub and you’d seen that less people stared at you while in your new attire, you were soon thankful for the change. A hybrid in military gear drew attention, it probably made people think the area was being worked, but a casually dressed and collared hybrid was apparently nothing to get too concerned about. Huh.

Once you’d pressed yourself to the back of the booth, you barely worried about being out in public anymore. The world was the confines of the table, the edge of it stretching no further than your now trusted teammates. That became all the more true after you were offered a drink and then another and another. Once the buzz had started, the last of your lingering anxieties around being out floated to the back of your mind and disappeared like smoke. None of the other patrons were even a blip in the back of your fuzzy little head. 

“So Pup, what’d you reckon?” Gaz asked, spinning his pint glass around in his hand. “‘Nother drink?”

How many were you actually allowed, you wondered, you’d already had a few. When you turned to Ghost to try and gauge your answer, he was too busy talking in hushed tones to Soap, so instead you employed your backup. Price smiled wryly the second you clocked eyes with him across the table. 

“Like most things, Pup, this ain’t a test,” Price chuckled. “You know your own tolerance don’t you?”

“You think I’ve done a lot of drinking before?” You asked back, innocently dodging his question.

You twiddled with your own glass, rolling it between your palms and watching the dregs inside twirl. Bubbles of the beer still continued to fizzle across your palette even as you watched it dance below you. The hypnotic show only served to further make you aware of the hazy sheen across your eyes, and you were sure that if you stood up you’d probably feel like you were walking on foamy clouds. 

You’d have to be careful. Wouldn’t do to overindulge, you tried to remind yourself. Though that voice was quiet compared to the euphoric beast in you that cried out for more, that wanted to keep going until you forgot about every sordid thought in your head as easily as you forgot about how uncomfortable crowds made you. 

“Well you sunk those pretty quickly,” Gaz said, motioning his glass toward you.

“Not to mention Branhaven has one of the highest rates of contraband seizure for a UK base,” Price noted, finishing the last of his drink. “Reckon you’ve probably indulged a time or two, no?”

You couldn’t conceal your smile. Though your ears soon pinned to your head, realising that the implication that you were engaging in illegal behaviour was floated out wide in the open. It was true, hybrids would often do chores or other kinds of favours for human soldiers in exchange for goods, which often meant working for booze or cigarettes or stronger stuff on occasion. You’d been more than happy to help with boot polishing and patch sewing on an occasion or two. Some nights it helped with the pain, on others it just kept you from going mad.

“Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone your secrets,” Gaz winked. “I’ll go get us another round.”

You bit your lip and nodded, watching as he made his way over to the busy bar, casually floating around a group of men before seizing an opportunity to break through to the oderous wood top. Once at the counter, he folded his arms over it and leaned his body out ever so slightly, his hips angling back toward the table. 

It was hard to tell if it was entirely the drink, but as you watched him, you found yourself really looking what you saw. Gaz was a well built man, lean and proportioned well, but it was his face that your eyes were stuck on. He looked good that night, his smiles came easy, the full ones that showed his fang-like teeth. They glinted in the soft light when he turned around to say something to the man next to him, shining like pearls. His shoulders were relaxed, back untensed, his body shook with laughter when the other man made a joke. 

Truth be told you couldn’t be sure how long you stared after him, but it was safe to say your roving eyes didn’t go unnoticed. 

“See somethin’ you like over there?” Price asked, jerking his head back to the Sergeant. 

You blinked slowly. Your head felt like it was rushing with syrup, getting flustered but too tipsy to respond with anything smart.

“What?” 

“You’re lookin’ awfully hard is all,” he shrugged. 

The room felt like it heated a few degrees. In an effort to not meet that crinkly eyed grin of your captain, your gaze floated along the arm hed slung over the back of Gaz's chair. However, that only gave you more problems. You immediately imagined him slinging that arm over you, holding you close and sharing his heady body heat. Smelling his scent, bathing him in yours.  

It’s happening again! 

Your ears perked up like lightning rods when you realised that some baser part of your nature was taking over yet another time that week. The feral little creature that usually kicked around somewhere in your hindbrain was clawing its way to the forefront. Now you were practically panting after half your team. You needed to get a hold of yourself, you reasoned,  surely you weren’t going to give into whatever random desires you were getting for closeness. Stupid Pack bond - or whatever it was that Ghost had chalked it up to. 

“I, uh- there’s pool over there,” you shrugged lamely, gesturing to the tables just off to Gaz’s right. 

Someone managed to pot a ball not long after you’d said it. Your ears tilted toward the sound, then swivelled again when you heard Gaz’s familiar huffs and puffs of effort. He was now stepping toward you with a trayful of glasses, clenching his teeth whenever he came close to spilling or bumping into someone, walking ever slower with the wobbling glasses as he realised how precariously they were balanced. His muscles bulged a little with the effort. 

Price caught your stupid staring again, but he didn’t say anything about it this time. His eyes just narrowed knowingly at you, not with accusation but with concealed humour. You could tell by the subtle pull of his lip. 

“Gazzy. You up for a game?” Price barked.

“Depends, what are we playing?” Gaz asked, raising a brow as he snatched his pint.

He took a sip of it, coating his upper lip in a little sheen of foam. He licked it off in short order. 

“The wolf wants to play pool,” Price said. 

Price once again interrupted your brain fog from taking over. Knowing full well that he would be wearing that same stupid ‘I know what you’re thinking’ look on his face, you looked up at Gaz and reached out for your own drink. That one had to be your last before - god forbid - you were left drooling over anyone else. 

“Oh yeah? You a secret pool master?” Gaz asked. 

“Oh…no,” you clarified, awkwardly swallowing a gulp of beer. “I’ve watched it being played enough times though. I always wanted to try it.” 

You’d never actually been that bothered about it, you preferred to blend in rather than get caught in competition, especially when it came to games with humans. However as far as any of them were concerned, it was your life’s dream. Anything, as long as it stopped anyone from thinking that you were obsessed with your teammate. 

“You wanna pair up with me then? Reckon you should be on the winning team for your first game.”

“Pfft, winning team? Sure that’s with you, son?” Price scoffed.

“Beat you last time didn’t I, old man?”

“Fuck off.”

Price took a dramatic gulp of his beer then loudly pushed off from the booth, marching toward the pool table as if it were a mission objective. You laughed noiselessly to yourself, but soon had to stop yourself from choking on your own drink when the little demon inside you commented on how nice his big broad shoulders were, perfect for holding you close.

How were you going to survive the night?  

You looked back over at Ghost to try and regain some sense of composure only to see that Soap was shuffling along the bench to leave and your handler was about to follow him. Giving him a slight head tilt in question, you wondered where they were going. To which, Ghost answered by pulling you in close, wrapping his arm around you and leaving you practically choking on his forearm for a second, before he released you with a messy pat on the head.

“We’re goin’ for a smoke,” he chuckled, watching your annoyed glare with amusement while you fixed your hair. “Be good while I’m gone.”

The smile lines broke out under his eyes, and for a ditzy second all you could do was stare. All thoughts of telling him off left your mind, instead you were stuck looking above his face mask, drinking in the glittering pools of his irises and the blush tinged tops of his cheeks. Your tail wagged traitorously when he continued to stare back.

“What?” he huffed, smile still not leaving his eyes.

Your entire body flamed at being caught this time. 

“Nothing,” you shrugged, shrinking back into the chair.

You hoped that the chair would swallow you. 

“Silly thing.”

Ghost gave you a scratch behind the ears then finally slid off to join Soap. However, you weren’t left alone to your own self-deprecating thoughts. Gaz was watching you, his lips curving in amusement. He started to twirl his glass again, spinning it around on it’s axis. 

“So how do you like being with the 141 so far then?” 

The question caught you off guard, but you had to admit it was a welcome distraction. You unpinned your ears from your shameful, burning head and relaxed once more. 

“I like it,” you said simply. 

“Oh yeah? How’s staying with Ghost?”

“Oh uh, Ghost is nice. It’s been cool having my own room,” you said, smiling as you thought about your big comfy bed. “He’s been really good to me.”

Gaz snorted out a laugh before he could stop himself. 

“What?” You glared. “What’s so funny?”

“Nice isn’t the first word I’d use to describe Ghost, but….” He shrugged. 

“Ghost is nice though,” you frowned, body growing tense at the hint of any accusations of the contrary. 

“Sure, when he’s not telling awful jokes or burning holes into your head with that stare he has,” Gaz laughed, outstretching his hands and wiggling his fingers. “I’m from Manchester and I’m gonna steal your soul with me spooky eyes.” 

You giggled at his terrible impression, back unfurling from its defensive hunch, then hit his hands away playfully. Normally you would’ve worried about the repercussions of doing something like that to a superior, but the drink was still buzzing through your head and if that weren’t enough Gaz’s smile shone brightly back at you. 

“Ghost isn’t spooky,” you affirmed.

“Seriously? Next you’ll tell me that you don’t live in a big haunted castle together.”

“We don’t!” You laughed.

“I bet it has skeleton decorations everywhere. Skull pillows and skeleton paintings, table and chair legs shaped into bones.”

“No!”

“Really? Damn, the man isn’t as predictable as I thought…but honestly tell me. Does he have little skeleton jammies? You can’t seriously tell me that he doesn’t keep the skull look going when he gets home. He probably sits and watches Netflix with his skull top and bottoms and skeleton cuddly toy and skeleton sockies. No? Genuinely?”

You only continued to laugh and shake your head, denying his silly accusations. Gaz smiled back at you, shifting his eyes over you as if he were cataloguing every sign of your delight. 

“Oi, time for hilarities is over,” Price said, appearing through the parting crowds. “get ready to get your arses handed to ya. I got us a table”

“You sound awfully confident, Captain,” Gaz said, scraping his chair across the rough floors. 

“Because I’m not drunk this time.”

“Don’t need you to be drunk to beat you. Got Pup on my team, we can’t lose.”

-🐺-

“Maybe I should sit this one out,” you murmured, flinching as the cue white ball barely even tapped the yellow ball that you were trying to hit. 

Your ears pinned low to your head and your temperature grew as you looked up and down the table and failed to see how you were going to pot even a single ball at the rate you were going. When you’d watched the game being played in the past, you’d assumed it was easy, but apparently the human soldiers were just skilled at it.

Your failure was made all the worse by the fact that Gaz and Price had very dutifully stood and explained the rules and how to use the pool cue when the game had begun. In fact Price had been so thorough on his explanation it prompted Gaz to assert once again that you were going to beat his arse easy. However…

You had taken two attempts and in that time had only nudged that mockingly cheerful yellow ball once. The first attempt where you almost missed even hitting the cue ball altogether didn’t bear thinking about. Meanwhile Price had already potted four. You chewed your lip, hoping Gaz wouldn’t be too annoyed that his tutoring was apparently falling on deaf ears.

“Aw, don’t worry Pup. You’ll get it,” Price chuckled.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it. It’s your first game!” Gaz reassured

He leaned over then and zeroed in on a striped orange ball, setting his cue across the back of his roughened hand and sawing it back and forth like a wary snake. He’d taken off his brown trucker jacket at the beginning of the match, so now his arms were out in full display, practically suffocating inside the short sleeves he wore and bursting to get out. Your eyes grazed along the cue and danced between the thick hairs on the backs of his forearms and up to his biceps, mesmerised by the shifting muscle. 

You missed seeing him finally hit the cue ball, but your ears twitched at the sound and your heart sunk when you both saw and heard the resulting ‘plonk’ of the orange stripe rolling merrily into its pocket. You were so screwed. 

“Gonna hold back on making eyesight jokes now, Garrick?” Price questioned, already lining up his next shot.

“Only if you manage to get that blue,” Gaz winked, pointing to a ball that sat nowhere near the cueball. 

“Easy, I’ll just hit the ball off the side, let it bank left and then it’ll roll into the pocket,” he grinned.

“Oh yeah, easy,” Gaz scoffed, nudging you with his shoulder. “Watch this, Pup. Captain’s about to embarrass ‘imself.” 

“Oi. Keep your shit opinions to yourself!”

Gaz rolled his eyes, but nevertheless the two of you watched in concentrated silence as Price actually started to line up the shot he called. After a few tense seconds of watching him adjust and readjust once more he took a breath then whacked the ball with all the force of a train going through a brick wall. The white ball smacked into the fuzzy green side then banked just shy of the blue striped ball, rolling furiously into the pocket straight after. It landed with a heavy thunk to boot. 

“Fuck me,” Price muttered to himself, immediately grabbing for his beer straight after.

“Wahey! Look at that Pup, we’ve got two shots,” Gaz said, heavily patting your shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” you laughed weakly, handing him the cue. “You got this.”

“Woah woah woah,” Gaz said, tilting his head dramatically. “We’re a team, we got this.”

“Well it is your shot.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

He shoved the pool cue back into your hands, but he didn’t step away from you after. He pressed you insistently toward the table and caged his arms between yours, taking your hands with his and adjusting them up the smooth wood. You shivered at the feeling of his warm breath tickling at your neck and teasing through your hair. You stiffened up like drying clay when he moulded himself closer into you.

“Don’t freeze up like that, you’re not under attack. Look, I’m gonna show you how to hold it properly and that way you’ll get a good hit alright?” 

You chanced a look back at him and caught a look into those molten honey eyes, knowing full well you were a goner. You’d just have to go with whatever he said. After giving him a gentle little nod, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned back toward the table, allowing him to slowly arrange your body so that you were in the supposed perfect stance.

His hands were silk, gliding delicately across your arms so that you would place yourself how he wanted. You had to hold yourself back from shivering every time his touch came. Once you were standing how he wanted, he took to laughing and tutting at you until you got your finger into the correct position to support the cue, and only when that was Gaz certified did he allow you to start readying your shot. 

“Ok, take it away, Pup. You got this!”

After a couple of practice slides, you drew the cue back one final time, holding your breath as you prepared to send it flying forward and into the purple ball that Gaz had lined up for you. You finally took your shot, watching with wide eyes as the cueball barrelled forward and shunted straight into the purple, sending it toward the pocket while it landed neatly beside a couple more of your balls, ready for the next shot. As soon as the purple landed fully down, you were jumping up in an instant.

“I hit it! I hit it and scored a point,” you said, full smile beaming as you turned to Gaz. “Did you see how fast it went? I wanna do that again!”

Gaz’s sharp canines were on full display again. His eyes travelled low down on your body and he chuckled, and only when you followed his eyeline did you see that your tail was furiously wagging up a storm behind you. It wafted up a big draft of air, blowing gusts through the old newspapers that were piled on the low table behind you.

“I saw. You did good,” Gaz praised, laughing while rubbing the little spot on your cheek that he always did.

“Yes, Pup - very good,” Price added dryly, shaking his head while taking another swig of his drink. 

With that the newspapers behind you turned from almost the front pages, toward the nonsense stories at the back.

“What’s got you so excited, fuzzy lugs?” 

You turned and saw Soap leaning over the end of the table, slowly swirling his whisky while he assessed the game. His blue eyes rolled from one end and to the other then settled on you, pinning you in place for a moment until you’d realised that he’d asked you a question. You bit your lip and shrugged, trying to downplay yourself a little as you remembered that your victory was being celebrated a little too early. 

“I potted a ball,” you shrugged, trying to hide your mellowed tone with a drink. 

“Oh did ye, aye? You’ll have to do it again for me and Ghost,” he grinned. 

Soap motioned his head to the left, pointing toward Ghost who was taking his time wandering back to Soap’s side. You could smell the cigarette smoke cloying to him as he walked by. It made your nose wrinkle. Though you soon forgot all about it when he shot you a wink.

“Gonna show us your new skills?” He asked. 

Now everyone was watching you. No pressure. 

You gulped and made your way back to the table side, using your cue like a walking stick. Poking your tongue out, you stood for a second and swayed a little on your unsteady tipsy feet, thinking through your next move. Your eyes roved over the balls, moving between the two most likely candidates until you settled on the green. 

After looking up and confirming everyone was still staring, you shuddered. However Gaz gave you an encouraging smile, which spurred you on all the more. A few awkward seconds passed while you tried to reform yourself into the same position Gaz put you in before. Even in your drunken state you still recalled most of the ways he’d shown that you were supposed to position yourself, all the while keeping your hands further up the stick so that you could hit harder and keeping your finger ridgid against it. 

You slid it back and forth, once, then another two times and finally you made your move. The cue thwacked into the cueball and sent it rocketing into the green, sending the green ball rolling forward and flying toward the left side pocket. The ball began to lose its momentum just toward the end, it slowed just a little more and then a little more and just when your ears started to collapse downward in disappointment, it managed to creep into the pocket at the last second. 

“Holy shit I did it! I did it all by myself!” You squealed, perking back up again and grinning like an idiot. 

You turned, making sure everyone had seen it, but before you could take stock everyone you were surrounded by two massive chests. The pressure came quickly crushing you up like a scrapped car. Though you didn’t mind, when your panicked mind realised they were hugging you, you settled into it and wagged your tail. 

“That’s my good Pup,” Ghost crooned, his voice even more gravelly than usual. 

“You did so good!” Gaz whooped.

They both parted from you and just when you’d adjusted to having full lung capacity again, Soap all but whacked all the air from you with a couple of big pats on the back. 

“Well done, furball,” he said lowly, throwing you a sly smile. “Knew you had it in ya. You’re my wee pack mate after all, aren’t ya?”

Your tail wagged even harder at that. 

“Yes, very good,” Price barked, smiling despite the faux stern expression he tried to hold. “You taking your next turn or not, Pup?”

“I get another one?” You gawped, looking at the last few balls in awe. 

“You get one every time you pot. And if you don’t get on with your next one I’m confiscating it from you.”

“Don’t think that’s in the rules, old man,” Gaz laughed. 

“Gotta give myself a chance here, Garrick. You two have bloody hustled me,” Price retorted.

“Oh you think you’re hustled now? Just wait for this next turn.”

-🐺-

You helped Gaz win that game in the end, and as a reward he insisted on carrying you to the taxi on his back. Well, that’s what he intended anyway. He stumbled just as he got out the pub door and collapsed in a fit of drunken laughter. At that point Ghost took over and hoisted you up on his shoulder, carrying you like a sack of potatoes. 

Had you been in any state to complain you might’ve, however you were still riding on a winning high and your head was full of bubbles and fizz. No matter how hard you tried to stop it, your tail continued to sloppily wag even while Ghost carried you, and for the rest of the night he complained about having fur in his mouth. Normally something like that would worry you, thinking you’d annoyed him, but you’d been so carefree you fell asleep on him once he’d lugged you to the sofa. 

You’d woken the next morning stretched out fully over a sleeping Ghost and Soap, jumping up in mortification when you realised what you’d done and running to your bed for what felt like an extra five minutes of sleep. Then as a grand result of your wild night out (compared to anything else you’d ever done), you were exhausted the whole next day. So much so that you’d been flagging through a lot of your exercises, but luckily Ghost went easy and structured training so that you got more breaks and got easier tasks to complete. Whether that was more for you or him, you couldn’t really decide. 

“Sleepy Pup,” Ghost chuckled, rubbing your cheek with the back of his greasy hand. “We’ll get an early night tonight, huh?”

You hummed in response. The sound of him cleaning his rifle had been relaxing, the cloth fibres smoothly running along the barrel while you leaned against his leg and caught up on a little napping. Normally he would send you off to do something while he did upkeep, but given your low energy he was quite happy to have you rest with him while he worked. 

“Alright then, Pup. Time to head off home,” Ghost grunted, giving your shoulder a gentle shake. “We just gotta swing by Price’s office first.” 

“Ok,” you said through a yawn.

Your tail crooked off to the side more than usual, and you could feel the fur on your ears sticking up like an animal that had just emerged from hibernation. Had there been a mirror around, you knew you’d be jumping back from it,though luckily that wasn’t the case. Instead you followed listlessly along after Ghost, plodding through the hallways like a mindless golem after its master. 

“You ok to wait out here?”

It had barely even registered that you’d reached Price’s door. However when your mind came too, you were out in the dingy hallway that proceeded his room. The two of you standing by the chipped paint patch that looked suspiciously like someone had slammed a chunk out of the wall. You slowly nodded when you finally caught up, the joint in your neck rolling as if automated.

“Try not to fall asleep out here. I’m not carrying you again,” he chuckled. “You need anything, just knock.” 

You nodded again and watched him quietly open the door and click it shut. He left you alone in the corridor, staring bleary eyed at the flickering light, absentmindedly falling back against the wall and counting out the seconds between its full beam and little strobe dance. Without fail it would flicker every five to seven seconds. 

Footsteps marched down the hallway in the distance, and your ears twitched to their rhythm. The boots slapped against the floors at a quick pace, and slowly muffled voices echoed from out of obscurity and rang through your ears. The two men became clearer by the second, and before long they were crossing your path, just about to walk past you until one of them caught eyes with you and halted as if stopped by an invisible force.

“Care to explain what you’re doing leaning around like that, hybrid?” he growled.

You frowned at him. The man had dark hair closely cropped to his head, save for a small combed over patch on the top and big bushy eyebrows that fell heavy over his dark eyes. His friend meanwhile was almost completely bald, but had a striking scar across his cheek and a birthmark on his neck. Both of them seemed young, though not young enough that they were too fresh to think about messing with you apparently.

“I’m waiting for my handler to finish his meeting with Captain Price,” you said evenly, figuring it was easiest just to answer him. 

He didn’t look satisfied with your answer though, his eyes lit up in challenge and his jaw twinged as if biting through bone. All traces of tiredness left you in that instant. Whatever was about to happen couldn’t be good, you were experienced enough to know that much.

“What was that?” the man said, tilting his head for emphasis.

His friend raised his brows, looking between the two with a vexed expression. He musn’t have been as familiar with hybrids, you thought dully, glancing at him while still keeping yourself focused on the combover man. If only one of them was going to be aggressive then defending yourself from whatever they were going to do would be easier.

“I said that I’m waiting for my handler,” you ground out, stiffening your posture.

“Waiting for your handler, sir,” the man corrected, his thick eyebrows casting a dark shadow over his eyes. “You have to show respect to your superior officers.”

You said nothing in response, only nodding your head once and gritting your teeth. Technically that was true, but given Ghost was a Lieutenant that meant that you likely outranked them (given that you were automatically ranked the same as your handler as a hybrid). Those assholes could kick rocks as far as you were concerned, you’d earned your right to speak on their level.

“Do you want a last chance to fix your attitude, hybrid?” he asked, tensing his arms as he leered over you.

His shadow flickered in the wavering light and you couldn’t help but think of him as a demon. His friend put a hand on his back and urged him to ‘just forget about it’, but still the man didn’t budge. He continued to loom over you and stare expectantly, though as far as you were concerned he could wait forever. 

He didn’t though. The little shit, took your silence as insolence, and just when he was about to reach out and grab you, you strafed back from him and growled. The sound had the other man widening his eyes, but your main attacker only glared. It spurred him to come for you once again, but again he missed you and then failed to grab you another time after that.

“Get the fuck over here, you little-”

He reached out again to grab you, and finally he’d succeeded, clenching his hand painfully around your arm. However you weren’t going to let him manhandle you like that. You barked out a fearsome roar of defiance and dug your nails, more like claws, into the thick uncovered flesh of his arm and yanked it backward while spinning away from his grip. The yowl of pain he let out interrupted his sentence and sent his friend into a panic trying to drag the man back.

“What the fuck is going on out here?”

The shout echoed out across the concrete walls and all at once you all ceased your rebuttals. Your teeth stayed bared and you continued to pant, staring down the hallway as if possessed by a vengeful force. Meanwhile the two men looked fearfully over at the source of the voice, paling noticeably when they were forced to reckon with your fearsome handler. 

Your attacker gulped, loud enough that your sensitive ears picked up on it and swivelled in his direction. He flinched at the movement, but soon straightened up. The pitiful man held out his arm and set his face in a grim expression, using his other hand to motion down at the bleeding claw marks.

“This hybrid attacked me, sir,” the man said, voice far more subdued than it had been before.

Ghost raised his eyebrow from behind his mask and looked over at you. Once he’d finally assessed the state you were in, he put his body in between the two of you and set to work calming you down. He took your collar in his hand and directed you to look at him, smoothing his hand down your back and blocking your view of the perceived hostile. After which, he took to gently shushing your panting and making calming noises.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He asked after a few moments, smoothing his hands over your ruffled hair.

“Well, what happened was-” the man’s friend began. 

“Wasn’t fucking talking to you,” Ghost growled, not even sparing a look back.

Your mouth twitched into a smile, but Ghost didn’t indulge it. He set his eyes on you with a serious frown and forced a sigh from your lips. Part of you had thought that Ghost might be on your side, but now a little voice in the back of your mind was trying to scream past a crumbling barrier - it told you that maybe Ghost was going to give up on his gentle handler act. It would make sense, you thought, you were a bad soldier, you didn’t deserve the nice treatment to begin with. 

“I was waiting for you and then…I was asked what I was doing and then, when I explained myself, I was told I wasn’t being respectful enough. He tried to grab me and I fought him off,” you said awkwardly, not wanting to meet his eyes any longer. 

“Sir, that hybrid was leaning around - not even waiting at attention and when I tried to address their behaviour, I was given nothing but bad attitude back. I was trying to correct it’s bad behaviour when it saw fit to scratch me up like a fucking feral cat!” The man fumed.

“Correct their behaviour?” Ghost asked, turning to man finally. “How were you going to correct my hybrid’s behaviour exactly?” 

Your heart dropped into your belly. Every instinct within you screamed out that you were about to meet Ghost’s iron fist at last. You were going to experience a lashing at the very least and at worst, he might take everything you had come to care about away from you. Hot salty tears brimmed on top of your cheeks, finally overflowing at the thought that Ghost might’ve only given you all those things so that it would hurt more having them taken away again. 

You made sure to sob quietly, sniffling softly  into your hand so that you wouldn’t antagonise Ghost any further. Tears won’t get you anywhere in the army, mutt, Maddox’s voice chirped in the back of your mind. You almost missed the man’s pathetic whimpering answer.

“Well…I was going to give it a slap, sir. Strike some sense into it.” 

“I see,” Ghost replied, wide back still obscuring the man from you.

You doubted you’d make anything out past your tears anyway. In your mind everything was in the process of being ripped out of your life again, the team were going to look at you like the disappointment you knew you were, your things were going to be scrapped and stripped down to bare essentials once more and you’d never get to feel Simon the cuddlytoy’s soft fur ever again. However you were ripped out of your little pity parade with the sound of a hard smack. 

Your ears perked up and you jumped back a pace or two, looking around for the source of the noise until you looked past Ghost and saw your attacker rubbing his cheek and groaning. For a second, you couldn't quite believe what had happened, but soon enough the man was wrenching his hand away from his face in an effort to save face and it revealed an angry looking red patch of skin. It really had happened - Ghost had slapped the soldier. 2

“You think that’s knocked some sense into you, Second Lieutenant?” Ghost sneered. “Don’t you fucking dare breathe in the direction of another handler’s hybrid ever again, nevermind think that you have the right to discipline them, you self-righteous little cunt. Get out of my sight the pair of ya.”

The man opened his mouth, about to say something in his defence until his friend nodded sharply and began to drag him away. Not wanting to cause more of a scene the man relented, but the way he glared as he turned told you that this wasn’t over. There was a new target on Ghost’s back now. 

However, said back was turning away from you now and Ghost was facing you once again and pulling you into his arms. After a shocked second of fear, readying yourself to be hit or similarly reprimanded, you slowly came to realise he didn’t mean to hurt you at all. He was hugging you and rubbing your back, telling you that it was alright. 

“Wh- what are you doing?” you asked feebly, trying your best not to hiccup or sniff through your words.

“Trying to comfort you, if you’ll let me,” Ghost snorted, slowly walking you backward. 

You walked with him, but only grew more confused as he dragged you into Price’s office and forced you to sit on the old ratty couch and curl up with him. Out of the corner of your bleary eyes you saw Price sitting at his desk and watching you both with concern, gathering up a few bottles of water onto his desk. In front of you, Ghost wrapped his grip ever tighter round you and got you to bury your head into his neck.

“It’s over now, Pup,” Ghost said softly, smoothing over your salt scorched cheek. “You’re ok.” 

“But…you- aren’t you going to punish me?” you asked, freeing yourself from his hold a little and drawing away from his usually relaxing scent so that you could make an effort to think straight. 

“You’ve not done anything worth punishment,” he said gently.

“I scratched someone,” you whined, looking down at your still bloody hands with a wobbling lip. 

“Someone that saw fit to break protocol and try to discipline a hybrid that wasn’t theirs. You had every right to defend yourself. You’re not going to be punished for that.”

“Especially not when the punishment he had in mind didn’t fit the crime in the first place. Corporal punishment is supposed to be reserved for serious offences Pup, not for leaning or having a bad attitude,” Price added, coming to sit at your other side. “Here, take a drink of this. You need it, you’ve made yourself unwell.” 

He handed you a water bottle and gave you a serious look until you finally took it from him and slowly uncapped it. Through a series of uneasy sips, your heart began to regulate and your body stopped shaking. You hadn’t even realised that you had been shaking. The realisation made you sign, taking a couple breaths until you could clear your mind enough to reach some level of proper awareness again. 

“I thought it was all going to go away,” you sighed, leaning against Ghost’s chest when you knew that things were normal again. 

“What was going to go away?” Ghost asked, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. 

You bathed in his and Price’s joint attentions, letting Ghost rub your cheek and Price smooth a hand over your shoulders and back. For a few luxurious seconds you let yourself revel in the fact that you were wrong. The stupid little panicky voice in your head was a liar. Everything was just as it had been. 

“Everything,” you said eventually, voice barely a whisper. “I thought you were going to take all my things away and start treating me like they did at my old base. Thought I was going to be sent to the post…”

“Mark my words, anyone tries to lash you again and they’ll have the entire 141 to answer to, Pup,” Price said, voice coming through in a low growl. 

“And I’d never take away your things,” Ghost vowed, cupping your cheek so that you had to look at him. “They’re given to you as payment for your service to us. They’re not for me or anyone else to take away, just like Price can’t rip my things from me. Nothing’s going away and you’re never going to be treated the way you were ever again. You’re ours, alright? We always protect our own.” 

You stared at them both in disbelief, but couldn’t think of anything to say. The exhaustion and the upset combined and you were left feeling more drained than you had been in days. Instead you settled down back into Ghost’s collar bones and let yourself be petted and fussed over, sleepily letting your eyes close for the last time that day.

“Just wait till Soap and Gaz hear about this. That bastard’ll be lucky to see sunrise tomorrow,” you only just heard Price whisper darkly, before scratching a calloused hand over your ears. 

“Now now, Price,” Ghost murmured back. “Gotta make it look like an accident.”

[miller-n-morgan-2]

Take Me Home

3. Worthiness

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: Apologies for taking so long in between to repost these chapters, it's almost fashion week and I am CRAMMING everything my ass can handle into the next few weeks lmaooo. pls enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Abigail gains a new friend and gossip partner to chat with over meals, and Pearson has had enough of it. Luckily, Dutch has something lined up and ready to take the kid out of camp.

Warnings: Mild Language, gun violence. Game typical violence. Robbery/heist shenanigans. Fluff and Angst, because who doesn't love that combo? Arthur and reader get into a fight and want to kill each other for like a split second but it ends fine I swear.

WC: 6.1k

“I think I could drop you where you stand.” You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him.  “You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead. “Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

You’ve taken to a new hobby. You’re not quite sure the word that describes it right, but to explain what it entails, a bit of background needs to be added for understanding. 

Abigail is borderline nine months pregnant. 

John Marston, the everloving man that he is, has taken it upon himself to steer clear of her in the last stages of her pregnancy. 

Given this unfortunate situation, Abigail finds herself eating more and more food to try and relieve the stress. She also finds herself ranting to you about the dimwitted man that impregnated her, because you seem the most open to listening without offering advice. Truth be told, you just enjoy the company of a woman that doesn’t shy away from you, or try to woo you over. It brings about a sense of normalcy. 

Now, in the past weeks that this has been happening, you’ve taken to eating at the same times as Abigail, shoveling more and more into your plate like she does. It’s now become a ritual, or as you would like to call it, a hobby, to sit and devour food while shit-talking John Marston as he’s away. ‘Keeping his distance,’ whatever the hell that means, when the woman you’re with is nine months pregnant. 

In the midst of this new hobby, Dutch and Pearson have had many arguments. Dutch was always less than concerned about it, whilst Pearson nearly threw a fit every time either of you came to get portions for a meal.

“I’ve had enough of it. They come, they eat, they leave! That new boy of yours hasn’t done anything since he got here but eat us out of our stock,” Pearson complained for the hundredth time. Though you’d kept up with chores around the camp, (trying to help Abigail pick up some of her slack) you hadn’t really brought any money into the camp, which was what Dutch brought you here to do.

“Arthur’s been trainin’ him well, I’m sure it’ll be no time at all before he starts runnin’ jobs with us.” Dutch knew what this was really about…

Pearson was madder than a hornet when John first got Abigail pregnant. Even worse when he found out she would be traveling with the gang from then on. Feeding a pregnant woman was sometimes like feeding two extra men… not to mention the fact that you joined her at every meal. He doesn’t want to say anything about Abigail, especially in the state she’s in… but maybe if you didn’t sit and eat with her all the damn time, it wouldn’t be as bad, and the rations would last longer. 

“He better start earnin’ his keep. If he doesn’t I’ll skin him, make a stew.”

Dutch let out a boisterous laugh, clapping Pearson on the back and shaking his head. 

“I have a feeling he’ll probably bring in as much as Arthur… There’s some sort of competition between them. I think as long as they don’t rip each other to shreds, they’ll be real beneficial,” He started towards Hosea, passing by you and Abigail on the way and tipping his hat. “Top of the mornin’ to ya.”

“Mornin’,” you nodded with a smile, taking a sip of your coffee before digging back into the bread and jam you both raided from Pearson’s ‘kitchen.’

He ducked into his tent, and you turned back to Abigail, listening intently to all she had to say. Today, she had news of an argument between her and John the night before. 

“It’s been all, ‘how do I even know that kid is mine?’ and ‘what if I don’t want to be a part of it anymore?’ since about the five month mark. M’startin’ to think that maybe I should’ve just left the gang, convinced some poor drunk dope from the town it’s his.” She gave her best John impression when quoting him, and as funny as it was, all you could feel was grief for the young woman. She was too young to even be thinking this way. 

You’ve not spent any one on one time with John, but he sounds like a real ass.

“As sad as I am to say it, Miss Abigail… I believe most of us men are stupid as they come. We can’t tell what’s right in front of us, even if y’all are screamin’ and shoutin’.”

“If that ain’t the truth…” she trailed, sighing with her head down. Even though she portrayed her sorrows in a comedic light, you could tell it weighed on her. 

You weren’t sure if you should even offer this, because you had no idea if you would even be hiding your secret this long, but the longer you go without revealing anything… you’re starting to think of your little secret more permanently.

“If push comes to shove… You can tell the kid it’s mine. Not too sure it’ll believe you, what with the carrot head I got, but if you want to…”

She laughed lighthearted, and sighed again, but this time out of contentment. 

“I guess not all men are stupid. You’re not even the first one who’s offered that to me,” she explained, nodding towards the outskirts of camp where an open tent fixed upon a wagon sat neatly kept. “Arthur said the same thing when all these problems with John started.”

You smiled, looking at his empty living space, barely anything to show that he occupied the place. He had a simple cot and bedroll, a small table, and just a few sentimental pieces here and there. He didn’t need anything fancy or grandiose to his name, just a gun and his hat, and he was satisfied. He’s even kinder than you thought, too, hearing it firsthand from Abigail. A good man, and a great outlaw. You found yourself longing for him nearly every day now, and it would only get worse from here. 

“He’s sure something, ain’t he?” You tried to be nonchalant about him, and it seemed to work in the eyes of Abigail, but if she’d known just one little thing about you, her entire mind would be changed. 

“Oh, yes. I’ll be damn straight with ya, I almost wish it were Arthur I met last year. Wish it was him that found me at the brothel. I do love John, but… he breaks my heart sometimes,” she let out, trying to hold herself together. She’d long since begun crying herself to sleep at night, pretty much since John decided she could sleep on her own. Now, though, was not the place to break down. You’ve been kind enough to listen to her, and she feels as though using your shoulder to cry on would be taking advantage. So she changes the subject. “While I’m on the topic of love… I’ve heard you got an admirer.”

Your cheeks grew red from embarrassment, and she thought that maybe you were blushing, but she didn’t know how far off she was. “I guess I’ve heard a thing or two ‘bout that…”

“Tilly is a sweet girl, I’m sure you both would get along fine,” she added, going back to her food. 

“She’s one of the kindest souls I’ve met,” you told her, trying to be as honest as you could without divulging anything she didn’t need to know. “I’ve just never…”

“You’ve never… what?” 

You shrugged, huffing a sigh and eating the last piece of jam covered bread on your plate. Already you could tell you’d be hungry again soon. “Never been in a relationship like that before.”

“I see. Is that something you think you’d want?” Her patience is why you liked speaking with her. Sometimes she had a short temper, but it was almost always warranted and towards those who deserved it. 

You took her question to heart. You’d not even considered a relationship since the day you ran away. Your self-found freedom had been from an arranged marriage. It had been your choice to leave that way of life. You never thought you’d ever find love in the aftermath of your liberation, but thinking about it now… You looked to Arthur’s tent, just a single glance to see if he’s returned yet.

“I hope so, maybe someday when the time is right. I just think that right now, I’m not so sure about anything at all, and it wouldn’t be fair to Miss Tilly to start up something I ain’t ready for.”

She sat and stared into your downward expression for a minute, meeting your eyes when you looked up. 

You smirked a little at her gaping expression, trying to make light of it. 

“I got somethin’ on my face?” 

“No,” she shook her head, knocking herself out of whatever trance she just fell into. “S’just that… I think you’re mighty wise for someone your age. And for a man, too.” 

“I reckon that’s a real fine compliment, and I’ll take it well.”

You both shared a laugh before going back to the stashed food for seconds. 

-

Dutch had an idea… a dangerous thing, but sometimes a very lucrative one. 

The worst part about this dangerous and lucrative idea? Arthur, Javier, John, and Bill were on board. It meant there was gonna be one hell of a party this afternoon, and no one in their right mind would have the courage to stop it. 

You were unaware of said idea until around lunch time, when Pearson just ripped you a new one for taking food before it was even ready. You shared it with Abigail of course, you’re not an animal.

Dutch and Hosea were making the plans for this afternoon, and came across you both sulking in the grass, just inches away from Pearson’s space. They grabbed some small provisions for themselves, as they hadn’t quite eaten much today, and you overheard some of their chatter. 

“I’m getting too old for all that excitement. One job here and there is all I can do anymore,” Hosea tried to reason with his dearest friend. 

“I need another gun or it doesn’t work,” Dutch sighed out, scratching the back of his neck as he thought of another solution. 

You stood up and peeked over the barrel you’d been resting against, leaning over it and making your presence known. 

“I got a gun,” you smirked, halfway joking incase he shuts you down. He hasn’t told you directly that he doesn’t want you riding with them yet, but he has asked Arthur if he thinks you’re ready… to which Arthur always replied, ‘almost.’ 

Dutch narrowed his eyes at you, looking back to Hosea, but the man held his hands up in mock defense. He was gonna sit this one out regardless.

“How’s your horse with gunfire?” he asked, genuinely considering your offer today. 

“He oughta be fine, otherwise I can take someone else’s.”

There was another moment of pause, and Hosea spoke up. 

“Sean would be happy to go, he hasn’t seen action in a few weeks.” 

You sighed, doing your best to act as if you weren’t upset, then started to speak loudly.

“That’s fine by me. I’ll just stay here and have lunch with Abigail…” you trailed, and immediately Pearson whipped himself around from his station. 

“No!” He shouted, and though you were partially joking, he didn’t want to find that out for himself. He’d had enough of you, and likely of Abigail, too. “As God is my witness, I will pack my shit and never look back… take him, I’m beggin’ ya.”

Dutch found his little outburst quite comical, as did you. He chuckled lowly and rolled it over in his head once more before deciding. Maybe what you really needed to learn was being thrown in the deep end. Hell, he knew what you were capable of. It was the very reason you stood on this ground in the first place. Now he needed to put those fiery trigger fingers to the test. 

“Son,” he turned back to face you with a look of sheer confidence, hopefully this didn’t mean the pressure would all be on you. “Saddle your horse, load up on ammo. You’ll be going with John.”

The smile you had immediately left your face. 

“Yessir,” you said quickly, leaving the group to do as he said. 

John Marston, the man you’d been shit talking for over a week now. Not to his face, of course, but to his lady it was enough, even if she was doing just as much if not more in sullying his name. 

You had a bad taste for him, that much you could say. It wasn’t going to be fun, but you’d prevail. You had to. It was time to start earning your keep. 

You found the rest of the men by the hitching posts, strolling up as confidently as can be. You enjoyed the baffled looks of confusion they wore, unsure of what you were doing here. Surely you wouldn’t be joining them…

“Howdy,” you teased, tipping your hat to them with a sideways smirk. Your young looking ‘boyish’ features gave them an inkling of annoyance with the look you wore, all cocky and arrogant for show. “Give me just a second, I’ll be ready to head out.”

“You’re coming with us?” Bill questioned, though it wasn’t out of sheer curiosity, but agitation.

“Damn straight,” you muttered quieter, done joking for now since they all seemed to be absolutely against you riding along. You got along with them in camp, why did they seem to exclude you now that a job was concerned? Why did they look like they were about to fight tooth and nail to keep you here?

You ignored their sarcastic chatter over your ‘scrawny’ appearance, and made ready your horse. You’d taken him riding several times since getting here, but he hasn’t gotten to see much action other than running down the side of the river bank. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” Arthur came up beside you, trying to gain your primary focus and lead it away from the horse… not exactly a hard task when you look like Arthur Morgan does.

“Dutch said I’m ridin’ on the job,” you explained, making it very clear, first and foremost, that you had permission to go out with them from the boss.

“When? Just now? Because as it was told to us, you weren’t goin’...” 

“I get y’all don’t exactly want me here, but he needed another gun. I happen to have one, matter of fact, and I’m pretty damn good at shootin’ it. I don’t understand your hissy fit, but it ain’t gonna stop me from goin’, so I hope we’re not gonna have a problem, here.” 

He kept his mouth shut. He needed to think and rehash his words in his head before he let something fly that he didn’t at all mean. 

“I’m tryin’ to protect you, kid.” He was even closer than before all of a sudden, and you had to make him the center of your attention once again.

“Protect me from what? I shoot faster than you, remember?”

You made a point, but he made a better one. 

“You mean ‘the one shot you know how to take?’ Is that the one?” He recalled your words from many days before, the day he began teaching you everything you needed to know. You’d been here nearly a month now, if you hadn’t learned enough already, you never would.

“Look, Arthur,” you turned away from him using all the strength you had, because dammit, you did enjoy looking at him. “I know you don’t think this is ideal, but it’s not your call to make. Take it up with Dutch.”

You strapped a rifle to your horse and grabbed its reins from the hitching post, leading the dark, glossy stallion over by where the boys were finishing up. 

“Marston,” you called, all traces of light hearted fun were gone from your tone, completely dulled and sullen from the loss of excitement. “I’m with you.”

-

Arthur rode with Dutch nearly the whole time.

You were on the caboose end of the cavalcade, and watched them talk up ahead. There was no doubt in your mind it concerned you, because that’s why Arthur is so high strung, so angry about this job. 

Javier gave you the run-down on the first few minutes of the ride. It’s a quick job, and shouldn’t get drawn any attention from the neighboring towns. Essentially, there’s a procession of carriages coming from the north and heading south east, and most of the folk traveling are fairly wealthy. The kicker is, all the valuables from each person are said to be stowed on a ‘safe cart’ in the middle of the procession. You’re not sure how they figure that, but you know Dutch has incredible sources. Using the team assembled, you’ll all have to separate the safe cart from the rest of the caravan, leading it off the trail and far enough away that it can be easily raided with no repercussions. The only downside? The safe cart is heavily guarded by several armed men and is manned by experienced drivers. 

Once Javier started getting into the logistics and details of the job, you zoned out, focusing on the conversation happening with Arthur and Dutch up ahead. You had no clue what they were saying, but the body language and facial expressions said a lot. 

Arthur likely expressed his concerns to Dutch, and thereafter, was told he need not be concerned… But Arthur was a persistent animal, he didn’t just dip his head and turn away. 

You think that Arthur may have listed a few points for Dutch to consider, and that the man did so, with the fact in the forefront of his mind that you were still on the job. 

By the time everyone reached the lookout, the two of them circled around to face the rest. 

“There’s been a change of plan,” Dutch called out, looking over every face and the horse they accommodated, and they lasted longer on you than the others. “John, you’re taking the frontside of the caravan with Javier.”

And just like that, you’d been replaced. 

“Where am I goin’ then?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“You’re with me, Red,” Arthur let out, his tone not nearly as angry as earlier. Now you gotta know what happened during that talk with Dutch.

“Yes, you and Arthur will bring up the back, makin’ sure there’s no surprises.”

You weren’t sure what to feel. Was he trying to keep you where he could see you? Did he think of himself as your babysitter? Why would he put up all that fuss just to give in as long as you rode with him?

“Alright,” you sighed out, acknowledging that bringing up the rear of the operation was still better than not coming at all. 

The rest of the plan stayed the same, and soon, everyone split off with their respective partners for this heist. 

You rode off with Arthur in silence to the waiting point, not daring to say anything until you’d been sure nobody was around to hear it. You weren’t going to rip into him about this, but you had questions. He clearly was concerned over your wellbeing if he fought so hard to make sure you wouldn’t be riding in, guns blazing, on your first job. You were just going to cover the rear, a measure of security. 

When you stopped just short of the trail, you hitched your horses, taking cover behind some bushes and trees to lay low. You turned to Arthur with a huff. 

“What the hell was that?” 

He was taken aback, but not jumpy about your outburst.

“Don’t start with this again, kid. I’m tryin’ to help you,” he crossed his arms, leaning against the tree and watching the road. It was still too early for the caravan, but he didn’t want to meet your eyeline.

“You ain’t helpin’ me, you’re holdin’ me back,” you grumbled, stepping on a small gathering of dead leaves, becoming even more enraged - for no good reason - when they didn’t crunch beneath your boot. 

“You’ll thank me one day…” he trailed, lighting a cigarette from within his pocket. You would have decked him in the face if you thought it would help. 

At first you’d been grateful to him, for seeing you no differently than the others, and even showing you the ropes to become better equipped. Now you could see it was all a ruse. He underestimated you and kept telling Dutch you weren’t ready. He kept ‘training’ you to keep you busy. You weren’t falling for that shtick again. You didn’t care how pretty his eyes were, anymore. 

“Where do you get off, Morgan? The shit you’ve been putting me through these past weeks…” you scoffed, finding it amusing almost just how unbothered he seemed to be. Maybe he really was just as mean as the town’s folk say. “I’ve been able to match or best you at everything you’ve thrown at me. Maybe I should just take you out of my way.” 

He chuckled, standing upright and creeping towards you with slow steps. His eyes narrowed, and for once, you felt you knew what it was like to be prey. 

“You wanna give it a try?” he taunted, towering over you with a threatening stare. Just seeing how intimidating he could really be, you wanted to back off. Of course, you didn’t. “You really think you could take me?” 

His voice was all too quiet, all too calm. The words he spoke held such heaviness, but it didn’t show in his tone. He was teasing you, and if you gave in, he’d likely give you a humbling. You knew he’d been eyeing your hand, as if hovered closely to your gun belt… so you dropped it to your side to defuse him a little. 

“I think I could drop you where you stand.”

You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him. 

“You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead.

“Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

Your dead eye stare caught him. He didn’t back down, didn’t waver… he was so staunchly preserved in his way of life that he didn’t even let it show in his eyes just how much you got to him with that line.

“Your twenty-one notches ain’t shit to me.” He’s sure that by now he’s killed hundreds, maybe thousands. Sure, most he shot in the back, but the number in which he didn’t still far surpasses your miniscule little twenty-one. 

“Then let’s make it twenty-two, yeah?” You didn’t plan on shooting it, but you drew your pistol faster than he could think, trying to put it against his chest to scare him, but his reaction time was faster than you had initially thought. He grabbed the gun from your hand before it ever neared him, and threw it into the grass behind him before shoving you down.  

“Damnit, Red! You have no clue, do you?” He stood over you angrily, looking at your frozen figure like you were an animal he was hunting. “You got a gift that none of us have. Hell, I’ve been doin’ this for sixteen years and I still ain’t as fast as you. You could be the best of us, but you’re too damn stubborn, and too damn arrogant. You’re never gonna get anywhere if you’re dead.”

You stood to your feet, staring at him silently. You didn’t have anything to say to him, and honestly, you weren’t sure what would even be okay at this point. He was still angry, but his arms were no longer tense, and he wasn’t seething through harsh breaths anymore. You turned away from him and walked to your horse, sitting back down by the base of a tree and tipping your hat over your eyes. This was going to be a long day.

-

It was approaching sundown when the caravan actually arrived. You’d been napping when Dutch and Bill first gave the signal. Arthur had been watching for it the entire time, and scoffed when he turned his head to you, finding you still fast asleep as if you had nothing to worry about. 

He took a few steps over towards your resting place, kicking your boot and startling you out of your peaceful slumber. 

“What?” you asked, annoyed. Your hat was still over your eyes, so he couldn’t see how dazed you actually were. 

“Sorry, miss… didn’t mean to disturb you,” he teased, his mood having cooled off since the hours after the fight you had. “Just thought you should be conscious during your first job.”

You huffed and stood to your feet, fixing your hat and making sure you hadn’t left anything on the ground. 

Arthur went back to the lookout position and watched through his binoculars for any signs that it was about to go down… you still weren’t one hundred percent clear on the plan, so you thought you might try and annoy him a little by reiterating it.

“So… Dutch and Bill are gonna close in on the sides, leadin’ the safe carriage away from the rest, and that’s when Javier and John stop it from the front. I got that right?” 

“You got it right,” he droned on mindlessly, trying his best to pay more attention to the small flaming signal in the distance. It’s getting closer, but until they put the fire out, there’s no need to mount your horses. 

“Then it‘s a four man job, they don’t even need us.”

“I s’pose you never heard the term ‘backup’ then, have you?” He snickered, still not even giving a glance in your direction. He was firm as stone in his resolve, and you figured it would be no use trying to entertain yourself further. 

“Didn’t take you as the ‘backup’ type…” you grumbled under your breath, mumbling some other incoherencies that he didn’t get a chance to hear. He was almost sure he saw Bill creeping over to the torch, and became positive when the light went dark. 

“Get on your horse,” he became quieter, more focused. You instantly figured it out that he was the type to zone in on his jobs, and maybe you could learn from it. If you really wanted to be his equal, you needed to learn to meet or best him in everything he thrives at. 

“You get the signal?” 

He nodded, “they’re coming down the trail, we gotta be ready to chase em’ when they come through.”

You both pulled up onto your saddles, holding the horse’s from moving too much. If your position was given away, they might derail the caravan from the trail. You reckon this many rich folk traveling in a pack oughta know someone’s gonna be stupid enough to steal from them. It’s why they have a safe carriage in the first place. 

Within a moment, you can see the caravan coming over the hill. It’s dimly lit as the sun lowers completely behind the mountains, small lanterns clinging to every vehicle on the trail. You look up to the ridge that Arthur had been scoping out all this time, and you see Dutch and Bill riding downwards in a rapid attempt to split the caravan. That’s when you spot it… the stone cold metal wagon, weighing probably more than all the horses in camp combined, and armed to the brim with men on every corner. They carry heavy repeaters, their heads on a swivel. They haven’t seen Dutch or Bill yet, but as they round the corner, they all raise their weapons, just for the sound of horse hooves. 

“Cover ‘em,” Arthur told you, grabbing his rifle off his horse’s saddle. You did the same, not hesitant to start shooting at the men in the distance. You had relatively good cover, and couldn’t really be seen, but upon seeing so much fire come from your side of the trail, they began offroading towards Dutch and Bill. 

“Do we go?” you asked, switching to your pistol as you prepared to let your horse run. 

“Not yet,” he held his hand for you to watch, leaning sideways to see around another tree. He had to make sure the rest of the caravan wasn’t following the safe cart. When he saw that most of them stopped in place, he flicked his wrist, pointing in the direction you needed to go. “Now.”

You rode quickly and out onto the trail, passing the other carriages. You could vaguely hear women crying and men yelling. They ain’t gotta be afraid for their lives, so long as they stay put. 

It wasn’t hard to catch up to the gang, as they had taken the remaining guards off on the way to stopping the carriage. There was one rogue horseman that Arthur turned and shot before he could get too close to the area, but other than that, they were able to get the damn thing stationary enough to rob. 

“John, hold him off,” Dutch commanded, watching the younger man hold his gun to the carriage driver’s skull. The man cried out for mercy, not knowing that Dutch would spare his life regardless. He was unarmed, and wasn’t standing in their way, so obviously they would let him go. The Van Der Linde’s did have a code, after all. “Arthur, you open the back.”

And so he put his gun away and strolled up to the back of the wagon with his head held high, happy this robbery went according to plan… until of course, he opened the back, and was unprepared for a heavily armed man to aim right for his chest and pull the trigger. Two guns sounded at almost the same time, but yours sounded first, and it was just quick enough to skew the aim of the dead man, and he landed a non-fatal blow to Arthur’s shoulder. Both men collapsed, but one was still alive. Twenty-Two…

“Arthur! You alright, son?” Dutch yelled, running over to check on him. You’d already knelt down by where he had fallen back to, trying to sit up, but failing because of the pain. You immediately put pressure on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding on your own accord. You ripped the bandana from your neck and tried tying it up, but it was just barely long enough to go around his entire shoulder and underarm. 

“M’fine, s’just a minor shot, it went through.”

“Brooks, you oughta take him back to camp, see if any of the girls know how to patch him up,” he gave you direct orders, and you nodded, helping a moaning and groaning Arthur to his feet. 

“How’d we make out?” Arthur asked, looking into the open wagon, where Bill and Javier seemed to be rolling in money.

“Pretty damn good,” Dutch replied, giving a pat to your shoulder, since Arthur’s is in disarray. “And Brooks?” 

You looked over your shoulder at him, a hopeful look on your face, longing for the approval of someone besides yourself for once. “Yeah?”

“You did good.”

And there it was, the signed seal of approval from none other than Dutch Van Der Linde himself. 

You and Arthur remained pretty silent on the ride back to camp, mostly because he was in a shocking amount of pain and distress, but he did his best to hold it in.

You hitched and unsaddled his horse for him, doing the same with yours before following him into camp. He made way for one of the ladies, maybe Abigail if Jack was asleep already, or Karen if she wasn’t busy workin’ some of the town men. 

“Hey,” you recognized what he was doing, so you pulled him by the opposite arm in the direction of his tent. “I’ll do it.”

His living area was just wide open space in the trees, unlike yours, however, he got quite a bit more elbow room than you did. Perks of seniority

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m tryna apologize, you should let me.”

He laughed a little, a soft smile on his lips.

“What’re you apologizing for?” He asked, sitting down into his cot as you rummaged through the supplies he had on hand. Maybe not the best stuff around, but to stitch him up and wrap it after, it was fine. He’d survive. 

“Bein’ an ass, and taunting you when I know you could snap my neck in one hand.” You were flat in your tone, too focused on threading a needle to put any effort behind your words. 

“I’d never,” he said, laughing a little. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood for just having been shot. 

“You might,” you tied the thread off and bit the end to break it from the spool. Very hygienic, you know, but you didn’t find a pair of scissors. “You’ve only just barely reached the surface for just how obnoxious I can be.”

“Oh have I now?” 

“Mhm…”

You pulled at his shirt collar, opening just a few more buttons until it could pull back over his arm. He didn’t stop you, or even wince, just sat back and waited for the sting of a needle.

“This ain’t gonna tickle,” you braced him, but as soon as you started digging into his skin, making the actual stitches, he was surprised. You were pretty good at this… the reasoning behind it was probably just another one of your many secrets, he’s sure.

“S’not so bad, actually. You do this a lot?” 

“Not anymore… but I was a little rich girl, remember? Did embroidery and needlepoint since I was a little kid. I kind of miss it, actually.” 

“A gunslinger misses doin’ needlepoint?” he chuckled, feeling the hole in his skin being patched back together. Now you just gotta do the other side. 

“Well sure,” you furrowed your brows, leaning forward to bite the thread again and pull his body so you could see the exit wound. “I used to sit on the porch of my house and do it with my mama.”

He felt sorrowful all of a sudden. “Were you uh… close with your mother?”

You nodded, not speaking in fears you’d tear up, or your voice would crack. The way you both were sitting, he couldn’t see the direct look on your face, but he understood it was probably a sensitive subject. 

Oh to think, what a life you may have led if you were not born a girl. You missed your mother, and your old friends from school. You missed being able to do needlepoint, and other more feminine activities. 

“You know what I hate most about this life?” you uttered, your voice shallow, but you didn’t seem to care all that much anymore. He seemed to take a genuine interest in your problems, and your personal feelings. It was more than you could say about most men. “I haven’t worn a dress in four years… and I really love dresses.”

This wasn’t the meltdown you saw yourself having in front of Arthur, but he didn’t mind it. He placed his opposite hand on your shoulder as you bit off the last thread to seal his wounds. 

“How about this… someday, when you’ve told everyone that you’re- y’know…” he trailed, nodding his head around for emphasis. “I’ll buy you a dress in town. Whichever one you want.”

You couldn’t help but smile. In the span of one day, you’d gone through nearly every emotion you possibly could with this man, but in the end, your resolve had again been weakened, and you found yourself falling into his crystal eyes once more. 

“Thank you, Arthur… You’re a kind man, you know?” 

He shook his head. “Not so kind to most.”

You knew not to argue with him, as you were learning, he was very self deprecating, and there was no changing his mind. You took a leap, unsure of what might come of it, but you wanted to show your gratuity some other way. 

You quickly leaned forward, kissing his cheek ever so softly, almost as if it didn’t even happen. When you sat back, his eyes were a bit wider, and his brows were raised. He seemed to be frozen in surprise, and words failed him. You didn’t want him to possibly find words that could hurt, so you stood up to leave, calling after him whilst walking away. 

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

And that would have been good enough, but your heart skipped a beat when your sentiment was returned. 

“Night, Red.”

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll

[cheegu3]

Enhypen - the glory (part 10)

summary; after rejecting one of the most popular boys at your new school, you soon realised that you'd done the gravest mistake of your life; these weren't ordinary boys, and now they were set on making your life a living hell - heavily based on the kdrama with the same name

warnings; yandere themes, bullying themes, blood, knives, death? sexual tones, swearing

genre; yandere

wc; 7.6k

pairing; enha x f.m reader

note; some will be horrified and some will be happy after reading this lol, also let me know if you have any unanswered questions u want for the next chapter, love u thank u 🤍🤍

masterlist

‘’ I have no idea. ‘’

The car fell silent and continued to be all the way until you reached your house. Soobin hesitated before unlocking the car, which scared you a little; having been used to the torture at school for so long.

When he noticed your panicked eyes, he looked apologetic. ‘’ I was just thinking about if you still feel safe staying at your house. ‘’

‘’ Do you mean because of Jake? ‘’

‘’ Mainly, but I guess…everything else too. ‘’

You hadn’t even considered the possibility of not going home for a while. But thinking it over, you realized that Soobin’s house was a lot closer to where they lived. Even if you felt a bit better having someone else by your side, it was more likely that something would happen if you stayed the night over there. Especially since they had shown some jealousy over the friendship. 

Not wanting to trigger something, you opened the door and gave Soobin a small smile. 

‘’ No, I’ll be okay. ‘’

‘’ Are you sure? ‘’

Although you took some time to answer, when you finally did you felt pretty sure in your decision and hoped Soobin wouldn’t worry too much.

‘’ I’m sure, I will just text you if something happens. ‘’

‘’ Not just that. You can text me if you can’t sleep or if you want to come over because you’re scared too, ‘’ he softly said, warming your heart with his compassion. 

‘’ Okay, thank you. ‘’

He unlocked the car at last and waved goodbye before driving off. You stood outside and watched until his car wasn’t visible anymore.

‘’ Y/n? ‘’

You turned to your dad, relieved it was his voice and not someone else’s that you heard there in the dark; the clock must be what…7pm now? You wouldn’t want to be caught out that late with one of your bullies like last time with Jake.

‘’ What are you doing out? ‘’

‘’ I was just throwing out the trash. Why did you come home so late? ‘’

‘’ You just noticed, ‘’ you chuckled dryly, ‘’ Dad of the year. ‘’

You went inside without waiting for him but he quickly caught up, joining you in the elevator just in time for it closing. He fidgeted with his hands and looked very uncomfortable as you passed the first floors. You tried to ignore him, which proved to be quite difficult since it looked like he had something he wanted to say.

‘’ I haven’t been the best dad, I know that. Especially lately I’ve…been just out of it. I’m sorry, y/n, I really am. ‘’

Your mouth stayed closed - you did so hoping that he would continue talking because you wanted an explanation. He had been quite bad with being present in the past but lately it was constant. He acted as if he didn’t have a daughter at all which was odd given he should’ve been concerned for you since you were getting bullied at school.

‘’ Your mother’s not doing well. ‘’

Your heart twisted painfully at the sudden revelation, ‘’ What do you mean she’s not doing well? ‘’

He had your full attention now. You could tell it was something that had weighed down on him for a long time; he looked really guilty when he saw your glossy eyes and worried voice at what he had said. At the same time, he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself forever.

‘’ Her condition has drastically worsened since the last time you visited her. ‘’

‘’ So get her treated! ‘’ you burst out passionately. 

‘’ She is. ‘’ 

You tilted your head, watching him in silence. If she was getting treated why did he still sound so sad, like he had news that were even worse, and not any good ones? 

‘’ It’s just- ‘’ he struggled with his words and tried to gather them with his gestures before continuing, ‘’ You won’t like how. ‘’

Your dad glanced at you quickly and sensed the rising panic within due to being out of the loop so he hurried to explain it to the best of his abilities, still knowing it would probably cause strong feelings and arguments afterwards.

‘’ They’re helping me with the treatment. She’s been transferred to a private hospital. ‘’

‘’ They? ‘’ you laughed humourlessly, ‘’ No- don’t tell me…’’

‘’ I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice. It was between that or letting her die. ‘’

You guess you got your answer as to why he wasn’t so concerned with you getting bullied; he wasn’t just indebted to them for life, he probably saw them with halos over their heads too and not horns like you did.

‘’ No! I can’t possibly understand that. I would’ve taken more extra jobs if it meant saving mom, we could’ve done it together. But you went behind my back and did this! ‘’

Your words seemed to hit him like knives. Every time your voice got even louder and your throat started to hurt from the hoarseness, he flinched as if you were hurting him physically. But you didn’t care; you no longer saw him as the hero who had saved you from Jake that day and defended his daughter, you saw him as a betrayer. 

Sure, most people would do anything it takes to save their loved ones but this? This was a clear way of showing that if he had to choose between you and your mom, he would choose her every time. In such a cruel way too - your bullies of all the rich and ‘’ hospitable ‘’ people in the world.

This was just another method for them to keep their claws around their puppet that was you, playing with life and death as if they were nothing.

‘’ We can talk again when you’ve calmed down. This is something you will understand when you get a bit older, and then…hopefully there will come a time when you don’t resent me for making the right but hard choice. ‘’

You felt so angry and overwhelmed that you didn’t even know what to say or do with yourself. In an attempt to save face, you ran out without a word when you felt the hot tears start to sting in your eyes. 

Immediately you got the phone out and called Soobin. You managed to keep your feelings under the surface until you got inside his car and the bubble burst, tears flowed down your cheeks and you let it all come out.

‘’ What- what’s wrong? ‘’ he realized when he had already started driving that you were crying.

The adoring smile that he had directed at you when just casually glancing was wiped off immediately and he pulled the car over to the nearest place.

‘’ No, Soobin it’s okay keep driving, ‘’ you said in between your sniffles.

He didn’t look convinced but drove to his house anyway. From the spot he stopped until the car pulled into his road, he kept asking if you were really sure you wanted to stay at his house and not go to a hotel or somewhere else.

You were ready to get irritated when he asked for the third time. Then you spotted Jungwon’s house far in the distance up the hill and changed your mind. 

‘’ Actually…do you have another place we can stay? ‘’

‘’ Of course! Our family has a cabin outside of the city. Let me just park here and grab some stuff, okay? ‘’

‘’ Yeah, can I wait here? ‘’

‘’ Sure. I will be back super super soon, don’t worry. ‘’

You nodded and smiled through the blurry vision of tears. Soobin half-jogged inside and was back before you even had time to let the anxiety grow inside you. 

He explained that the cabin was about an hour or two from the city; and that was the last thing you heard before the exhaustion took hold of you and you succumbed to a comfortable slumber while he drove.

*******

‘’ Hey, we’re here. ‘’

You flinched at the touch of someone else, sitting up straight and now wide awake. The familiar sigh coming from Soobin in front of you made your whole body visibly relax. 

‘’ Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. ‘’

‘’ That’s okay. ‘’

You got out of the car and started helping him unload the trunk. Tons of stuff was thrown into the cabin - a cabin that was about twice the size you expected. A big wooden house that had three stories and was right by a lake. 

‘’ It’s a modern cabin, so we don’t have to make the food over a fire, don’t worry, ‘’ Soobin joked, earning an airy laugh from you.

‘’ I would’ve taken whatever to be honest. Just needed to get away from the city and everything there for a while. ‘’

‘’ I get that. ‘’

The last few things from the car had been carried inside now. Soobin started unpacking the bags and moving all over the cabin as he spread things out, making himself at home. 

You brought your own stuff to one of the bedrooms on the top floor. A few thoughts started popping into your head about how you wouldn’t be able to sleep alone. But you pushed them aside, convincing yourself you didn’t need any more help since Soobin had already done so much for you.

‘’ Are you sure you want to sleep alone? We could sleep in the same room, I’d just take the couch, ‘’ Soobin said not a second later when popping his head in through the door.

You smiled. Sometimes it felt like he could read your mind and knew exactly what you secretly wanted.

‘’ I think I’ll be okay for now, but I will let you know if it changes, thank you. ‘’

He nodded and went downstairs again. You peeked around the corner and saw that he had started making food for the both of you. 

‘’ Soobin? I have an idea, ‘’ you shouted to the first floor.

‘’ Yeah? What? ‘’

Feeling like you didn’t want to shout the whole thing, you made your way downstairs and tried to explain the sudden idea that had come to you.

‘’ Not even like fifteen minutes of rest here and you’re already thinking of another step in the plan, ‘’ Soobin shook his head as he flipped the food in the pan.

‘’ Sorry, ‘’ you mumbled, ‘’ I just feel on edge the whole time, I’ve told you this. ‘’

He hummed, ‘’ Okay, so what were you thinking about? ‘’

‘’ We already know the best way to get to them is when they’re alone, right? ‘’

‘’ Yeah? ‘’ 

‘’ Jake is the first person we should try doing that with. ‘’

‘’ Do what? ‘’

‘’ Well, invite here…alone. ‘’

‘’ Alone? Do you really think that’ll work though? He will just tell the others, and then there won’t be a conflict. ‘’

‘’ I’m not sure about that. He seems a bit more- territorial almost. When I was invited to a party at Jungwon’s house he seemed jealous when I talked about being theirs and not his alone. ‘’

‘’ Right…but he still told them about the time he went to your house. ‘’

You bit your lip.

‘’ Yeah, I guess so. Still, there might be a chance there. I just have to think through how to word it. ‘’

‘’ What about Sunoo? ‘’

Your head snapped up, ‘’ Oh shit! I had forgotten about him. ‘’

‘’ He was pretty kind last time you talked to him, willing to give information and stuff. ‘’

‘’ Yeah, but Sunghoon seemed like he was the one that was responsible for keeping him in line though. ‘’

‘’ If we make Sunoo come we can make Ni-ki come too since they are practically stuck together. ‘’

‘’ Jake is the main one though. The others have a lot of loyalty. ‘’

‘’ So does Jake, no? ‘’

‘’ I don’t know…I haven’t really seen that in him yet. ‘’

‘’ It’s worth a try, ‘’ Soobin shrugged.

You went quiet. While watching him lay the food on the two plates, you thought deeply about which route to take, which person to target, and which words to use.

‘’ Let’s eat first, enough thinking and worrying miss. ‘’

‘’ Okay, fine, ‘’ you grinned and sat down obediently just in time as he placed the plate down in front of you.

‘’ Thank you. ‘’

He hummed and sat down next to you. The silence that followed the scraping of the chair felt comfortable when it was Soobin you experienced it with. You both ate in that silence, probably due to your heads being filled with so many racing thoughts.

‘’ Do you want to watch a movie or something? ‘’ he asked when you were done.

‘’ Sure, ‘’ you followed him to the couch, zoning out while he put something on.

Your head almost hurt from how much you were thinking. Anxiety had infested your brain and alternated between obsessing over your bullies, the plan, and your dad and mom. Already predicting you wouldn’t be able to pay attention to the movie you laid a gentle hand on his arm.

‘’ Maybe we can just put on some…calm music instead? ‘’

He understood immediately like he usually did. After changing it and returning to the sofa, he moved further away to give you some space which you responded to with an appreciative smile.

‘’ I don’t think I can relax. ‘’

Soobin opened his eyes and put his head up to look at you. You had also leaned back against the cushions and closed your eyes, but weren’t as lucky as he was; no serenely rest was offered for you.

‘’ Do you want to do it then? ‘’ he asked after carefully thinking over what you said, ‘’ Invite them? ‘’

What you said next was something that almost made Soobin’s jaw drop, it was so unexpected of you and also downright crazy.

‘’ Yes, and if they won’t come willingly, we kidnap one of them. ‘’

*******

Twenty minutes later, the two of you were driving back to the city while you were on your phone texting. The easiest person to kidnap? Sunoo of course. Most likely he’d be near the gym where Ni-ki trained so you had to act very quickly. 

But when going through the contact list you realized you didn’t even have his number. With a groan in frustration, your eyes scanned over the only numbers you had, Jungwon and Sunghoon - and well, also Jay since you had gone over to his house.

You assumed he got your number from the others, because one day he just texted you with his name and told you to add him. The others hadn’t done the same yet.

Jungwon was an immediate no, but would Sunghoon be willing to help you get to Sunoo? You didn’t have a good excuse for why you’d suddenly want his number.

‘’ We might have to go for Sunghoon. ‘’

‘’ Really? Is that the only option? ‘’

‘’ I didn’t even have Sunoo’s number. I thought I did. Seems they might’ve been strategic and not given everyone my number for a reason. ‘’

Soobin continued driving despite the lack of plans you had for when you’d eventually arrive. He went over the different people, weighing the pros and cons until he came to a suggestion.

‘’ You could ask Sunghoon where Jake is, or to get his number because you want to confront him about what he did. ‘’

‘’ Wouldn’t that bring them there too? ‘’

‘’ Maybe. It’s just the only thing I can think of. It’s definitely better than saying you want to apologize for your dad punching him and I don’t think Sunghoon would be very willing to budge. ‘’

‘’ Maybe, ‘’ you said mindlessly.

‘’ What about Yena then? ‘’

Your whole body stiffened. You hadn’t thought about her since you saw the phone. 

‘’ Can’t, she’s locked up. We also don’t know why she had even contacted him in the first place. She could be on their side, ‘’ your voice had more edge to it than you had expected, making Soobin look at you wide-eyed. 

‘’ You think she betrayed us? ‘’

You ticked your tongue, the annoyance and anger that had been brewing underneath the surface coming to light now.

‘’ I was wary of her in the beginning, ‘’ you huffed, ‘’ I can’t possibly come up with any other reasons for her texting him. It seemed- ‘’

‘’ Like she liked him? ‘’ Soobin filled in, sounding like he was in disbelief. His voice raised slightly without him meaning it to.

‘’ Exactly. ‘’

‘’ I think that’s too harsh, ‘’ he didn’t look like he agreed, ‘’ We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. We need to get her out before the guys have tightened the leash even more. ‘’

You rolled your eyes.

‘’ You wouldn’t understand how I feel anyway, you have never even been bullied! ‘’

With the two of you visibly getting irritated at each other it felt like the conversation had steered into an argument. Therefore you pressed your lips together and turned wordlessly to the window, only a dissatisfied grunt escaped from your mouth. Soobin looked at you rather disappointedly but then redirected his attention back on the road again.

It was clear that neither of you would change each other’s minds. Therefore, you went on your phone without consulting with him first, although you had listened and taken his suggestion into consideration. While going down the contact list yet again, you came up with a good idea.

You had to text Jungwon after all.

If you were in their shoes, texting the leader of the group would make you think that person wasn’t scheming; especially since Jungwon already knew how scared of him you were. To him and the rest of the group, it would seem illogical for you to text him if you were trying to trick them, because he would be the first to see through you.

9:45 pm

You: Hey

You: I don’t have Jake’s number

While you were typing the next message, an answer popped up.

Jungwon: Why do you need it?

You swallowed the nervosity you suddenly felt wash over you now that he was replying. Knowing the truth about him after today, you almost felt paranoid when you just thought about talking to him. What if he was analyzing your every word? What if he was watching you right now - following you everywhere and being one step ahead at all times?

You: I want to confront him about what he did

When you finally had the bravery to send the text, you almost had your heart in your throat as he replied just as quickly again. It felt like he was glued to his phone, waiting for your next move and maybe even amused at your behavior when texting; could he feel that you were anxious?

Jungwon: come over and I’ll tell you

It felt like a trap, especially considering Heeseung had mentioned a sleepover that would be coming up sometime soon. 

You almost threw your phone and ranted to Soobin about how annoying and uncooperative Jugwon was being. In the end however, you bit your cheek and sighed, letting the awkward atmosphere from the disagreement continue.

The closer you got to the city, the more restless you felt. The phone hadn’t been picked up in a long time now; you had left him on read, surely making him seethe in anger.

But you didn’t care too much because you needed more time to gather your thoughts and scattered ideas.

Should you text Jay? You looked at the phone again - no, he was scaring you when you saw him earlier. Just Sunghoon left to try.

You: Sunghoon?

You had to make him feel special like you came to him first because you needed his help and no one else’s.

You: can you do me a favor?

Minutes passed with no response. You could feel Soobin glance at you every so often, eyes narrowing any time your head dipped down to your phone. The hands around the steering wheel had started clenching around it. 

He wasn’t sure why you didn’t want to talk to him, he hadn’t said anything wrong after all. And the fact that you were so busy staring at your phone, eyes glued to it like you were in a trance - made him feel…

What did it make him feel, was that jealousy?

Soobin ran his hand through his hair and leaned his head against the arm that was resting on the window.

Jealousy?

He didn’t feel like he had the right to be. But, something about not knowing made him feel his stomach turn uncomfortably. What if you were flirting with them to get your way?

Even if that was a smart tactic it made him feel sick knowing they were enjoying it too much, maybe Jake would even-

He shook his head, trying to get the destructive thoughts out. They weren’t serving him any purpose except for making him miserable. He just wished you would talk to him.

The two of you now neared the parking lot where you met up with Yena. Soobin turned without warning and parked there, making you finally look up from your phone, having stared at it for minutes trying to figure out a response,

‘’ Why did you stop here? ‘’

He couldn’t stop the bitterness and irritation from showing in his tone.

‘’ You didn’t tell me anything so how was I supposed to know where to go? ‘’

You bit back your own need to be bitchy, ‘’ I’m sorry. ‘’

Soobin let out a deep sigh of relief, a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders and a small smile shot to his lips, ‘’ I’m sorry too. But also…I got more pissed off by you not telling me anything, not just the disagreement. ‘’

‘’ I guess it was a good idea to park here then so we can go over the plan. ‘’

He turned off the car and turned to you, waiting for you to tell him what was going on. 

‘’ Currently, Jungwon has been left on read- ‘’

‘’ Not smart, ‘’ he cut in.

‘’ And he’s not being cooperative at all. Like usual he’s just trying to make my life harder than it already is. So I texted Sunghoon but he’s taking a long time to respond. Also, if he’s with Jungwon he’ll probably give the same response as him. ‘’

‘’ Can I ask - is there any reason in particular you’re so adamant on making them come over? You haven’t even slept since everything went down this morning. Are you sure you’re okay? ‘’

‘’ What? Why wouldn’t I be? ‘’

Soobin grimaced and gave you a scolding look.

‘’ You know why, it’s not exactly something normal to cope with. ‘’

‘’ I’m not thinking about that right now because I don’t need to, ‘’ you snapped, biting down on your cheek when you realized the tone had come back.

He watched you silently.

‘’ Remember I told you I was scared they’d go for my parents? ‘’

‘’ Yeah? ‘’ his voice was laced with concern now.

‘’ They have, paid for my mom’s hospital bills so she could get treatment in a private hospital. ‘’

‘’ Did they have anything to do with it? ‘’

You frowned, ‘’ With what? ‘’

‘’ Well…she got bad so suddenly after being pretty stable. ‘’

You hadn’t even considered that possibility. You made a mental note to confront them about that sometime in the future.

Shrugging it off for the moment, you picked up your phone yet again and made sure to reply to Jungwon in case he’d do something bad.

10:01 pm

You: I’d rather die

He answered just as quickly yet again.

Jungwon: oh? 

Jungwon: are you sure about that?

You ignored how it felt like your heart almost stopped. Clearing your throat you pressed on Sunghoon’s name instead, but this time you called him.

‘’ What do you want? ‘’ he picked up pretty fast.

‘’ Where’s Jake? ‘’

You thought it would sound less suspicious than asking for his number like you had with Jungwon.

‘’ Eh…why do you ask? ‘’

‘’ Just want to talk to him. ‘’

A chuckle could be heard from the other side of the line before it was cut off and another voice came on the phone, it was Heeseung.

‘’ Talk to him? Sweetheart, ‘’ he drawled, ‘’ You’ve done nothing but avoid us, and now you suddenly want to talk? ‘’

You swallowed thickly, ‘’ Yes.‘’

‘’ About? ‘’

‘’ What he did to me. ‘’

Heeseung hummed and seemed to think it over. You were about to say something again to catch his attention but it seemed Sunghoon was quicker than you. You assumed the phone was held far away from his mouth as he mumbled something to him.

Then the voice became clearer again when Sunghoon took the phone back and addressed you.

‘’ He’s at the gym Ni-ki and Sunoo train at. ‘’

‘’ Why? ‘’

‘’ They play baseball together sometimes, Sunoo isn’t really into sports so he just watches, ‘’ he answered, sounding a bit surprised by your curious question.

‘’ And where is it? ‘’

‘’ I’ll text you the address. See you soon. ‘’

He hung up on you.

‘’ What did he say? ‘’ Soobin immediately asked.

You saw the text come through at the top with the address like he had said. Turning to Soobin you answered him, ‘’ Not much. ‘’

‘’ Not much? ‘’

‘’ Sunghoon said Jake was at the gym Ni-ki trains at. ‘’

‘’ Alone? ‘’

‘’ No, Sunoo and Ni-ki are also there. ‘’

He cursed under his breath, ‘’ I can’t see how we’re going to take on three guys at the same time! ‘’

‘’ Or more…’’ you mumbled ominously.

‘’ More? What do you mean more? ‘’

‘’ He said he’ll see me soon, probably meaning he and the others will show up too since I’m going there. ‘’

Soobin leaned back against the seat and sighed.

‘’ I guess we have to leave now then before they get there. ‘’

He turned the car on suddenly and pressed on the accelerator. The car jerked forward causing your body to be pressed against the seatbelt. 

Soobin ignored your cries for him to slow down, because it was just a race against the clock now. 

*******

You arrived at the gym around ten minutes later. It was located outside of the city, meaning you hopefully had an advantage in the time it would take to get there.

From the car, you couldn’t see anyone outside. It was a large warehouse-turned-gym with barely any streetlights. Stepping out of the car however, you spotted a dock not too far away where workers seemed to be busy. They were the only ones around and didn’t pay any attention to you and Soobin.

Overall it was a pretty shady area; if you didn’t know Ni-ki and Sunoo’s background you’d question why a guy with such rich friends was going to a gym like that.

‘’ Let’s go. ‘’

Soobin insisted on walking in front, occasionally sticking his arms out protectively whenever he saw a car that looked like it was turning into the area. You tried to go in front of him but he would just pull you back behind him and shake his head determinedly. 

‘’ Soobin, how about you wait outside instead? ‘’ you eventually said, feeling anger bubbling inside of you.

‘’ Okay…but I’m not waiting in the car! ‘’

‘’ Fine, ‘’ you rolled your eyes.

Pushing past him you were just about to open the entrance door when it swung open and Jake almost walked into you. Right before he hit you, his head snapped up, a genuine look of surprise adorning his features.

‘’ Y/n? What are you doing- how did you know I was here? ‘’

You and Soobin looked at each other. They hadn’t told him they were coming? Maybe they weren’t and had just said that to scare you. Or maybe…they were watching from the shadows.

‘’ It doesn’t matter, can you talk? ‘’

He shrugged, ‘’ I was going out for some fresh air anyway. ‘’

Soobin backed away to give you some space, you knew it would just tick Jake off if he saw him being near you.

You dragged Jake in between the gym and another warehouse. It wasn’t quite small enough to be called an alley so Soobin could still see you clearly from where he was standing and you didn’t feel as scared.

‘’ Please come with me, I know you want me for myself and you hate it when the others are near me! ‘’ you spat out immediately and then chewed on your lip, thinking you had been too direct.

His puppy eyes widened. He was a lot more surprised and taken back than you expected. Would he put up a fight instead of coming willingly? You had been so sure he would, with just a few words and nothing else.

‘’ Slow down! Are you in a hurry?

He seemed to have noticed your flickering gaze, alternating between glancing back at Soobin, the gym where Ni-ki and Sunoo were at, and even behind him to see if the others were approaching.

‘’ No- I, oh forget it. Just answer me, do you not want to have me all to yourself? ‘’

An amused smirk spread on his face. The tables had finally turned for him - now you were the one begging for his affection and attention. He remained silent, curious to see what else you’d say if he didn’t give in.

And you did continue speaking rapidly. You gave him the one thing he wanted - the most tempting offer to Jake.

‘’ I’ll…sleep with you. ‘’

It was like everything went quiet, both for you and Jake. Like the birds stopped singing out of distaste for you going against your morals to get that revenge you so desperately wanted; like the wind stopped howling out of disbelief and even like the cars in traffic stopped in their tracks.

‘’ Yes, ‘’ he said breathlessly.

You were already starting to regret it when you saw his eyes darken with lust only at the promise of such unholy things. Disgust flashed across your face before you hooked your arm under his and hurriedly brought him over to Soobin’s car.

‘’ Go! ‘’

He started the car and drove away in a flash, leaving Sunoo and Ni-ki who had stepped outside staring after the car with open mouths and worried expressions. 

While driving onto the highway, you felt eyes on you from the front seat. Soobin was watching you silently, trying to read your expressions to figure out how you did it. Your face was blank, mirroring your thoughts as you felt empty and repulsed by yourself - so instead, his attention drifted to the one sitting next to you in the back of the car.

Immediately when their eyes met, Soobin’s stomach dropped. A feeling that something was wrong, off, or that you had done something he would disapprove of hit him. Jake faced him confidently, with a big grin, telling him that you couldn’t have threatened him much. What have you done?

*******

The atmosphere was weird when the three of you finally arrived at the cabin. After the whole silent car ride, you stepped into the house feeling more with every step that you were making a huge mistake.

‘’ We’ll talk alone for a bit, ‘’ you said to Soobin when you took Jake by the hand and started pulling him towards the staircase.

Hurt flashed across his features, but he only nodded and smiled, going off somewhere to wait and be blissfully unaware of what was likely about to go down.

You avoided looking at Jake on the way up, knowing what facial expression he’d likely wear. It wasn't until you closed the door behind you in a smaller bedroom that you did so at last.

He threw himself on the bed comfortably and his eyes watched you, full of anticipation.

‘’ First, you give me information, then- ‘’ you grimaced and had to look away.

‘’ Then you’ll give me what I want? ‘’

You nodded, throat too dry to say it out loud.

‘’ Yena, ‘’ that was the first thing you could think of asking him about.

‘’ What about her? ‘’ he scoffed with a smile on his face.

‘’ Did she betray me? Is she on your side? ‘’

It took some time before he answered. He was carefully reevaluating if this was actually a choice the rest of the group would be fine with. After all, he could lie about some things and say some truth; then he’d have you, and finally he’d text the guys his location so they could come.

It was too risky to text now though, so after making up his mind for the final time, he was ready to answer your questions.

‘’ She didn’t betray you. But it’s a long and complicated story. ‘’

‘’ Tell me. Everything. ‘’

‘’ Jungwon found out she had a crush on Sunghoon, so he convinced us to try and use that as leverage to get her to spy on you and get close to you. ‘’

‘’ But? ‘’

‘’ She found out about the bullying from eavesdropping and wanted to help the poor girl she heard her brother boast about torturing before even meeting you. That bitch was smarter than we expected, ‘’ he chuckled, ‘’ She pretended to have a crush on Sunghoon, it was never real. All she had to do was give him some looks and get all shy whenever he was at the house and it fooled her brother. ‘’

‘’ Did she hear them talking about using her? ‘’

‘’ Yeah, but even before that she predicted that they might try to. Everyone in Jungwon’s proximity has been forced to help in one way or another, Yena was always next on the list. Only, they hated each other so much that he needed to have some sort of blackmail or something to lure her with. ‘’

‘’ Lure her? ‘’

‘’ Sunghoon promised to date her if she helped us, ‘’

You didn’t answer, because you weren’t really sure how to respond.

‘’ To be honest, I’m not even sure she did it for you. Maybe she just thought it was the perfect opportunity to use the situation with you as a means to bring her brother down. But, I think after some time of being close to you she developed some compassion. ‘’

Your head hung as you felt shame wash over you. So Soobin had been right again. First, you relentlessly suspected him, and now Yena, the only two that have been the most willing to help you.

‘’ How did you find out she tricked you? ‘’

‘’ Most of our parents work at the company, she was stupid to think not a single worker wouldn’t recognize her and rapport it. ‘’

‘’ She was in disguise, kind of. ‘’

‘’ Not a very good one, was it? ‘’

You felt a sour taste in your mouth at the mocking. However, something far more important occupied your thoughts not long after.

‘’ What is going to happen to her then? ‘’

A half-smile appeared on his lips. ‘’ I don’t actually know. Whatever Jungwon sees fit. ‘’

Your eyes bulged and your mouth hung slightly open.

‘’ What no- don’t tell me. ‘’

His face was an answer in itself. You slumped down in defeat on the chair that was standing in the corner of the room.

‘’ Kill her? ‘’ you mumbled, voice shaky.

‘’ Anything else you want to know? ‘’ Jake continued unbotheredly. 

You took some time to think of things, still processing everything else. It felt like it never ended, more and more information that was worse than the last kept piling up throughout the day.

‘’ Did you do something to my mom, ‘’ you carefully began, unsure halfway through the sentence if you wanted to finish it or not.

His eyes narrowed.

‘’ That made her need treatment? ‘’

Jake licked his lips, but his gaze didn’t waver when he responded, ‘’ Yeah. ‘’

‘’ Why? ‘’ you whispered.

Tears that hadn’t yet reached your eyes irritated your throat and made it feel like it was hard to speak.

‘’ Heeseung thought it was the best way to make you act, or come to us. ‘’

‘’ You’re so fucking…evil. ‘’

He didn’t flinch at the harsh words. Maybe he was used to hearing them. Staying on the bed, he kept his distance and gave you some space, not even bothering to try and console you.

Another question popped up when you started burying your face against your knees.

‘’ Are you going to hurt Soobin? ‘’

‘’ Do we have a reason to? ‘’ Jake stilled, ‘’ Do you like him? ‘’

It was easier to lie when he couldn’t see your face, quickly you shook your head.

‘’ Then maybe not, for now. ‘’

‘’ And Yeonjun? ‘’

An amused laugh broke from his lips.

‘’ Oh, that guy! ‘’ he dramatically burst out.

‘’ He won’t be a threat at all, he’s been locked up in his room for hours and refusing to come out. If he actually does at some point, he will be too emotional to do any real damage to us. ‘’

You were thinking of more questions to ask and raised your head to see if you could think of any if you looked at him. It was obvious he was getting impatient. His leg was bouncing up and down and he was partially glaring at you.

When you finally gave him your attention fully, he stood up. With every step that he got nearer, you tried to push yourself as far away as you could while sitting in that chair.

Two arms came down and rested on either sides of the chair, caging you in. You dreaded what would come next.

‘’ Y/n! ‘’

Soobin’s shriek made you jump out of your seat. It sounded serious. With Jake hot on your heel you ran down the stairs and found him in the hallway, looking out of the window next to the door.

‘’ Come, ‘’ he stepped aside so you could go up to the window, ‘’ Doesn’t that look like Sunghoon? ‘’

You practically pressed your face against the cold glass, desperately hoping it wasn’t true. But, just like Soobin had said, you saw a figure followed by one more moving closer and closer right to where you were.

‘’ Is the door locked? ‘’

The door abruptly swung open just then, making you and Soobin jump back while Jake’s face lit up with hope. You had missed one figure; the one who was much closer to the door than the others. 

Through the door came your bullies, one after another except for Ni-ki, Sunoo, and Sunghoon.

Jungwon didn’t waste a second, he approached Jake and - plunged his fist deep into Jake’s abdomen which had him doubled over in pain, head thrown back in a silent scream. He clutched his stomach and slowly raised his head, on his face wasn’t anger but betrayal. 

He moved and his hand slipped a bit, giving you a full view of where he had been hurt. You saw it first - blood. He wasn’t just punched, he was stabbed. The scarlet liquid trickled down onto the white Victorian carpet below, coloring it terrifyingly fast.

But despite that, he looked more psychologically in pain. Crystals of tears had started glossing his big eyes, which held so many unspoken words in them.

Jungwon looked at him blankly at first. Then when the blood had started seeping out and Jake had looked so terrified of him and caught by surprise, not being able to take his eyes off of the friend that betrayed him; he slowly stopped trying to hold back the sinister smile that wanted so badly to adorn his ruby red lips.

This is what you deserve, traitor, he thought, wondering if Jake knew him so well after all those years of being friends that he could see what he was thinking by just looking at him. It was hard of course. Eyes are the windows of the soul, but what if you don’t have one? Or rather, what if it is the soul of the devil?

Jake began shaking his head, digging his heels into the ground to be able to push himself back a little, creating very little distance between him and Jungwon. It amused the psycho, whose smile only grew wider, you think you’re safe?

‘’ I-I was-wasn’t going…to betray you, ‘’ Jake pushed out in between his ragged breaths.

He came closer, eliciting panic to flare up in Jake, making his eyes bulge. But he couldn’t push himself back anymore, he had hit the cabin’s wall behind him.

‘’ I don’t care. You came here only for selfish reasons, ignoring the pact we made, ‘’ Jungwon said sternly, the smile had disappeared. He looked furious now, all that hidden anger coming to the surface. 

‘’ Jay got punished today too when he didn’t tell us about y/n coming over, didn’t you know about that? ‘’ Heeseung added.

Jay shifted uncomfortably in the background, he seemed to have a limp, but it was still nowhere near as bad as the punishment Jake recieved.

‘’ This isn’t the same as with Jay, ‘’ Jungwon started when he noticed Jake’s eyes wandering to him, ‘’ He told us he didn’t do anything with her, and we know out of everyone you would be more likely to. ‘’

Jake sniffled, ignoring how pathetic he looked to the others. He didn’t want to die yet, he was too young. No part of him understood how this happened - he just wanted his friends back, for them to tell him it was going to be okay and take him to the hospital before the time ran out.

His hands reached up to the crouched Jungwon’s legs, grabbing onto the fabric, ‘’ No, please…please don’t do this to me, ‘’ he let the tears he had fought so hard to keep in fall.

Jay stepped forward and Heeseung followed close behind. It was like you were invisible to them, completely uninvolved in the internal friend conflict that had happened. You and Soobin stood a few meters away.

Soobin, when seeing what had happened, pulled you into his arms and turned his body around so you were blocked from seeing your bullies. You cried, shaking against his chest while he tried his best to calm you by stroking your hair slowly. 

His eyes were glued to the scene unfolding in front of him, listening closely to any cues that meant he should get you out of there. The words that were said sounded muffled to you. You weren’t sure if it was due to hearing your heart racing in your ears or being pressed so close to Soobin, either way it blocked out the voices.

You were brought back when you heard Jake’s distressed crying. They hurt Jay? You and Soobin should’ve probably expected that. Jake did tell them about the time he went to the apartment alone so you weren’t sure why you forgot that and assumed any action done alone by the members was completely fine.

Jake shook his head again. Beads of sweat had started to form on his pale forehead. The energy had very quickly drained out of him, likewise the blood that didn’t stop flowing down despite his efforts to put pressure on it with his hands.

‘’ I was going to-to call y-you after. ‘’

Pouring more salt into the wound of betrayal, the group stood up without neither saying another word to him or letting him speak. His cries became louder as his head fell down with a thump on the floor, desperate words begging for saving going ignored while he laid there. His tears mixed with his blood, but it was like he was a ghost to everyone.

Heeseung turned to Soobin who had almost forgotten he was there, so encaptivated and invested in what he was watching. He inhaled sharply through his teeth and stepped back further, forcing you to move. Your head snapped up when your feet seemed to have moved on their own. 

You were so stunned when they came up to you and hooked their arms around Soobin, dragging him away that not a word left your mouth. Paralyzed you stared at them, feeling as if your limbs were unable to support your weight if you tried moving.

‘’ If you want him to live, come to the sleepover. We’ll give you three days. ‘’

With one last look at their friend on the floor, looking quite immobile now - the three of them walked out of the door, not once looking back at him. It was as if he had never existed to them at all.

*******

-

taglist; @peaceout97blog-blog, @ayadikreino, @beoms-sugar, @keikeu, @sunghoonnsupremacy, @lilyalone, @sweet-kisses-and-bloody-screams, @eunchaesmileyface, @nunugget, @seunns, @nshmrarki, @huening-ly, @espyluvsyou, @yncel, @loserwithnofriends, @enha-stan, @binchanluvrr, @ariek-divad, @obsessed1with1straykids, @yizhoutv, @taeyongzodiactwinkiri, @w3bqrl, @elleashn, @nuriicata, @yevene, @manasasugarbaby09

[misguidedasgardian]

I need to (5)

... Get warm

MASTERLIST

Summary: The last froze of the season takes you, a sweet summer child, by surprise 

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: There are mentions of them being Minors! at some point in their relationship, cursing, cheating, angst, depression, mentions of a inappropriate picture, inappropriate relationship, reader gets a minor injury, might miss some warnings 

Wordcount: 3.2 k

Notes: Uffff I really hope you like this chapter muahaha If you liked cregan by now, with this? will get you on your KNEES muahahaaaaaaaa

You woke up with a bit of  headache, but gods you loved so much being eighteen, a cup of coffee and you were going to shake up the hangover 

Sarah and Jace were already having breakfast, breakfast that Jace had cooked, you refrained from making jokes, as he was clearly trying to impress Sara and it was working considering you could hear her compliments and giggles from the hallway

Last night Jace has given you one of his track team shirts from the high school you went together and some cotton shorts, and you joined them in the bar next to the kitchen

“Mornin’ “, you giggled

“Morning”, chanted Sara

“Coffee?”, asked Jace, offering you a cup, “how you like it”

“I knew I chose you as my best friend for a reason”, you chuckled.

“Gods what a party last night uh?”, laughed Jace, “it was even cooler than homecoming”

“That it was”

“I haven’t been to a party that good like… ever”, you said with a smile, and then you felt a bit embarrassed when you remembered that you were dancing so unapologetically that someone grabbed you by the hand and made you dance in the middle of the huge group that had formed and you danced 

“After last night, you earned the nickname the she wolf of old town”, Jace laughed 

“Ahhh, very funny”, you mocked, taking a sip, “but that is a super cool nickname and I will take it”, you laughed 

“Hey the forecast says it will snow today”, said Sara

“Uh, love that”, you said with a wide smile, “hey, do you both like action movies?”, you asked

“I know why you are asking… and NO!”, said Jace, pointing at you with a fork

“Please Jacey!”, you begged childishly, “please, please!”

“What?”, asked Sara

“The new Arthur Dyne Movie”, you said with a smile, “the fourth one!”

“Please don’t make me, I’ve seen it a thousand times!!”

“You can’t possibly get bored! the action sequences? the lights? the music? the scenery? They are a masterpiece!”

“You know what? Cregan likes that sort of thing, ask him”,

“I like what?”, he asked, genuinely interested, looking straight at you, coming from the bedroom

“(Y/N) Wants to see the new Arthur Deyne”

“I love those movies”, he said, taking a cup that Jace offered, he looked at you and smiled softly, “I will take you”, he said

“Great”, you smiled widely

. . .

In the middle of spirit week, you had been swarmed with work from your courses, and dived right into it, and that, and your new and big group of friends, and all the excitement of the competition, and the activities… 

You didn’t even had the time to think about the unmentionable 

Everytime you thought of him, the wound still felt fresh, you felt like someone squeezing your heart inside of your chest 

But that was only when you remembered him

It wasn’t all bad, he was also your friend, and even though he was selfish and an narcissist, you missed having someone by your side, he was your boyfriend, before he went to school he was focused, he cheered you own, to his own agenda, but still, he was someone you could talk to, debate with, someone smart who always had something interesting to share with you

Yes he judged you once when you told him you wanted to watch “how to lose a knight in one moon”, he was a snob, but still.

At one point, you were good together, when you arrived at Dragonstone, you had taken the castle by storm, well, at least, he had, with you helping him a bit

But you had to learn that that happens, people separate, they grow out of each other.

For you, the moment you saw with another woman it was over, you were just sad because when you started dating, and were two sixteen year old horny kids, you had a good time, Aemond was you friend, you trusted him, you felt comfortable with him, he was quiet, mature, and somewhere along the line he became so full of himself 

In highschool he was different, he was sweet and kind. He had changed so much.

Was the baby his?

That was certainly going to put a bump on his career

And his reputation 

You felt your phone ringing, and you jumped, cursing yourself, you didn't even know why you always jumped when your phone rang, you believed that piece of technology to be some sort of portal through which the unmentionable could get to you, but he hadn’t you had blocked everything related to him, but still

When you picked it up, it showed you the strange number calling again, you hang up before you even picked it up  

You tried to go back into sketching what you were seeing for your “representation” class, and then, your phone rang again

And again, it was the same number. You groaned, this time, you picked up 

“Thank you for the enthusiasm, but i’m very happy with my current internet plan, thank you”, you snapped 

“I’m glad to hear it”, you stopped in your tracks, as you recognized that voice immediately, “but that is not why I’m calling”

“Dean Rhaenys”, you whined, “I’m so very sorry”, she chuckled darkly over the phone

“It’s alright, how is Winterfell?”, she asked

“It’s everything I’ve dreamed off, but a bit chilly”, you admitted, you hear her chuckle

“I’m happy for you”, you could tell, you could almost see her smiling, “look, I reached out to you for something, quite important”, you looked around and walked until you could sit in a bench, away from all the passing students, the bench was cold and you shivered, even with a thick jacket, scarf and beanie, the cold clang to your body

“Did something happen?”, you asked, inviting her to continue

“Normally, we, as a school, wouldn’t meddle in student’s relationships”, she said strangely, “but, 

we couldn’t help but notice that you entered our campus in a relationship with Aemond Targaryen”, she continued

“Yes I was”, you told her

“... Is that the reason you left our school so suddenly? you mentioned, in our last interview that you chose this school for love and you didn't have that love anymore”, geez she was smart and quick, nothing escaped her

“It was, we… broke up”, you choked out

Even though you were freezing, you felt your neck sweaty, you looked around with urgency, but the courtyard was mainly empty at this time of day

“Is the reason for your split, the inappropriate relationship he was maintaining with a member of our staff? Professor Alys Rivers?”

Breathe

You could lie, I mean, she wasn’t looking at you

But the thing is, that in the seconds you took in answering, she already knew the answer

“Yes”, you said back, it was of no use lying to her

“Like I said, this faculty does not care about relationships between students, but is much different, when it is brought to our attention that is a professor is in a relationship with student, even though they don’t belong in the same department”

You took a shaky breath

It was out 

“I didn’t do anything”, you whispered, “I saw them with my own eyes and…”

“A picture started circulating”

“What picture?”, you whispered

“The picture consisted in both of them engaging in sexual activities, on school grounds”

No

No, no, no, could it be? no, impossible, you didn’t send it to anyone, nobody hacked you. A certain anxiety started to take a hold on you

What if?

What if it was an accident?

What if that night you drank too much margaritas with Jason and Cersei you actually shared it? like you whined you wanted to do…

What if you were so dumb you sent it to your insta stories just for a mistake??

You started to second guess every time you grabbed your phone

“Oh”, you whined, tears welled in your eyes

“Well, Alys Rivers had been terminated, she does not longer works at this educational establishment”, she said severely, “she threatened to sue, for her state of pregnancy, but we had no choice but to share the picture, she refrained from suing us, if we didn't include this on her record, but she mentioned, that you were the one that took it”

If I fall, I’m taking you with me

That how it goes

You paused

“If I was the one, would I be in trouble?”, you asked, and there was silence on the other line

“No, the source of the picture was untraceable, as the inter phone connection service leaves no trace”, she said calmly, she wasn’t even mad, but she sounded tired, “we just needed corroboration on the story”, she said sincerely

“Please, I know it doesn't sound believable, but I didn’t share it, i swear, I never meant for anyone to get fired, please you have to believe me, I just wanted to leave I never meant for this to happen, this isn’t some sort of revenge”

“Did you show the picture to anyone?”, she asked

Maris… 

“No”, you said simply, you lied, you couldn’t tell her 

“I appreciate your honesty miss”, she said softly, “but we cannot allow this kind of behavior in our school, teachers having relationships with students, even though they share no classes, is unacceptable”, you breathed a sigh of relief

“What is going to happen?”

“We fired Professor Rivers, but sadly, Aemond’s family threatened to sue us”, she said, “so he remains in our school, if we allow him to continue his studies, he won’t pursue a defamation claim, and your name as the author of that picture will remain hidden”

There was another silence

“I know you are not looking at me right now, i know you might not believe me, and I wish I could take a polygraph test, but please, I want you to know, that I did not send that picture to anyone, is the last thing I wanted”

“I believe you Miss (Y/N)”, she whispered, you took a long breath, “because we have other students coming forward, as witnesses of the affair, and they also might have taken pictures”, you sighed another breath of relief

You might not have been the one to blame

“I’m so sorry, for everything”

“This is no way your fault”, she said, “I wish you would have said something sooner, in fact”

“Like I said, I didn’t want anyone to get in trouble”

“So altruistic”, she said, “and kind, that is exactly why I send that letter to the Dean in Winterfell, telling them to accept you”, she said kindly

“You really did that for me?”, you asked

“They normally don’t take students half year, but they made a exception for you”

“Thank you, this school really is what I always dreamed of”, you confessed

“I’m happy I did then”, she said

“I’m sorry for what happened”

“You don’t have to be, things tend to fall for their own weight”, she said, “well, I just called to corroborate the story, thank you for being truthful and insightful”

“You are most welcomed”, you said

“I wish you the very best miss”

“You too”, and just like that he hang up

You took a shaky breath, looking around, you didn’t know what to think, what to believe, you checked your phone, the picture, all your socials and search history, your emails, all of it

There was no trace of you ever sending anything

To anyone

Nobody could… nobody had even got close to your phone

Aemond got bored of doing so, because you never talked to anyone, and it was actually kind of boring

You then looked up, like a bulb had turn on over your head

Holy shit

You ran back to the cafeteria, where you knew your friends were finishing eating their lunch

They all looked at you wide eyed

“What is it?”, asked Jace

“Do any of you know how to hack a phone?”, you asked quickly 

“You are scaring me”, chuckled Jace, you looked at Cregan who was looking back at you 

“I need to know, the history of the things I’ve send through airdrop”, you whispered, “or if a picture have been sent and trough what”

“That is very specific”, muttered Ben, “but I think I can help you out”

“Great”, you grabbed him and took him with you without saying another word

Until you were alone in the library

“You can’t show this picture to anyone”, you muttered, “not one person”

“Alright, you are starting to scare me”, and then you showed him

“This is your boyfriend with the teacher?”, he asked, and you nodded, “Geez”

“This photo got leaked, and I didn’t send it to anyone”, you insisted, “I don’t know what happened”

“Do you actually know this is the picture that got leaked?”

“No… but what are the chances? they said it was a sex picture taken in the school”

“Let’s check”, he whispered, connected your phone in his computer and started typing 

“Hey what’s going on?”, asked Jace, as he came close with Cregan, you smiled nervously

“A picture from my phone got leaked and someone got fired”, you explained, Ben looked at you, “and I didn’t send it”, you explained, “I don’t know what happened”

“In the information from the picture, it says that it was send one time, through airdrop, to “Maris’ phone bitch”, he said, arching an eyebrow

“Fucking Maris?”, you whined, “I almost got sued because of her!”, you whined

“IS THAT “THE” PICTURE?”, asked Jace, you nodded

“What’s in the picture?”, Cregan asked 

“NOTHING!”, said Ben, Jace and you at the same time 

“Delete it”, said Jace, “deny it all, airdrop doesn’t leave a trace, not when you receive it”, you looked at Ben and nodded, and he deleted the picture 

Jace looked at you

“Its over”

It was certainly not over yet…

. . .

One of the competitions of spirit week was “dressing” your faculty, or at least only the hall, in a certain way, with a certain theme

Your building was the newest one, it was in a major part concrete, glass and metal railings, so you and your classmates had said that you would place plants, wallflowers, and dressed the main hall with greenery and flowers, plants in pots, making it look like “nature” took over

It was going on beautifully, so much so, you as the whole class were going to ask the directors of the faculty of Architecture, design and arts to leave it like that once it was over

You had proposed the idea, so you were most looking forwards to the competition

You were standing over a chair, trying to place one of the bindweeds over the wall, in the tip of your toes, playing with your own stability, but you were so close

“That should go up”, you heard behind you, and when you did… you froze

That voice

You lost your balance, frightened out of your mind, and you fell off the chair

you managed to use your hands to tray to stop to smash your head on the concrete of the floor, but your ankle falled in a bad position, trying to catch you, and you ended on on your side on the floor, in a huff of pain 

“Are you alright!?”, your classmate that was with you hanging the bindweed ran to your side, jumping off the chair graceful as a gazelle, and checked your ankle

But you only looked up, scared

There she was

Looking down her nose at you

Those haunting green eyes 

“Alys”, you called, scared

“Does your ankle hurt?”, asked the sweet girl you looked at her apologetically

“A bit”

“Oh, that was a pretty nasty fall… I hope is not broken”

“Professor Alys”, called the secretary of the Arts department, “the director of the school of arts will see you now”, she said with smile, completely ignoring you, and Alys gave you one last nasty look before walking away from you

No no no no no

No please

“She is for the post of a new arts professor for the Art academy”, whispered the girl you were with, you looked at her in horror, “she looks kind of witchy doesn’t she?”, she asked innocently 

She help you stand up, and you whined in pain 

. . .

A sprained ankle

FUCK!

Sara gave you a pack of ice and you smiled softly at her as you placed it in your ankle, you called her and she came to the infirmary with you, and then she decided, as Jace offered her, to bring you to the boys apartment.

Outside was snowing, it was awfully chilly

“Do the girls live here now?”, mocked Ben as he entered the place with Cregan, the later one greeted you -who were pitifully seated in their sofa- and then kept going to his room, probably going to change after practice

He and Ben where in the football team

Jace was in trials, the season was about to start. You were looking forward to that.

But then you remembered…

You sniffed, remembering Alys… fucking Alys

Was going to teach in your faculty

Right next door

If you were truly unlucky you could ran into her every day

Every fucking day

Tears fell down your eyes, you wiped them instantly, but it was too late

“Does it hurt so much?”, asked Sara, truly concerned, you shook your head

“What’s going on?”, asked Jace

“I saw her today, Alys”, you whined

“Who is Alys?”, asked Sara

“My professor of plastic arts in Dragonstone”, you told her, “she slept with my boyfriend, he cheated on me with her and knocked her up”

Sara opened her mouth widely, surprised 

“What?”

“It was horrible, but… my roommate stole a picture I took of them with my phone and she got fired”, you whined, “its my fault, and now, she is applying to the post here, at this school…”

“What the fuck?”, asked Jace

“She knows I took it, she hates me!”, you said, “she is going to make my life miserable”

“The witch from the picture?”, asked Ben

“The Dean told me they couldn’t put that on her record”, you said, “nobody knows about it”

“And she will join the department”, said Ben

“I never meant to get her fired, but I can’t see her here everyday!”, you whined, “she can make my life miserable, but I can’t do anything… she will know it, I could get in trouble… and… its my fault she got fired, I didn't mean to”

“It's her fault! you didn’t make her bang your boyfriend!”, said Sara

“I left the school, I didn’t tell a soul, I mean, only one person… I don’t know what to do”, you whined

"She is in arts, you are in design, she won't touch you", said Sara, "we will be your buffers..."

"Yeah, lets learn her schedule and avoid her, its called antistalking", said Jace

Unknown to you, Cregan was listening. But he came back to his room, grabbed his phone and dialed a number 

“Uncle Bennard”, he greeted, “I’m good thanks… Do you have a meeting with the board of the school today?”, he asked, “Alys Rivers can’t teach in this school”, he nodded, “she does not share the morals and profile of this university… yes… I’m certain of my words… thank you”

And he hanged up the call 

He got out of his room and you all looked at him, you wiped your tears and smiled at him, sincerely, not knowing of what just happened

“Anyone in for a marathon of the Arthur Dayne movies?”, he asked, “let’s order pizza”

“YES!”

“WUHUUU”

"I'm already on it!", offered Ben

“For fucks sake”, whined Jace

more notes : I’m running out of creating counterparts of movies and such… real ones might pop up

😂

“Sea Snake” = Titanic

Maegor with Cyrese and Tyanna = John F Kennedy, Jackie and Marilyn 

How to lose a knight in a moon = “How to lose a man in ten days” 

The she-wolf of old town = The wolf of wall street

THE ARTHUR DAYNE! hahaaa = John Wick

taglist! ❤️

@mxtokko @princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff @misspascalpunk @sweethoneyblossom1 @ipostwhtifeel @lunamoonbby @ahristata @watercolorskyy @yazzzmints @n4tforlife @littleshadow17 @alexa4040 @speedyballoonpainter @hc-geralt-23 @rayrayredpanda @eralen @yentroucnagol

[mountttmase]

A Mountain To Climb: The Sequel

Chapter Nine

Note - this chapter might not make total sense unless you’re from the UK so if there’s any parts or things people are confused with please just let me know I’ll be more than happy to explain 🩷 but I hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 4.7k

Warnings - series will contain fluff, smut and angst

Masterlist

Running errands day had to be one of your favourite days. Walking round your favourite shops, smelling all the different fabric conditioners and checking out what new snacks they had got you so excited so you made sure you were up and dressed to leave as soon as you possibly could.

You were just putting your shoes on at the bottom of the stairs when the front door swung open, a smiley Mason walking back in through the door and your face changed to one of confusion and soon as your eyes met his.

‘Mase? Why aren’t you at training?’ You asked, standing up so you could slip your hoodie on and he dumped his bag before making his way over to you.

‘Power cut’ he shrugged, pulling you in by your waist so he could place a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. ‘The pitch has frozen over outside and it’s fucking freezing inside so they’ve given us the day off’

‘Oh thats annoying’

‘A little bit, but at least we can spend the day together now. I’m thinking we order breakfast and cuddle for a bit’ he winked before kissing your cheek.

‘No can do. I’ve got errands to run’ you told him, watching the way he dropped his bottom lip but you kissed it away. ‘Why don’t you come with me?’

‘Where are you going?’

‘B&M first, need to stock up in some cleaning supplies and i want to get a new shelf for the shower so that I can’t put my shower gel and bits on. If they don’t have it there I think there’s a home bargains near by. Then I need to pop to dunelm for some pillow cases and paint and then I think there’s a halfords next door so I can grab some more of that screen wash and then sainsburys to top up the food shop’

‘Bloody hell, sounds exhilarating’ he laughed sarcastically and you tapped him on the chest in jest.

‘Fine, you can stay here on your own then’ you winked, moving out of his hold but he pulled you back to him with a huff.

‘Buy me lunch and I’ll come’

‘Deal’

‘And I’m driving’

‘Don’t want much do you?’ you laughed and he shook his head shyly. ‘Go get changed, I don’t need you sticking out anymore than you already do’ you told him and with a quick kiss to your cheek he was running upstairs, changing out of his training gear and into a sweatshirt and some comfy shorts before you both jumped into the car.

‘So what do they sell in B&M? You talk about it all the time but I don’t actually know what it is’ he asked as you eventually pulled into the car park.

‘I mean it’s more like what don’t they sell. Food, home stuff, furniture, toys. It’s like Disneyland for adults’

‘How big is this place?’

‘Massive’ you smiled and he rolled his eyes before covering his face with his hands.

‘Can I stay in here?’

‘No way, come on you’ll love it. I’ll let you push the trolly too’ you told him, batting your eyelashes at him before he silently agreed, getting out the car and following you over to where the trolleys were.

He pushed it around but you kept yourself sandwiched between him and the handle as you first walked in, his body pressed up against yours and you giggled every time he kissed your cheek. It wasn’t long before you got to the confectionery aisle, his eyes lighting up at all the different sweets they had and you chuckled at him as he showed you all the ones he’d never seen with an excited smile.

‘I didn’t even know these existed’ he told you, starting to add them to the trolley already and you wondered if you’d have to step in soon to restrict him. ‘They must import them or something’

‘I didn’t come here for chocolate, Mason’

‘I know, sorry. You go get what you need and I’ll come find you’ he told you, not even looking at you as he looked for what other treats they had to offer but you realised you were going to have to stop him now before it got out of hand.

‘Mason, sweetheart. You know you’re not allowed all of this stuff’ you told him, picking up everything up out of the trolley and you watched as he pouted and held what he had in his hands close to his chest. ‘You can pick three’

‘But baby-‘

‘Mason’ you told him sternly, trying to stay strong as you knew you could quite easily fold at the sight of his pouty face. ‘I’m looking out for you. Your nutritionist will murder you if they find out you’re eating all this stuff’

He knew you were right, but he was still going to sulk about it. Grabbing everything into his arms so he could pick his three favourite before putting the rest back and turning to you with a pout so you pulled him into a hug.

‘Good boy’ you whispered, kissing his lips as he blushed and squeezed your bum gently.

‘Stop it you’ he laughed ‘wait till we get home, then I’ll be your good boy’

‘I look forward to it’ you winked, dragging him and the trolley through the shop and into the cleaning aisle. ‘I’m thinking of changing up the fabric conditioner scent, what do you think?’ You asked, eyes scanning the shelf before opening one up to sniff and passing it to him.

‘I don’t think i have any thoughts about that particular subject’ he told you, taking a sniff before pulling a face like he didn’t like it. He made a point of smelling each one after that before picking his favourite and you popped it in the trolley along with some washing tablets. ‘I didn’t have you down as an ocean escape kind of man’ you teased but he just rolled his eyes at you before helping grab everything else such as dishwasher tablets and washing up sponges.

Mason stayed pretty well behaved until you got to kitchen appliances aisle, trying to convince you that he needed a three in one sandwich toaster and a special machine just for eggs but you knew he’d use them once before they collected dust in the kitchen so you told him no and he scrunched his face up adorably.

‘You wait, I’m gonna come in here on my own and get everything I want so you can’t tell me no’

‘Pretty strong words coming from a man who didn’t even want to come in at first’

‘Well I was young and naive back then’ he laughed, kissing your nose as you smiled up at him, pulling him around the rest of the shop so you could pick up some things for the bathroom and you let him get lost in the toy section, picking out a few things for Summer and Mila for the next time they came around.

You popped into Dunelm next, Mason helping you pick out some paint for your room, paint brushes and some matching cushions before you dashed into Halfords for your screen wash. It was at this time he started complaining he was hungry so you sent him back to the car with the bags, promising to get him his lunch like you said and the giant Greggs sign caught your attention so you ran in to pick him up a few bits.

‘So I wasn’t allowed the chocolate I want but you’re quite happy for me to stuff my face with whatever this is’ he laughed.

‘Greggs is a delicacy’ you told him seriously, passing him a bottle of Pepsi and you watched as he rolled his eyes at the sight of his face on the side of the bottle. ‘Now would you like to see what I got you?’

‘If you must’ he laughed, watching you root around in the bag to find him his things. ‘When I said you can buy me lunch I was hoping I got to pick’

‘Well my tastes are superior to yours quite clearly’ you winked, handing him the pizza first and then a sausage roll and he looked at you like you’d gone insane.

‘This is all beige’

‘Yes, my favourite food colour. But I think you’ll find the pepperoni is red’ you winked and he gave up trying to argue with you, digging in and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was enjoying it. ‘You ready for cake?’ You asked when you noticed he was all done and he nodded whilst gulping down half of his Pepsi. ‘I got you two to choose from, I’ll have the other’ you told him, pulling out the little bags and peeking inside. ‘So there’s a yumyum in here or Tottenham cake in here’

‘I’m sorry, a what now?’

‘A yumyum or Tottenham cake’

‘You expect me to eat something that has the word Tottenham in it, are you insane?’

‘Hey, it’s nice’ you pouted, passing him the yumyum as you opened your cake up and you saw him peek over to take a look at the pink icing.

‘Maybe you can save me a bit and I’ll try it’ he teased it you made it your mission to eat the whole thing so he couldn’t but you were too full up to finish and he smiled when you offered him a bite. ‘Not bad, we’ll have to call it something else though’

‘Well my dad always used to call it shit cake’ you told him, watching his face turn to a look of surprise as you never mentioned your parents but he smiled warmly at you. Letting you know it was okay to talk about them if you wanted to as he gently took your hand so he could kiss your knuckles.

‘Oh yeah, why’s that?’

‘Cause Tottenham are shit’ you laughed and he nodded enthusiastically at you.

‘Then we must carry on the tradition’ he winked before starting the car up again. ‘So Sainsbury’s then home?’ He asked and you nodded as you got yourself plugged in. ‘I think I’ll get painting straight away when we get in, it’s only the one wall isn’t it? I can try and burn some of this lunch off’ he laughed and you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before you set off.

You were only in Sainsbury’s for 15 minutes or so and you offered to put all of the shopping away so he could get started on painting. By the time you were done he was just under halfway through with painting and you watched from the open doorway with a smile on your face as carried on, blissfully unaware of your presence.

He’d stripped down to just his shorts, his bare back facing you and you let your eyes flicker over him. Your mouth almost watering at the way his muscles danced under his skin with every move of the brush and you hand to hold yourself back from going over to place kisses all over him.

He must of caught you looking out the corner of his eye, doing a double take and looking back at you with a shy smile before laughing and motioning for you to come over.

‘You gonna stand there looking at me all day or are you gonna help?’ He teased but you stayed rooted to the spot.

‘I think I might stay here, I’ve got a pretty good view’ you told him, a sense of triumph washing over you at the way he blushed from your words. ‘I’ll just get changed and I’ll come help’ you told him, changing into an old pair of shorts and a sports bra that you didn’t mind getting messy. His eyes were all over you when you got back, you ignored him though and picked up the small brush so could could start neatening the edges up and with a kiss to your cheek he carried on himself.

The pair of you chatted over the low music in the background, him giving you his opinion on your thoughts for the room and making plans to pick up the last of your stuff before you had to give your keys back. It didn’t take that much longer for you to finish and you didn’t know what came over you but with your last drop of paint you’d dragged the brush across his chest and down his abs casing him to look at you with his mouth agape.

‘What the fuck’ he laughed, looking down at the mess on his body before dipping his hands into the paint tray and covering them fully. ‘Come here’ he laughed and even though you tried to run away, he backed you into a corner with a devilish smile on his face. You couldn’t do a thing but stand and squeeze your eyes shut and when you felt his wet hands grip your face you gasped in surprise.

He was kissing you right away though, silencing any protests as he trailed his paint covered hands down your neck and the pair of you laughed into each others mouths before pulling back.

‘Don’t mess with me’ he laughed ‘I’ll get you back ten times worse’

‘Noted’ he winked before dropping another light kiss on your lips.

‘We best go get cleaned up, I’ll get the shower going and then we can make some dinner’ he told you, leaving you to quickly tidy up the paintbrushes before joining him.

‘Bloody hell, Mase. I’m covered’ you laughed as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. Paint all down your cheeks and neck and you picked your phone up to take a quick mirror selfie so you could remember the moment, Masons bare torso in the back as he threw up a peace sign making you laugh.

‘Come on, it’s ready now. I’ll help you get it off’ he offered, both undressing and heading in so you could clean each other off. Once all the paint was washed off of your body he turned you around, grabbing some shampoo and squeezing it onto your hair before starting to massage it in. His fingers were like magic, your knees almost buckling under you as he massaged your head and you hummed appreciatively. ‘How’s that?’

‘Really nice’ you told him, feeling his fingers move to the back of your head and slightly down your neck before heading back round to the top. You didn’t want him to stop but he eventually did, lightly pushing you under the stream of water so he could rinse it out for you. He then picked up your conditioner and brush so he could detangle your hair and you could feel yourself blushing as he looked after you. Eventually turning you around so he could place a quick kiss on your lips. ‘Thank you, Mase’

‘Love you’ he whispered against your lips and you repeated his words back to him before he kissed you deeper, holding your face so you couldn’t move as he walked you back under the running water to help rinse out your hair. You both laughed as the water trickled all over you but you didn’t stop kissing him, his hands sliding all over you back and bum and you tugged on his hair slightly, pulling a low moan from him. ‘Come on trouble, let’s get dry’ he smiled, your heart thudding as you looked up at him. Tiny droplets if water trailing down his face as his warm soft eyes looked right into yours and you couldn’t help but reach up and give him one last kiss.

Once out, he handed you a towel for you hair before reaching to the towel warmer to grab one he’d put on there for you just before you’d come into the bathroom and you smiled as he wrapped the warm fabric around you as he grabbed his own. The mirror was foggy but you attempted to wipe it so you could check all the paint had gone and you smiled when you noticed you were now paint free.

As soon as you were back in the safety of your bedroom, you could see Mason pulling you out some clothes for you to change into and you smiled as he pull out of your favourite comfy tops of his to put on.

‘Baby?’ Mason quietly said once you were fully dressed and you turned to find your boyfriend looking at you shyly, the bridge of his nose a deep red and you raised your brows at him to get him to carry on. ‘Could i dry your hair for you?’

Your heart fluttered at his proposal and you felt all the blood in your body rush to your face as you nodded at him, taking his extended hand so you could sit on the end of the bed whilst he got everything he needed before settling behind you and took your hair out of the towel. He was so gentle, brushing through your hair as carefully as he could before grabbing the dryer.

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as he dried your hair, being as careful as he could while running his fingers through it to stop it tangling and you couldn’t help but reach out to touch his calf that was next to you so you could trace gentle shapes into his skin. Needing to feel him in some way as everything felt so intimate but you felt your heart race when he turned the dryer off and began section your hair out so he could plait it.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ He asked but you knew your voice would falter if you tried to speak so you shook your head to let him know it was fine to carry on, blushing even harder as he kissed the back of your head. ‘I’ve been practicing on Summer so I can get it right’ he laughed, carefully weaving your hair into two neat braids before securing it with a hair bobble.

You wanted to look at him so badly so as soon as he was done you shuffled round and his face softened at the sight of you.

‘You’re so pretty’

‘Oh shush’ you laughed but he grabbed your face so he could keep looking at you.

‘No way. Have you looked in a mirror recently? Absolute perfection’ he smiled before he face got more serious. ‘You make me feel so lucky’ his whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek and the tone of of his voice made your eyes sting.

‘Where’s all this coming from?’

‘I’ve just had a really nice day with you. I know we don’t get to do things like this often but every time we do it just reminds me that it’s all worth it, you know? And I love you so much and I love spending time with you. I’m just really happy’

‘I am too’ you gulped, pouting up at him so he would lean down to kiss you, and he placed the most gentle and loving kiss on your lips that made your whole body tingle.

You wanted more of him though, reaching up to hold his neck so he couldn’t pull away as you laid down and pulled him with you. He positioned himself in between your legs but kept his weight off of you so he could pull back ever so slightly.

‘I thought we were going to make dinner’ he laughed against your lips up you shook your head before kissing him softly again.

‘I want you first’ you murmured and your confession made him moan into your mouth as his pressed his hips against yours. ‘You promised to be my good boy when we got back remember’

‘I did’ he laughed, his cheeks flushing almost instantly as he knew what was coming.

Mason loved having his way with you, but you knew secretly he loved you having your way with him even more. The way it always got him riled up when you praised him and all the pretty noises he would make for you told you as much but you always made sure to only bring out his subby side for special occasions so you didn’t overdo it. With how you were feeling about him after your day today though there was nothing more you wanted than you appreciate your man the way he deserved.

‘Go sit up there for me’ you whispered, nodding towards the headboard and with one final kiss he was crawling up the bed to sit where you’d told him to.

Once you were undressed you were making you my way over to him, his wide eyes following you like you’d hung the moon until your fingers landed on the waistband of his boxers and they darkened instantly. You didn’t need to ask him, he lifted his hips for you instantly before helping you straddle his thighs.

All you could think about was his lips on yours and making him feel as good as possible so as he hands come to rest on your thighs you placed yours on his chest before dipping to kiss him instantly.

He was starting to get hard underneath you in no time, moaning into your mouth as you began to rock over him before pulling back and shuffling down his legs so you could see all of him.

‘I want you to touch yourself for me, Masey. Make yourself ready for me’

‘W-what? You mean…?’

You could tell he was nervous and slightly unsure so you took his hand in yours before wrapping it around his length so you could pump him a few times. His eyes flickered shut for a second before you pulled away, leaving him on his own to carry on but he stopped until you leant forward so your face was on line with his.

‘Touch yourself. Show me how good you can make yourself feel before it’s my turn’ you told him lowly and the tiny whimper he let slip soaked you immediately. You knew there was no way you’d be able to watch him get himself off without giving yourself some relief so you bought one leg in, hovering over just the one thigh now before sinking down so you could ride it.

‘Jesus Christ’ he breathed, one hand slowly pumping himself whilst the other griped your hip in an attempt to help you grind you hips down onto his thigh and the intimacy of it all made you tingle. You and Mason weren’t exactly saints in the bedroom but you’d never done anything like this before and the deep blush on his cheeks was telling you just how much he was enjoying himself.

‘Does that feel good, Mase? You look so pretty like that for me’ you murmured, the sounds now pouring from his mouth we’re unholy and it took everything in your power not to grind down on him even harder. But it was true, he was beautiful. His hair a mess, the bridge of his nose a deep red to match his cheeks and the adorable whimpers that were coming from him were driving you insane. You could tell he was hard enough now and you couldn’t wait anymore so you lifted your hips and positioned yourself back in his lap so you could line him up with you.

If there was a moment in time you wish you could freeze it would be this one. The anticipation, the look of lust on his face and the way his eyes were wide as he squeezed your hips as you lowered yourself onto him. He felt delicious as he stretched you out and you knew you wanted to torture him a little bit so when he was fully in you moved your hips as slow as possible.

‘B-baby please. Please go faster’ he mumbled, the bruising grip on your hips only adding to your pleasure and even though you wanted to give into him you also wanted to draw this out for as you could so you tutted at him whilst shaking your head playfully.

‘Nuh uh’ you breathed, your lips littering small kisses all over his cheeks but you ignored his pouty lips. You could tell he wanted to kiss you but you laid no attention to him. ‘Come on Mase, be my good boy and take it’ you breathed, revelling in the way he groaned at your words before his hands traveled down to hold your bum in a tight grip. ‘You feel so good, Mase. You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you’

‘Y-yes. Fuck yes’ he stuttered, his chest now heaving as he was loosing control. ‘Please kiss me’ he begged and you couldn’t deny you were itching to press your lips to his again.

‘Do you think you’ve earned it?’ You asked, lips by his ear as you trailed them down his neck. The sounds of his shallow breathing really getting you going and you picked up the pace of your hips ever so slightly.

‘Yeah, just please kiss me. I can’t-‘

You cut him off with you lips, moaning into his mouth as soon as you tasted him before his arms wrapped around you even tighter. You were as close as too bodies could be and you could tell by now Mason was close and had been for a while so you pulled back and placed your hands on his shoulders for leverage before moving your hips as fast as you could.

You knew you needed help, knowing Mason was dying to buck up into you so you dropped your eyes, staring right into his dark ones as you smiled at him cheekily.

‘Fuck me, Mase. Come on, finish me off I know you can’ you demanded and that seemed to be all it took. His hands were back on your waist as he manoeuvred you up and down, practically using you at this point but it felt like heaven. Your high hitting you like a truck out of nowhere and the distant feeling of Mason shuddering under your fingertips let you know he was done to.

He pulled you into his arms instantly, his head hidden away in your neck as you both tried to calm down and once you knew he probably was you tried to pull back however he didn’t seem to want to let you, pulling you tighter into him if possible.

‘Mase?’ You laughed, being a bit more forceful this time and whilst you were able to free yourself he was still hiding his face. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’ he laughed, finally looking at you but the deep blush on his cheeks and shy eyes told you everything. He was embarrassed, not because of anything that had happened but more because he’d enjoyed it so much.

‘You good?’ You smiled, watching him kiss your arm before nodding up at you.

‘Perfect’ he smiled before you leant down to kiss him again. ‘You’re absolute insane, do you know that?’

‘In the best way possible though right?’

‘Most definitely’

Tagged: @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @mm-vii @footiehoemcfc @masonmount07 @aundercover

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Gorgon Chapter 5

Summary:  The village nearest the mountain by the sea has a generations-old tradition of offering sacrifices to the monster in the mountain to gain favor and keep its wrath away from the people.  Every person starting from the age of 15 has to take a turn in making the journey up the mountain to the mouth of the cave once a year to drop off the gifts…and it’s a journey that some never come back from.  Y/N took her turn when she was 15, and now the rotation has come back to her again.  If the gift isn’t given by the autumn solstice, there’s no telling what harm the creature will wreak onto the people.  With a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in her way, will she make it to save her and her people?  Can a monster have a heart?

Warnings:  language, violence, attempted sexual assault (not from Bucky), gore, eventual smut *monster!bucky barnes

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Bucky stayed with her from then on.  She had him help around the bakery, introducing him to her regular patrons as a friend who came to visit her.  He slept in her bed, and as close as they had become, and with how curious Bucky was to learn about his new body, they hadn’t done much more than kissing and touching.  She continued to teach him all about living a normal human life, as well as some more reading and writing lessons.  He was getting used to it quickly, and loved getting to be around people and talk to others.  Before they knew it another month had gone by and Master Stark approached Y/N one day in the bakery.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he greeted her.  “Do you need help getting anything together for your next sacrifice?”

Y/N’s eyes widened and Bucky stiffened behind her.  “Oh, um, no.  I think I’ve got everything I need.”

“When will you be leaving?” he asked, glancing at Bucky behind her, who was facing away and kneading dough.

“I…in a few days,” she said carefully.  “If I think of anything that I need assistance with I’ll let you know.”

“Wonderful,” Stark smiled widely at her.  “I’ll take a loaf while I’m here.”

Y/N nodded as she wrapped a loaf of bread for him.  He paid her and left shortly afterwards.  Y/N exhaled once the door closed behind him then turned to look at Bucky who was already looking at her.  “What do we do?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she shook her head.  “We could both go?”

“I don’t want to go back there,” Bucky shook his head frantically.  “I want to stay here with you.”

“I’m not saying you would stay there and not come back with me,” Y/N reassured him.  

Bucky sighed, looking out the window watching the people walk by.  “Why can’t we just tell the people what I am?” he asked.

Y/N frowned.  She didn’t know how the people would react if they found out that Bucky wasn’t just another man.  They seemed amenable to the fact that the monster in the mountain had saved her and had been kind to her, but that didn’t mean that finding out the monster could shapeshift and had been living among them for a month would be taken as lightly.  She sighed as she tried to think through the options.  “I’m afraid of their reactions,” she said.  “I don’t know how they will treat you if they find out.”

Bucky frowned as well and looked down at his feet.  “I could reveal myself,” he said.  “That way if they try to do anything I could get away more easily.”

Y/N’s frown deepened.  “But you’re not completely immortal now,” she said.  “What if they hurt you as a Gorgon?  Would you heal?”

Bucky stared at her.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know how any of this works now, with it being so long in this form.”

Y/N closed her eyes, her fingers rubbing her temples.  “I think…let me talk to someone,” she said, her eyes flying open as she thought of something.  She grabbed the key to the front door and locked it, putting up a sign saying they were closed before turning to him.  “Stay here.”

“Where are you going?” he asked worriedly.

“I’ll be right back,” Y/N said, walking back to him and holding his face in her hands.  

Bucky sighed again but nodded before leaning down and kissing her.  Y/N kissed him back and smiled before heading out the back door.

***

Y/N really didn’t like coming to the Seers if she didn’t have to.  The way they spoke in riddles and rhymes always grated on her last nerve when all she wanted was a straight answer.  She knocked on the door to their shared home at the witchery and waited.  There was a scuffling sound and then the door swung open to reveal Wanda.  She smiled and hummed at Y/N before gesturing for her to come in.  Y/N thanked her and stepped inside.  The house was always littered with things that she couldn’t even name, jars filled with strange herbs, dead animals, bones, flowers and other plants hanging upside down from the ceiling, and symbols that had been carved into different doorways and along the walls.  Wanda led her over to the sitting room that was next to the kitchen, where Agatha and Pietro were mixing things together.

“Ah, Y/N,” Agatha called out.  “I was wondering when you would come.”

Y/N frowned at her.  “So you know why I’m here then?”

Pietro watched her speak then smirked.  “You brought peace.  He’s been living with you for weeks.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised at his words.  “What do you mean?”

Wanda started signing and Pietro watched her intently.  “You tamed the beast and brought us peace that was foretold.  If he stays, you’ll be happy til you’re old.”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Forgive my rudeness, but I’d love a clear answer.  If he reveals himself, will the people be kind?  Will they accept him?”

Pietro smiled.  “Change is hard, both for them and for him.  With love and kindness, acceptance will win.”

Y/N’s mouth tightened.  “Is that a roundabout way of saying yes?”  Agatha, Wanda and Pietro all nodded.  She nodded and hung her head.  “Then I’d like to call a village meeting.  Tonight.”

***

After going over the plan with Bucky, Y/N walked out of the bakery with him later that night.  The villagers filed into the village meeting room that had been built for everyone to be able to attend and know what was going on in the community.  Everyone took their seats and looked around curiously at each other, a thrum of whispers and mumblings echoing in the small space.  Master Stark stood at the head of the crowd with the Seers nearby.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said.  “Our sacrifice giver, Y/N, and the Seers called this meeting tonight.”  He gestured to them and sat down.

Y/N stood with Bucky at the front.  “You’ve all met Bucky,” she said.  Everyone nodded with smiles.  “He came about a month ago to visit me.  But he is not who I said he is,” she said, trying to keep her tone even, breathing deeply as her nerves fluttered.  “He is my dear friend.  And he is also…well…” she looked at him and Bucky nodded.  “He’d like to show you.”

Another chorus of whispers occurred as Bucky stepped forward.  He sighed heavily before bending over, then grunted as his body started to spasm.  The people all looked concerned, some starting to stand up until he wrenched back and screamed.  Y/N watched on in worry, but stayed back.  Bucky’s legs fuzed together, the scales popping up over his brow and down the long sprouting tail.  The second torso started to rip through his stomach, the second set of arms flailing through the skin.  It was horrific, and obviously painful as he tried not to yell and scream but couldn’t help himself, his face twisted in agony.  The villagers all let out sounds of shock and horror, many of them trying to make a run for the door but the Seers had already blocked it.  After what seemed like hours Bucky finally stilled, panting heavily, still doubled over on his four hands.  Y/N slowly approached him and touched his shoulder.  He looked up at her and she smiled at him as she wiped the tears and sweat from his face.  The villagers all sat watching in silence at their interaction.

Y/N looked back up at the people as she helped Bucky right himself.  “Bucky is a Gorgon.  The monster in the mountain.  But he is also kind, sweet, smart, loving, and honorable.  He saved me from the men who attacked me.  He cared for me when I was injured from that attack,” she said.  “We do not need to make sacrifices, but give kindness and acceptance.  He wants to stay here with me, with all of us, and live a human life.”

“And how do we know he won’t turn into this and hurt or kill us if someone wrongs him?” someone called out.

“Because the shapeshifting will only last for so long,” Y/N explained, holding Bucky’s arm next to her.  “At some point it will become difficult, if not impossible, and he will stay human.”

The villagers watched them both for a long few minutes.  Bucky looked at all of them warily, his eyes flicking from person to person.  They had all been incredibly nice to him over the past month, but now it all seemed unsettling and unknown.  A small girl, Cassie, who had taken a liking to Bucky as she came to the bakery for goodies, broke through the crowd.  Her mother, Maggie, tried to pull her back but she yanked her hand out of her grasp.  She walked up to the front and stepped in front of Bucky who loomed over her.  She looked at him curiously before reaching a hand out and touching part of his scaly body.  Bucky exhaled as she lifted her hands and made a grabbing gesture with her fingers for him to pick her up.  He glanced at Maggie who was watching in fear but then reached down and lifted her up, holding her gently against his chest.  Cassie put her hands on his face, touching the scales above his brow and into his hair, then his ears, his nose, his chin, then pulling at his lip to see his sharp teeth.  He playfully bit at her fingers and she giggled, making him smile.  

Maggie then slowly walked forward until she stood next to Y/N, watching Bucky with Cassie.  She slowly smiled and reached out for Cassie, Bucky handing her over carefully.  Maggie then held a hand out to Bucky, and he gladly took it.  She squeezed his fingers then dropped his hand and turned to the other people watching on in awe.  “I trust him,” she said.

“I trust him!” Cassie yelled, making Bucky smile wider.

Slowly, one by one, the rest of the villagers all walked closer to see Bucky and talk to him more in his true form.  The Seers were last as they were led forward by Pietro.  They each held a hand out and placed their hands on Bucky like they did Y/N all those months ago, with Agatha on top of his head and Wanda and Pietro on either side of his face.  All three of them had bright smiles as they felt him.  “With love and kindness, acceptance will win,” Agatha repeated the words from earlier.  

Bucky smiled back at them.  After all was said and done, everyone went back to their houses to retire for the evening.  The excitement of the night exhausted them all.  Bucky and Y/N headed back to her bakery.  Once they got inside Bucky hugged her tight.  “Thank you,” he said quietly into her hair.

“No need to thank me, my love,” Y/N said, kissing his chest.  “I’m sorry you had to shift again.  It looks like hell to go through.”

Bucky sighed as he released her and headed toward the back room.  “And I’m about to do it again,” he said.  Y/N followed him quickly as he settled his larger body in the middle of the room.  “As efficient as this is,” he gestured to his body, “I’ve grown fond of the legs.  And the cock,” he winked at her.

Y/N laughed as she sat next to him on the floor.  “As have I,” she winked back at him.  She held his hand and they sat in silence for a moment.  “Can I do anything to help you through it?” she asked, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb.

Bucky shook his head.  “Just…stay with me?”

Y/N nodded, turning her body and kissing him.  “Always.”

Bucky smiled at her and gestured for her to sit on the bed.  Y/N moved out of his way, and once she was settled he breathed heavily before grunting and bending over like he did before.  Y/N decided this shift was much worse as his body shook and the second set of arms and torso cracked and contracted back into his upper torso, the tail shrinking then splitting into legs, the ripping noise of skin and scale resounding in her head.  Bucky tried not to scream again, grunting and whimpering as he flinched and gritted his teeth through it.  Finally it stopped, leaving him a sweaty, shaking, naked mess on the floor.  Y/N immediately went to him, pulling him off the floor and to the bed where she held him against her chest, pushing his hair off his face as she wiped away the sweat.  “I’ve got you, husband.  It’s okay.”

Bucky shivered in her arms as he tried to relax.  They stayed like that until he finally stopped shaking and looked up at her.  “Thank you, wife,” he breathed, his voice slightly wobbling.

Y/N kissed his forehead.  He wrapped his arms around her waist as he rested his head on her breasts, snuggling his face close.  She giggled at his antics, still running her fingers through his hair.  His breathing became heavier and heavier until he began snoring.  Y/N covered them both with a blanket on her bed, letting him sleep off the strain of the day.  She silently thanked whatever powers or Gods that be that the people had been so understanding and accepting of him.  She was sure there was still going to be an adjustment period for everyone, but that this would be the beginning of a beautiful life she had been promised by the Seers.

*Drawings from TikTok @zesketches *info about Gorgons found @seananmcguire.com 

[sophiethewitch1]

Hey! I just wanted to say that I love the WWW series so much that I've literally read it like 4 times over. SO! I have several questions + observations about it that have been bugging me a little, if you don’t mind answering + talking about them.

Everyone’s ages are something that I've been curious about. I know that it’s stated that Damian and the Reader-insert are 3 years apart in age, 19 and 21 respectively. I’m assuming that they’re more like 2 1/2 years apart based on the ages we’ve been given.

Do they follow canon ages? For example, is Tim still around 7 years older than Damian???

Because i’m picturing the lineup looking something like this:

Bruce: 47

Dick: 33

Jason: 28

Tim: 26

Reader-insert: 21

Damian: 19

I was just curious because picturing everyone’s relative age is something that is really important to me when regarding the dynamics between characters.

Another thing that I noticed was how in the Reader-insert’s  original reality/world, her entire family died on the same day that Jason did. (“Your lives had both technically ended the same day, in the same grand calamity.”). Does that remain the same in this new world?

Because that would mean that the Reader-insert’s  counterpart would have known Jason at some point, which I think is SUPER interesting. Lots of implications.

That’s supported by something that Tim says in his 1st pov: “Your family had died, Bruce’s new wife had died, and all the siblings he never really got the opportunity to meet, gone in a brilliant flash.”

THAT has a few implications that I think are really interesting. It supports the idea that her family did die on the same day in this reality, and that she would have known and been living with Jason at the time (Well, before his death.)

Tim would have most likely only seen them at galas or something similar by that time…leading to his statement about how he “never really got the opportunity to meet” them.

This would mean that Jason knew her counterpart when the Reader-insert met him for the first time. 

Now, going off of all of those assumptions, I can only begin to guess what her and Dicks relationship was like before her family's death. I picture it like this:

Dick had only left the manor around 3 years TOPS before Bruce had remarried, bringing a whole nother family into the fold. Now, we don’t know too much about Dick in this story yet, (I'm SO excited to see more of him in the next chapter BTW) but I can assume that this would feel pretty upsetting. Leaving your home, and your adoptive? father only for him to marry into a whole new family not long after?

I’d be pretty bitter if it was me in his situation. I wouldn’t really want to have any kind of relationship with the new children he had taken in. MEANING that Dick and the counterpart didn’t have too much of a relationship before her family's death.

And between their death and Jason’s, Dick would probably consider the counterpart as some kind of chance to actually build a relationship with his siblings in the light of what he lost. Obviously, the counterpart didn’t appreciate the attempt.

Uhhh there’s probably a lot more that I'm forgetting to mention, but I think the way you write is super compelling, and the Reader-Insert has been the only one that I’ve ever read that I can relate to so well!

So TYSM for writing, it literally makes my day!! 🩷🩷🩷🫂🫂🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

(And I’m really bad at conveying my tone in text, so if I seem overly critical or anything then I’m really sorry!!! I don’t mean it like that!!!)

Sorry this took so long to answer I have been in sickly victorian woman mode. I'll answer these questions to the best that I can, but also I don't have everything planned and even if I did I regularly forget shit if I don't write it down <3 <3

First of all the ages- I aged both the younger Waynes up and the older ones down a bit, because I'm personally not into the super huge age gaps but also. Imagine them however you want, even if they come up later in continuity still just insert your personal preferences if you want. Like it really doesn't matter lmao they're relationship has bigger issues than the age gaps. Anyway here are how I had them written down but I might change my mind I am a fluid being

Reader: 21, Damian: 19, Tim: 22, Jason: 25, Dick: 29, Bruce: 45, Alfred: 67, Molly: Also 21, Cass: 25, Stephanie: 23, Barbara: 30, Duke: 20

Also yes, reader's family died the exact same day in both universes, and first world reader like... knew about the waynes but wasn't particularly interested in them till their own family was ripped away, then she started obsessing. in second world, reader and the batfam were like... sort of involved? she lived with them, and she was getting to know them, but wouldn't you be kind of weirded out if your mum married like. jeff bezos or something. and reader is sort of introvert coded, even if they don't read that way. it's just because she's trying so hard not to be, because she's so starved for attention. other world reader like,,, didn't seem to react the same way to what happened to her. but she might've, in the newest chapter it seems like she was talking to bruce after the disaster, and then stopped. But yeah you're right they never knew each other because not much effort was made to do so, and the Waynes are always SUPER busy.

Also about the Dick thing, he was actually pretty happy about the new family! But like you said he still didn't know other reader till the disaster. He just didn't have time to get to know her. He was obviously very upset with Bruce because he left to fuck off to Bludhaven for a while, but he's always loved how the Wayne family kept growing. Even when it was just him Jason, Babs and the weird kid who followed them around with a camera. Then he like decided he was going to treat her like a project because he has a savior complex that comes out especially so when he's having a hard time (oh damn my brothers dead). Not your best moment Dickie. I mean other reader definitely did need help but... as if she'd accept it from a guy like Dick. Imagine your entire family dies and you have to deal with the most beautiful guy on earth trying to comfort you while you look like a creature that crawled out of the sewers. And he tries to make you go outside because you're genuinely very mentally sick. I'd kill him tbh. Anyway this is all still technically up in the air and I might go back and edit the fic later because I'm like... very bad at timelines I just can never remember them properly which creates a lot of issues and inconsistencies.

Anyways thank you for sending in your questions/theories and enjoying my work so much! I'm glad you can relate to reader so well, she's like, one of the strangest characters I've ever written who refuses to behave in any concrete mannerisms because she's stubborn and has intimacy issues. But I think we're all a little bit like that lmao. And thank YOU for reading my stuff, I wouldn't still be doing it if it weren't for folks like you :P (also also you didn't come across as critical at all, you were very polite!!!)

[daydreamgoddess14]

Support System pt. 6

MASTERLIST

CH1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5

Roy Kent x Reader

Are you ready? Cos we get really very spicy now my friends so.... be warned. Also, good god I think I'm in love with Roy Kent.

Chapter 6

She pushes the phone into your hand so you have no choice but to bring it to your ear, you still watch Roy who's moved to the otherside of the room. Your heart is still pounding and you feel like you've been given an electric shock. 

"Yeah?" You ask into the phone. 

"Can we talk?"

"Umm, we've just got back from the beach. I'll get Lexie settled and call you back?" You hang up without waiting for any real response.

"I'd better go." He says. 

"Thanks for a cool day Roy! Thanks for winning my unicorn teddy and the ice creams and for letting me go on your shoulders and… and… everything!" Lexie says jumping from foot to foot. 

"Thank you for the best day Lex. We should go again in the summer."

"Yeaaaaaah! Can we mum?"

"Of course we can bunny. Let's get you ready for bed, huh?" She zooms into the living room to gather up the new toys for her room while you see Roy to the door. "I'll see you soon?" You sound unsure, you've no idea where his head is at after the kiss. No idea where your own head is, really. You still feel a little dizzy from it and the coil in your belly is wound even tighter. 

"Yeah, see you soon." His eye catches the sunburn on your shoulders, now joined by beard burn and a little bite mark. He brushes it lightly with his finger and you can't help but lean into him. "Should have put some more cream on." He says quietly before closing the door behind him. You're left in the hallway in a weird limbo of being disappointed that he left and unbelievably turned on. It wasn’t fair, you should be on cloud 9. Instead, you head upstairs and concentrate on real life. You get Lexie into the bath and bed before doing the same yourself. You reluctantly pick up your phone to call Andy back, seeing that Sara has sent some pictures from the day with plenty of sunshine, ice cream and beer emojis on a group message to both you and Roy. There’s the kids playing in the sand, you and the girls looking at the shells you’d collected, one of you pointing and laughing at something out of focus - head thrown back, sunkissed and happy. In the picture, Roy is next to you but he’s not looking at whatever it is that’s got your attention, he’s looking at you. There are others - really great photos, a selfie of the three of you and then one of the five of you. They make your heart flutter. You respond with a heart emoji, not quite able to put into words just how much they all mean to you - and that’s without confronting your growing feelings for Roy. The photos were exactly what you needed for your next task. You press Andy’s contact picture and let it ring.

“Thanks for calling back.” You’re surprised, it’s the most civilised he's been for months. 

“Sorry it took a while. We both needed to get half a beach off us.”

“Did you have a good day? Did you go alone?”

“We went with one of Lexie’s friends from school. It was a lovely day.”

“She said you’re changing jobs.” 

“Yeah, handed my notice in last week. I’ve got about 6 weeks left.”

“You… don’t need to do that you know. Maybe we could work something out?”

“What do you mean?”

“I miss you.”

“Are you pissed?”

“No! Why?”

“You’ve been an absolute fucking nightmare for months - you’ve punished me and belittled me and shamed me for having a better job than you and what? Now I’m giving it up, you think we can get back together? Are you for real right now?” You’re trying to keep your voice down but you don’t think you’ve felt a rage like this in your life. Not even when you were both fighting constantly. 

“I just thought it would be good for Lexie, mum and dad together, making it work?” He mumbled.

“What’s good for Lexie is a happy family life - even if that’s separately. Making it work? Making both of us miserable more like.”

“I wasn’t miserable with you.”

“You had an odd way of showing it Andy. You’ve barely laid a finger on me for years, you criticise everything I do. I’m sorry, I can’t make Lexie happy by destroying myself in the process. I deserve to be really, really loved and you can’t do that. What’s this really about?” You’ve stripped away his arguments, Lexie being his trump card, he has no comeback.

“Lexie keeps talking about your new friends. I just thought… is there anything I can do to change-”

“No Andy, you’ll never change my mind on this. I wish I’d been brave enough to leave you rather than wait for you to leave me to be honest. We won’t talk about this again. Goodnight.” Absolute wanker! You hang up and grab a pillow to scream into. Jealousy, of course. You’d seen it briefly when you’d gone to his flat to pick Lexie up when she’d been poorly but because you’d seen him so rarely recently it hadn’t really registered. You could laugh, it’s only taken him the best part of 8 years for him to actually feel anything for you. 

The next couple of days are a blur of Easter holiday club for Lexie and work for you. There’s still no luck on the job front which makes you nervous, and Andy’s done you the decency of not calling you again. You’d naively hoped that he’d woken the next morning with a hangover and had been appalled at his own behaviour, but you also didn’t really care. Sara had taken to using the group message she’d sent the photos on for childcare planning - it made sense but it also meant that you didn’t have any other excuse for solely messaging Roy. When you finally unpacked the bags of junk from the beach day, you found his book rather than yours in the bag. You were picking the girls up that afternoon and taking Phoebe straight to her nans where Sara would pick her up. They came out of school with paint up their arms and in their hair from the craft activities laid on for them. You were looking forward to seeing Roy’s mum again and she welcomed you as she had before, with a huge hug. She was over the moon to finally meet Lexie who took to her immediately. When Sara arrived back from work a little while later, the girls helped her shake off her tiredness with a dance party (Taylor Swift of course) so the five of you - including Roy’s mum - were dancing around with music blasting, singing at the top of your lungs.

“Standing by and waiting at your back door, all this time, how could you not know, baby? You belong with me, you belong with me!” Until Phoebe screeched,

“Uncle Royyyy! I haven’t seen you for ages!”

“You saw me like two days ago you little weirdo.” He said surveying the chaos ahead of him. “Having fun?”

“It’s a dance party! Sara was sleepy so we needed to wake her up.” Lexie told him.

“Sara’s still sleepy but thanks for trying, guys.” She laughs.

“Come on Lexie-loo. Time for us to go.”

“But muuum!”

“No buts, we need to get you ready for dad’s tomorrow.” The two girls looked sombre that they’d be separated for a few days, but Sara grins at you over their heads,

“Freedom!” You get bags and shoes and say goodbye to Roy’s mum. You stop suddenly in the hall, not realising Roy was right behind you and making him bump into you. He puts a hand to your waist so he doesn’t push you over but it brings you flush to his chest. With his hand on your stomach, you know he had to feel the shuddering breath that leaves your body. You reach into your bag and turn to him, “nearly forgot, I ended up with your book.” 

“Keep it, I’d finished it. Did you finish yours?”

“Yeah, keep it. I promised it to you.” He watches you with dark eyes. You know nothing is going to happen, of course it’s not - there’s a house full of people, Lexie is behind you by the front door putting her trainers on. He nods once and puts a single kiss to your forehead.

“See you soon.”

“Bye,” you look over his shoulder intending to shout goodbye to Sara and her mum but Sara’s in the doorway, eyebrows raised and wide eyed.

“Bye babe, I’ll text you later.” She says casually with a look which is far from casual.

You have the following day off for a couple of interviews so you’ve arranged to pick Lexie up from holiday club and take her round to Andy’s yourself. You don’t really want to have to see him, but the plans were made before his pleas to try again. 

“Here’s your bag, bunny, your coat is inside. Be good, I’ll see you in a few days, ok?” You give her a big hug and kiss and she goes straight into the flat. Andy hovers by the door.

“You look good.”

“Thanks, I’ve had a couple of interviews.”

“Any good?”

“Not sure yet, we’ll see.”

“Ok well… good luck.” You nod, ready to escape but you can see he’s itching to say something else. “I just wanted to say sorry about the other night.”

“It’s ok, forgotten already.”

“Oh, cos I just wanted to check that you’re sure?” You shake your head with a little laugh,

“Yes, Andy. I’m sure. Please, don’t ask again. It’s not going to happen.”

“Right, right. Ok. Have a good week then.”

“Yeah, you too.” You leave his flat feeling lighter. You go back to your car leaving him behind, the clocks have changed so the evenings are light. Your drive takes you past the football club and down Roy’s street. His gate is open and the car is just inside. You turn in before you have a chance to chicken out. You ring the bell and wait. The double take as he answers the door means he didn’t see it was you on the doorbell camera,

“It’s you.” He states,

“Yeah, I was just passing. Is this a bad time, I can go?” You make to leave but he’s quick to stop you.

“No, no, of course it’s fine, come in. I was just cooking. Jesus, you look fucking gorgeous.” You leave your bag by the door and step out of your heels.

“Thank you. I’ve been interviewing today.”

“How did it go, what were the roles?”

“Still Deputy Comms Director. I’m not sure, it’s so hard to say. It’s been ages since I interviewed anywhere.”

“Did they give you any feedback?” Already your conversation with Roy is a complete contrast to Andy’s indifference. You have his undivided attention, he’s curious and interested.

“Not really. I think it’s just a waiting game. It’s so annoying, I only have about 5 weeks left. I’m worried that I was wrong to just resign with nothing to go to next.”

“Bold, not necessarily wrong.” He offers, pouring you a glass of wine.

“I think you’re being too kind there.” You laugh,

“Bollocks. If forced retirement has taught me anything, it’s that you have to accept what’s right for you. Sometimes that means it feels like you’re doing the wrong thing until it becomes the right thing.” You mull on his words while he cooks. The speaker is on quietly in the background while you drink your wine. It feels comfortable.

“Do you regret retiring?”

“Fuck no. My knee thanks me every day for it. I didn’t dare let myself think I’d actually enjoy coaching - I tried to make out like I’d hate it.”

“It felt like the wrong thing to do until it didn’t?”

“Exactly. You’ve got to trust yourself.” He puts a plate of pasta in front of you.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Don’t turn up at my house at dinner time and not expect to get fed.” He takes the seat next to you. 

“Tell me about the club. I’ve heard the rumours that Coach Lasso is leaving?”

“Doesn’t know what he fucking wants. He’s in love with the boss.”

“Really?! Does she know?”

“Nah, they’re both being idiots about it. Neither of them will say anything so he thinks the answer is to leave.”

“And it’s not?”

“No, he should tell her. Shouldn’t he?”

“Course he should. What happens if he leaves?”

“Not a clue. Guess I’ll find out if he ever makes a decision.”

“Not long to decide though. Maybe you should give him your ‘being bold’ pep talk.” You continue your meal together and help clean up afterwards. You didn’t have a reason for visiting in the first place, so you certainly didn’t have one to stick around, but he poured another glass of wine anyway. He seemed to be holding back from you a little, engaging in conversation about work and families but he didn’t once acknowledge the evening you’d returned from Brighton. You cleared your throat, “I had to see Andy today when I dropped Lexie off.”

“Oh yeah?” His frown deepened and unlike with Andy, you saw it immediately - jealousy. 

“Hmm. He, uhh, reckons we should try again.”

“Oh.” He picks at the label on his beer bottle. “Bet Lexie’s happy?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“How come?”

“Well I didn’t think it was a wise idea to tell my 8 year old that I told her dad to fuck off… so, there’s that.” He looked up sharply,

“You told him to fuck off?”

“Not in so many words. But I made it very clear that he should never ask me again.”

“Good. It’s probably not good for you - or Lexie - to keep dragging shit like that out and-”

“Roy?”

“Yeah?” You leaned up from your stool at the kitchen island and kissed him lightly. When you moved away, you watched him carefully, 

“If I’ve got this wrong again, I-” He stepped up to your knees, your tight skirt preventing him from getting much closer, and pulled you to him, kissing you so softly. It was entirely different to the first time he’d kissed you and yet felt just as desperate and wanting. He pulls your blouse out from the waistband of your skirt and leans back just enough to ask the silent question, are you sure? You’re not drunk, there are no kids to interrupt, no phones ringing… you know you’re sure, but you have to know that he is too. He anticipates what you’re about to ask,

“Course I’m fucking sure. You’re not wrong. You weren’t wrong last time. You were drunk, I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you.”

“And now?”

“I’d really like to take advantage of you, that ok?” He says with a chuckle.

“Yes, definitely yes.” You laugh, relieved. He kisses you again and though you know you have all the time in the world, you don’t want to waste a single second. 

“Fucking gorgeous.” He whispers against your neck, “borderline obscene, actually.” You laugh at his stolen compliment. His deft fingers pull your top up and off and you’re thankful you wore one of your really, really good bras for good luck for your interviews. You both decide at the same time that the other is just not close enough, your damn skirt in the way. He takes your hand to help you down from the stool and circles your waist, “this looks amazing, but it’s in the way.” You guide his hand to the zip at the side while you step up onto your tiptoes to pull his training t-shirt off. The skirt pools at your feet and his hands cover you, trying to explore everything all at once. “Up.” He taps your hip,

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck off.” He laughs, lifting you anyway. He doesn’t take you far, only to the sofa where he drops down with you still in his lap. You sit up on your knees so you can take your weight off his bad knee but he grips your hips, puts you back down and sides you further into his lap. You can feel him hard against you and it’s never been like this before, you’ve never been with someone who has made their need for you so obvious, never made you feel so wanted before. This thought alone helps banish your insecurities to the very back of your mind. He kisses a hot, wet path down your neck to the tops of your breasts, your sunburn faded to golden, but the freckles remain. The sensation of his beard against your skin makes you moan and you can’t help but roll your hips into him. He grips you tighter, holding you against him. You reach down between your bodies to pull at the waistband of his shorts. He takes the hint and lifts you both slightly so he can get rid of them. With the shorts out of the way, he can feel the heat and dampness of you against him, “Fuck me-” he breathes, hands tracing up your back to the clasp of your bra.

“Yes, please, yes.” Your hands are in his hair and you pull him back to your mouth for another searing kiss. You have to let go while he takes the straps of your bra down your arms but you press back up against him as soon as you can, the hair on his chest rough against your skin. You grind your hips down again, desperate to feel him against you. His hand goes between you both and he stops to check in again before touching you. You cup his cheek and nod, a shy smile. His fingers find your centre and brush against you. You breathe his name and your eyes flutter shut. Two fingers slide inside you and you think that’s already enough to send you over the edge. You rock against his hand, your forehead against his.

“Open your eyes,” he rasps, “I want to see you.” The second you open your eyes, he presses his thumb to your clit and you cry out. He doesn’t let up, working you through your orgasm until you're choking back a sob. You catch your breath for a moment, but the need for him is overwhelming.

“Need you now, have you got-”

“I’m clean, constant fucking medicals. You?” You nod and he slips your underwear to one side. You lift up to line him up against you and slide down onto him slowly. The stretch is exquisite, too much and yet absolutely perfect all at the same time. You take him fully and pause for a second to revel in the feeling of having him inside you. He kisses you softly, “you feel incredible. God, you’re so beautiful.” He takes your hips while you set the pace but it doesn’t take long for either of you to reach the edge. You come again with his name on your lips and he’s right there with you, bruising your hips with his grip. You slump against his shoulder, nose against his neck.

“Holy shit,” you manage eventually, feeling him laugh against you.

“Yeah, you’re not fucking wrong.” He pulls a blanket from the back of the sofa and wraps it over you as you slip off his lap to sit next to him. Neither of you says anything, his hands run up and down your calves as you sit with your legs in his lap. He reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, “will you stay?”

“If that’s ok?” He gets up and takes your hand, pulling you with him.

“Come on, shower and bed. I’ve got training with Jamie at 4am.”

You wake up briefly to a kiss on the back of your neck.

“Back in a bit, go back to sleep.” He whispers, kissing your earlobe. You sigh happily and snuggle down into the bed, pulling his pillow with you. You hadn’t gotten much sleep, waking every so often to soft caresses and kisses. Your body ached in a way you’d never felt before. You slip back into sleep again, waking a couple of hours later to a cup of tea and warm arms around you.

“How was training?” You ask, voice still full of sleep.

“Painful.” He laughed. You sit up to drink your tea, sitting in between his legs, his back against the headboard and yours against his chest. “Can I ask you something?” He murmurs, a hand drifting over your thigh, you let out a needy moan, it’s almost absurd how he can make you want him so badly. “Remember I had that suit fitting? There’s a gala for work next week. Will you come with me?” You turn to put your tea down and then kiss him.

“I’d love to. Thank you.” You smile.

“I’ve got an hour. What time do you have to go?”

“Same.”

“Good.” He smirks, pulling you back down to him.

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of cheating

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 13

Matt joined me two weeks later. Little was said on the night of his return. We exchanged forced smiles. Luckily, there were a lot of familiar faces around and this helped disguise the awkwardness of the moment.

After everyone left, Matt and I finally had to face each other. He walked up to me, took my face in his hands, looked into my eyes, and said, “It’s over, y/nn. I swear to you. It’s over.”

I didn’t speak. I just listened carefully as he continued. “I guess I got caught up in a situation that was out of hand from the beginning. She and I come from two different worlds. I don’t like being exploited. I can’t live like that. Don’t get me wrong. She’s a nice girl, but not for me.”

I didn’t want to hear any more. I looked up at him, half-listening to what he was saying and at the same time asking myself how I could go on, knowing that the future would bring only more temptations for him. Love was much more complicated than I had ever imagined.

The silence between the two of us continued until Matt had had enough and said, “Let’s forget it. Forgive me, please.” Then, with that little-boy look that always seemed to capture my heart, he said, using Flip Wilson’s favorite Geraldine line, “I guess the devil made me do it!”

I agreed.

I would be a little more skeptical now.

And there was still one more matter to take care of. I walked into his bathroom, went through his makeup kit, and pulled out a telegram I knew he’d received earlier. It simply read, i just don’t understand—scoobie. It was from Julia Ernst. I knew it. Scoobie was a name she had given herself, he confessed later. That line was also the title of the first hit record she’d recorded in the early sixties. Obviously, Matt had totally disassociated himself from her, cutting off their ties.

“It bothers me knowing it’s there,” I said. I simply tore it to shreds and with total gratification flushed it down the toilet.

“Not too much goes by you, does it, Little One? For such a little girl, you’re a typical woman.” He was laughing. “I guess I’ve got to keep on my toes.”

I returned his smile but thought: No, I’m the one who has to keep on her toes. After the ordeal with Julia Ernst, I still suspected that there were other women.

Occasionally I’d read or hear about Matt romancing his latest leading lady. I’d see press-released pictures of them riding down Sunset Boulevard on his new motorcycle or hear about a new car he’d bought for a young starlet just before they’d started shooting a picture. There was always room for doubt. It was difficult to differentiate between gossip and fact, and I’d get crazed with worry.

Before I started traveling with Matt on a permanent basis, I discovered notes and cards tucked away on a shelf in his closet, notes that read, “I had a wonderful time, Honey, thanks for the evening.” Or, “When are we going to get together again? It’s been two days, and I miss you.” When I voiced my suspicions, he denied everything and accused me of “imagining things.” He told me I was ridiculous for believing the gossip columnists. Yet I couldn’t help remembering that he’d told me the same thing when I’d asked him about Julia Ernst.

If I really challenged him, I always ran the risk of his threatening to send me home to my parents. He knew this tactic always worked. The first time it happened, he was filming Spinout and we were talking about his costar, Shelley Fabares. I suggested going to the set and meeting her.

“It’d be a good idea if you didn’t,” he said.

“Why not? I’m not doing anything. I could come and have lunch with you.”

I’d obviously said the wrong thing. He shot me a menacing look and said quietly, “That’s it, woman! I don’t want to hear another word.”

It was foolish of me, but I didn’t ignored his warning. “Well,” I persisted, “is there something you’re hiding that you don’t want me to see?” He flew into a rage.

“I don’t have a goddamn thing to hide. You’re getting a little too aggressive and demanding. It might be a good idea if you visited your parents for a while.”

Shocked, I yelled, “Well I’m not going!”

“I think you should. In fact, I’ll help you.” He walked over to my closet and proceeded to throw every piece of clothing I had on the floor, hangers included, along with my suitcase on top of the clothes.

“All right, woman. Start packing!”

I couldn’t believe this overreaction. It was one of four things: He was innocent, or I had made him feel guilty, or he was guilty, and I’d made him feel even more so, or it was simply his ongoing disgust with the inane plot of the film and he’d chosen me as a target for his anger.

Sobbing, I started to pack as he turned and strode out of the room. Moments later I heard him yelling for Nate to make a reservation. “Get her on the next flight out. She’s going back to her parents.” There was a finality in his voice that I had never heard before. Hysterical, I began folding my clothes as he continued yelling in the other room. I packed slowly, stunned by the blowup.

When he came back into the room, I felt humiliated. I continued folding clothes, sobbing uncontrollably. “You’re too goddamn demanding,” he said, staring at me in silence. “Hurry up. It’s time to go.”

I got up slowly and started toward the door. Just as I reached it, I felt his hand on my shoulder, turning me around, and then, miraculously, I was in his arms, and he was holding me tight.

“Now do you understand?” As he spoke, I was sobbing against his shoulder. “Do you see that you need this? You need someone to take you right to this point and put you in your place.”

I was relieved and happy to be back in his arms. Anything he’d have said would’ve made sense to me in that moment. What I didn’t realize until later was that this was Matt’s technique of keeping me under control.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - sorry for the short chapter i just needed to get one out!! ill double post tonight🎀

[metalmonki]

Objection! Part 3

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

1k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Coffees and food in hand, I made my way back to the district attorney's office. As I walked through the door, I heard a familiar voice call out behind me.

"Y/N, Rafa is really putting you to work, isn’t he?" Olivia smiled as she caught up and fell into step with me.

"Lieutenant Benson, hardly. This is just a thank you for everything, and something to tide us over while we look over a case together," I smiled back at her.

"Oh, please, call me Liv," she laughed. "I hope my team didn’t scare you off."

"No, they're wonderful! If anything, I’m mad that Sonny didn’t introduce us all earlier."

"If it makes you feel any better, we all thought he only had one sister until Fin overheard him talking with Rafa about getting you a job. Then he tells us he has four sisters!" Olivia laughed, holding open Rafael's office door for me.

Rafael looked up from his desk, raising an eyebrow when he saw us all smiles and laughter.

"Getting along well, I see," Rafael remarked, keeping his face neutral.

"Yeah, just talking about Sonny," I smiled, placing a coffee and a sandwich in front of him. "This is a thank you for saving me at the courthouse earlier."

"Oh, no thanks needed. We all get lost there our first day," Rafael smiled. "Now, Liv, what can I help you with?" He turned his attention to her.

"The guy we arrested yesterday wants to make a deal. He’ll give us all the other guys he knows who are holding girls in exchange for a reduced sentence and protective custody," Olivia quickly switched to business mode.

"Tell him I’ll be in to discuss a deal first thing in the morning," Rafael sighed.

"Great, I’ll leave you two to whatever it is ADAs do," Olivia smiled, walking out of the office.

Rafael waved a hand at her as she left, then picked up a pile of papers from his desk and brought them over to a coffee table on the other side of the room. He motioned for me to sit down on the lounge next to the coffee table before retrieving his coffee and sandwich. He handed me some paperwork from the pile and directed me to read while he ate. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him trying to eat in manageable bites while fighting the urge to just devour the entire sandwich. It was clear this was his first meal of the day—or at least since breakfast. I felt a pang of guilt for not getting something more substantial. Mental note: find a good takeout place nearby to keep this man fed. Sonny would probably know a few spots.

I turned my attention back to the paperwork, my heart sinking as I read the case summary and saw who the defense attorney was.

"You're in for one hell of a fight here, Barba," I looked over at him.

"You got all that from just reading the case outline?" Rafael asked, taking the final bite of his sandwich.

"That, and the fact that the defense attorney is Buchanan. It's glaringly obvious from the outline what tactics he'll try to use," I sighed.

"So, you know about Buchanan?" Rafael smirked.

"And you, Cabot, Novak, Langan, Calhoun, Ellis... If they’ve worked in New York, I’ve likely studied them," I admitted, a little embarrassed.

"Know thine enemy," Rafael chuckled. "So walk me through it."

I nodded and began breaking down the case for Rafael. If Buchanan wasn’t the defense attorney, I’d say it was open and shut. But with the victim being a prostitute, it was a given that Buchanan would try to use that as a justification. Clearly, Rafael had already anticipated this, as there was an in-depth criminal record for the defendant and even evidence to make the victim look more like a saint. It was a strong case, and I told Rafael so—the real hurdle was Buchanan. We spent hours going over every piece of evidence, discussing everything, every possible defense, every argument that could be made. By the time we finished, the city outside was lit up with its nightlife. The clock on the wall read 9:30. Rafael had a massive smile on his face.

"You're every bit as good as Carisi said you would be," he smiled.

"I have to be," I replied with a small smile.

I could tell he wanted to press on my answer but held back, choosing to nod instead.

"So, you're happy to keep working for me?" Rafael asked.

"It would be my pleasure," I smiled.

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow at 8 at the 16th because, for every bit of good you are, you somehow managed to forget to pick up the files I asked for," Rafael smirked, my eyes widening in realization.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I completely forgot! Sonny is still working; I can run over to the 16th now and grab the files," I rushed to grab my phone, but before Rafael could speak, it rang. "Speak of the devil. Sonny, I was just about to call you."

"Great minds think alike. You still burning the midnight oil with Barba?" he chuckled.

"Yeah, I’m here with Barba. Why?" I asked, glancing at Rafael.

"Great! We’re all taking a break for dinner and wanted to see if you wanted to join us at Forlini’s?"

"That actually sounds amazing! We were just wrapping up here, so we’ll meet you there. Also, Sonny, could you bring along any cases you need us to look over? Please? I completely forgot to pick them up earlier," I added, feeling sheepish.

"Uh oh, first-day foul," Sonny laughed. "But yes, I can be an awesome big brother and bring them with me."

"Thank you, I owe you one," I hung up the phone and turned back to Barba. "The team is headed to Forlini’s for dinner and asked us to join."

"Sounds great to me," Rafael smiled.

We began packing up all the paperwork, slotting it back into the various files they had come from. Once everything was returned to its place, Rafael placed the files into a cabinet by his desk, grabbed his jacket, and slid it on while holding the office door open for me. I walked out as Rafael grabbed his briefcase and fell into step beside me, chatting about how, if he hadn’t been asked out for dinner with the team, he likely would have gone home and crashed without eating. I had to laugh and agree that I would have done the same.

I’d never been to Forlini’s, but Sonny had brought me food from there a few times, so I was looking forward to actually eating there for once. Rafael waved down a cab and told the driver where to go. When we pulled up in front of Forlini’s, Rafael had his wallet out and paid for the cab before I could protest. He climbed out first, holding the door open for me. My heart raced—he really was a gentleman.

Forlini’s was crowded, and Rafael placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me through the crowd. He said something about knowing where to find the others, but I couldn’t hear him over the noise. We came to a stop in front of a group of tables in the far back corner where Sonny, Fin, Amanda, Nick, and Olivia were already sitting, drinks in hand, laughing away.

"Should you be drinking if you’re still working?" Rafael chuckled, taking a seat and motioning for me to sit next to him.

"The only one here still working is Water Boy over there," Fin smirked, pointing at Sonny.

"Yeah, someone’s been neglecting their paperwork," Amanda laughed.

Sonny gave them a "stuff off" look before turning to me.

“Come è andato il primo giorno?” Sonny asked, leaning back in his chair. (How did the first day go?)

“È stato fantastico, perché?” I replied with a smile. (it was great, why?)

“Volevo solo assicurarmi che Barba ci andasse piano con te,” he said, a hint of concern in his voice. (I just wanted to make sure Barba went easy on you.)

“Ti preoccupi troppo,” I giggled, reaching for a menu in the middle of the table. (You worry too much)

It was at that point I noticed the entire table had fallen silent. Everyone was looking at Sonny and me with wide eyes, and Rafael looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. Clearly, Sonny hadn’t mentioned to anyone that he knew Italian.

“You speak Italian too?” Rafael was the first to break the silence.

“Uh, yes. Sonny never told any of you he could speak Italian?” I asked, looking around the table.

“No, he didn’t,” Olivia said, turning to Sonny. “What does Rafael mean by ‘you speak Italian too’?”

“Oh, I also speak Spanish,” I shrugged casually.

“Wow, Carisi, your sister’s amazing,” Nick smiled. “Veo que nos vamos a llevar bien, señorita.” (I can see we’re going to get along well, missy.)

“Hey, Amaro, eyes off my sister, alright?” Sonny pointed a finger at him, half-joking.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the two of them, and the rest of the table joined in. Rafael, however, seemed to be glaring at Nick. I decided it would be best to wait until it was just Rafael and me before asking what his problem with Nick was. I joined the conversation at the table, and the whole team treated me like I’d been working with them for years. I felt at ease with them faster than I had with anyone else. For the first time, I felt like I’d found where I belonged.

When dinner was over, Sonny handed the files I had left behind to Rafael and excused himself to return to the office. The others wandered off to their various homes, and Rafael offered to see me home, even though it meant traveling further than his own place. He hailed us another cab and held the door open while I climbed in. I gave the driver my address before turning to Rafael.

“Okay, spill it,” I said, watching him.

“What?” Rafael looked at me, caught off guard.

“You don’t like Nick. Why?” I asked directly.

“He’s a playboy. Ever since his wife divorced him, he’s been running through women like he needs them to breathe,” Rafael said, looking out the cab window. “I just don’t want to see him do the same to you. He’s already slept with Amanda and half the female officers in the 16th, so I wouldn’t put it past him to target you next.”

“I can take care of myself, but thank you for your concern,” I smiled, appreciating his protective nature.

The cab came to a stop in front of mine and Sonny’s apartment building. I wished Rafael goodnight before making my way inside, desperate for sleep before I had to be at the 16th at 8 a.m.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

pythia, a supernatural rewrite. phantom traveler, p.3

read it on ao3.

words: 14k notes: hello!!! on the wings of an absolute ARMY of betas, here is a fresh new chapter for you!! since the last one was a little short i took the time to really flesh this one out. I'm a shy idiot who is SO bad at responding, but i see your comments and they mean the world to me. i literally have a folder on my computer full of the sweet words this fic has been given, and i think i've re-read the comments in that folder at least a million times over by now. ty so much for reading, and i hope you enjoy!! bloody mary is next! a very special thank you to my beta readers, bear, M, venice, feeb, and daff, who easily made this my best chapter yet. thank you specifically for keeping me coherent and sane lol <3

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 4th.

You don’t have to be psychic to know precisely what your mother is going to say when she answers the phone. She’ll pick up on the fourth ring with an occupied, scathing drawl and say, Look who finally has cell service.

Alright. So you’re not the best, most communicative daughter in the world. You call when you can, you honestly do, but there’s not exactly loads of emotional bandwidth to spare on the road. Peeling off all the layers of case anxiety and Winchester grief takes a while, dammit!

Maybe you’d feel less guilty if you vented to Sam or Dean, but it’s kind of lousy to bitch about Mom-stuff to, uh. Yeah. The boys. You could use a simple, uncomplicated statement like, talking to my Mom reminds me of how much of a disappointment I must be to her, and Dean would hear matricide instead. Sam’s blank, uncomprehending look wouldn’t be much better. Looks like you’re alone on this one.

When there’s a natural break in the day’s long research-fest the three of you are riding, you slip away, pace beside the Impala for a while, then finally bite the bullet and call her. Cars whisk through the slurry of snow on the road. Your phone charms rattle in the icy breeze. One ring, two rings… She knew you were going to call, she could sense it, but of course she has to torture you… three rings, four.

“I didn’t know cell service was so hard to come by in Pittsburg,” Beth greets you, sounding preoccupied. Damn, do you know her well or what?

“Hey, Mom,” you sigh. The wind is loud, so you pull your phone further down your face and try to come up with an excuse that is even halfway reasonable. “Sorry I haven’t called. It’s been ages since I’ve been around the boys, and I guess I get a little caught up with them sometimes.”

This is objectively true. She used to have a rule about you getting your homework done before they came over, purely because you forgot about everything and anything else the second Sam and Dean entered the house.

“Forget those losers. You’re my baby, I love you most,” Beth gushes, and you understand that this is her way of saying that you’re forgiven. Both of you have fallen victim to the Winchester spell before, so she can’t exactly blame you.

You’re a little embarrassed by her mushiness, but a relieved, bubbly laugh jumps out of you. “Alright, consider them forgotten. Now… I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you not to freak out or overthink it, kay?”

Beth snorts. “You mean my two jobs as a mother? Go ahead, shoot.”

This is not the kind of question that you just “shoot,” though. It takes you a moment to string together how you’re going to ask this, and of course, you’re nothing but graceful and delicate about it. “...What do you know about demons?”

Your mother doesn’t say anything for a long, yawning second. Still, you can sense her rising swarm of questions and outrage all the way from Pennsylvania, and you try to stop her onslaught before it starts. “Hey! No questions! Just answers. I promise I would tell you if this was outrageously dangerous.”

“Then you’ve already broken your promise,” Beth utters, slipping into her Sage Grandmaster Psychic voice. Just hearing it makes you deflate. She predicts, “...Let me guess. You’ve felt nauseous. Suffocated. Hungry, but everything you eat comes right back up again.”

You toe a chunk of ice on the asphalt with your boot, grumbling, “...Yeah.”

“Then you’re lucky,” she reveals, her words still ringing with the same crystal ball clarity from your childhood. “That means you haven’t come into direct contact with it yet. I’d hope you never would, but… you are your father’s daughter…”

You know your mom. You know that’s just her way of warning you about the kind of danger you’re in, here, but all the comment does is bolster your resolve. Damn right. You are his motherfuckin’ daughter.

“Tell me,” you push.

Beth sighs through her nose. There’s a squeak on the other line, and you can imagine her at home, dropping heavily into the massive, millennia-old armchair she always took her readings in.

“Demons… well, I won’t explain to you what you can already guess. They’re unlike most legends we know of, because everything that’s written about them is utterly true. Most spirits that walk the natural earth are here to feed—vampires, werewolves—or to take care of unfinished business. But demons… they come to earth to steal, kill, and destroy.”

Welp. Your mother is truly a pillar of optimism. You’d been hoping she’d say something along the lines of, don’t worry, sweetheart, they’re just really messed up ghosts. Instead of, y’know. The most evil creatures man encountered in the bible. Bible, capital B. An uncomfortable, existential shiver rolls down your spine. Now this was something you could bitch to Dean and Sam about.

You’d grown up surrounded by the idea of demons. Even before you’d fully understood that monsters were real, sometimes you’d slip into your mother’s reading parlor while she was gone and play a game with the strange, segmented star pattern on the giant worn-smooth carpet. Don’t hop on any of the lines! Only step in the points of the star! Or, jump from sigil to sigil!

The one time you’d gotten carried away and played for too long, your mother had appeared through the beaded curtain with a stiff frown on her face. Don’t play on the devil’s trap. It’s not a toy.

There was the fraying devil’s trap in your mother’s parlor room, which was one of the hundreds of sigils burned into your mind at a young age. You’d shaken hands with demon hunters before. Most of the rituals your family practiced were in Latin; and the list went on and on into oblivion. You’d always known demons existed, but as you pace the parking lot and take in what Beth is telling you, the ramifications start to stack. Demons. Actual, literal demons. The thing that took down flight 2485—the suffocating, unimaginable presence from your vision—was a real-life demon. When you’d stood in the skeletal remains of the plane and reached out with your Gift, you’d been sensing the lingering presence of a fucking creation of Lucifer. What the actual fuck.

In a strange, backward way, you’re kind of relieved. Anyone would be fainting all over the place in the presence of an actual, real-life demon. Especially somebody like you, with all their senses turned up to 100. It makes sense that you were having such intense reactions before.

What the fucking fuck. You’re suddenly grateful to be on the phone with your mom.

You wandered toward the Impala, (checked first that you weren’t wearing the kind of jeans with the little studs that would scrape the paint), then leaned against it. “...Um. Okay. That’s just… awesome… How do they get… up here, then?”

“I’m not sure,” your mother hums, thinking. “Your great-great-aunt Miriam wrote in her records that they find their way top-side on their own. Bugs through cracks, that sort of thing. Apparently, there used to be a whole lot more of em’—in Miriam’s day it was a Proctor’s job to shove them back where they belonged, but… I dunno.” Beth helpfully jokes, “Maybe we got most of them.”

You huff out a laugh, but it’s not the most sincere. “Maybe we did,” you cough. “But, um, do we have any Proctor family secrets that could help me out here? Did great-great-aunt Miriam have a trunk somewhere full of demon-killing grenades or something?”

Beth smirks. “Great-great-aunt Miriam turned the house into a brothel and carved terrifying sigils in all the ceilings. That’s all we got from her.”

Of course. How could you possibly forget? “Oh, huh. I was wondering why we have old chains and whips in the basement. That fills in a lot more for me, thank you.”

Your mom barks out a laugh at your joke, which gets you laughing too. The sound trails off. There’s that funny pause where you both remember what you just said, then start giggling all over again—and man, does it feel good to just have a moment with your mom. The boys both have an unforgiving radar for “bonding,” and the second they realize that you love them and they’re your friends, they creep right back into their shells. Neither of them were very good at absorbing that sort of thing.

Your mom is just as skilled at spoiling the moment.

“But, seriously…” She stresses. “Please be careful. Avoid contact with these things at all costs, especially with your Gift. It’s made to find the truth, and demons are made of lies. Not a good mix. They’ll rip into your mind… take you apart if they have to. This is a lot more hands-on than you should ever be with your Gift, ____.”

“...Right,” you say through your teeth.

This is the part where you start awkwardly shoving in a goodbye without coming across as an asshole. You open your mouth, about to say something stiff and unsure, when you sense a spike of alarm ripple out from where the boys are still researching in your motel room.

Phone call forgotten, you jolt off the Impala and whip towards the door. Not a second later, Dean’s slipping out onto the stoop and sweeping the parking lot with a calm, guarded stare. He doesn’t look at you—just gestures you inside, holding the door open. Even from the parking lot, you can make out the insane amount of notes and papers Sam has coated your motel room with.

“Jerry just called,” Dean utters. “The surviving pilot from 2485? Chuck Lambert? …He just went down in a plane crash.”

You snap your phone shut and follow him inside.

-

The three of you head to the site of the next crash as fast as you can. But first, you have the pleasure of watching the boys play Winchester Telepathy when you insist on coming along. They’re still worried. You would be too, in their position. (In fact, if the roles were reversed, you’d probably chain Sam to a radiator and call it a day.) But Chuck went down in a twin plane, not a massive, two-hundred-person graveyard, so your Gift should have the legs to handle it.

…And knowing what you’re dealing with has steeled your confidence. You weren’t slashing at the dark anymore, even if what was in the dark was, um. Proof that hell exists. After days of being totally screwed over by this thing, you finally had even the slightest leg up on what was going on. You were going to take that win and run with it.

Chuck’s twin plane was hardly a twin anymore; both the engines had been shredded, the white body of the cockpit twisted like a wrung-out washcloth. The plane had dove so hard into the farmland that the snow around it had melted. You still kind of felt like tossing your lunch, but more out of sympathy than psychic backlash. People had been in that plane. The thought made you taste bile.

Sam and Dean only hover a little bit (a lot) while you open your Gift to the wreckage. You take your glove off with your teeth and touch your right hand to the ashen, snow-soaked remains of the pilot’s chair… and there it was again, the leeching, seeping, violating presence from the vision that’d brought all of you to Pittsburg. A demon.

Your Gift wrings out another scraggly, disconnected vision for you. Chuck was beyond anxious to get back in the saddle after 2485. The co-pilot, Lou, had pep-talked him like any good friend would, reassuring him that the flight would go smoothly. After that, everything—gassing up the engine, takeoff, and the brutal, horrific crash—was blotted with poison ink. Every time you tried to steer towards Chuck with your senses, it was as if the strip of film playing your vision had been burned away. His face had been scratched out of every frame. He had become something else; something terribly familiar.

The research Sam had compiled began to link with what you’re seeing. You could feel, even through the leftover wisp of the demon’s presence on the plane, that it had done this many times before.

You jolted to your feet, scrubbing the palm with the eye tattoo off on your slacks. Dean and Sam reeled back, since they’d both been looming an inch behind you as you worked.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Dean said, bracing himself.

You turn from the wreckage and bee-line straight for the road, eager to avoid a repeat of last time. The boys follow your lead. They fall into step on either side of you, and for once you feel like the specialist Sam always said you were, complete with stern-faced bodyguards.

“Full-on Pazuzu, just like last time,” you confirm, cursing. You shove your glove back on and stomp through the snow. “I-I get it now. God, it feels so fucking obvious. It’s—it’s playing. It finds these disasters, or it makes them, and then it picks off all the survivors one by one. Chuck Lambert, George Phelps. It possessed them. Like some sort of twisted cosmic-order thing.”

Sam pulls a face. “Final Destination style?”

“Minus the hot girls and the tanning beds, apparently,” Dean pouts.

“It’s trying to finish them off, boys,” you say, swallowing hard. “That’s something we can work with. If it’s only using disasters to do the job, then…”

“...then we need to see if any of the survivors are flying soon,” Sam realizes, finishing your thought.

The second the Impala’s on the road again, Sam is fishing out the passenger manifests from the first flight and chasing down any phone numbers he can find. There is a part of every hunt where your run is forced to become a sprint, and this is that turn-over moment, tensions ramping high. What once was seven people is now five.

As Dean hauls ass back to Pittsburg, you and Sam get to calling. You thank the Mother Goddess above for shitty, awful customer service, because posing as some lousy Delta Airlines representative has Dennis Holloway sitting in seat 21A and Kathleen Willard (seat 25E) swearing off flying for good. Sam uses a similar tactic on Blaine Sanderson (seat 14D). The two of you take the safe bet that the parents of Ava Struder (seat 1C), an unaccompanied minor, aren’t fucking idiots dumping their kid on another flight the second she survives one. That leaves you with Amanda Walker. A flight attendant on 2485… because of course, this job can never be easy.

Sam tries her phone. While it rings, you cross your fingers and hope that she has quit her job and started a new life as a dedicated couch potato. Sam’s forced to leave a message. He snaps his flip phone shut with a curse and throws it into the footwell, where it clatters against his boots.

You curl a cold hand around Sam’s shoulder, soothing, “Gimme the list, baby. I’ll try her emergency contact, at least find out where she is.”

Sam sulkily passes it to you, never once shifting under your hand. You do get a small, grateful look from him over his shoulder, and the urgency and anxiety there makes your gut twist. It would be more than easy to comfort him, to stroke your fingers through his hair, to rub his collar and tell him everything’s going to be fine.

But you’re a shit liar, so you open up your phone and make the next call. Sam’s lingering gaze ducks back down into his lap.

-

Of course, your luck continues to flourish. Amanda doesn’t answer her phone. But her sister does, and she informs you that Amanda, being a flight attendant, is in fucking Indianapolis for a flight. Indianapolis. As in, a good five-hour drive from Philly—and in the complete opposite direction of where you were going. Dean barely waits until the road is wide enough to turn the Impala around. The u-ey he hits sends you, and all your stuff, careening from the right end of the bench all the way to the left.

The drive is not fast. Staring ahead and silently revving yourself up can only waste so much time, so you pull out the mini sewing kit from under the seat and do your best to patch a rip in Dean’s jeans, struggling to thread the needle even more than usual. You feel a bit like a bad hunter distracting yourself from what’s ahead, but just one of you stuffing the car with anxious brooding is enough. Sam passes back a sudoku booklet for you and then goes straight back to his thousand-yard stare.

He used to be excellent when things came down to the wire like this. After years spent in empty motel rooms, counting pennies and waiting for John and Dean to come home, Sam’s patience was unimaginable. But losing Jess… had tilted his axis. These last few hunts, you’ve noticed how crazed he gets on the last couple steps to the finish line—when none of you are sure if there’ll be anybody to save. It happens. But you’re scared of what another round of it could do to Sam, even with a stranger like Amanda; he cared so much…

Dean isn’t happy, either, but he at least has something to do. He alternates between playing brain-melting Metallica or forgetting to reload the tape, so the drive is a strange mix of music you can feel in your eardrums and silence that’s just as loud. The first piece of levity you get is thirty straight minutes of Dean over-explaining the album to you. And, thank god you ask, because Dean rattling on about the “bass and drums feeding off each other” and the “musical integrity of a locked-in rhythms section” bring Sam out of his trance. He pries his eyes away from the rolling fields of snow, scrunches up his face, and sighs, “Can we at least listen to ‘...And Justice for All?’”

You’re an excellent tactician, so you use this opening to nudge them both toward the most surefire argument starter in the Winchester handbook: What’s the best album of all time? It would’ve been harder to lure flies into honey. Dean argues more with himself than he argues with the two of you, dancing indecisively between Zeppelin II, Dark Side of the Moon, and at least twenty other albums that you are vaguely aware exist. Sam outlines that there is a difference between someone’s favorite album (Californication in Sam’s case) and the best album objectively by sales (Thriller).

All three of you play into the argument more than usual. Guess you’re not the only one desperate to think about something other than the two hundred other people who might die tonight. By the time there’s enough of a break in the conversation for you to throw your hat into the distraction-ring, you’re thirty minutes from the Indianapolis International Airport.

“Both of you are wrong,” you decide. “There’s only one reasonable answer to that question, and it’s Rumours.”

Dean audibly grumbles, and when the Impala jams to a stop in front of a red light, he dramatically points at you in the rear-view mirrors and declares: “You are obligated by hippie, witchy-girl bullshit to love that album, Proctor. And it’s good, but it’s not the best. It’s mostly…” he flashes you a mean, big-brother smile, “girly music.”

You know you’re right, so his comment rolls right over you. Cooly, you remind him, “Nuh-uh. Sam loves Fleetwood Mac, too.”

You’d figured that was a good counter-point, since Sam was hardly girly. The hand he was using to keep his notepad on his knee was all kinds of veiny and calloused, and on top of being taller than Dean, he was a lot more comfortable with his masculinity. He didn’t have mile-long lashes or glazed donut cheekbones, either.

Sam hums in agreement, like you knew he would; the two of you listened to Go Your Own Way and The Chain endlessly before he left for school. Sometimes he’d even dance around the attic at home with you.

Dean side-eyes his brother, then barks out a hearty laugh. “Case in point.”

Sam elects to pretend he didn’t hear that, and instead turns around to talk straight to you: “I mean, the end of Silver Springs alone…”

…Maybe if Dean listened to more “girly music,” he’d have more women melting over him the way you melt when Sam says that. Even though you’ve gotten used to having him in front of you again, there are moments like these where you’re stunned by how similar the two of you still are. Dreams would play in your attic and Sam would already be offering you his hands, gangly and shy and bright red for you and only you…

You listened to Silver Springs a lot after Sam started dating Jessica.

INDIANAPOLIS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - Dec. 4th, night.

All three of you must’ve been hyper-planning what to do the second the Impala parked, because you fan out as soon as Dean jams the break.

Sam uncaps the travel-sized hand sanitizer from your purse and empties it out onto the pavement. You’re a little sad to say goodbye to pumpkin cupcake, but then he starts pouring as much holy water as he can into the teeny bottle, and you’re reminded how clever he is. When Dean gives him a weird look, Sam explains, “3.4 ounces or less per liquid item, dude.”

“Shit,” Dean curses. Right. Travel size restrictions. That cuts your only physical weapon against the demon in half—or into a fucking fifth, I guess. But it’s something. “At least he’ll fuckin’ smell good when we send him to hell. Great.”

You give Sam the marshmallow pumpkin latte sanitizer, too. You’re going to look painfully suspicious walking into an airport with nothing but hand sanitizer and an occult journal, but there’s nothing you can do. There’s no time to check bags or trudge through security lines. Hopefully you won’t have to board, but knowing your luck…

You’re about to go peeling out of the parking lot at top speed, when you turn your boot and feel the warm piece of metal pressed against your ankle. Shit. “God, this is stupid,” you curse, and drop onto a knee. You lose the pocket knife in your boot, then dig around for the loose rock salt shells rolling around in your pockets. There’s a visible pout on your face when you abandon your iron knuckles. Anything that’d be caught by security or picked up on a metal detector goes straight into the trunk.

When you pull your butterfly knife out of your bra, Sam is suddenly very interested in the color of the sky.

The boys follow suit. By the time you’re through the doors and among the harried, criss-crossing crowd of travelers, you’ve lost ten pounds in weapons each. Dean grumbles the whole way about feeling naked. Everything in the airport is overstimulating, even at this time of night. The long, endless squares of glass looking out over the runway reflect the too-bright lights in big glossy spots, and the air is flooded with a constant stream of intercom updates and civilian chatter. You duck and weave all the way to the departure schedule, which is just the right font size to make you anxious.

Sam scans the chart. “They’re boarding in thirty minutes.”

Shit. You wrack your mind for something that could coax Amanda off her flight. But the gears in your head are suddenly muddy, and Dean’s faster than you, anyway. His eyes dart around the floor of the airport. “Okay… we still got some cards to play. We need to find a phone.”

Sam and Dean dart off like twin bomb-sniffing dogs. You move to follow them, but something tethers you in place. The buzzing, bustling commotion in the air pitches up, and then your ears are ringing, and your whole body is stinging with the ugly leeching feelings from before. The demon. It’s close.

You blindly walk in the direction your internal Winchester compass gives you, and just when Dean’s about to take a courtesy phone off its hook, your body extracts the phone from his hand on autopilot. For a brief flickering moment, you’re not yourself. Your powers talk through you.

Your Gift foresees, “That won’t work. Your only option is to board the plane.”

The boys exchange an unsettled look. For a second you’re confused why they’re giving you their Freaked Out faces, then you feel the hollow plastic of the phone in your hand, and you realize you’re a whole twenty feet from where you started. Man… you hate the whole psychic-possession thing. Just for fun, your Gift loves to take over and course-correct you when it thinks you’re being stupid. You drop the phone back on its hook with a heavy click. It takes Dean a second to answer, and he’s still giving you that look. After a long pause, he knocks up his chin and not-so-happily mutters, “...Uh, okay.”

Sam, at least, has learned to roll with your weird psychic bullshit. His voice is soft with conviction. “Fine. Plan B, then. We gotta get on that plane.”

You run your palms down your face, then steel yourself. There’s no other way, and no time to second-guess. Even your Gift has decided it’s your best plan. “Okay. Fuck it.”

The usual authority in Dean’s voice hikes up with a note of panic. “Uh, woah. Let’s just hold on a second–”

“Dean,” you wince, and your hands drop heavily at your sides. “We gotta. I’m sorry.”

Sam, per usual, reads Dean’s hesitance as something else. “That plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board. And if we’re right, it’s gonna crash. We have to–”

You watch as they have their usual back and forth; Sam, eager to throw himself at this, and Dean gnawing on the inside of his cheek. It’s easy for you to sense the steam of real, nail-biting terror radiating off your best friend. You feel Dean’s fear all the time–and even then it’s hard for you to picture him being afraid of much of anything, much less planes. It’s even harder for Sam to look past his little brother glasses.

“...Flying?” Sam puts it together. His voice is understanding, but super confused. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Dean flails. He fists his hands as he talks, swaying back and forth to try and work up the nerve. He glances at you, the only other witness to his weakness, just once. “Why do you think I fuckin’ drive everywhere, Sam?”

Sam is genuinely stunned. Slapped-in-the-face stunned. But he takes it in stride, and, also glancing at you only once, he blurts out: “Alright. Uh, I’ll go.”

The anticipation of boarding the flight is making your skin prickle with anxiety, and you can’t help but inch back toward the ticket counter as they talk. But when Sam says this, without question or complaint, you’re instantly stepping up to his side and demanding, “Then I’m going with you.”

You brace yourself to shut down the argument you know is coming, but this Sam continues to be different from the guy you knew four years ago. This answer is just as easy for him, too. “Okay.”

Not, you’re staying here, or even, I won’t let you risk yourself like this. Just a plain and simple, okay. It bugs you. You don’t even have time to dwell on it, though, because Sam’s blatant courage tugs Dean over his fear.

“Man…” Dean utters, face twisted with nervousness. He gives in with a helpless scrunch of his shoulders, and taking that as permission, Sam twists around to buy your tickets not two seconds later.

You both watch him rush off, neither of you over the moon about this situation. Dean’s so anxious that his hands are clammy, and you can tell because he clutches at the sleeve of your jacket like a little kid. He knocks his forehead down on your shoulder with a groan, and your palm automatically loops around to give his back a soothing rub.

“This is fucking… awesome,” Dean gripes. “No guns. Can’t even bring a damn bottle of holy water. Is there some kind of psychic Xanax you can give me?”

Maybe some of your Gift drains into your voice when you promise, “We won’t have to worry about that. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Dean doesn’t make his Freaked Out face this time. He does, however, bump his forehead against your shoulder again, and sink into your touch with a rough sigh.

FLIGHT 424 - Dec. 4th.

You’d felt bad for Dean the whole time he’d struggled to get on the plane. Now, you kind of felt like choking him with your bare hands.

So many people crammed into one space was enough to flatten your Gift with the weight. Adding Dean to the mix, shoved shoulder-to-shoulder against you with his jitters ramped up to eleven, made you feel like picking your brain out with a fork. Your Gift ping-ponged between Dean and Sam, making you bounce between chattering your teeth with fear and thinking things like, wow, I just love the Dewey decimal system.

Maybe it was a good thing. You’d much rather be in one of their heads than yours.

All day, you’d done a pretty good job not obsessing over the things your mom had said over the phone. It was hard with so much time to marinate in the car, but the massive weight of the existence of demons only slammed on top of you once or twice. Boarding had managed to keep you occupied, but then the colossal body of the plane had shuddered and heaved its weight off the tarmac, leaving all chances for escape behind on the ground.

A part of you was resigned to it; it is a simple fact of your life that evil things are real. So what’s one more, right? But at the same time, you thought about the cross Sam wore under his shirt… you thought about being one of those things, being “made of lies,” like Mom had said. That, too, had been gnawing at you—what had she seen to learn all that? How did she know that a demon would “tear into your mind?” The Vague Psychic Thing is fun, until you’re on the receiving end.

“Can you sense who it’s possessing?” Sam’s smooth, calculating voice interrupted your thoughts.

…Oh, right. You’d gotten so swept up in your own head, no doubt influenced by Dean’s incessant foot-tapping, that you’d totally forgotten to scan the plane. Tilting away from Dean and his panic, you subconsciously shifted toward eerily calm, level-headed Sam. Just catching a wisp of the clean cologne he wears cools you down a little bit. Okay. No more freaking out—it’s game time.

You’d hoped that the white noise of the flight would settle your nerves, but the air tasted painfully sterile, dry, and cottony against the back of your throat. Everything felt like cold metal touching an open nerve. If the demon’s influence wasn’t making your powers touchy, then the woman across the aisle definitely was, oozing with homesickness as she watched Indianapolis shrink far below—or maybe it was the guy two rows back, replaying an argument again and again in his head—or maybe the other two hundred fucking people stuffing the plane with their boredom and their tiredness.

You push your knee into Sam’s. He pushes back.

After a tense beat, you whisper to him over the chatter of passengers, “Too many people. There’s no way I can narrow it down to one person—not unless they’re right in front of me.” Sam’s gaze turns expectantly to Dean, who’s still in full-on dissociation mode. He’d spent the whole boarding process humming tracks from St. Anger, and you knew he was really going through it, purely because he’d stopped and restarted Some Kind of Monster three different times now. Poor guy.

One of the things that made the three of you such a natural team was your ability to rotate leadership. In moments like these, with Dean way too wigged out to take charge, you’d usually step into his shoes without much trouble. But Sam has fielded your fainting spells and panic attacks all week, so he’s already got a pep-talk prepared for the two of you.

“...Okay.” Sam checks his watch. His voice still has that touch of classic Sam softness, probably because he knows how hard this is going to sound: “Stay focused. We got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, figure out who it’s possessing, and perform a full-on exorcism.” You’re about to make a comment about how blissfully easy he makes things seem, but Dean beats you to it. He snipes, “Yeah, on a crowded plane. That’s gonna be easy.”

You snap one of your bracelets against your wrist a few times, thinking. “Who would it want to possess?”

This gets Dean’s head in the game. Easily, he recites: “It’s usually somebody with some sort’a weakness, y’know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or emotional distress.”

As he explains this, you unlatch Dean’s claws from their death-grip on your arm and give the top of his hand a little soothing pat. Your gaze remains fixed on the pattern of the seat in front of you. “For a regular demon, maybe. This thing might not even need a chink. It wants maximum damage here—so maybe it’d go for the pilot?”

This is not a soothing thought. Checking his watch again, Sam suggests, “Or Amanda… Surviving a crash like that? I’d be pretty messed up if I was her. We should check both.”

You’re happy to spend the little time you have left wisely, so you’re quick to push out of your seat and get moving. Dean puts on a brave face and follows your lead. There are only two ends of the plane to check—this thing can’t hide forever. Just when you start to do an awkward side-shuffle to nudge Dean out into the aisle with your hip, the whole plane thrashes top to bottom, and there he goes, dropping like a rock back into his seat. His spike of panic is so genuine that you end up dropping with him.

“Come on!” Dean hisses through his teeth. “That can’t be normal!”

You and Sam immediately get to shushing and soothing him, and suddenly you understand how married couples feel when their kid starts crying on a flight. Shifty eyes in other seats pretend they’re not glaring at you. Summoning as much strength as you can to share with him, you drop a hand on Dean’s shoulder and order: “Breathe, dude. You’re okay.”

“I’m not fuckin’ four,” Dean whisper-shouts, sulking flat back into his seat.

“She’s right,” Sam whispers back. Should it be worrying you how much he’s been agreeing with you lately? Stern, he says, “Listen—if you’re panicked, you’re wide open to possession. So you need to calm yourself down. Right now.”

A weird part of you is grateful that Dean is having a rough go of it, because it’s giving you something to focus on. You’re usually pretty good with planes. But for a minute there, when the turbulence had hit, your mind had defaulted to oh shit, this is real, we’re all going to die. A slideshow of the last crash had blitzed through your thoughts. Thoughts that had nothing to do with the anxiety you were picking up from Dean.

You know you despise it when Dean uses his Parent Voice on you, so you try not to use it on him when you urge, “C’mon. I think Amanda’s in the back of the plane. I’ll check up front.”

Dean gives an unconvinced, “I’ll go talk to her,” then makes grabby hands at Sam’s pockets, “pass me one of the hand-sanitizers. Fuckin’ uh, pumpkin latte—don’t gimme that face, _____, not all of us can tell with just a look. What if it’s in her?”

“It’s a bit more than a look—” you begin to clarify, but Sam stops your back and forth with a shake of his head. He pulls out the little orange plastic container of your pumpkin cupcake holy water and passes it to Dean.

“We should try to conserve what we got,” he warns, passing you the only other weapon against the demon (marshmallow pumpkin latte). “Go more subtle—if she’s possessed, she’ll flinch at the name of god.”

Now that you’re running out of both time and options, the second Dean unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out into the aisle on coltish legs, you take the opening and bolt out of your cramped middle seat. Anything you can do to get closer to finding this thing will make you feel loads better.

You start down the aisle. As the chatter of the boys fades into the all-encompassing thrum of the plane behind you, you take slow unhurried steps past each row of seats, soaking up what you can get. A girl listens to music in her headphones. A businessman clicks away at his laptop. Each of them you comb over with your powers, and each pass feels like scooping your hand into a bowl of tacks and waiting to get stabbed.

They’ll rip into your mind… take you apart if they have to, Mom had said. You waited for that moment, steeling your nerves the closer you came to the cockpit. If the demon’s on this side of the plane, and it sensed you, would it immediately press into your mind? Would just being near you snap its presence to you like a magnet? You didn’t like the mental feeling that gave you; the stark secret-seeking white of your Gift clashing with the black choking smoke that’d been chasing you all week. When you spoke to a spirit through your Gift, it felt like you were touching fingertips through a curtain. Would it be like that? Would this demon press its claws through the veil and dig around for something to tear, to grab?

The other flight attendant on board pushes past you with her cart, leaving no barrier between you and the cockpit. Behind you, bobbing in a sea of blurry people, your Gift could distinctly make out Sam (practicing the exorcism) and Dean (talking to Amanda). You’re just a few paces from the front exit of the plane when a man emerges from the bathroom cabin, and—

He twists to meet eyes with you. Expecting you.

You’re flashed a clever, haunting smile, then—a set of glossy void-black eyes.

You wait for it. And in its own way, the presence of the demon does overpower you, bringing the heavy-as-the-sky, parasitic feeling from your visions into the real world. For a long ringing moment, you are blasted with dark leeching power hot enough to singe the entire front of your body—like a nuclear bomb had dropped down just a few steps from you. It is spidery and vicious and knowing and awful—

…but the conquering sensation never comes. Beth had said that it would root into your mind, that just feeling it with your Gift, as you are right now, would tear you to pieces. Yet all that really happens is you staring at it and it staring at you, before it shoulders its way through the cockpit door and disappears inside. The only thing you really experience is the shock of seeing it in somebody, puppeting around a person with dreams and thoughts and memories.

For a few moments, you suck down heaving breaths through your nose and stare at the closed door.

Something about it nagged at you. Besides the obvious—how different it felt compared to what your mother had described—you swear you felt something else, some ringing sense of strangeness that you just couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the fact that you’d just made eye contact with a real creature of hell, an evil spirit, whatever. But you made eye contact with evil spirits all the time. This was… closer to home than that. Underneath the writhing mass of bloody, black ink that made up the demon, your Gift had recognized something unimaginably familiar.

Sensing the demon in person had reminded you of… of a sensory memory, almost. It smelled like… warm static. The old staticy TV in your house, the ancient one that sat square and unattractively on your Mom’s slanting sideboard in the living room. You remembered her crystal ashtray propped up on the top, the fizzy sound the TV made when you’d shut it off…

On the nights when it was just you and Sam home, and the house felt so big and empty that the silence throbbed in your ears, the two of you would set up a fort in front of that TV and watch old horror movies well past your bedtime. The silly effects and the dated acting were easy to tease together. You’d much rather watch movies on the newer screen in your Mom’s room, but for whatever reason, Sam insisted on the clunker in your living room.

Y’wanna know somethin’ cool? He’d asked you once, running a finger through the film of static bubbling on the surface of the glass. A little bit of the static in TVs is actually radiation leftover from the Big Bang. How weird is that? Something so old and powerful, picked up by this random piece of junk.

Sam always crashed first, leaving you alone with the white static the TV defaulted to when the movie ended. You could vividly remember how your shoulders bumped against the hard floor through the thin sleeping bag the two of you had shared—how Sam’s warmth had seeped into your shirt where he was curled up behind you, his soft sleepy breaths tickling your hair.

When you’d pulled his arm around your waist to snuggle, a spark of static had shocked you through his touch. When you’d closed your eyes and tried to go to sleep, you swore that the ancient, cosmic hum of the static in the TV ebbed and flowed at the same exact time as Sam’s breath.

In. Bzzzsh. Out. Bzzzsh. Crackling as he breathed.

It wasn’t the demon you were scared of anymore. The ancient, ever-present sting of static you’d felt deep down inside it… that scared you a million, a billion times more, because—

You felt that static every time you felt Sam.

_

It’s like trying to describe the smell of your childhood home.

Logically, you know your house must smell like something. But when you’re in one place long enough your brain filters it out as background noise, and it becomes something you can only notice after a long time away.

You’d known Sam since you were in diapers. Back then, the meager threads of your Gift were already taking him in and absorbing him into your memory. Eventually, you felt him so often that all the pain and optimism in his core, all the stuff that made Sam himself, had smoothed out into warm, familiar background noise to your Gift.

Then he’d left for Stanford. Four years passed, and the only exposure your Gift had to him was the flimsy thread stretched two thousand miles down to California. Because it’d been so long since you’d sensed him in person, hugging him outside his apartment had been like stepping into your home after a long time away—for a brief moment, the filter over your psychic perceptions of him had lifted. You’d sensed for the first time what had always been there, buried deep. The Static.

At the time, you’d gotten so swept up in Sam, Dean, and the adventure of finding their Dad, that it was easy to get sidetracked. Things came up. You got used to Sam again, and his Static faded to background noise.

Until you’d felt that demon with your Gift.

A demon. A creation of Lucifer. You’d always remember what Sam felt like—you’d never forget the smell of home—but in one of them?

Your mind whirls with so many questions that it flat-out pops, failing you. Pulled along on a cloud of white noise, you somehow manage to turn away from the cockpit and start back down the aisle. The demon is possessing the pilot. You have forty minutes, less than, to exorcize it and save the two hundred people on this flight. These are all truths floating around in your head, but no matter how much you try to circle back to one, the static of the demon overcomes you again.

Static. You think of Sam, the crackle of his soft raspy voice through the phone. Your heart is pounding in your ears, thudding away in your chest like a piston. The static had burned in the demon, burned like busted speakers and smoking plane wreckage. Little pins all over your skin pressing in. The space you have until you make it to Sam’s seat seems to yawn, your footfalls sluggish and shivery. Why do they feel the same? Why does he feel the same? The static of the demon worms under your fizzing skin, bubbling, boiling—

You stop in front of Sam’s row, and he’s already looking at you when you get close. He asks you a question. You stare at him, the whole world filled with that awful roaring buzzing, the air tight and dessert dry in the back of your throat. Even though he’s right in front of you, you feel like you barely see him—just the vague burning outline of him in your powers.

Sam reaches out to grab your wrist, tugging it away from the long marks you’re viciously scratching into the flesh of your arm. The touch of his hand causes a literal static shock to jolt from his fingers to yours. You yelp in surprise, but it’s—

It’s different. There’s a similarity, definitely, between what you sensed in the demon and what’s always been in Sam… but his Static is hot chocolate warm and fuzzy and so good. Melt-in-your-mouth good. Your surroundings filter back in, and there are his soft, worried eyes looking up at you under his brow, and his big hand soothing over the irritated skin you’ve scratched raw. Sam. The same Sam he’s always been.

…Whatever it is, whatever weird connection you’ve just made, you’re sure there’s a lot more to it than Sam having something in common with a demon. Right?

Sam takes one look at you, your insane reaction, and your mysterious reappearance, then easily puts two and two together: “One of the pilots?”

“Co-pilot,” you tell him, and one of your absent-minded hands drifts up to scratch at your arm again.

And again, Sam fishes his fingers around your wrist and pulls it away. Now that you’ve noticed it, you can’t un-notice it. His touch makes your fingertips and the ends of your ears tingle, and not completely in the boy-crush way. In the psychic way.

He asks, “You gonna be okay? We got twenty-two minutes.”

That jolts you back to life. Twenty-two minutes until this plane is smoking ashes in a Pennsylvania cornfield. Though the last ten minutes have easily overcomplicated all twenty-four years of your life, you won’t have a life period if you don’t see this job through. When Dean returns from investigating a very un-possessed Amanda, he feels the exact same way.

Your resolve hardens, and you manage to give Sam an absent-minded smile. “I’ll be fine.”

There’s no time for arguing. Dean and Sam unanimously agree that the only possible place to exorcize the demon would be in the back, where Amanda is, since you can’t exactly jump the guy in the middle of economy. You don’t exactly like the idea of roping her into this, but Amanda’s the only one who could potentially lure that—thing to the rear of the plane. It is the world’s shittiest ambush. But by the time the three of you decide what to do, you’ve burned ten whole minutes on anxious chatter. A shitty ambush is the only plan you’ve got.

Dean starts down the aisle for the back of the plane. You stare at nothing for a beat, and only remember to get out of your seat when Sam nudges your elbow. He presses his lips together like he wants to ask you the million-dollar question (“Are you sure you’re okay?”), but there is literally no time. In a haze, you shuffle out of your seat after Dean and make a feeble attempt to get your head into gear. Sam does not make it easy. One of his broad hands brushes against the small of your back as you both squeeze out of the row, and you feel like you’ve just gone down one of those static-charged plastic playground slides.

Your Gift is exaggerating it. It has to be, right? Making big connections out of little things, picking at a fresh bruise. For weeks, you’ve been crammed into a little car with Sam, into teeny motel beds with him with no room between you. Why hadn’t you felt it? Why now? Not when you were four, napping in the same bed after playtime—not when you were twelve, and Sam was the first person outside your family that your Gift had connected with. Had it always been there, living inside him? Had you missed it?

You reach the back of the plane. Amanda is there, a pale, blonde flight attendant straight out of a commercial. You are dully aware that you have twelve minutes left before the demon makes its move, always on the forty-minute mark (...and you don’t like the line suddenly drawn between Sam and such an old, biblically evil thing).

The boys talk. A familiar conversation occurs over your head, which might be why it’s easy for you to tune out. Your mind returns again to thoughts of Sam, so intense and loud in your head that it all fizzles out to nothing, and you’re left standing there with the air pressure making your ears ring. Sam. The demon. It’s stupid and intangible and you’d have no fucking clue how to explain it out loud, but your Gift is made to find the truth. Something inside that demon exists in Sam, too. Something.

You try to reassure yourself that maybe, just this once, your Gift is wrong. Maybe this is the demon getting into your mind—learning your deepest fears and bringing them to life.

Sure enough, Dean’s charm and Sam’s earnest face must win Amanda over, because she flits out of the back room like a frightened bird. The boys peer through the curtain to watch her go, the two of them as still and sharp-eared as twin watchdogs. You’re slapped back to life by the sudden tension in the room, and quickly scuttle up behind them. Right. Amanda’s getting the co-pilot. These next ten minutes will determine the rest of your life.

In the same beat, you and Dean ready your holy water, and Sam gets the written exorcism from their dad’s journal out in front of him. There’s no need for the three of you to say a word. An understanding passes between each of you, hammered in from years of hunting as a team. Sam slides up next to you and Dean gives you a firm nod, squashing your last wisps of fear. You’re here to do a damn job.

A man’s voice floats toward the closed curtain to the back room, followed not-so-closely by Amanda’s. You’re glad she’s not the first one into the room—because Dean instantly slams a fist into their face.

The co-pilot—or really, the thing inside him—goes sprawling. You’ve got a strip of duct tape bridled over his mouth before he even fully collides with you, and for the blissful moment you have him pinned, Dean gets another fierce hit in.

While he’s still stunned, you whip the co-pilot to the grated metal floor. Dean clambers on top of him and keeps him there with a firm fist twisted in his rumpled button-up.

Amanda panics, “W-what are you doing? Y-you said you we-were gonna talk to him—!”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean grits.

Then, you’re hosing him down with holy water, splashing it brutally in the man’s pain-twisted face. Your gut clenches with empathy. Did the demon leave his body already? You’re terrified for a moment that you got the wrong guy… until you smell the smoke. It’s not just sulfur, but full-on dead body bloat, steaming up from the big black boils that spring up where the holy water hits skin. You get a mouth and noseful vile enough to make you gag. This thing fighting you? This is definitely not a man.

Amanda watches the demon’s skin sizzle, the usual terror and confusion on her face. “O-oh my god, what’s wrong with him?”

You pour all the psychic clarity and calmness into your voice when you whip around and tell her: “It’s going to be okay. Be calm, go outside the curtain, and don’t let anybody in. Can you do that, Amanda?”

You don’t stop to listen to her answer. Sam’s already tearing through the opening to the exorcism at ninety miles an hour, his pronunciation punchy and fatally clear. That had been one of the less exciting parts of the five-hour drive here; when Sam had run through it over and over, re-training himself. One misspoken word could get everyone on this plane killed.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…”

The demon thrashes viciously in your grip, twisting and contorting under Dean in ways the human body can’t bend. Bile rises in your throat as you hear a snap, then two, as the demon does everything it can to buck Dean off. By the time you go to stun it with another splash of holy water, it’s more of a dribble. That’s your first mistake.

Two people are not nearly enough to keep this thing down. It gets a hand loose that instantly sends Dean flying, and before you even see where he lands, it cranks your head all the way to the left in one vicious slap.

Your whole face is blasted with red, stinging pain. You go down hard, smashed sideways into the cramped wall.

The pain stuns you out of the headspace you built to distract yourself, and all at once the presence of the demon is thrust upon you. The black, molten psychic power of it crackles through your body, filling your nose and mouth with the same terror hanging in your visions all week. Until you realize— It fucking backhanded you.

Trying to see past the dots swimming in your vision, you mindlessly shove off the wall, snarling with rage. No fucking way.

And then it speaks (to Sam?), and in the fizzing noise of pressure in your ears you hear it promise, “I know what happened to your girlfriend!” The constant stream of Sam’s exorcism stops cold.

When the demon speaks again, its voice, a spectral twist of the co-pilot’s and something older, drooled with pleasure. “She died screaming,” it rasped, “Even now, she's burning.”

A lot happens in the next precious seconds. First, the little circular light flushed flat to the back cabin’s ceiling explodes. Just—bursts, in shock, spraying sparks and glass all over the little room. You’re stunned enough as it is getting hit in the face, so one more thing to fuck up your vision doesn’t help. But you heard what the demon said to Sam. Through the suffocating evil flooding your mind, you feel the sharp spike of hurt and rage and grief in your best friend—and that’s the precise moment when you decide that you’ve had e-fucking-nough.

These last few days have not been winners. And though you live a pretty shitty life with an impressive amount of shitty days, even before you got to Pennsylvania, your streak of bad luck had only just gotten started. This demon has screwed with your Gift on an unimaginable level. Your last few nights have been plagued with nightmares straight from hell, and your days haven’t been much better, riddled with useless visions that get more and more disconnected every time you faint. It made it even more obvious than usual that you’re deadweight for Sam and Dean. They had to handle your boiling water burns and your freakouts, not to mention your mood swings and your unhelpful visions.

The demon hurt Dean, which is enough to get your teeth grinding. And Sam—it had cut him much deeper.

You wanted to tear it apart. You wanted to reach into it the same way it had reached into you, dig in with your nails, and rip something out. Your mom’s words buzz in your head: contact, truth, lies, rip, apart. Rationally, you know you should listen to her warning. If just looking into its eyes has forever changed your view of the man you’ve loved since you were little, then looking deeper could kill you—scramble your mind. You know that. But beside the rage and exhaustion fizzing under your skin is this desperate need to know.

Demons are made of lies. What if it was lying about Sam? What if it had screwed with your Gift in some new way, tweaking the image of him in your mind? It had to be lying. The Static in him, as warm and as good as you swore it was—it came from something evil. Sam. The man you love, the boy you’d fallen in love with, his soft sleepy breaths as he lays on the floor beside your bed, his freckly arms swimming in his too-big sleeves. How could any part of him be evil? He couldn’t be. N-not your Sam. How could he ever have something like that inside him?

You need to be sure. Consequences be damned.

As the demon rears up to keep snarling in Sam’s face, you slap a hand over its forehead—reach in—and start ripping.

_

She died screaming.

Sam can’t pull a full breath in. The words burn through his body like a syringe of poison, spreading from limb to limb. The demon snarls up at him, its foamy spit hitting Sam’s face and its teeth snapping around Jess’s name—until.

_____’s hand seals over the demon’s face. The demon’s jaw snaps shut. There is a terrible hanging moment where Sam’s brain struggles to connect the touch to what she’s doing; she never, ever psychically connected with the full face of her palm tattoo. Even with her mom Sam knew she put up a barrier, reading Beth with the smooth back of her knuckles instead.

Shit. Another fresh shot of horror lances through him. What the hell is she doing to it?

The effect is instant. Whatever button _____ had just hit, it activates every horror-movie, Exorcist-level instinct in the demon’s body. Surprised yelps echo down the back of the plane as the lights violently flicker. In electrified, strobing flashes, Sam sees it. The co-pilot’s body is diagonal on the floor one moment, and then it’s arching its back three feet in the air, lurching up into ______’s palm like she’d hit it with a defibrillator. The demon floats up and stays up.

…Until Dean brings it smashing back to the floor again, throwing his weight on top of the co-pilot. He barks, “Sam!” Right. Whatever she’s doing to it, it’s the only working distraction they’ve got. Slapped back to focus, Sam stutters out where he left off: “...O-omnis congregatio et secta diabolica—” It’s a blessing that he makes it through the next lines of the exorcism. Sam pours all of his willpower into keeping his eyes on the stained notebook page it’s written on, no matter how many times his gut begs him to check on her. All he can do is have faith. This is what she does—when Dean’s not strong enough and Sam’s too weak, she finds a damn way, come hell or high water. Sam has always had endless faith in that. So when the whole plane gives that terrible shudder that he was expecting, and then tips, and tips, and tips into a full pitch forward, Sam grips that faith with both hands. The demon’s power ripples through the rest of the plane. Everything descends into chaos. Past the curtain, the lights go out in one silent burst, followed by the explosive, concussive screams of the passengers as the oxygen masks drop. Movies are unfortunately good at capturing this precise moment, but nothing could ever replicate the way Sam’s belly swoops as all five hundred tons of the plane heads straight for the ground. Sam and Dean both go flying, crashing sideways into the walls of the back cabin. The turbulence rips the journal from his hands, and of course, with their fucking luck, it goes skidding through the curtain and down the aisle to ricochet under the seats. “Grab it!” Dean screams.

Sam can’t hear him. He staggers into the open doorway of the back cabin, clutching the frame for dear life. A terrifying, unnatural howl whistles through the cabin, even louder than the wails of the passengers. Its wind flutters his hair around his face and sends luggage toppling out of the overhead bins. For a moment, Sam wonders if the plane’s been hit or the demon has done something—but no. It’s her. He flattens himself to the floor—or rather, gravity flattens him—crawling on his belly towards the shadow of the journal under the seats. The passengers sob and shriek. The air is singed with smoky fear, and riding that same fear, Sam surges ahead, lunging for the book where it’s lodged between tossed luggage. He has to twist to get his hands on it, and it’s then that he feels it.

Down the aisle behind him, the wind drags luggage and loose papers into the void-like darkness of the back cabin—where the great, cleansing, sweeping power of her is fighting the demon. Sam believes in what he’s seen; Sam believes in angels.

She’ll buy him enough time. He knows she will.

Sam’s hands don’t shake as he pries the journal open to the right page.

“Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus,” he shouts, and the words ring as clear and clean as a bell. The plane tries to toss him again, but Sam grits his teeth and persists, “audi nos!”

He waits. Sam sees it more than he hears it. Deep in the blackhole darkness of the plane’s cabin, something red and fiery flashes to life… flickers… and dies.

Maybe he’s imagining it, but he swears he feels the demon fizzle out. The heaviness in the air melts away. The lights, which Sam realizes had been snapping on and off, turn on for good. The hissing of the turbines spins to its normal hum. The plane swooshes back up with a slow coasting motion, then sets itself back on its peaceful forward track.

Gasps and sobs of relief chorus all around Sam, and sprawled in the middle of the aisle, he finds himself doing the same. Overhead, the pilot’s voice crackles reassurances over the intercom. As big wuffs of air cycle in and out of Sam, he waits for the moment for his heart to stop thumping, for the big “we won” moment to wash over him—but it never really does. It sits with him. For a long terrible moment, he is on the bed in his apartment in Palo Alto, Jessica’s blood boiling holes in his neck.

Even now, she’s still burning.

INDIANAPOLIS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - Dec. 5th, early morning.

Somehow, amid all the noise of swarming paramedics, feds, airline authorities, and stunned 424 passengers, Sam manages to remain lost in his own head. He clenches his jaw til’ his ears pop. How had it known about Jess?

The terminal is quickly packed. He’s not in airports often enough to know whether they should be packed at one in the morning, but he’s gonna guess not. It is all background noise for him. Passengers whirl past, getting cleared by cops to go home, and Dean subtly nudges the three of them into the leaving crowd. Sam has a vague notion that he’s putting one foot in front of the other, but everything feels distant and hazy. His neck blazes with that terrible tingling feeling, and he digs into it with his nails until Dean stops him.

“Sam,” Dean orders, dipping his head towards the direction of the parking lot. Apparently Sam isn’t cooperating well. “Let’s get the hell outta’ here.” For a brief moment, the awful burning feeling covering him in a fog parts long enough for him to think, and Sam realizes that he doesn’t know where _____ is. Panic lances through his chest so fast that he sobers all at once, and he opens his mouth to panic more—until he sees her, scrunched up behind Dean.

Well, clutching Dean. Left shameless by whatever she saw in that demon’s head, she’s got Dean’s hand and wrist in a deathgrip, trailing him so close that her shoes catch the heels of his boots. She does not look good. Her eyes are big and wide and she looks straight through everyone and everything, still tethered to the other dimension her powers live in. She’s got her elbows pressed into her ribs and her body bunched up so tight that Sam can almost feel her psychic overstimulation from where he’s standing.

“S’okay, sweetheart, ” Dean hushes, the first in a long, quiet string of reassurances.

Sam stares at her. Even if she’s in her own world, she must be able to feel it, ‘cause she physically leans out of his way. That should hurt him—should make him burn with sympathy—but instead, all he can think is, she would know. She would know if the demon was lying. Sam’s connected with her like that—there’s absolutely nothing to hide, even if you wanted to, so there’s no way she couldn’t see if the demon had been telling the truth.

The line of people seeping through security to get out of the airport slows to a stop, making way for the pack of paramedics hauling 424’s copilot away on a stretcher. The black boils from the holy water have left his body entirely.

He’ll ask her once. He has to try. Sam lets the two of them in front of him, Dean, then _____, almost pressing her face into Dean’s back. When they’re stopped in line, Sam lifts a hand to touch her—but stops himself, not wanting her to feel any worse. “_____,” Sam swallows, trying to keep his voice even. “What did you see? H-How did it know about Jessica?”

Before she even has the opportunity to answer, (if she can even hear him), Dean swings around to shoot Sam a pained look. “Dude, look at her. Now is not the fuckin’ time. Let her get a full breath in before you start with the interrogations, okay?”

Sam recoils. The gnashing, rebellious fire he usually saves for Dad pours out here, instead, and before Sam knows it he’s snarling back, “I can’t ask one question about my dead girlfriend?”

It lasts only for an instant, but Sam gets to watch in real time the way that hit lands. He’s aware that it’s deeply fucked up of him to enjoy throwing Jess in Dean’s face, but it is his backward, comforting reminder that she was a real person; not a four-year-long fever dream he invented to escape. No one says her name but him anymore. At least, when he talks about her, someone else is forced to feel something too.

Dean sets his jaw. He makes the mistake of trying to turn towards Sam, which _____ thinks is an attempt to shake her off—and she lets out this awful, hoarse sob sound that stops them both cold.

Sam feels like a rail spike has been driven through his chest. Dean gives him a look, then mercifully drops it.

Immediately, Dean’s wheeling her back in and soothing her. The angle at which she’s clinging to him is awkward for all three of them, so he endures her trembling and hitching little sobs as he peels off her hands and re-arranges them. Dean loops an arm around her back so he can stroke her shuddering shoulders, uttering, “S’okay, kiddo, s’ all over… ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you…”

And of course, because Sam can never exist in peace, he watches the way ______ drops all her weight onto Dean and feels his chest squeeze. Suddenly, he’s very aware of what four years have changed between her and his brother.

The rush back to the car is silent, but for _____’s little sniffling breathes. After making it out of the blistering lights of the chattering airport and out into the peaceful snowy parking lot, things calm down.

Four separate times Sam thinks about reaching out to comfort her. The Gift always leaves her freezing cold, and early December in Indiana on top of that has her making audible little shivering sounds as they walk. Sam’s boiling under his coat. He unzips it, then zips it up again, unsure if she’d even want it. Dean gets her in the car and puts a warm blanket around her before Sam can get over his indecision.

They just saved two hundred people. In hindsight, that’s a massive win. Maybe if the demon hadn’t said what it’d said, and maybe if it hadn’t reduced her to this, Sam could celebrate. Seeing her so messed up always throws him. Less than an hour ago, she was the powerful psychic that used to have Dad clutching his telepathy-blocking charm under his shirt.

Sam scrubs his hand down his face, staring blankly at the trembling lump of blanket lying across the backseat. Now, she’s… whatever she saw in that demon.

Dean tucks her feet up onto the seat, then nudges the door closed with his hip. Sam stares past him, through him, at her silhouette in the Impala’s dark glass, because that’s somehow easier than looking at Dean.

The smattering of snow growing on the asphalt makes the whole world sound muffled. Sam feels like he’s talking to empty air when he croaks, “It knew about Jessica.”

“Sam,” Dean calls, softer this time. Asking for Sam to look at him. When he manages to heave his head up, Dean’s face is firm and reassuring. “These things—they read minds. They lie, just like Beth said. That’s all it was. Don’t let that thing get into your head, okay?”

Sam forces himself to nod. They both spare the shaking shape in the backseat one more look, then Dean’s rounding the car for the driver’s seat, and Sam’s sliding in next to him without another word.

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 5th, night.

Green. It had to be the ugliest color a motel room could be, Sam thought as he stared at the empty room. The walls were this sad limey green color that managed to look awful even in the dark, some parts made even limey-er by the huge neon green vacancy sign right outside their window. Their room was parked right next to it, so there was no escaping the sign even with the curtains pulled shut.

You and Dean, who were positioned right under the ugly green light, had somehow managed to fall asleep anyway. The only sound in the whole world was your soft breathing across the room and the crackle of the ancient TV.

Right now, it was playing a rerun of some televangelist in a big shiny white suit. He paced the screen on mute as Sam watched, curled on his side, laying diagonal to face the screen. Nightmares were so common for him now that the hardest part of the battle was getting to sleep in the first place. His strategy was to get so bored and so tired that his body would simply have nothing else to do but crash. Bored was the key word—Sam had tried reading, sudoku, and counting cars as they whisked by, but all of that occupied his mind too much to work. Tonight was another night where his mind was just too full to sleep.

He hoped Dean was right. He prayed that the demon had just been lying, lips pressed to the cross he kept under his shirt. Most days, Sam dropped into bed and sent off a brief prayer before the fight for sleep began. Tonight, though—tonight was one of those nights where he clasped his cross in both hands and poured his heart out. Sam prayed for his brother, his Dad, and for you, like usual, pleading for protection and strength. Sam prayed for Jessica, too.

(But never for her forgiveness—he knew he didn’t deserve that).

When Sam had first started getting comfortable with prayer, he’d always worried that he was being greedy or selfish by asking for so much. Health, food, lunch money, for Dad and Dean to get home okay. Now, it’s a natural comfort to him. To open yourself up to something higher than you, to give up your pride and ask for help—that is a mark of holiness. Goodness. Sam closes out his prayers and feels clean.

Across the room, Sam hears the covers in the opposite bed shift. He squints sleepy eyes at your silhouette, and even sluggish and drained, the shifting colors from the TV and the vacancy sign illuminate you like something not entirely from this world.

You pad over to his bedside. A soft, ice-cold hand shakes his arm. When you get up close and realize Sam’s awake, you scuttle back in surprise. “Uh.”

Sam shoves his face into his pillow. With his mind still on Jess, it’s hard for him to look at you right now. “What is it?”

It’s funny. From the moment you got off flight 424, you’d been glued to Dean’s side. Sam had kept his teeth pressed together through the entire thing, watching from a distance as you reached for Dean, spoke to Dean, took the food Dean gave you. If Sam didn’t know any better, he’d figure you were avoiding him. Now you’ve decided you want something from him?

The second you touch his arm, every wisp of jealousy in Sam dries up. Not at all in the mood to be touched, he squirms out from under your hand and hoarsely repeats, “What?” You speak to him for the first time in hours. You sound rough and broken, and the edge of that awful sob from earlier today threatens to tip into your voice. “Can I…?”

Sam keeps his face planted in the pillow. At first he’s unsure what you’re even asking for—until you drop a hand on the mattress and he feels your weight tilt closer, wanting to… to lay with him. Like when you were little. When you share beds on the road, there’s often space left between you. That’s not what you’re asking for. If that’s what you wanted right now, you’d be in Dean’s bed.

The soft, choked little voice he can’t resist begs, “I just need to feel you.”

The last sliver of guilt and self-loathing that Sam has been holding onto instantly slips out of his grasp, hearing that. For the millionth time since this morning, he’s reminded of how awful he was to you. You’d been brought to the brink with your powers in a way they hadn’t seen in years, and Sam chose that precise moment to freak out. He wished he’d been better to you. Maybe he can’t pray for Jess’s forgiveness, but he can work to earn yours now.

Sam shuffles back on the mattress and opens the covers for you. “C’mere.”

As quiet as a mouse, you duck under his arm and slip under the covers. Sam immediately realizes that he should’ve fucking braced himself or something, because holy shit, you are so close. He accidentally gave you very little room in the already small bed. To keep from tumbling off the mattress and onto the questionable carpet, you reasonably and logically slot right up against him, your back against his chest and your heads on the same pillow. Holy shit, he did not think this through. Sam has very few gentlemanly places to lay his arm. And even if he found one, your icy cold hand picks up his warm one and—right, okay, you take it and wrap it right around your middle. That’s fine too. Cool. Awesome.

Okay. Forgetting every way he could sabotage this for himself for just a moment, Sam realizes that he missed this. God, he missed it so much. You wiggle back into his body and Sam gives you a big, indulgent squeeze around the tummy, earning this watery little sigh that makes his already racing heart zing out into orbit. Friendly snuggling became a lot less friendly when you were pushing seventeen instead of nine, so Sam hasn’t allowed himself to properly, um… cuddle you… in ages.

That isn’t even the best part. That little squeeze makes him realize just how pleasantly cold you are, a wonderful ice cube in blazing hot soup. Sam’s practically cooking under the covers—and that must be perfect for you and your chilly hands, because you make the same pitiful happy noise that Sam does as you get comfortable against each other.

Maybe if this were any other moment, after any other day, that would be something you might laugh about together. Instead, Sam’s prayers are filled with you and your incredible burden. He hesitates to go all in and hold you like he wants to… until your breath makes that tight, hitching sound again, and Sam’s sure you’re holding back tears. Screw it, Sam thinks. He’ll take care of you this time. Sam presses his face into your hair and entwines your hands on your belly, unsure of what to say and yet wanting to say so much. Dean can’t hold you like this—this is something you only want from Sam.

You both go still. Sam feels you hold your breath. His legs are itching to shift under the covers and your hand awkwardly holds his, the two of you afraid to disturb the magic.

Your thumb slowly caresses along the flat side of his hand. His heart leaps into his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to relax. You need this. Finally, it’s his turn to comfort you.

Sam swallows hard. There’s no way you can’t feel his heart thudding away, inches from popping clean out of his chest. Neither of you are stupid. If Dean were to wake up, you know exactly what this would look like to him—to the cleaning lady, to the strangers out on the street. But right now, in this frozen moment, there’s no one awake in the world but the two of you and the TV. It is so, so wrong. But when you touch him, Sam feels clean.

Bit by bit, you adjust to one another. Your breath syncs up. The whole time, your eyes never move from the TV, but if Sam focusses he swears something washes over him—that same great, sweeping, cleansing power from the plane, as light as moth wings on his skin. He has to bite back his smile. If you did that to anyone else, they’d find you creepy as hell.

After what feels like forever, you plainly croak, “It was lying about her. It was made of lies.”

That hits Sam like a slap to the face. That’s… yeah. That sounds right. He absorbs the impact as best he can, because although his faith was thin, Sam trusted Dean’s word and he trusts yours, too. There’s—so much that he feels about that, but he doesn’t want any more of his grief to overwhelm your Gift. Sam’s not naive. No matter how good of a person you are, no matter how considerate and understanding and empathetic you can be, Sam knows that talking about Jessica brings you some level of pain. It hurts him, too. And he has zero clue where that conversation would even begin, so he stores his shame and his loss and gives a shaky nod.

Instead, Sam asks, “...What did you see? When you looked into its head?”

Right. Cause’ that was such a better question to ask her, Sam.

You go silent. It’s a weighty, knowing silence, one that chokes the whole room. Sam readies himself for whatever you’re about to share with him. Admittedly, he’s curious. When the Gift was something new in your life, Sam used to pile on question after question about what the world felt like to you. ‘What does it feel like when Dean’s happy?’ A car motor turning on. ‘What does my happiness feel like?’ Dimples and a mystery being solved. ‘You’re joking.’ Not even a little. It fascinated Sam—how does a demon feel in comparison to a regular spirit?

“...It was just an evil spirit, Sammy,” you dismiss. “That’s all.”

Sam highly doubts that’s true. If it was just a spirit, then why did it screw with you so deeply? What had you seen in its head that had scared you? You, of all people, who was built for this? He knows there’s something more here, but after this week and all the ways you’ve fought to avoid being a burden, the fact that you’d crawl to Sam for comfort is a sign of surrender. You’ve given up. Clearly, you don’t want to talk about it. Sam isn’t going to push you. God knows he’s done that enough.

When Sam doesn’t push you, you shudder out a wet sigh and pick up his hand. At this point, Sam expects you in this state to do something weird—and sure enough, you do. You pick up Sam’s hand and you just stare at it. Just stare. Your thumb presses into the meat of his palm, almost like you’re looking for something. Feeling him. Sam’s heart gives another pathetic, noticeable throb. Feeling him and being close to him is, after everything, still a source of comfort for you. His cheeks burn.

Just to fill the silence, Sam whispers, “I’ve lost a lot of my calluses.”

Per usual, his little creep says nothing. You’re still feeling him. Your other hand comes up to investigate too, adding even more soft gentle touching to Sam’s already overloaded system. Your thumbs press into the center of his palm (reading it, maybe?), then over each bump, confirming for yourself that Sam’s real.

Maybe he’d be a bit more resilient if you were doing this to him in a crowded diner or a rowdy college party. Instead, Sam can feel the rise and fall of your breath through your thin shirt, and it’s the only sound in the dead world besides the buzzing static on the TV.

Your gaze turns to the TV. The fingers caressing his hand stop cold.

Sam says your name. He can feel your heart thud thud thudding deep in your chest, like rabbit’s feet hitting snow.

Again, absorbed completely in your own task, you don’t answer him. You roll over very suddenly under the covers. Sam hopes for a minute that being face to face with you will give him some answers, but the flash of your face he sees only serves to scare the shit out of him. You give him no time to process before you’re full-body hugging him, shoving a hand between his side and the mattress and fisting one in his shirt to bodily haul him against you. Sam sputters out a sharp noise and awkwardly slopes his hands down your back. The sudden intimacy gives him a whole world of shameful butterflies and freaks him out enough, but…

You looked terrified. The same bone-deep horror you had on your face after you saw the demon in person—when you trudged up to Sam with those haunting Proctor eyes, staring straight through him and right at his future. What had you seen in that demon?

Sam tries to speak, but you talk over him, just as haunted as you’d been on that plane.

“I love you. So much, Sam. You know that?”

It’s not a sweet, reminiscent kind of question. It is a genuine, unironic, please-tell-me-the-truth, You know that?

Sam’s brain stalls. “...Yeah. O-Of course.”

In case that wasn’t worrying enough, your hands needily grasp at his back, refusing to let Sam go as you duck your face into his shoulder. Sam can feel your entire body trembling from head to toe, can feel your hot breath on his neck choking back tears. “You’re a good person,” you tell him, insisting. “The best to me.”

“That’s—”

“I can feel it, okay?” You snap. One of your hands slips up his chest to smooth over Sam’s heart, and you squeeze him against you, promising, “Here. Right here.”

…Okay. Consider him officially freaked out. Sam manages an unconvinced, “...Thank you.”

You’re so wound up that you’re gritting your teeth, digging your nails into his shirt and clawing him as close as possible. This has to be an effect of what you saw. Which is strange, because that… whatever that was, did not feel like psychic possession or a psychic panic attack or any kind of psychic anything. It felt like you, trying to convince Sam that he’s a good person. It strikes a cold, dark chord somewhere deep within him that he doesn’t like. You’re just… you’re just reacting to what the demon showed you. You’re overwhelmed from stretching your Gift so thin. T-that’s. Yeah. Regardless, you’re scared. You need him. That, at least, is something he can work with.

“Shh,” Sam coos. He rubs a warm hand from the base of your scalp all the way down your back, then up, and back again, repeating the soothing motion until his arm goes numb. “You’re tired. Let’s go to sleep.”

You mumble something non-committal under your breath.

Sam hushes you, blindly reaching for comforting things to say. “S’ okay. You’re okay, baby. You can fall asleep on me.”

Maybe the demon showed you visions of Sam getting hurt. Something. That would explain this, maybe. He fixates on it, purely because it’s a problem in front of him that is much easier to think about than how scared he is for you, and worse, how much he loves this. Being your person. It’s a stupid, selfish thought to have in a moment like this, but—Sam wishes he could take care of you like this all the time.

As your frantic breathing smooths out into a clear, easy in-and-out, Sam wonders, wherever Jess is, what she would think if she saw this.

He closes his eyes and tries to steady his own breathing, the TV still crackling away on the dresser.

In. Bzzzsh. Out. Bzzzsh.

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydennyy @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1 @pplanetcaravan

[butterflydm]

wot reread: a memory of light (chapter 38-epilogue)

spoilers for a memory of light!

Well, the rest of the chapters have fewer pages in total than chapter 37 did, so this is going to be my last full reread post, though I do have a couple of follow-ups planned.

My timing ended up being pretty good, even though my original intention was just to reread books 1-3 in anticipation of the second season of the show. And now I’ve still got over a month to get good and excited about everything the show will be bringing to the table.

1. We go back to Rand, still deep in his conversation with TDO. The chapter “the Last Battle” really revolved around the battle between the forces outside Shayol Ghul, because it ended when the commander of the other army finally was killed (though there are still a ton of his forces to take care of, the head of the snake was cut off and so was the person who fancied himself Demandred’s replacement).

2. The ‘let go’ that Rand is hearing in his mind is in his father’s voice, and the meaning expands here -- let them sacrifice. it is their choice to make. And then Egwene’s voice -- am I not allowed to be a hero too?

Because this is something that Rand has been resisting over the course of the books -- basically ever since he accepted that he will be the sacrifice, he’s struggled with knowing that he’s not the only one, with knowing that other people are sometimes even sacrificing just to get him here, to this place. And, I imagine, with his tentative plans to maybe even survive this ‘sacrifice’, that’s going to make him feel even more guilty about other people giving up their lives in this fight.

3. He talks in dialogue with Egwene’s voice in his head (given that he’s existing around and between reality, it might really be Egwene’s voice too). He is not in charge of protecting her. He decided to take that charge on himself, back in EotW, but it was never his to claim. Let us die for what we believe, and do not try to steal that from us.

4. And so Rand takes himself through his list again, backwards, this time, releasing his feelings of shame for failing to save them, releasing his need to protect them. Letting go of the mountain that has been crushing him for the majority of the series.

He hadn’t realized how large it had become, how much he had let himself carry.

...

Ilyena was last. We are reborn, Rand thought, so we can do better the next time.

So do better.

5. And now Rand, as he stands surrounded by all time and nothing at the same time, comes to understand that the Darkness was never a being, never an entity of its own. It is the between of everything. It can only win if no one is willing to keep fighting against it.

6. Mat gets the news of Lan’s reported death. As he did with Egwene and with Elayne, he swallows the grief and doesn’t let it show to anyone else, instead using the news to spur the army onward to attack the now-stunned foe.

7. Rand tells TDO that he can’t win, and TDO argues that it has Rand in its grasp right now, and Rand says that that’s missing the point, because it was never just about his victory. The people he lists:

Morgase (?) - a woman, torn and beaten down, cast from her throne and made a puppet

Thom - a man who remembered stories and took fool boys under his wing

Moiraine - a woman who hunted truth before others could

Perrin (?) - a man whose family was taken from him, but who stood tall

Nynaeve - a woman who refused to believe she could not Heal those who had been harmed

Mat - a hero who insisted with every breath that he was not a hero

Egwene - a woman who would not bend her back while she was beaten and who stone with the Light for all who watched

Rand realizes -- “it was never about beating me. It was about breaking me.”

8. Okay, I have to say. I have to! But this is... this is literally also how the Seanchan work. This is their philosophy of life -- to take people and break them to the Seanchan’s purpose. As I’ve said before, there really is no way around the fact that the Seanchan are going to be the Great Evil of the Fourth Age. There are just too many Shadow-Seanchan parallels! Maybe Mat and Min can slow the train slightly but I don’t think they can actually put the breaks on it.

9. But back to now -- Rand and TDO watch the battlefield, where Mat is fighting -- Tam at his side, then Karede and his suicide-slave troops, then Loial and the Ogier. “Outnumbered three to one”. Mat is shouting in the Old Tongue: For the Light! For honor! For glory! For life itself!

I will take a moment to be glad that, despite the first half of this book trying so hard to align Mat with the slavers for whatever fucking reason, he’s not fighting for the slavers in this battle. That he actually did become the General of the Forces of the Light, not primarily the General of the Slavers. Looking back, it really does feel like the change was signaled when Mat first took off his Seanchan clothes and put back on his Two Rivers coat*. That seems to have been a visual cue about his change in characterization -- how he started pushing back more against Tuon, forcing her into more compromises, and standing more aligned with the Forces of Light rather than pandering to the slavers all the time. idk, maybe forcing Mat over to Ebou Dar at the start of the book was Sanderson’s way of trying to finally create a synthesis between the horrible Mat of CoT & KoD and the non-horrible Mat of the earlier books, and he felt like he actually had to take Seanchan!Mat to his worst conclusion before bringing him out again? It still really sucks that the Mat and Rand reunion happened during our low point of Mat’s characterization, though.

(* which appears to have been triggered by the ‘not pleasant’ conversation that Mat and Tuon had after Tuon berates him for not telling her that Egwene was briefly enslaved by the Seanchan. After that (off-screen) conversation, Mat starts being much more combative re: the Seanchan -- after that conversation is when he has his bitter/sarcastic thought that he’s not done much to convince Tuon to stop using damane and when he suggests to Min that she mislead Tuon about her viewings to try to soften her stance on Aes Sedai; so I think we can safely give Egwene credit for the turnaround in Mat’s characterization -- I wish that that conversation between Mat and Tuon hadn’t happened off-screen! like so many important emotional moments!, but it seems like perhaps that was a watershed moment for Mat)

Rand and TDO watch, and TDO taunts Rand “the son of battles. I will take him [Mat!]. I will take them all, adversary. As I took the king of nothing [this is Lan, I assume]”.

10. Mat thinks about how he knows he can win this battle, despite the horrible odds. He just needs “a favorable toss of the dice”.

And, not too far away, with the Trollocs outside his hiding place, Olver gives up on the idea of trying to get the Horn to Mat, and lifts the Horn of Valere to his lips.

11. First Mat, and then everyone else, hears Rand’s voice -- he calls out Shai’tan as wrong, telling everyone that Lan isn’t dead. And just after he says that, Mat hears the familiar golden and clear note of the Horn of Valere.

...wow, the Seanchan feel so superfluous to requirements right now. They didn’t show up until after the final combat was engaged, after Rand had his final necessary epiphany, after the Horn was blown (they have still not shown up, technically).

I’m going to take a moment to daydream about a world where Tuon’s nature as marath’damane was revealed and accepted, so she really did flee with the Seanchan (so that she can try to recover from this blow to her powerbase) and the Seanchan never returned to the Last Battle. This would be a much easier way to de-tangle Mat from the Seanchan than whatever he’s gonna need to actually do post-canon.

12. The Heroes of the Horn return and our first sight of them is Birgitte coming to save Elayne from Mellar, with a shining silver arrow. 😍

Birgitte standing over her own corpse kinda cracks me up. Good for her! It’s also probably the first time she’s felt like herself in books and books.

“That was the bloody Horn of Valere!” Mat announces to his troops. “We can still win this night!” Inside, he marvels over how the Horn was sounded without him, showing that one of the things that he’d believed that he was permanently tied to isn’t tied to him after all.

Well, if that knot can be untied, Mat, maybe another one can be as well.

13. Between losing Demandred and the appearance of the Heroes of the Horn, the Shadow are now the ones who are on the defensive, with some Trollocs breaking and trying to run away.

The mist of the Heroes forms near Mat and he feels a moment of worry, wondering if maybe someone on the side of the Shadow summoned them. Hawkwing rides up to Mat, and tells him, “Do take better care of what has been allotted you. Almost, I worried we would not be summoned for this fight.”

I know, right? The lack of urgency in the Mat-in-Ebou-Dar half of the book about actually getting him to Merrilor to blow the Horn was really frustrating to me too!

When Mat confirms that this mean they’re fighting for the Light, Hawkwing tells him, “We would never fight for the Shadow.” The rumors about the Horn are wrong -- I feel like we learned this back in TGH as well but, you know, Mat was dying at the time, so I don’t blame him for not remembering.

Yeah, here’s the line: “We have come to the Horn, but we must follow the banner. And the Dragon.” So it was Rand, Perrin, and Mat who learned that. But, like I said, I don’t blame Mat for not remembering.

14. Hawkwing and Amaresu both scold Mat for not showing Rand enough appreciation for saving his life. Honestly, so fair and legit for Mat to finally be on the other end of a scolding like that. “I have seen you murmur that you fear his madness but all the while you forget that every breath you breathe - every step you take - comes at his forbearance. Your life is a gift from the Dragon Reborn, Gambler. Twice over.”

Mat feels so scolded. As he deserves.

He’s told that they can fight here because they have Rand’s banner and because Rand is... technically sort-of kind-of leading them... from a distance.

Amazingly, Mat takes a moment out of this encounter to marvel at how pretty one of the heroes is and then Remind Himself again that he’s married. He really does have to keep Reminding Himself. One of these days, he’s not going to remember to Remind Himself until after he’s already slept with someone else. It’s been more subtle in this book than in ToM, but Mat is still constantly checking out Every Other Lady around him.

15. Olver gets dug out of his hole by Trollocs but Noal, now one of the Heroes, arrives to save him. I don’t care about Noal, and Jordan definitely didn’t do enough to build up their relationship in CoT & KoD, but I still got a little misty at the tiny orphan child feeling grateful that one of the people who ‘abandoned’ him has finally come back.

16. haha, this next chapter is called ‘wolfbrother’ so I guess that Perrin is finally gonna wake up. But first, we have Elayne!

She’s able to wriggle lose enough to make the medallion copy shift away from her skin and fall to the ground, and now she can embrace saidar again. Elayne apologizes to Birgitte but Birgitte laughs it off, “Why do you mourn, Elayne? I have it all back! My memory has returned. It is wonderful! I don’t know how you stood me these last few weeks. I moped worse than a child who’d just broken her favorite toy.” Ah, yeah, that confirms that Birgitte’s spiral into bitterness was not meant to be a reflection of Elayne but on the dark place that Birgitte was in, with her loss of memories, I think. But it’s a shame that it feels like parts of the fandom just took Birgitte’s unrelated bitterness as a reason to slam on Elayne more. My girl gets so much undeserved hate.

And Elayne and Birgitte will ride back into the battle together. Not as Aes Sedai and Warder, but as friends. 😍 😍 😍 😍 

17. Aviendha! I’ve missed you! Her timeline isn’t advancing as quickly as it has been for those further away from Shayol Ghul, so not as much as happened here in the valley. She can feel the channeling inside the Pit of Doom - “a quiet pulse”. Oh! The wolfbrother of the chapter’s title is actually Elyas, who Aviendha runs across now. The Darkhound Wild Hunt is happening, and hundreds of wolves have come to fight back against them.

Aviendha is about to go fetch channelers to help bring down the Darkhounds, when she spies Graendal a bit higher on the slope, with some Turned channelers, and Aiel guards under compulsion. Aviendha alerts her companions (Amys & Cadsuane) and then begins the fight against Graendal.

18. Elayne has a sword again. Where is she getting these swords? I’m just gonna assume it’s made out of Air or something. More useful than the sword, Elayne creates a banner with the Power, the red lion of Andor, lighting up the night.

19. [Mat] remembered, within those memories that were not his, leading forces far grander. Armies that were not fragmented, half-trained, wounded and exhausted. But Light help him, he had never been so proud.

...

This was the moment he had been seeking. It was the card upon which to bet everything he had. Ten to one odds, still, but the Sharan army, the Trollocs and the Fades had no head. No general to guide them.

...

Elayne’s death had been a lie. Her troops had been in disarray - they had lost more than a third of their soldiers - but just as they were about to be routed by the Trollocs, she rode into their midst and rallied them.

20.  Catching up with Moggy! Hi, Moghedien. I bet your Last Battle is going pretty shitty. She kicks Demandred’s abandoned corpse. Oh, his devoted Shendla just left his body there to rot? Yikes. For Moghedien, she discovers that now that so many of the Chosen have been killed off, TDO is ready to let her have a taste of that sweet sweet True Power.

She disguises herself as Demandred and heads to the Sharan forces. I have to admit, given how open Min has been about her Talents, it’s kinda astonishing that Moghedien doesn’t know about her viewings. Min will tell anyone who stands still for five seconds, plus Tuon announced her as a Doomseer and has been plumping her up for the past whatever-number of chapters.

Moghedien starts to gear up for her role as Fake Demandred...

...and then she gets a blast of cannon/dragon-fire in her face from the Band’s part of Mat’s plan.

21. Instead of the Band leaving their caves to fight; channelers are opening them up brief windows to shoot through. Aludra is placed up on a high location with a spy-glass, giving orders to the channelers for the next locations for the booms. Honestly very clever.

22. As Aviendha fights in the valley, plants grow to cover her passage.

They had come right when she had needed them to hide her approach. Happenstance? She chose to believe otherwise. She could feel [Rand], in the back of her mind. He fought, a true warrior. His battle lent her strength, and she tried to return the same.

Determination. Honor. Glory. Fight on, shade of my heart. Fight on.

😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 

23. Aviendha kills a Compelled attacker, only realizing it’s Rhuarc after she has struck the fatal blow. She kills him moments before he would have killed her, and only her shoulder gets injured.

She does her best to convince herself that she only killed a shell. That Rhuarc was already dead.

There is a burst of determination from Rand (Strength, Aviendha) and her fatigue leaves her, and she refocuses on the fight.

24. Aviendha studies Graendal and decides on her approach -- she creates a spear made out of fire and light, and some other weaves in reserve -- and charges for Graendal. See, this makes a lot more sense that Elayne randomly having a sword, because this is a weapon and Aviendha knows and has trained in most of her life. I think that Sanderson Just Likes Swords tbh.

I really love the description here because of how it brings back Aviendha’s Maiden roots as she launches her attack on Graendal. The ground explodes underneath her (her legs get pretty destroyed, it sounds like), but she’s leaping up already aimed like a spear herself, and she sinks the spear into Graendal’s side just as Graendal is using the True Power to Travel... and because they’re touching, she goes along with Graendal when she Travels.

25. Mat rides with the Heroes of the Horn. He gets them to confirm that he isn’t one of them. He can see Elayne from where he is.

Mat saw Elayne’s banner glowing above them in the sky, crafted of the One Power, and caught a glimpse of someone who looked like her riding among the soldiers, hair glowing as if lit from behind her. She seemed a bloody Hero of the Horn herself.

26. And then the great battle is over, at least here on the battlefield.

He would have to thank Tuon for returning. He did not go looking for her, though. He had a feeling she would expect him to perform his princely duties, whatever they might be.

Hmm.

27. He does feel that tugging. Rand needs him. He tries to convince himself that this was his part, out here, and whatever is going on where Rand is... that’s Rand’s business. The dice are still tumbling in his head. This part here manages to capture Mat’s double-think in a way that I didn’t feel like came across in the actual chapter when we had the Rand & Mat reunion.

After trying to talk himself out of it, Mat ends up saying that he’s a fool because “I need to go to Rand.”

As a parting note, he asks Hawkwing to go have a conversation with “their Empress” (Tuon), and hmm, interesting. Okay, I need to break this down a bit.

So, one of the things that gave Tuon the big jollies back in the negotiation chapter with Rand was Mat referring to the Seanchan forces as “our forces”, which she basically interpreted as “haha you’re mine now, no take-backs”. And here, he does not call the Seanchan empress “my” Empress. He says she’s “their” Empress. The Empress of the Seanchan, who he is not currently identifying with, it would seem. So. That’s interesting.

We don’t get to see the conversation between Hawkwing and Tuon, of course, but what would Mat assume about what Hawkwing would tell Tuon? Why would Mat send Hawkwing to talk to her? The Heroes of the Horn follow Rand, pretty explicitly. They literally just recently scolded Mat for not appreciating Rand enough. They are aware of current events in the world and of the Seanchan Empire.

Which is to say... of course, Mat is assuming that Hawkwing will try to set Tuon straight on how to be an Empress without abusing millions of people under her power. Hawkwing told him that they would never fight for the Shadow. I think it’s reasonable for Mat to assume that he would disapprove of slavery. And Hawkwing’s hatred of Aes Sedai in his lifetime was canonically influenced by Ishamael, if I recall correctly, so the idea that Ishamael’s corruption is still influencing him in his Horn-form just seems like kinda silly to me. So. That’s my stance on that. Mat has clearly stated in recent chapters that he disapproves of the damane system, in particular, and that he wants to influence Tuon to soften her stance on Aes Sedai. So we know what Mat’s motivations are in sending Hawkwing off to talk to her. And it kinda fits Mat’s pattern of trying to use other people to influence Tuon to be less awful.

28. Rand has thought about Mat often, here in the battle with TDO. He thinks of him again -- Beneath them, on the battlefield, the Trollocs had fallen, beaten by a young gambler from the Two Rivers.

29. Oh, hey, Perrin just woke up. Page 853. He went to sleep on page 670. Nice long nap. Missed... a lot of stuff.

He learns that the battle at Merrilor has been won, but the battle at Thakan’dar, outside of Shayol Ghul, rages on. He gets his exhaustion washed away by one of the Aes Sedai and goes physically back into TAR (where he left Gaul to guard the cave where Rand fights).

30. In the waking world, Thom is the one guarding that cave entrance and he ponders the various ways that the ending of the world can be turned into a song, once this is all over.

31. Mat goes to Grady and tells him that he needs to be taken to Shayol Ghul. He’s brought Rand’s banner with him. Hanging out with Grady are Olver and Noal. The dice are still tumbling in Mat’s head. As far as I can tell, they haven’t stopped since Elayne asked him if he knew what he was doing.

Mat, on thinking about Noal/Jain becoming a Hero of the Horn:

Well, you wouldn’t find Mat trading places with him. Noal might enjoy it, but Mat wouldn’t dance at another man’s command. Not for immortality itself, no he wouldn’t.

Another data point that I’m placing into the pile.

Grady says that Traveling is wonky in that direction. Can’t be done.

Mat won’t accept that as an answer, and he gets Grady to take him (and Olver) as close as they can get -- a Seanchan scouting camp, a day away.

32. lol, we get a tiny glimpse into Fain the mist god-demon here. This just feels so anti-climatic, to still have Fain around at a time like this. Anyway, he’s basically a walking Shadar Logoth at this point. Fain kinda suffers from the same issues as Slayer, in that it feels like he’s a villain that the story grew past and yet he hung around anyway.

33. Gaul has been standing alone against Slayer all this time in TAR, fighting against him and protecting Rand, on his own, while Perrin was taking his restorative nap. But now Perrin is back to help. On the plus side, because of the time dilation stuff, only two hours has passed for Gaul in here.

34. Since he couldn’t take a gateway to Shayol Ghul, Mat is going by dragon to’raken. And, yes, Mat takes time out of his terror at being up so high to notice how pretty the morat’to’raken is, even as he thinks that anyone willing to do this must be “completely insane”. Olver, who is riding with them, is having a great time, though.

From up high, Mat sees a mist covering the valley below and gets a tingling that tells him... it’s about Fain and the dagger.

35. Then their to’raken gets hit by arrows, killing the rider or knocking her out. Mat undoes his straps and climbs over to take the to’raken’s reins. So he’s... he’s riding the closest thing that this world has to a dragon. Subtext, fun for the whole family.

He does his best to give them a gentle landing. It is not terribly gentle.

36. In the aftermath of the crash, Mat thinks that kidnapping Tuon (aka marrying her) is the worst decision that he’s ever made. Hmm. And this is after she ‘returned’ to the battlefield per their plan.

“That,” [Mat] finally groaned, “is the worst bloody idea I’ve ever had.” He hesitated. “Maybe the second worst.” He had decided to kidnap Tuon, after all.

And he doesn’t undercut that thought with any kind of caveat. He just lets it stand as he moves on to the next thing. Another interesting data point.

37. Mat literally panics when he realizes that Rand’s banner has gone missing during their dragon to’raken flight. Why does it seem like Sanderson is so much better at writing Cauthor-related scenes when Mat and Rand are separated from each other?

Olver points out that the swirling clouds above them are forming Rand’s sign, and then he blows the Horn again, for good measure.

38. Rand breaks out of his frozen battle with TDO and re-enters his own body. “From his watching of the Pattern, he knew that although only minutes had passed here since he’d entered, in the valley outside this cavern, days had passed, and farther out into the world, it had been much longer.”

He points Callandor at Moridin, and Moridin promptly throws a knife at Alanna.

Broke back to consciousness by Nynaeve’s herbs, Alanna pulls herself together long enough to release the bond she forced on Rand before she dies.

...I kinda feel the need to point out that Moiraine has done nothing but be a battery for Rand since she entered the cave with him.

I also feel bad for Alanna, who really disappeared from the story once Min was bonded to Rand and could take over as Cadsuane’s Rand mood-ring, and now is only here so that she can die. I have extremely large beef against Alanna for forcibly bonding Rand but it feels like the story really should have used that beat even more than it did, rather than it disappearing after WH.

39. Perrin kills Slayer. Finally. And then he pulls back out of TAR and is “on the rocks in the valley of Thakan’dar”, near where the Aiel are gathered.

40. Mat leaves Olver with the Heroes and meets up with Perrin at the mouth of the cave. So, yes, Mat and Perrin get another reunion. Why does Perrin! Get all the reunions! This is what I was talking about when I said how annoyed I was that Mat thinking about Rand tugging on him wouldn’t end up with any good payoff. All we get is yet another Mat and Perrin reunion.

That Rand is literally inside that cave and yet the three ta’veren do not reunite here is honestly somewhat infuriating for me. Genuinely those two things: the Emond’s Five reunite and the ta’veren three reunite should have been at the TOP of Sanderson’s priority list! There is a lot that I have enjoyed about AMoL but there are just way too many important emotional moments that were either skipped or didn’t happen at all but should have happened.

And, fuck, letting Mat and Rand have a scene that doesn’t take place during Mat’s weird Ebou Dar adventure. That would have been nice! Once Mat decides that he’s not going to be a lapdog for the Seanchan/Tuon anymore, his storyline and his PoV get so much better and so much more enjoyable and I am just... eternal bitterness that our only Mat & Rand reunion was plopped into our most lapdoggy-Mat era.

Mat came here specifically to protect Rand and then he never sees him! That is just fucking awful. They deserved a better reunion. What was the point of having the Heroes scold Mat if we didn’t actually get to see Mat and Rand interact again after it? This is kinda a place where the epilogue is mostly at fault -- Mat just strolling off to plan a fireworks show for Tuon post-Last Battle conflicts pretty hard with him spending time with his dying best friend, tonally-speaking -- but that really just makes it all the more frustrating that the only Cauthor reunion took place when Mat was in his worst Seanchan-era.

41. Aviendha attacks Graendal with an exploding gateway; and Mat kills Fain/Mordeth/etc.

And Perrin almost takes off to go searching for Faile but manages to resist the urge: If Rand died, then he would lose Faile. And everything else.

Yes. I have tried to yell this at the fictional characters so many times: if the world dies, then so does your sweetheart! It’s nice that Perrin finally listened.

42. And for his final trick, Moridin grabs Callandor, and Moiraine and Nynaeve spring their trap, using the flaw in Callandor to take control of the ‘circle’ that Moridin has accidentally formed with them. With Moridin having pulled the True Power, Rand is now able to enter the link, and Moiraine and Nynaeve can feed him all three sets of Power: saidar, saidin, and the True Power. Light explodes from him, and from Shayol Ghul, as Rand uses the True Power to protect himself as he reaches through the Bore and grabs onto the Dark One.

43. We get a quick beat of people reacting to the light:

Elayne is on the battlefield of Merrilor, as they search for the living among the dead. She feels the “swelling of power in Rand” and her attention focuses on him.

Thom shields his eyes as the light bursts from the entrance to the Pit of Doom.

Min appears to have managed to get away from the Seanchan for now, changing linens for the wounded, perhaps also on the Field of Merrilor.

Aviendha is drawn back from the darkness of near-death by the light and the warmth of Rand inside her, and realizes that her explosion twisted the compulsion weave so that Graendal compelled herself to worship Aviendha. Awkward!

Logain sees the light and knows that it’s what was meant by the message that Egwene sent, and he breaks the seals on the Dark One’s prison.

44. In TAR, Perrin runs across Lanfear. Together, they walk into Shayol Ghul, and we learn that she apparently compelled Perrin a little while ago? He’s able to pull out of it by reminding himself of his duty and of Faile, and he snaps her neck, killing her.

*squints at the scene*

Yeah, I mean. That’s certainly still what looks like happened? Sorry, Sanderson, I’m not seeing your hints here about Lanfear tricking Perrin and surviving.

45. Rand holds the Dark One in his hand. Or the representation of his hand. And, once again, when Rand tells TDO how pitiful he is, all I see are echoes of the Seanchan:

You would have enslaved me as you would have enslaved the others. You cannot give oblivion. Rest is not yours. Only torment.

Rand can feel himself dying, his life blood slipping away. Realizing that the world that he’d seen without the Dark One would have been the truth, he knows that he cannot kill it. So he thrusts TDO back into his prison, braids saidar and saidin together to reforge a new shield onto the Bore.

With this new form of the Power, Rand pulled together the rent that had been made here long ago by foolish men.

He understood, finally, that the Dark One was not the enemy.

It never had been.

(because it only reflected the evil that people were already capable of)

46. The black hole inside the cave expands, as Moiraine and Nynaeve run for the safety of the cave entrance.

47. And now we are at the epilogue.

Much like I did with The Last Battle chapter, I’ll take the epilogue in sections by character. Rand & co will go last, this time.

Perrin

The spirits of the dead wolves fade back into the dream. Perrin voluntarily worries about Rand? Wow, that feels kinda out of character for Perrin, who has always been way better at pushing away thoughts of Rand than Mat has been, but I guess let’s go with it. It seems to exist to tell us that Perrin no longer sees color swirls and no longer feels any tugging towards anything. “Those seemed like very bad signs.”

“Have you sent for the three?”

What a weird way to ask “do Rand’s girlfriends know that he’s dying?”

I’m going to take a minute and count up the PoV & page counts everyone gets in the epilogue.

Rand: 3 PoVs (4 pages total)

Mat: 2 PoVs (1 1/5 pages)

Perrin: 3 PoVs (6 1/5 pages)

Loial: 1 PoV (3 pages)

Moghedien: 1 PoV (1 page)

Nynaeve: 1 PoV (2 pages)

Birgitte: 1 PoV (1 page)

Tam: 1 PoV (1 page)

Min: 1 PoV (1/2 page)

Cadsuane: 1 PoV (1 page)

That’s a lot of Perrin, comparatively-speaking.

Anyway, Perrin finds Faile, happy ending, etc.

...oh, I just looked it up and Sanderson answered some questions about the epilogue (tor[dot]com/2013/01/23/brandon-sandersons-wheel-of-time-answers-from-torchat/)! He added Perrin’s and Loial’s scene(s). Ha! I knew that Loial was a Sanderson addition because he uses “Matrim” instead of Mat (that is, imo, by far the easiest ‘tell’ of a Sanderson scene -- someone using ‘Matrim’ when they normally wouldn’t). And the Perrin scenes make sense too because it really builds off of and finishes the narrative thread that was at play earlier in the book for Perrin, which was presumably all written by Sanderson.

Mat

Mat strolls away from the aftermath of having killed Padan Fain, calling the dagger “a gamble I don’t want to touch”. The dice stop rolling in Mat’s head after he decides not to pick up the dagger. Hmm. Mat avoiding becoming the new Fain for the Fourth Age?

After that, we skip to his scene with Tuon. And there are only those two scenes with Mat in the epilogue -- killing Fain and finding out that he’s been baby-trapped into the Seanchan Empire. Though Perrin confirms in his own PoV scenes that he no longer gets the swirls or the tugging, we don’t get the same kind of confirmation in Mat’s (very short) scenes.

I will say that there is more subtlety in Mat’s ending here than I had remembered -- I was extremely unhappy about his ending but this marriage is pretty troubled already in the text, and so it’s not really the book that tries to pretend this is a happy “babies ever after” ending for Mat; I feel like that’s maybe more of a vibe that I got from fans at the time, rather than from the text. There are a lot of “male power fantasy” fans who just really like that Mat ends up married to an Empress and commanding vast armies, I think, at least from what I’ve seen around the internet (and especially back when the series was originally published).

And Mat specifically forces a grin at the news that Fortuona is pregnant, so he’s not genuinely happy about it (and we got things in recent chapters like Mat thinking that kidnapping Tuon was the worst idea he’d ever had).

But, honestly, I do still hate that it happens. I hate it up one side and down the other. It sucks as an ending for Mat so much. Miserable marriage, awful wife, horrible shackles tying him to a terrible fascist empire built on slavery.

That being said... just Tuon’s rule is incredibly fragile, this marriage is also incredibly fragile (which is probably why Jordan slapped a baby in there to begin with -- otherwise, given his general misery level in many of the Seanchan-related scenes, it’s difficult to see how Mat could bring himself to stick with Tuon for long enough to do whatever plot-related things Jordan was imagining would have happened in the outriggers -- the baby is a trap for Mat, not from Tuon but from Jordan).

There are still so many things about the Seanchan that could end up being deal-breakers for Mat if he finds out about them!

(ex. Bodewhin Cauthon is never mentioned in the books after Knife of Dreams, so it is entirely possible that she is among the new damane who were taken by the Seanchan in recent days, and Mat might end up seeing his sister with a collar around her neck post-canon. How would he react to that? And to Tuon’s unwillingness to let her go?)

In addition to Mat potentially seeing people he knows and cares about in collars, we also have the possibility of him learning just how brutal Tuon’s attack against the White Tower was (there isn’t any indication that he knows about the attack at all yet); or Talmanes telling him about Verin’s letter and Mat realizing how damaging his fear of Aes Sedai has been for the world; or further in the future there’s Mat’s potential reaction to the lethal political wrangling that Imperial heirs are meant to get up to (he was disturbed enough that Galgan liking him only means that subpar assassins will be sent against him -- when he realizes that Tuon might well encourage their own kids to kill each other to win her favor, it’s very hard to see him brushing that off). Plus he’s regained his sense of disgust over the damane system. So there are a lot of powderkegs waiting to be blown sky-high for Mat, post-canon.

idk, Mat’s storyline is maybe the one where I most have to untangle whether I dislike it more because I feel like it was executed poorly or if I dislike it because it sets up a situation that will never get resolution. And how connected are those things?

A big frustration that I’ve had with how Jordan and then Sanderson handled Mat’s storyline over the course of the last few books of the series was how many shortcuts were taken with his character and how artificial forcing him into the Seanchans’ arms has felt to me.

a. Mat getting trapped in Ebou Dar and then all the characters involved taking a vow of silence when it came to telling Rand about it. Mat getting trapped in Ebou Dar is plot nonsense: relatively forgivable. But having multiple characters being given the opportunity to change that situation and just... not bothering to do it is... that’s a characterization issue. It severely impacted my feelings about Nynaeve for Jordan to turn her into the kind of person who just doesn’t bother to tell Rand that his best friend was left behind in that kind of perilous situation. Plot manipulations... that’s just how the plot works. But over and over, characters got broken or bent for the purpose of jamming Mat into the Seanchan storyline.

b. Setalle Anan is a minor character, so I get why people don’t care about her, but she’s a character who pretty much completely reverses her characterization between WH & CoT (in WH, she is anti-slavery and finds Mat charming and trustworthy; in CoT & KoD, she protects and waits on Tuon while treating Mat like the dangerous one, including betraying Mat’s secrets to Tuon -- and her betrayals are never acknowledged by the text in any way; she just keeps on being treated as if she’s a friendly supporting character) and, from what I could see, it’s just so obviously done in order to protect Tuon from ever having even a sliver of character growth rather than it making sense for Setalle Anan’s character.

c. We keep tiptoeing up to the brink of Actually Having A Plot Happen with the Seanchan and then backing away at the last minute without really having a good reason to do it. Incredibly frustrating. This was one of my main annoyances with CoT & KoD. And in AMoL, both Rand and Egwene inexplicably back down when they have Tuon on the ropes and off-balance.

d. Mat’s teleportation to Ebou Dar in-between Towers of Midnight and A Memory of Light. I’ve talked about this one a lot but yeah. It’s just... really bad? I do suspect that Sanderson couldn’t figure out any way to actually make it believable that Mat would go to the Seanchan and that’s why he had it all happen off-the-page. But the careless damage that it does to Mat’s characterization is just horrific. Mat gets ripped out of the action of the first third of the book, and doesn’t get to the Last Battle itself until the book is more than half over. Once Mat is actually engaging in the Last Battle, his characterization steadies a lot but especially those first four chapters with Mat, it feels like we’re only working with half of his characterization and the other half has vanished somewhere in-between ToM & AMoL.

(and if Mat hadn’t been cut-and-pasted from the Tower of Ghenjei over to Ebou Dar, then we would have had a full reunion at Merrilor. So I’m annoyed/bitter about that too)

I could keep going but... let’s keep it at four issues for right now so that we’re not here all day, lol.

All of those issues are problems that I had with the execution of the storyline.

I am not inherently opposed to depressing endings for characters that I love but... it has to be done well. It has to make sense. And Mat’s ending just... required cutting away too many parts of him (and other characters) for it to make sense to me.

But though it is not always handled well (to put it mildly), Mat’s storyline with Tuon (and Tylin before her) is an example of the ‘typical gender roles are swapped’ done in a way that is more down to the very core of his storyline than a lot of other storylines, which are more on the surface.

He’s much less politically powerful than his spouse and needs to use guile, intrigue, and manipulation to get his way and try to persuade her to a gentler and kinder path than her warlike nature naturally aligns towards.

He undergoes something of a gender-swapped version of “The Taming of the Shrew” storyline, in which a fiercely independent person gets coerced/’tamed’ into being a properly submissive spouse (or, depending on your interpretation, into pretending to be one) -- many of the tricks that Tuon and Tylin use are similar to what Petruchio does to Katherine in the play. Mat gets publicly humiliated and starved by Tylin into submitting to her (which is what Petruchio does to Katherine during/after their wedding), and isolated away from his past connections during his time with Tuon, where he constantly has to act to try to figure out how to appease her without provoking her temper (Petruchio compares taming Katherine to falcon-taming, but Tuon would probably compare it to horse-training or damane-breaking), and Petruchio changes her name from ‘Katherine’ to ‘Kate’, which fits pretty well with Tuon’s insistence on never once calling Mat ‘Mat’.

Plus Mat getting his name changed to indicate that he now ‘belongs’ to Tuon’s people fits into this general category --  and historically, in the culture that Jordan belonged to, that’s normally a role given to women, to be given a new name that shows that they are now of their husband’s people and not their father’s; it’s usually their last name but, in the not too-distant past (and maybe currently in some places as well, idk), at least in the USA, women were often referred to as Mrs. “husband’s first name” “husband’s last name” with none of their own name making it into the address.

But a lot of the issues that I have with how this was written is that it felt like Mat was behaving like his hand was forced even when it wasn’t. Which is definitely a writing issue -- it’s a similar issue to the one that I have with the Rand & Min romance, for example, where Min desperately chases after something even though she doesn’t really want it at the start. Prophecy gets used as a way to skip actually writing important character or relationship beats, instead of prophecy being one of many tools in the writer’s kit.

So, yeah, it really is the execution of the storyline that is the biggest problem for me with Mat & Tuon, and the way it feels like he is pulled away from his other attachments whether or not that makes any narrative or character sense.

I really hope that the show does better with them, and with Mat in his endgame (should we get there, etc.).

I will say that I do think that Sanderson handled the romance better than Jordan did; the main problem was that it was already fundamentally broken by how the relationship was written in CoT & KoD, imo (the KoD collaring chapter in particular made me despise them as a pairing and my feelings never recovered from that moment). But in Sanderson’s books, we actually see the effects of Tuon compromising with Mat during various points of the Last Battle (though we see don’t actually see their private discussions and/or arguments that lead to those compromises), and there’s always a throughline showing how miserable the Seanchan lifestyle is for Mat, and those are two things that were majorly missing from CoT & KoD for me, but that make sense as the only way to make the romance even half-believable for Mat’s pre-established characterization from WH and earlier.

The three big issues that I have with Sanderson’s Mat are: the terrible first chapter of TGS (with the gross sexism); the terrible first chapter of AMoL (now featuring inexplicable teleportation); and the deep deep disservice done to Mat and Rand’s friendship (Rand got a personal goodbye with EVERYONE important to him EXCEPT Mat! And Mat got a personal reunion with everyone important to him, except Rand! All they got was the negotiation scene that was ultimately all about Fortuona and the Seanchan treaty, with Mat and Rand’s friendship being the set dressing around the scene).

But the relationship with Tuon honestly... makes a lot more sense in this book than it did in CoT & KoD (once we work past the brain-breaking logistics of the first chapter or so). There are TONS of hints that Mat has uncomfortable vibes going on underneath his casual exterior, plus Tuon actually does make some attempts at compromising with him, and if the well hadn’t been poisoned by how much I despised CoT/KoD-era Mat & Tuon then... I might have had a chance at enjoying AMoL-era Mat & Tuon for the toxic trainwreck that it is.

But, like all the characters & relationships in AMoL, we skip some pretty big moments in the Mat & Tuon relationship -- we see the effects of them compromising but we never actually see them coming to that compromise in private, which I feel like we needed after how unyielding and frankly how annoying Jordan made Tuon about everything.

We do end up with a Mat & a ‘Fortuona’ who remain at cross-purposes -- Mat continues to think of and refer to her as ‘Tuon’ while Fortuona has kinda reversed from thinking of him as a ‘buffoon’ to instead believing that he has the same kind of practical motivations behind his choices that she does, which is also not accurate. But Sanderson did add in some actual give-and-take to their relationship, which Jordan never seemed willing to do, so the AMoL-era Mat & Tuon is a lot more genuinely engaging for me, even if I do still think that they are one of the most obviously doomed fictional marriages that I have ever seen.

Final Mat-related question for the moment: the Seanchan Empire is based on authoritarian governments throughout history, so does how the Seanchan Empire operates mimic the behavior of a cult?

The popular model for cults is the BITE model, which was developed by a man who was deprogrammed from the Moon cult in 1976 (Steve Hassan). It’s an acronym:

Behavior, Information, Thought, and Emotion control. BITE.

Do the Seanchan seek to control people’s behavior? (yes) Do they seek to control the flow of information that the people under them learn? (yes) Do they seek to have their members reject critical thought and only apply to the group-think? (yes)  Do they manipulate the emotions of their followers, usually instilling fear or paranoia about outsiders? (yes)

We know from earlier books that the Seanchan culture =/= the Seanchan Empire. There are constant civil wars and uprisings in their native land. This is explicitly why they are such good soldiers, because they are always fighting each other. Yet they present themselves as a monolith when they come to the Westlands, bragging about how they’re here to bring ‘order’ to a lawless continent. What they say about themselves does not match the truth of what else we know about them.

How does the Seanchan Empire exercise its control over its people? Everything I included here is something I think we’ve see the Empire do, but I did bold ones that are particularly blatant in the text.

Behavior control: Control types of clothing and hairstyles; permission required for major decisions; rewards and punishments used to modify behaviors both positive and negative; discourage individualism; encourage group-think; impose rigid rules and regulations; punish disobedience by beating, torture, burning, cutting, rape, or tattooing/branding; threaten harm to family and friends; encourage and engage in corporal punishment; instill dependency and obedience; kidnapping; beating; torture; murder

Information control: Distort information to make it more acceptable; systematically lie to the cult members; minimize or discourage access to non-cult sources of information; ensure that information is not freely accessible; control information at different levels and missions within group; allow only leadership to decide who needs to know what and when; encourage spying on other members; impose a buddy system to monitor and control member; report deviant thoughts, feelings, and actions to leadership; ensure that individual behavior is monitored by group; extensive use of cult-generated propaganda

Thought control: require members to internalize the group’s doctrine as truth; adopting the group’s ‘map of reality’ as reality; instill black and white thinking; organize people into us vs them; change person’s name and identity; use of loaded language and cliches which constrict knowledge; encourage only ‘good and proper’ thoughts; thought-stopping techniques to shut down reality testing: denial, rationalization, justification, wishful thinking; rejection of rational analysis, critical thinking, constructive criticism; forbid critical questions about leader, doctrine, or policy; labeling alternative belief systems as illegitimate, evil, or not useful

Emotion control: teach emotion-stopping techniques to block feelings of homesickness, anger, doubt; make the person feel that problems are always their own fault, never the leader’s or the group’s fault; promote feelings of guilt or unworthiness; instill fear, such as fear of: thinking independently, the outside world, leaving or being shunned by the group; ritualistic and sometimes public confessions of sins; phobia indoctrination: inculcating irrational fears about leaving the group or questioning the leader’s authority, no happiness or fulfillment possible outside of group; shunning of those who leave; being told there is never a legitimate reason to leave.

“Destructive mind control can be determined when the overall effect of these four components promotes dependency and obedience to some leader or cause; it is not necessary for every single item on the list to be present.“ (in this case, that would be to the Empress, ~may she live forever~)

(all taken from freedomofmind(dot)com -- not linking because sometimes outside links make tumblr act weird about posts)

On the page, we witness the slow process of Leilwin née Egeanin pulling away and deprogramming from the Seanchan Empire, and then in this book, it feels like Mat has begun that process as well. And it feels like they started the same way -- because of a massive overreach by Tuon, the leader of the cult/Empire. Leilwin née Egeanin gets humiliated and punished by Tuon for no reason; just because Tuon felt like being a brat that day, and that moment of humiliation -- the re-naming and the forcing of the jewelry on her in a way that treated her like a slave -- was really what made Leilwin née Egeanin start to pull away from the other Seanchan and go into the path that eventually led to her being, however briefly, Egwene’s Warder.

For Mat, it really seems like whatever happened in that ‘not pleasant’ discussion that he and Tuon had after she berated him for, essentially, prioritizing Egwene’s privacy over Tuon’s desire to get information from him... that discussion (that we didn’t get to see) really seemed to lead to the more combative Mat who refused to back down and roll over for her. Mat still feels a level of protectiveness and affection for Tuon through the rest of the book but he stops letting her push him around and he starts acting like he cares about doing something about the slavery system in the Seanchan Empire again, which was a part of him that we lost at the start of CoT and I have hated so much that we lost in his character. But it slowly grows back over the course of the second half of AMoL.

Again, my big regret here is that the Mat & Rand reunion happened before Mat started his spine regrowth program. Even though Mat does start to push back on Tuon more here, he still never finished several of his character arcs that were set up over the course of the entire series: namely his own mistrust of Aes Sedai and his fear of Rand as a channeler. Both of those fears were things that he was actively working in the text and that he abruptly backtracked on when Tuon was introduced into his life (because being chill with channelers and being chill with people who enslave channelers is contradictory and so Jordan decided... to go with being chill with slavers). So those are two flapping loose ends for his character at the end of this series that never got to fully be addressed because the ‘romance’ was prioritized over Mat’s characterization.

Loial

Loial is looking for people to help him with accounts for his book and “Perrin ignored me and Mat cannot be found”.

Mat just completely disappearing from the Westlands side of things to go set up a fireworks show for Tuon (and asking Aludra to be the one to set it up, which just seems kinda mean, considering that the Seanchan pretty much completely eliminated the Illuminators) is just... frustrating. Apparently Mat visited the battlefield here “smiling and healthy” but then vanished. So, in theory, there’s an empty place here where Mat might have visited Rand and talked to Elayne & co one last time, since Rand is in the main healing tent on this battlefield.

Loial also notes how odd it is that Elayne and Min don’t seem to feel any urge to go in to hold Rand’s hand while he’s dying (Aviendha is getting her legs looked at). I know, Loial! They’re the worst fake-grievers who ever lived, I swear. If the whole point is to trick people into thinking Rand is dead, then it might be a good idea to... actually try to trick people?

Moghedien

In which Tuon’s people are already breaking the terms of the treaty by snatching up channelers from the battlefield at Merrilor. No hundred years of peace, Rand. I’m sorry.

Rand (& all those who say ‘goodbye’ to him, or who don’t)

Rand leaves the mountain, slipping on his own blood and carrying a body. Shayol Ghul is trying to close before he can leave and he only barely makes it out in time before the cave snaps shut behind him.

Moiraine tells Rand that he did well, and Nynaeve tries desperately to keep him alive, but eventually, and without ever waking back up, ‘Rand’ dies.

Elayne, Aviendha, and Min do the absolute worst job of playing grieving widows ever. Like, if Rand had actually died, I could understand this better. Because they might really be in shock. But they know he’s alive! And their whole job is to convince people that they absolutely believe that he’s dead! Just... pinch your arm until you start crying! This is literally the most suspicious way that they could have gone about things -- Nynaeve is already extremely suspicious of how they’re acting. Seriously, she’s gonna wiggle the truth out of them pretty much five seconds post-epilogue.

Birgitte comes to say goodbye to Elayne because she’s about to be reborn... and to mention that she’s tossed away the Horn of Valere. Sure hope that Elayne doesn’t regret that in ten years when they’re at war with the Seanchan!

Tam hopes that now his son can get some rest. My hope is that Rand will, you know, go and talk to his dad after he’s had a chance to recover from the stress and trauma of the Last Battle. Also, Tam... you’re gonna have grandkids. No thoughts on that, I see. Still no thoughts on that.

The funeral scene frustrates me to pieces.

Honestly, the most frustrating thing about the funeral scene is how easy it would have been to casually mention that Mat and Perrin were there? Like, that’s ONE SENTENCE. Just... the erasure of those years of friendship, because heterosexual marriage, in Jordan’s fictional world, meant that close male-male friendships just stopped existing. It’s depressing. That CADSUANE is considered to have more right to be at Rand’s funeral than his childhood friends who were also vital parts of the Last Battle. It’s insulting. And apparently Tam organized it? But he couldn’t be bothered to invite his kid’s best friends. Definitely a place where Sanderson should have done some editing of the original epilogue. One sentence is all that was needed.

*sigh*

I do think that Sanderson did try to set up why Mat wouldn’t have gone -- we have seen Mat, in several of his recent PoV scenes, swallowing his grief over losing people he loves and not letting it appear to affect him openly, even as it rocked him deeply, so Rand’s death would be another of those gut-punches that he would do his best to pretend didn’t happen. But, fuck... it just sucks that the friendship between Mat and Rand is such a sublimated thing in this last book, when Rand and Mat both got to much more openly deal with pretty much every other important relationship that they had (though I will note that Rand and Sulin never got a reunion either! Rude!).

Perrin didn’t get anything like that kind of subtextual explanation, but Perrin actually did visit Rand’s healing tent while he was dying, so at least he got that much. *shrugs*

Min thinking here about how the assembled people expect a ‘show’ of grief -- yes, they have all found it exceedingly odd that none of you appear to be grieving the man you said that you loved.

Rand wakes up in his new body, washed clean of the wounds that he’d taken over the course of the series. No more missing hand; no more agonizing pain in his side. 

I have to admit “she left me some money” feels like a pretty anti-climatic way for Alivia to “help Rand die”? She wasn’t really involved in his “death” at all -- it was really Moiraine and Nynaeve who were the ones who ‘helped’ him die. I mean, any one of Min, Elayne, or Aviendha could have left him some money, since they all know he’s alive. I wonder if Jordan was originally thinking that Alivia would be the one joining Rand & Nynaeve for the cave journey, and it was Sanderson who decided that Moiraine would be more appropriate? Nothing distinctively Moiraine happens in that cave, not the way that Nynaeve was needed to be there to heal Alanna without using the Power. Like, this poor woman was harassed by Min for a handful of books because of that prophecy and all she did was leave Rand some money! Min better find her and apologize to her! (I already know that she won’t)

Haha, so confession: my brain edited out that new!Rand had lost saidin. My brain was just like “nope, of course he can still channel”. Personally, I’m not a huge fan of Rand not being a channeler at the end of the story, so that part I’m not thrilled about. He does have his newfound ability to use the threads of reality to basically channel anyway, though. Or at least I assume that’s what the pipe scene is about.

And then his thought, too, about ‘which’ of the women will follow him - yeah, you’re right that thinking that means you’ve gotten a swollen head! They all have responsibilities! Though since Rand leaves so abruptly here, there’s a lot that he doesn’t know, and the two things that most affect this specific question are: the extent of Aviendha’s injuries and the extent of Min’s involvement with the Seanchan. Literally zero of them is in a position to go chasing after Rand, even if they wanted to! Rand is the one who has no obligations and can easily visit them if he wants (well, maybe not ‘easily’ if Min does end up in the Empire).

But I can still remember, wow, what a relief it was that he was alive at the end, and free and unbound. The rest can be... adjusted by post-canon theories.

In terms of ‘things that aren’t covered but that we can probably assume’:

It does look like Elayne ended up with all three of the medallion copies -- the one Mellar used on her, the one that was on Birgitte’s body, and the third was with Lan and she probably reclaimed it (there’s nothing to indicate that Mat spoke with Lan and got it back), so the slaver empress never gets that medallion that Mat wanted to give her back in ToM. Tragic.

Despite Elayne and Tam speaking frequently over the course of AMoL, they somehow never speak about the whole grandkids issue. I feel like we can assume that this happens at some point, post-epilogue? Elayne and Aviendha both seem like they would go back to Caemlyn to rebuild. And Tam doesn’t really have a reason to go back to the Two Rivers at this point, so I can see him ending in Caemlyn too because: grandkids.

Technically, Min has slipped the Seanchan net at this point and could just not go back if she wants, so she can either go back to the Seanchan or she could go to Caemlyn with Elayne & Aviendha, but if she does stay away from the Seanchan, Tuon is going to try to get her back. Unless she was super-turned off by Min actually standing up to her in front of all the Blood and hastily makes Selucia her Truthspeaker again. That’s another possibility.

Ah, since we were told earlier that Melaine was about ready to give birth and Birgitte tells Elayne that she’s about to be reborn: Melaine might be her mom. I feel like Birgitte being reborn as Aiel sounds kinda fun.

I feel like Rand would not actually enjoy traveling all on his own after a while, given what we know about him, so he would probably end up visiting Caemlyn. And given how suspicious Nynaeve already is in the epilogue, I’m going to guess that she knows the truth by the time Rand goes to Caemlyn.

If Mat decides to leave the Seanchan behind at any point, he will probably also go to Caemlyn, and Mat and Rand can finally have a good reunion.

All in all, there are things about the ending that don’t thrill me but there are also things I really like. And having an ending at all helps in terms of sparking the imagination for fanfiction or meta or... an Amazon Prime television series. I don’t think we would have ever gotten the series if the books had stayed unfinished.

The epilogue checklist (and my theories about how it affected AMoL)

So, while reading AMoL, it felt like Sanderson took a couple of shortcuts in order to bruteforce the characters into reaching their epilogue endpoints, because there simply wasn’t enough time for it to happen naturally. This is my list of things that I believe got shortchanged due to “writing to the epilogue”:

Fortuona is pregnant in the epilogue: at the start of AMoL, Mat gets teleported to Ebou Dar without any kind of narrative or logistical explanation (contradicting his PoV chapter in the ending of ToM, where he was planning to return to Caemlyn, which would have thrust him directly into the main stories at play in the prologue & early chapters). I feel like part of it is that Sanderson really wanted to get that bun in the oven as quickly as possible.

“they expected something from the three of them; a show of some kind” : There’s just a wide acknowledgement in the epilogue that literally everyone knows that Rand has three girlfriends, so everyone just already knows in AMoL that Rand is in a relationship with three women now. No need for anyone to have emotional reactions to it, please! (not even Rand’s literal dad!) This one also ends up being weird because it seems to change from moment-to-moment whether or not the whole army knows that Rand has three girlfriends (if everyone knows already, why is Rand playing spy games with Elayne?).

Min is Fortuona’s pregnancy test: Min instantly respects ~Fortuona~ as an empress even while thinking that she doesn’t normally respect nobility. Bizarre, considering Min’s own history with the Seanchan from Falme.

Mat kills Fain: we got two super-quick glimpses of Fain earlier in the book to set up this moment but Mat had so much other stuff to do that Sanderson couldn’t really do more than say: yeah, Fain exists and he’s bad, lol.

Minor elements I think were affect by the epilogue:

Rand is still pondering over the idea of choosing between Elayne, Aviendha, or Min: we get Rand’s going “am I allowed to love three women? idk sounds fake” when he and Aviendha sleep together in chapter 4, which just was kinda silly. I think the epilogue is also the genesis of the vibe where Rand appears to consider “having sex with Min for months” to not be any kind of “choice” when it comes to the three women, but having a romantic interlude with Aviendha or Elayne would signal a choice -- because the epilogue acts like the situation between Rand and each of the three women is roughly equal, so “months of sex with Min” appears to hold the same emotional weight to Rand as “pining from afar with two nights of intense passion” does when he thinks of either Elayne or Aviendha.

Mat has no thoughts about any of the Westlands characters: I think that this is more of a subconscious effect -- as he focused more on the final book, I think Sanderson focused on the relationships highlighted in the all-important epilogue... and the only person that Mat cares about in the epilogue is himself *cough* I mean, Fortuona, of course, lol. In both TGS and in ToM, Mat’s deep affection for various Westlands characters was constantly on display, as shown in his own ‘loves lying to himself’ way. This gets curtailed in AMoL, especially in the early Ebou Dar chapters.

I think I’m going to let myself might let myself marinate over the various books before I post a final list of my personal ranking of the books.

One thing that I’ve really noticed is that, more than any other character, the quality of Mat’s storyline has a huge impact on my overall enjoyment of the book. In CoT & KoD, Elayne and Egwene (both of whom I love), got pretty good stories. But Mat’s story was so bad that it made it difficult for me to enjoy the good parts. But maybe some time just letting myself think about the series as a whole will balance out my thoughts. Does that make Mat my favorite character or just my most impactful character? idk. I feel like Elayne or Rand would more consistently hit the top of my favorites.

Overall top five characters throughout the entire series:

1. Elayne

2. Rand

3. Egwene

4. Mat (might be higher if not for CoT & KoD)

5. Nynaeve (might be higher if she didn’t basically disappear after she married Lan)

Then, moving on to the next favs, I think there’s more uncertainty there for me:

6. Verin, probably, but it could be Moiraine. Let’s say they tie.

7. Aviendha and Siuan can both go here. Both generally very good and interesting characters.

8. You know, I had a real turnaround with Gawyn in this reread of the books; I’m gonna put him here. He can share this spot with Leilwin née Egeanin.

9. Loial, probably. Needed more PoV; that would have been nice. I’ll put Faile here with him.

10.  For more minor characters, I gotta give a shout-out to Narishma (favorite Asha’man), Sulin, Pevara during her Black Ajah Hunter phase, Olver is really good in his sections here in AMoL, Asmodean for being my favorite fail-Forsaken and Moghedien for sticking it out until the very end, Elaida honestly very fun PoV as far as villains go, Teslyn and Joline for being troopers and enduring Mat Cauthon at his very worst, my girl Berelain who always deserved better, the ‘Finn in general always lots of fun, Aludra and Juilin who always kept their integrity intact.

[avkima]

~invisible strings:jamie flattersxreader~

Chapter 1

Summary: after Bailey drags Reider (reader) to meet Britain’s friends for a little hangout a quick bond is formed between her and Jamie. Doesn’t matter though, she’s so in the friend zone. P.S summary will change chapter to chapter as new info is given

tags:friend groups, Bailey Bass is your bff, Avatar cast, Sam and Zoe are your parents simply because they can be, fluff, friends to lovers, angst, love triangle if you squint, unrequited love but it’s really not, closed door smut. Stay tuned for some Easter eggs of secret characters and plot lines.

wc: 1.2k

tag list↯

@neteyams-wh0re

💌💌💌💌

truly don’t think I’ve lived before I found you.

But it was always meant to be

I never saw the world until I looked into your deep brown eyes.

You were there in the little things, but how had our paths never crossed?

I never felt alive until I felt your touch.

As a connected duet we preform this experience together.

I wish to dance with you forever.

For eternity—

Not just till death do us part.

-jamie flatters

* “Shall I compare the to a summers day?”

“I’m more of a fall to be honest”

——————

I really needed to get out of my dorm. Or at least that’s what Bailey had been telling me when she caught me talking to myself while folding laundry. She would barge in unannounced when she felt the need. Today I had been home alone all day so ranting to myself about horrible Professor Quaritch was inevitable.

“I was winning an argument—now I’m off track” I glance at her as she strolls in.

“Oh my apologies weirdo.” She sits down next to me and begins folding too, “Have you been in here all day? It looks spotless!”

My tiny 250 square foot dorm could be cleaned top to bottom in an hour if I was being a perfectionist about it—or I had neglected it that week. But I wasn’t about to go through my whole list of antisocial activities which only included an hour or two of actual school work.

“Yeah mostly, that and Gilmore Girls”

“You live like you have no friends”

I chuckled, “I live like an introvert who has been with her friends all week!”

She frowned.

Bailey was the most bubbly extrovert I’ve met. Most of the time she was very understanding of our opposing personalities but to be honest I think she saw I was more in the dumps than I was letting on.

“Come on, you need to get your mind off of Chris and have some fun tonight!” Bailey gets a twinkle in her eyes, a plan is forming as she pulls me off of the beige couch. “It’s party time!”

I groan “I’m all for a little get together but I don’t know if I’m party ready.” Bailey tugs on my arms back and forth to get me to dance with her.

“Britain invited some of his friends and the group to his apartment. It’s gonna be like so chill, I promise no more than like 7 people.”

I frown, mulling over how truthful that statement really was and how uncomfortable I would be if it truly was a party.

She notices I haven’t exactly been won over and back tracks. “I said party but I didn’t really mean party. It’s so casual and you know me, you know Britain, and you know Jack.” She meets my eyes for the selling point blinking her big green eyes “plenty of people to hide behind.”

I sigh. I hadn’t met any of Britain’s friends but I knew Bailey hangs with them too so they couldn’t be too bad. If anything I can just be introduced and then let Bailey and Jack do all the talking.

“Ok sure.”

“Yay! We can bring drinks, our wine is gonna go bad soon.”

>——————>

October In LA proved to be colder than I usually is. I regretted my sleeveless top but the jeans made up for it. With some chilled Merlot and some odd white claws or two in tow me and Bailey headed out to Britains apartment just off of 110 not far from campus. The smooth car ride in Bailey’s Camry proved useful for my mascara application. She had mentioned some of her boyfriend’s friends were single and encouraged me to at least get out of my sweat pants. I wasn’t getting my hopes up but I guess I was expecting something…maybe.

Britain’s apartment always smelled like something was cooking even when there was no food in the house. Tonight it smelled like burnt…toast?

Bailey scrunches her nose upon entering, “What did you burn?”. She asked Britain who opened the door for us.

“Popcorn.” He kisses her cheek and takes the drinks to the kitchen. “At least we have these” he tosses the bag of popcorn into the trash and takes some plastic cups out of the cabinet.

We set our bags down on the couch and look around at the seemingly empty apartment.

“Where are the boys?” Bailey asks, stepping closer to me. I know what she’s doing.

“Not sure actually,” he looks towards the hallway that led to his and his two roommates rooms. “Party’s here bros!”

My stomach flipped as a guy emerged from the hall, thankfully followed by Jack.

Jack greeted me with a smile and hug, “hey bro.”

The other guy he was with looked pretty friendly, a big smile on his face as he introduced himself. “Hey I’m Duane.”

“Reide.” I smile and shake his hand.

Britain calls out for ‘Filip and Jamie’ who we could hear laughing in one of the bedrooms down the hallway while we had been making our introductions.

One Filip and Jamie come walking down the hall—though I do not know which is which. They were still chuckling to each other from their conversation.

Bailey linked arms, probably trying to ground me with all these new people…new boys.

“So this is Jamie,” she gestures to the brunette with the sharper features who also seemed to be a few inches shorter than “and this is Filip.”

“this is Reider.” She finishes

“Everyone just calls me ‘Re or Reide.” I smile at them giving him my best attempt at confidence.

“Good to see you Reide.” Filip says he seems less chummy with me but this almost gives me more solidarity with him.

Jamie’s eyes catch my attention. They are blue or maybe hazel. The apartment lighting is still enough to see that he’s pretty. One of the hotter guys I’ve ever seen on campus.

“That’s a pretty name, ‘Reide.” He shakes my hand.

My flick wider and my cheeks grow hot.

He’s fucking British.

“Oh wow you have an accent.” Shove my hands in my back pocket, again posing myself as confident to make up for how frocking nervous I was to be talking to a cute boy.

“Yeah I’m from London.” His smile tells me he’s had this conversation a lot.

I panic a bit, not knowing whether he rather me just move on from his Britishness or if it would be rude to be so disinterested.

Bailey comes in to save me. “Well Britain burnt the single snack he had so is anyone up for a snack run?”

We all agreed the night would end in a movie and some games as we piled into Duane’s van.

He graciously offered to drive us to Walmart. Jack jumped in the passenger seat and immediately grabbed the auxcord.

The seating arrangement left me sitting in the middle of Jamie and Bailey. He smelled good though like cinnamon, vanilla and maybe pine. I hoped I smelled good, seeing as my body was so close to his. He was even cuter up close.

Jack started playing Get Him Back by Olivia Rodrigo and from there the chaos sprung. The boys belted the lyrics as if they had just been through some gut wrenching break up with their gaslighting boyfriend.

I giggled with Bailey, content. They seemed pretty cool but the night has just begun.

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight Chapter 14

A/n: I hope you all enjoy this one!!!!!!! I feel like I could end it in one chapter or in 10 :')

Warnings: canon typical mentions/depictions of injuries, mentions of a toxic relationship.

Word count: 2.6k

Other chapters

Steady steps fill the air as Eris walks down the main hall of the House of Wind. He had not expected to be welcomed here in light of recent events. 

“How is she?” He asks the shadowsinger posted outside a door, presumably hers.

“Stable” 

“Is she awake?” The spymaster shakes his head “Sometimes, never for long”. Eris purses his lips at that, those last few moments in the clearing flashing in his mind “can I see her?” Azriel nods once and opens the door behind him. Eris is certain that he will remain on the other side of the door and that his shadows will be watching closely. 

His breath catches in his throat when he sees her. In truth, he did not know what to expect. It had been days since that night and she had been given Feyre’s blood and a mix of power granted by two high lords, one high lady and one cauldron made fae. It was not something that had been documented before. He was relieved when she had opened her eyes in the clearing, but the white light that shot out of them had surprised him. She had been drained of her blood, kept in a dungeon for weeks, mauled by an ancient monster and struck by lightning. If he had to guess, she had done something to offend the Mother or another god. How does one come back from that? 

The dark circles under her eyes had softened. He noticed the new points of her ears poking out of her hair that laid strewn across soft looking pillows. The lightning had left her with scars that peaked out of her shirt and went to the base of her neck. The bolt forever reflected on her once porcelain skin. He couldn’t see her leg but was relieved to see two outlines beneath the sheets. From what he had seen, it would not have been surprising that a healer would have recommended amputation. Her cheeks looked fuller, that was a good sign. 

He stood there for a while, as she slept. There was so much guilt eating away at him for all of the things he had done during his father’s reign. Unspeakable and unforgivable things. He had tried to do some good, when he could guarantee that his father’s wrath would not be turned to him. He was brought out of his thoughts when she stirred. 

“You can’t be serious” she grumbles and Eris tenses “we are going to have to discuss boundaries”. Her eyes are open and she seems… fine. No pain, no grogginess, no anger. “What?” She yawns “everytime I open my eyes you're there, you were always at the Manor, in the dungeons and now my room? I think we need to talk about getting friends your own age”. Eris stays looking at her and she rolls her eyes “not you too”. He repeats himself “what?”. “I need normal conversation, everyone has been acting like I’m going to break if they look at me wrong and I hate it” he relaxes his stance but remains uncertain “you got demolished by three separate entities, you should be dead, forgive me if I am not in the mood to banter”. She goes to sit up but winces and lays back down “no”. Eris crosses his arms at his chest “no, what?” She throws a pillow at him “I won't forgive you not wanting to banter” he catches the pillow “I did not realize you were enthralled by my humor” he walks closer to her bed and places the pillow where it had been “are you aware of the watchdog at the door?” She scowls “don’t call him that. But yes” and yells “it’s a waste of your time Azriel, I’m fine!” 

A hint of a smile escapes Eris “you are the worst patient I’ve ever seen”. Now, she looks seriously pissed off “you try being bedridden for a week and see how you like it”. “You’ve been bed ridden?” She nods and grimaces “after everything went down the magic healed all my wounds but my leg was broken in so many different places and it healed all wrong. Madja has had to re-break and properly set the bones. They have not let me leave the bed”. A shiver runs down Eris’ back and just how brutal the attack had been. Any lighthearted energy having been sucked out of the room. “I wanted to apologize” she looks away from him and starts to pick at a loose string in the bedsheets and interrupts him “don’t”. He goes on “I have to, it was my father who got you into this whole mess and I could have done so much more to prevent it or to get you out sooner. I should have killed him years ago but I never had the courage and-” she held up her hand “Eris, please don’t”. He took a step closer “and I’m sorry you got hurt and tortured and I just stood by” she would not look at him but asked “did you notice that the bargain marks vanished?” He nodded. She took a breath and said “you kept your promise. I’m out. You never owed me any kindness. We were never even friends” that stung. “You deserved better” she made knots to the string she was fidgeting with “I hate when people talk like that, you can’t change what happened or what you did or didn’t do”. He took one more step “I think it's fair to lament what happened” she looked up and met his gaze “I think it's useless”. He could have flinched at the venom in her voice, but stood still when clouds and bolts of silver amassed in her eyes. She closed her eyes, breathed deep and said “let’s talk about something else” when she opened her eyes again, the storm was gone. Before he could think of what to say the door opened and Madja walked in, followed by Azriel. 

“Good morning y/n, how are you feeling?” The healer asked while opening up her bag of bandages and tonics. “I’m fine, the leg is a little sore” Madja hummed and said “well we have the last procedure today. If all goes well you’ll be able to walk around in a few days”. Y/n smiled at the news “really?” Madja nodded “alright, I will need any visitors to say their goodbyes now” she searched through her bag for something and Eris took his cue to leave. But before he did said “I will be back in a few days”. 

Azriel stood at the door throughout every procedure. His stomach churning every time he heard crunching or snapping coming from inside. She had been put to sleep again. Madja was done in less than an hour. 

He waited by her bedside until she woke up. After the procedures she would wake up in pain and he would be there to give her the tonic Madja had prepared. “That never gets easier to get down” she gagged at the foul taste of the concoction. “I know, it does not taste good”. He remembers all of the times he’s been hurt and forced to drink it. “You’re done though, Madja said everything went perfect. You can try to walk tomorrow” she let out a sigh “thank God”. Azriel chuckled “here, Elain made you soup” and helped you sit up so you could eat. 

“So what are you going to do?” Nesta asked, interrupting a very interesting scene in the book you were reading. She was keeping you company while Azriel was at a meeting in the River House.  “About?” She closed her book. Oh lord. “About Azriel and Eris”. You frown “I’m still lost” she leaned closer “are you going to choose?” Now you scowled “I don’t know why I would choose between two friends” Nesta rolled her eyes. “Don’t be coy, y/n” you cross your arms, defensive “I am not being coy, I am not thinking of my love life at all”. Now, she leans back and says nonchalantly “Gwyn has been dying to ask Azriel out”. Your eyes widen and you curse at how those words irked you just how Nesta wanted them to. “Gwyn does not want to go out with Az” Nesta raised a sharp brow “she used to, but since you came into the picture she’s lost interest”. You huff “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that Azriel only has eyes for one person but that person seems to be undecided” 

“Why do I have to make a choice now?” 

“You don’t have to, I was just curious”.

“I barely know either of them”.

“You know them well enough to know how you feel” 

“It’s not that simple” your voice quivers and Nesta’s expression softens.

“It seems simple to me”

“It’s not. I hate talking about it but I used to be engaged to a man, back in my world. He was not kind to me. But I stayed far longer than I should have because everyone in my life kept telling me that I had to, that I should. I also had a complicated relationship with my mother. She was very… controlling”. You got lost as you remembered how she would manipulate you “Anyway, it feels that all my life I have never made a choice for myself. The only true choices I have made was leaving him, traveling and then working at the apothecary. Everything else was either orchestrated by my mother or predetermined by fate. The portal being open, Lucien finding me, meeting Azriel, meeting Eris and now I am not even human anymore”. A wave of pain floods your chest at the reminder of your stolen mortality. “I just… as much as I might like Azriel I need to heal, in more ways than one”. 

Nesta nodded “I’m sorry for everything. I understand feeling like things just happen to you without you having a say in the matter” the way her eyes darkened you knew she had also gone through something similar. You could recall from what Mor had told you that she had been made against her will and that she had a… destructive way of dealing with the trauma. “I love Cassian, he’s my mate but a part of me will always wonder about the mortal life I could have had or what I would have done if they had not locked me in this house. So I’m sorry for prying and pressuring you. I should have known better” tears are gathering in your eyes. She gets out of her chair, sits in front of you on the bed and pulls you into a hug. “I don’t know what to do,” you say, voice quiet. “Just focus on healing”. 

The following day was better, you could finally stand and walk around. 

The day after that was great, Madja said you could resume your usual activities as long as you did not put too much stress on the leg. 

The following week she gave you the all clear that everything was perfect. Azriel was with you  every day. Eris came to visit and was relieved to see you in better spirits and mobile again. Lucien had brought you gifts that Muriel, Jurian and Vassa had sent along. He told you that Muriel thought you had been sick all along and she had sent so many tonics and salves in hopes that you'd get better.Your heart warmed. It broke a little, too. Going back to the Human Lands was not an option now and that stung. 

You were at the River House for a visit when Feyre asked you what you wanted to do now. “I have no idea, but I need to get out of the House of Wind”. Feyre furrowed her brows “why? Did something happen?” You shake your head “no, no, it's just that I feel bad asking to be winnowed or flown all the time and during the day nobody is really in the house and it gets lonely”. She thinks for a moment “you could stay at the town house if you want”. You raise a brow “town house?” She nods “we used to live there but the family grew so much we needed a bigger place. I don’t think anybody is using it now… so you could move there if you like”. That sounded perfect “yes, I would love that”. Feyre smiled “that’s perfect! You’d be so close you could walk here”. 

“How will I ever repay you?” It was a sincere question, they had been keeping you alive since Lucien found you and you had no money for rent or anything. “You don’t owe us anything, you’re part of our family now” you hated how that scared you. “Seriously Feyre, is there a job I could do or something?” She shook her head “Nope, you will move to the town house and continue to heal. I think you could train with an apothecary here or even with Madja if you’re interested”. She went on to list every apothecary in town and how they would never say no if the High Lady asked them for a favor. 

A knock startled you “come in”. “How was your day?” Azriel asks and closes the door behind him. He stays in place as he sees that you are packing up your clothes into boxes. “What are you doing” you look up at him “I was at the River House today and Feyre said I could move into the town house”. 

“Oh”

“I was just telling her how it gets lonely here when all of you are gone and how I’d be more comfortable in Velaris rather than above it” 

“When are you leaving?” 

“Tomorrow” 

He didn’t reveal any emotion but you knew he was hurt. “She said there are several rooms… you could come with me, if you want” he shifted his stance, hands behind his back, wings tight. “Do you want me to go with you?” You reply “I don’t really want to live alone” he shakes his head. “Do you want me to go with you?” Yes, you wanted to scream. You wanted to shout and hug him and apologize for not asking him first and that he found out like this. You wanted to kiss away his frown until he was smiling. But you stood there not saying anything. 

“Y/n”

“Yes” you step closer to him “I want you to come with me” you falter. Heart beating faster, hating the vulnerability. His hands come to his sides “are you sure?” You mentally curse him “yes, I’m sure”. You are standing a foot away from him. So close you can see a glimmer of something in his eye when you finish talking. “But I have to be honest with you” the glimmer disappears “Az, I…” A lump forms in your throat and you can’t get the words out. “I like you, ok? I like you a lot and I think you like me too but-” 

He cuts you off  “I do” 

The lump gets bigger “but I can’t promise you anything other than friendship right now… I hope you can understand that” 

He steps closer and your breath falters. He is so close. You want to reach up and just touch him. He grabs your hands and says “I’d wait any amount of time for you. You have my friendship, always”. His gentleness overwhelms you and tears well up. You groan “I feel like I’m always crying” he smiles and wipes away a few stray drops. You inhale “so you’ll come with me?” He nods and you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and kiss him. 

Azriel laid in his bed feeling lighter than he had in years. She likes me. 

Her words were a breath of fresh air, a cool summer breeze, a shimmering night sky. She likes me. 

He could not stop replaying the moment. She likes me. 

That night, he prayed that the fullness in his chest was something more than infatuation.

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