#even Hazel tells him he has to travel this path alone????

[mysticmonkeybusiness]

Prompt: MK isnt the only one who has nightmares of LBD (featuring: Wukong and or Macaque); given by @visionaryscribe

-

The chill is comforting. The Champion is a reckless wildcard, but his Lady’s magic helps him keep a cool head and on target. The mission objectives have increased from one target to eight, but there’s nothing that will stop him from clearing his Lady’s path.

He Knows in his mind, body, and soul, that he needs to eliminate the threat. For the sake of the one behind him, for the future she will make reality, for the Good that she will bring to the world.

The Champion will crush all that stands in her way.

One of the targets spout nonsense, words slipping like molasses and body flickering with glamoured scars. Emotion bubbles up, searingly hot, but his Lady’s magic cools his own and once more settles the world to a sharp icy crystal. Soon the world will be reborn in frost. No more lies or darkness or pain tainting it.  

As it should be.

The enemy is tricky, but hardly a match for him. With overwhelming power he ruthlessly hurls them into the ground, only for his attention to be caught by another daring to look at his Lady defiantly. He doesn’t give the one on the ground another look. It’s neutralized for now, and the other is of greater priority.

He charges at it’s back, the words it’s speaking sounding more like they’re traveling through water than air.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Blood bursts from a gored back and as the warm liquid of life splatters across his face, he finally sees the target’s eyes as they look over their shoulder. Pain. Betrayal. Despair.

Wide hazel brown eyes stare at him, rapidly clouding over.

His hands are warm.

Wukong gasps as he doubles over, shivering despite the hot, muggy weather of Flower Fruit Mountain. Each breath is harder to grasp than his last so he gives up, forgoing it all together. The burning in his chest is comforting, goosebumps rising up beneath his fur from the lack of air. He grits his teeth, leaps to his feet, and starts pacing.

Immobility just reminds him of all that She took from him. His thoughts, his magic, his memories. So far he’s managed to keep just how deep under Her- her control he was, but the others don’t need to know how close their victory was.

MK doesn’t need to know how close it was. If he hadn’t managed to break free-

Wukong violently shakes his head and his tail lashes behind him, knocking several things to the ground that he really can’t care about right now. It doesn’t matter. They won. LBD was stopped. The world is safe. Everyone is safe.

The kid is safe.  

Sharp ringing makes Wukong shriek and throw himself onto a table, creating an even greater mess. The jingle of his show’s theme song finally registers and Wukong scrambles off the table to answer. There’s only two people who even know the number exists and he’s blocked the other one ages ago. Emails are much easier to ignore anyways.

“Monkey King!” MK’s sheepish voice comes through the moment he picks up, barreling right over his (nonexistent) attempt to say anything. “So like. A demon attacked and the shop’s a mess so I was wondering if we could have training be an hour later than usual. No- Half an hour? Twenty- Ten? Minutes? Please? What was I thinking, of course I’ve gotta-“

Wukong cuts him off before he can spiral, feeling fondly exasperated. “Bud, it’s fine. Take the day off, it sounds like you need it. You’ve been working pretty hard recently.” And it gives Wukong the perfect excuse to be alone for a while.

MK is quiet for a few seconds. “…Monkey King, are you okay? We never cancel training. We even trained in that massive storm three weeks ago.”

Nervous laughter escapes before he can stop it and Wukong coughs to cover it up. Infusing the words with as much confidence as he can muster, he says, “Nothing’s wrong. Just think you deserve to have some time to yourself, bud. Been meaning to tell you about it and this seems like a good time.”

And if it keeps the kid away until he can stop seeing his bloody back behind his eyelids, all the better.

“…If you’re sure…”

“Positive!” The smile feels fake, but he does his best to sound cheerful and fine. He’s fine. “Go have fun with the dragon girl. You’ve said you weren’t able to hang out with her recently.”

Playful exasperation and an audible smile comes through the call. “I know you know her name is-“

“Bye!” Wukong hangs up and shudders. He tosses the phone somewhere off to the side and falls into a meditation pose, pooling his scorching magic in his chest and praying it chases the frigid cold from his bones.

She’s gone and everyone is safe. The kid is safe. The kid is safe.

Wukong repeats the phrase, nearly chanting it as he sinks into light meditation. The chill lingers, but he lets the truth of that one phrase warm his heart. He holds it close, like a lifeline.

The kid is safe. Safe from him.

…Isn’t he?

Wukong shudders, the subzero cold clinging to his bones.

The Champion opens his eyes, determined not to have the vision his Lady shared with him come to pass. His Lady Will Not Die. He refuses to allow it.

He Knows what he must do.

[moriaen]

mutuals do this

It's my pleasure and I want truly For the lai men call Chevrefoil1 (Honeysuckle), the truth to tell: Why it was made, how it all befell. More than one has told me or spoken, And I've found it also written About the Queen and Sir Tristram, Their love so true, so pure, from Which their sorrows multiplied-- Then, in a single day, both died.2 King Mark was angry and then some-- Angry at his nephew Tristram; He banished him beyond his border  Because of the Queen, for he loved her. He goes home to whence he hails-- He was born in South Wales.3 He lives there for one whole year. He could not go back to see her. But then he's ready to risk it all-- Death, destruction, any downfall. Don't be too surprised, really: Any true love who loves loyally Suffers, and depression haunts Him when he can't have what he wants. Tristram suffers, his thoughts roam, So he slips himself away from home. He goes straight into Cornwall, There where the Queen is known to dwell. He hid himself in the forest alone, Wanting to be seen by none. But he crept forth in the evening light When men seek shelter for the night. With peasants and the poorest folk That night he his lodgings took. He asked the news--just anything About the doings of the King? They told him then what they had heard: The barons, summoned by the King's word, Must come to Tintagel castle, where The King wishes to hold court; there At Pentecost, at Whitsunday, They'll gather for joy, sport, and play. The Queen, of course, will take part. Tristram hears, joy fills his heart. No way she can go to Tintagel Without his seeing how she'll travel. The day the king was on the move, Sir Tristram came into a grove Through which, he knew, the road lay  The crowd must use to pass this way. He cut a hazel in half there, Shaped and trimmed it, neatly square. When he had prepared this staff, He autographed it with his knife. If the Queen saw this invention, She would pay it great attention; For this had all happened before-- She'd realized thus that he was there. She'll recognize it, easy, quick, As soon as she sees her lover's stick. This is the gist of what he wrote, The message he sent her, as he spoke: That he'd stayed there for quite a while, Waiting, lingering in exile, Spying, trying to learn or hear How he could find a way to see her, For without her he cannot live. For those two, it's just like with The sweet honeysuckle vine That on the hazel tree will twine: When it fastens, slips itself right Around the trunk, ties itself tight, Then the two survive together. But should anyone try to sever Them, the hazel dies right away, And the honeysuckle, the same day. "Dear love, that's our story, too: Never you without me, me without you!" The Queen was riding through the wood. She looked around, as far as she could; She saw the staff, paid heed to it, And, by the letters on it, knew it. The knights who led the cavalcade Accompanying her--quite a parade-- She commands to halt their progress; She wants to dismount, take a rest. What the Queen commands, they do. She wanders far from her retinue. She calls out to her own maiden To come to her--good, true Brengvein. She leaves the path, a step or two; In the woods she finds that man who Loves her more than any other. They show their joy, to be together-- He can talk to her at leisure, She speaks to him all her pleasure. Then she outlines every little thing Needed to make peace with the King, For it weighs heavy on her husband Thus to have sent him from the land-- Accusers forced him, it wasn't fair. Now she goes, she leaves her friend there. But when it's time for them to sever, Each begins weeping for such a lover. Tristram goes back to Wales as before. Till his uncle commands that he be sent for. Because of the joy, the delight He found in his beloved's sight, And because of what he'd written, Exactly as the Queen had spoken, To keep those words in memory sharp, Tristram, who played so well the harp, Made of this a brand-new lai. 4 The name is easy for me to say: English folk call it "Goatleaf,"  French "Chevrefoil" ("Honeysuckle," in brief). I've spoken for you the whole truth of the lai Which I recounted for you today.

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.14

Chapter Fourteen: Sunflower: Things are really looking up. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2k Warnings: maybe a swear word or two, but really just fluff

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A/N: i know i probably sound like a broken record, but thank you for your continuous love and support! i probably wouldn't have finished this fic series if it wasn't for y’all, and now we are almost at the end! after this chapter, there is only the epilogue left omg!!! also, shout out to @ellesgreenaway​ for the song suggestion that titled this chapter! 

-

Spencer’s arms were wrapped tightly around your frame, reminding you without the use of words that he will never let you go again. His hot breath hit the back of your neck. It sent a gentle shiver down your spine causing you to flutter your eyes open. As you adjusted to the bright morning hues, you could feel his heart beating against you and a sleepy smile circled your lips.

There was no better feeling than waking up next to Spencer.

With him by your side, greeting the day was easy. It came slow and relaxed, as if the universe was commanding you to bask in this comfort for just a little while longer.

This is what harmony really felt like.

The second you stirred in your comfortably warm spot, and turned so you could admire the sleeping man next to you, he also opened his eyes. A smile instantly graced his features.

“Good morning, doctor.” You whispered and leaned over to peck his soft lips.

“Hmm... Good morning, how did you sleep?” The handsome doctor asked, his hand travelling to your face and brushing away any signs of sleep. You swayed into his touch like a magnet before replying; “Would you believe me if I said it was the best sleep I’ve had in months?”.

Spencer chuckled airily, his hand still caressing along your cheek. “I don’t know if I believe you, but I definitely am flattered.”

“As you should be, doctor.”

In a split-second, his lips slanted over yours in one of those open-mouthed kisses, tender yet extremely passionate. His fingers tangled in your hair, as he pulled you in as close as it was humanely possible. It always amazed you how your lips fit so perfectly together like two puzzle pieces.

After what felt like a glorious eternity, the brunette doctor slowly drew away. He placed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before rolling onto his back, one arm draped beneath your neck and hand resting on your shoulder.

“What would you like to do today?” Spencer asked, looking up at the ceiling. You contemplated his question for a moment, but before you got a chance to answer, the sound of your phone ringtone caught your attention.

Sitting up, you reached over to the bedside table and quickly answered the incoming call, “Hello?”

“Oh thank god, you’re alive!” Penelope breathed a sigh of relief on the other line. “We were all worried sick! I even stayed with Tara last night just in case you came back here.”

“I’m okay, don't worry guys.” You replied, glancing briefly at Spencer who has since gotten out of bed. He leaned down to kiss your cheek and exited the bedroom to give you some privacy.

“Well, you’ll get a talking to about not calling or texting later. But for now, how did it go? Tell me everything!” She asked and you couldn't help but giggle, “It went well, Pen. Like really well.” You replied.

Garcia squealed. “AHH! I am so happy for you, sugar plum! You and our lovely resident genius are just meant for each other. A match made in heaven!”

The smile gracing your features grew wider by the second. “Yeah, I’m glad it worked out in the end.”

“Like I knew it would! Now, you get back to whatever it is you were doing and I’m going to update Tara with this wonderful news. Should I tell her she needs to start looking for a new roommate?” She teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“Firstly, nothing untoward is happening.” You began, but Garcia was quick to interrupt you,“Riiight... I’m gonna pretend like I believe you, honey. Love you, have a great day and we can catch up on Monday.”

“Love you too, Pen.” You giggled back before the call ended.

Gradually, you scrambled out of bed and with a light bounce to your step, you joined the hazel-eyed doctor in the kitchen - where the smell of freshly brewed coffee overpowered your senses.

“So, how much trouble did you get in?” Spencer teased, as you rested your body weight against the counter next to him.

“Surprisingly, none at all.” You replied with a shrug. “She’s happy for us.”

Spencer glanced at you briefly, a smile circling his lips. “That makes two of us.” He stated in a low tone and you blushed ever so faintly.

“I forgot just how charming you can be, doctor.” You reacted, earning yourself a kind-hearted laugh. The melodic sound caused your heart to flutter, and you proceeded to tilt your head up and attach your lips to his.

The kiss was short and sweet, reminiscent of many you’ve shared previously. When you pulled apart, Spencer handed you a cup of coffee, and the two of you made your way to his couch.

“Have you given any thought as to what you’d like to do today?” He asked before pressing the mug to his mouth and taking a sip.

“Well, we’ve a lot of catching up to do, doctor.” You replied, throwing your legs over his lap. “I honestly wouldn't know where to start.”

“Y/N, we’ve our whole lives to make up for lost time.” He retorted, and you couldn't help but smile at the thought of growing old with him. “Let’s just take today to enjoy each others company. The sun is out, maybe you want to go for a walk? Or we can stay in and watch a movie?” He suggested.

You took a quick sip of your coffee. “We could actually do both of those things today, doctor. And if you’re good, I can even cook us dinner later.”

Spencer smirked. “If I’m good?”

You nodded, a stupid grin plastered across your face.

Truth be told, you had forgotten just how effortless everything was with Spencer. Your mind was continuously flooded with memories of your time with him. Even when you were apart, you’d get bombarded with thoughts of how uncomplicated the most menial tasks were with him. Although those memories didn’t compare to the serenity you were experiencing right now. Nothing compared to living in the moment with him, again.

The day you spent with Spencer had an unsurprising natural flow to it.

The brunette doctor first drove you to Tara’s, so that you could shower and change out of the pyjamas he lent you. While he waited for you to get ready, he enjoyed a conversation with Tara and Penelope. A conversation about the diamond ring he still carried with him everywhere - but that wasn't for you to know.

The four of you enjoyed a nice breakfast before the girls waved you off for the day. Spencer took the liberty of choosing the park for your walk. Hand in hand, the two of you looped around the paths for hours. Hours of laughing, chatting, and reminiscing. Hours of pure unfiltered joy.

Next stop on the unspoken agenda was the grocery store. Arguably one of your favourite places to go to, especially with the handsome doctor. While you picked out what you needed, Spencer guessed the ingredients of each item you placed in the metal cart. It was no surprise he was always correct, but honestly, that almost made the game more fun.

Back at his apartment, he helped you unpack the bags and proclaimed himself your sous chef. You wanted to protest, tell him to sit down and to let you cook alone, but Spencer wasn't having any of it - “My kitchen, my rules.”. The statement earned him an eye roll because you were sure the last person to actually cook anything proper in his kitchen was you, years ago.

With his... assistance, it took about three hours to make a simple recipe. And once you were finished, the kitchen looked as if a tornado had passed through it.

“Looks like we’ve an evening activity lined up.” Spencer joked, analysing the mess around, and you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

“Can’t wait.” A detectable hint of sarcasm in your voice.

The two of you ate in congenial silence - the first one of that day. It didn’t bother either of you, however. If anything the moment proved just how comfortable and at home you felt around one another.

The move to the couch after dinner was effortless. Spencer picked a movie, one you’ve both seen before so you could cuddle up to one another and talk about random topics without worrying about missing the plot.

It wasn’t until Spencer’s phone rang that you realised how disconnected from the outside world you’ve both been all afternoon.

“I’ll grab it for you, doctor.” You quickly jumped up on your feet before Spencer could do anything. You briskly shuffled around the sofa until you reached the coat hanger by the front door. As you searched the pockets of his jacket for the phone, your fingers brushed against something else.

The ringing stopped when you retrieved the item.

“Spencer, what’s this?” You asked, brows furrowed together.

The brunette doctor turned around. His gaze travelled to the small box you were holding up and he swallowed his breath. Shit. He completely forgot that was inside his jacket, which was ironic considering his eidetic memory. Not to mention the fact he’d been carrying it everywhere he went.

Spencer immediately jumped up from his seat. He appeared in front of you in a flash, his hand wrapping around yours and the box.

“This is definitely not how I envisioned this moment. But then again, when it comes to us, nothing ever goes as planned.” Spencer began, looking into your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but ehm, I’ve known I wanted to be the man you marry since before we even started dating. You’re the most patient, caring, loving, and not to mention beautiful person I’ve ever met. I am extremely lucky to have you in my life.”

Your eyes glossed over with tears as Spencer continued, “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. The journey you and I have been on so far is more than your average couple goes on. Which proves that together we are extraordinary.”

He took a deep breath before retrieving the box from your grasp. He slowly got down on one knee and proceeded to open the small box, causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“You’ve been through a lot, Y/N. I understand that you may not be ready to take this next step with me yet, therefore this is more of a promise rather than a question.” He licked his lips, fighting back his own happy tears as yours trailed down your face.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me, one day?” Spencer asked and your heart soared at the question.

“Of course, yes. Yes, yes, yes! Yes!” You squealed, holding out your hand. The hazel-eyed doctor didn’t waste any time to put the ring on your finger, a goofy smile visible on his features. He then stood back up and kissed you with all his might, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and melted into his embrace.

“I would marry you in a heartbeat, doctor.” You mumbled against his lips.

Effortlessly lifting you off the ground, Spencer spun you around. The two of you laughing uncontrollably, basking in the love you were both experiencing. Your fingers tangled in his brown hair, as he trailed sloppy kisses across your jaw and down your neck.

“I love you.” Spencer whispered in your ear before pulling back to look at your face, his hazel gaze locking with yours. “I love you too.” You exclaimed in a hushed tone and pecked his lips.

Gently, he lifted your hand to admire how the ring looked on your finger. His lips twirling upwards even more, as if that was even possible. Both of you felt as if you were on cloud nine.

This is what the rest of your life felt like.

I promise I'm the one for you Just let me hold you in these arms tonight

-

A/N: ahhh we’re almost at the very end, i can’t believe it!! as always i’d love to hear your feedback! thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset, @ellesgreenaway, @chipot-lol​

tags not working: @radtwinkie

[vagabonds-art]

Lost

Summary: This is basically how I see Kebechet (my guardian) reacting to the start of the this season and the emotional fall out of that cutscene. 

A/N: Major spoilers if you haven’t played up until the second cutscene, be warned! Also, I am aware of the Wolftone Draw lore tab but Kebe isn’t. So to her, Saint could be right.

Characters: Mara Sov, Osiris, Savathûn, Kebechet (OC Guardian), Demon (OC Ghost), a bunch of mentions like Saint, Ikora, Lakshmi

Word Count: 1,699

Warnings: Canon typical violence (its kinda there) and angst. 

She should have known. From the very moment she found him wondering about the inner Hive structures on the moon, Kebechet should have known. Vaguely, she recalled telling herself that Osiris’s mannerisms and actions were unfamiliar because of his grief. 

He had just lost Sagira. There was no way he could have been thinking clearly, anyone could understand and sympathize with that. More often than not sorrow and anger mixed together in volatile and self-destructive ways. 

That was what she told herself. And now here Kebechet stood regretting it. 

Saint’s screams of anger and sadness still echoed in her ears long after he had left. It’d been long enough that he probably made it back to the tower by now. Back to tell Ikora and Zavala everything that happened while it was fresh in his memory. Not that he would ever be able to forget. 

Kebechet knew she wouldn’t. 

That thing. That frozen construct hovered a few inches off the ground, trapped between two glowing triangle shapes created by Queen Mara was once Osiris. Though inanimate, the posture it had taken before being stopped made Kebechet feel as if it were mocking her. Locked in a position akin to something trying to rip itself free of an outer shell, head tilted upward toward the sky surrounded by wisps of swirling light. A constant reminder of what should have never happened. 

“You may speak to it.”

Mara Sov’s authoritative tone snapped the Hunter out of her thoughts. Hazel eyes finally tore away from the barely open grated door off to the back of the room to meet luminescent blue ones. 

“I’m not sure I want to…”

It was true. Kebechet wanted nothing more than to run and hide, to fall asleep and wake up from this horrible nightmare. If only that was all this was. 

“I’ve told you before, your father still lives.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that? With everything we saw?”

Realizing her tone, Kebechet took a small step back and looked at the helm held in her hands for a moment. A small apology came on the back of a quiet sigh. Mara said nothing in return. Not that she needed to. Based on the subtle shifts of an otherwise stoic face, Kebechet knew she understood. Or at least, led on that she did. 

“It… Can’t hurt me… right?”

“Not in its current state.”

With a small nod, Kebechet put her helm back on and turned, starting to walk toward the chamber that housed the construct. She was sure to give the Techeun in the center of the room a wide berth as she passed. She’d barely rescued the tech witch from the ascendent plane and trust was a little hard to give at the moment.

What was only a minute or two at most felt like hours the closer the Hunter got to the frozen statue. When her footfalls fell silent was when it started speaking to her. 

“I am at your mercy, Guardian.”

Just like before, Savathûn’s voice was nothing like what Kebechet had expected. Not that she really knew what to expect other than low guttural growls or ear-piercing shrieks. Instead the Witch Queen’s vocals were gentle, almost welcoming in tone. 

“This construct protects me, from those who wish me harm. From my worm’s hunger. But it is a prison too. Quite elegant… Don’t you think?”

It took a moment for Kebechet to register the familiar taste of copper on her tongue before a stab of pain pulsed from where she had bitten through her right cheek. From that point on, she focused solely on that as a means of distracting herself. Distracting the growing rage and want to destroy the construct. 

For the most part, it had worked. A little too well. Savathûn was going on about her regrets, being called a liar and having skepticism. Kebechet had missed most of the one-sided conversation until she heard something about interpreting truth.

That was when the Hunter noticed everything around her starting to blur. At first, she thought it was just the visor of her helm acting up until visions of scenes past flashed before her eyes.

Savathûn’s voice acted as a narrator of sorts as she explained who she was and what she had been doing all this time. She claimed to be a friend, acting as a sort of protector when it came to the pyramid ships. The Black Fleet as she called them. When that didn’t work to her liking she took to finding a form that allowed her to gain trust among the Guardians. 

To Kebechet, it all made sense now. 

Osiris was the optimal target. He was the former Vanguard Commander, one of the heroes of the city. The means to Saint-14 being alive today. If those facts alone didn’t win over guardians and citizens alike then surely his ties to Ikora and Kebechet would. And they did. 

The current Warlock Vanguard had no issue trusting her former mentor, especially after the loss of his light. She was only trying to look out for his best interest and keep him safe within the city’s walls. And the Young Wolf? Not only was Kebechet the guardian, she was also the only one Osiris trusted to send back in time and bring Saint back alive. Being his kid must have been an added bonus when the Witch Queen found out.

As if Kebechet needed even more reason to feel absolutely horrible, Savathûn continued. 

She mentioned how it was her who brought Crow to the city for his own redemption. How she was the one to look out for Zavala when Caiatl was a threat. It even seemed as if she was bragging when she stated she was the reason House Light sought out aid from Ikora and the guardians. She was the reason for discovering Lakshmi-2’s betrayal and causing her death. 

“You may disagree with my methods,” Savathûn said with a smile evident in her tone, “but you can’t argue with results.”

Now was when Kebechet really wanted to tear away from the visions. 

Seeing the way the Witch Queen carelessly and effortlessly carried out her plan all while masquerading as Osiris was bad enough. But now the Hunter was being forced to see her father dead on the ground with the lower half of his face rapidly decaying while dozens and dozens of ink colored moths flew out of his mouth. 

“I am no villain,” Savathûn declared as the vision mercifully shifted upward, “and you are no hero.”

The imagery ended with Kebechet looking up at the Traveler being surrounded by clouds that strongly resembled a Worm God. 

“We are paracausal.”

There was a gasp that wanted to jerk out of the Hunter’s chest when her vision finally returned to normal. It took every ounce of restraint not to open fire on the construct with her auto rifle. But she did it, even managed to turn and start walking away.

With a final glance over her shoulder, Kebechet exited the chamber with as much poise as she could muster. 

She’d barely gotten a few feet away from the door before bringing Demon out of his pocket to sit in the palm of her hand. “Please…” she whispered lowly, desperately avoiding Mara’s expectant stare, “get us out of here.”

Gladly, the Ghost did so, transmitting the pair back to the ship they came in on. Once safely inside and settled, Kebechet ripped off her helm and chucked it toward the back of the cockpit. 

Demon could only watch as she fidgeted in her seat, staring at the console as if to decide what the hell to do next. Gathering his own courage, he hesitantly floated in front of her face. 

“I got a couple messages while you were dealing with… that.”

When the Hunter said nothing he continued, “One’s from Saint, the oth--”

“Play it.”

With a twist of his shell, Demon let a ball of light expand from his core. 

“My little bird, do not blame yourself for what has happened today. That thing is known as Queen of Lies for a reason. I do not trust that it ever had Osiris to begin with and neither should you. I will find the real Osiris and bring him home, this I promise you as a Titan and your second Father. Stay strong, Kebechet and remind Ikora of the same.”

The planes of Demon’s shall retracted back to his core as the message ended. His optic was downcast as he spoke, “The other was from Ikora, she just wants to talk.” 

As if realizing what he had said with the fragile nature of his guardian’s current emotions, Demon’s optic shot up to look her in the eye, “Like a Warlock and not a Titan!”

That managed to get a small scoff of a laugh from Kebechet. Already Demon could feel himself relax until she sniffled a moment later. Not even a second after that was when the water works started. 

Her chest jumped with sobs as she tried in vain to wipe the tears from her cheeks. 

“De--Demon… How-- What’re we gonna do? How can we-- Is th--there any… Can we even fi--fix this?”

“I… Kebe, I don’t know…”

Demon knew that wouldn’t help, even saw it when Kebechet’s face contorted with distress. Her head thumped softly against the back of her chair before she started to curl in on herself. The heels of her boots planted firmly on the seat of the chair as she wrapped her arms around her knees. 

Wordlessly, Demon set the flight path back to the Tower before managing to squeeze his way under his guardian’s chin in an attempt to comfort her. When she shifted he worried he’d upset her further. His concern was put to rest when she grabbed the scarf Osiris gifted to her years ago and took it off to wrap around his small drone-like body. Then her whole form shifted. 

Now sitting sideways in her chair, Kebechet tucked Demon between her shoulder and neck. Her hands cocooned around him and the scarf like she was trying to protect one of the few things she had left. 

Because she was. 

[seijohsfairy]

𝙷𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙳

rhi, this is for you ♡ remember when you said mafia seijoh and i said i’d write it?? but then i got super distracted with other fics and never did the thing? weLL I FINALLY FINISHED IT. she’s cut up into two parts bc i didn’t want to make it too long but part 2 should be up soon for @/seijorhi​ & massive, big fat ty to @/xplosiveboy​

.wordc. 3k+ tw mafia!big 4, noncon, sexual harassment, yandere, coercion

horrid pt 2

It was written somewhere in your favorite library, on a vacant page of the grimy literature textbook stuffed between two shelves maybe, you read it just once. Back then you didn’t care much for the radical, unwilling to trust the faith of someone destroying what wasn’t theirs to begin with. Long, curved words littering the white; claiming full of hate that the poison our mind makes is the most powerful decay, that humans are the most horrid of creatures.

Back then you’d closed the book, sliding it back into place and tucking the knowledge far back into your mind, unwilling to use such a straight-set line of thinking on a world which had given you life, gifted you virtue and loudness. So terrifying; but splendid. You had swallowed, light and unwavering in the knowledge that you were still capable of processing, and giving kindness. You had settled above the cold of those words, thinking them sickly and rotten.

But you didn’t forget, the fire of them on the curve of the page. Or rather, you couldn’t.

It isn’t unlike you to falter in your step, feet rushing ahead faster than your mind can catch up and taking those half-hearted fumbles as just what it needs, before granting you another dash of mindless cadance. Not lost but wanting to reach home a bit faster, slicing off the unnecessary travel so you’d be able to cuddle up in a blanket a second sooner. Even without anything waiting for you on the other end. So you correct your balance for long enough to notice the long straight between brick walls, the direction of it catching your eye more than anything of value. The buildings here are taller, stubbier in their set size and darker, like the grime of the city has never been washed off them.

You’re small in between, but that has never stopped you before. You wonder if you could take that road, rush it. An alternative for the boring path you’re supposed to take. The monotony aches. You’re young, invincible, not having existed nearly long enough for something truly horrible to happen. Unbalanced, in a way.

But you’re not foolish either, and wasting precious time is the exact opposite of what you want. You bite your lip, carefully crossing the street to peek into the alley. Littered, wet, vacant. Until the breeze picks up and ruffles your hair, calling out for disaster. Unwilted flowers and those dusted grey to the core aching to meet, to make the balance even.

A show of red, white and black in the form of a man, and one that has your chest craving to be leveled with his. It isn’t that you haven’t been blown away by beauty before, but equality is something else entirely. Those things are weighty in their presence, heavy enough to break your reasoning and to have you rolling forward without will of your own. The heavy-set darkness of his eyes, his hair, his dress shirt. As if he wants to melt into the background, yet everything about him seems to demand attention. The bony points of his hands and fingers are bloodied, chafed and red shows through the split skin where his nose is lowest. But he fuels your wonder with a dignity, leaning against the metal door just as practiced as the cigarette held between his lips.

Never would you be more aware of your foolishness than looking back on that instant. But sadly you only figure that out long after you allow your body to drift towards him. Your kindness hasn’t failed you yet. It does crumble slightly when the weight of his gaze falls on you, staring your way like you’re a broken record disturbing his peace. But even in your clumsy approach you are obviously good and innocent, dragging closer. The pitter-patter of your feet against the wet concrete is shy, it drips from your lips. And beasts hidden in the cracks of society always sniff out that kind of virtue. “Excuse me,” you say. “Do you know where this alley leads?”

It’s a silly thing, more close to an excuse to speak than true curiosity but it has his mind churning. He blows out a white cloud beside your face, picking the destructive thing from between his lips with a tick of his brow. The tilt of his head in the way you had motioned leaves you tense, used breath building in your lungs, your tongue rubbing on the roof of your mouth like it has something to scrub away. “Don’t think you wanna go that way,” he simply says, eyeing you up and down with the languid movements of a lioness not yet bothering to stretch her muscles, “it’s dark and scary down there.” The glint in his hazel-greens should remind you of water pulling far back from the beach. It does remind you of it, but for reasons beyond you it doesn’t quite click.

So you puff out your chest, basking in the tiny bit of confidence you house to nod. “I think I can handle it,” you smile. As you consider your chances of making it to the other end, a feeling of irony comes to press on your shoulder. Sucking at the brave front until you’re all but left a shivering deer on two dainty legs. It feels colder here than it did on the main street.

So you look back only once at the handsome stranger, bowing in gratitude. “T-thank you, I— I’ll be going now.” Polite despite the tremble you feel, you were raised to be good. He only tilts his head in response, choosing silence the moment you wish for anything else, but you too are at a sudden loss. You turn on your heel and start tiptoeing away from the vast security of the street to drown yourself in sudden doubt in your ability. Most times you experience the opposite. You know the feeling of living, breathing with no worry, well and polishing your renewed understanding only later.

But the path his eyes take in chase of your body has a stickiness, and you can’t help but imagine he has already eaten you up in his mind, walking away with sweat on your palms. Two bangs sound against the metal, leaving you skittishly darting forward with your nails pulled into your palms. It’d be easier to pretend to be strong if you had a bit more faith in your own destructive power. Should you be a monster of preposterous size in the body of a cowering young woman, it’d be easy to push away the need to check, to make sure that you are not under threat. But you’re painfully human, so you glance over your shoulder anyway.

The handsome man has already slipped back into the building, but the memory of his expression gives you goosebumps. A reminder that humans are greedy in nature even when you don’t want them to be. You let the tense air out between parted lips, continuing down the wet curve of the buildings until a creak up ahead calls your attention. Against the darkness where another door swings open, two figures come out into the chill of the falling evening. You envy them for a moment, as they are not alone and you are, but then your feet halt to let your thoughts churn. The men, one with pretty, brown hair and the other a strawberry blond color, don’t need to search to find what they are looking for. The sharp eyes are turned your way the moment they exit the bruised building.

And you blink a few times, before taking a step back in the narrow space. They stand at the door with a stony confidence. Running now is definitely proof that you are not as brave as you pretended, but you can’t help it. With a deep breath you turn back, suddenly feeling hurried. No one reason could be good enough to put yourself into the jaw of an animal willingly, definitely not one as feeble as yours. You scurry back around the corner with a speed that would go unnoticed by most, but still you have to stable yourself again when you connect with another body. It catches you, wraps a large hand around your arm and you look up to express your gratitude by habit.

It’s another tall person, dark curly hair and a surprised expression. Something about his touch is debasing, seeming to latch onto every single one of your fibers. If it had only been this, it would leave you starving, your greedy heart categorizing everything under love at first sight— though you are barely old enough to have liked properly. But the contact is too long to sit well, your body straightening from him as best you can. “S-sorry,” you begin, silencing yourself with a gasp. The brunet of earlier, as well as the other two are upon you already, the presence of four men surrounding you so suddenly a frightening thing. “I- I’m sorry,” you mumble again, though it is lost in the intrigued gazes. They crowd around you before you can think of what you should do.

One of them shoots you a grin bright as the sun, leaning over your shoulder to come into view. “Look at you being the gentleman, Mattsun. You saved the cute girl from falling down!” You are still held onto by the curly haired man, who shrugs off the compliment with an indifferent expression. The cheerful one clicks his tongue, before rounding back on you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. The weightlessness he carries reminds you of something out of a fairy tale. Bright, obnoxiously cheerful. “What are you doing here, gorgeous? How old are you, you in college?” Voice lithe, sweet on your tongue like honey.

So you try to straighten up, dropping your lip from between your teeth. “Y-yes,” you say, to be interrupted by another voice. This one is more familiar, the first of the few. Tanned skin, handsome at every angle.

“All alone like this?” he breathes, “you must be pretty brave.” With an endless intrigue laced in his eyes, you’re pulled closer to the man with dark, spiky hair by your free hand. You stumble forward with the sudden shift. If you were ever an angel, your wings are useless now. And something tells you these men will make sure that soon they’ll be no more. He only smiles when you have to steady yourself on his chest with gentle fingertips, keeping you close to his warm body. But eager, it plays on his lips like you’re the thing he’s been looking to find for hours, maybe days. He lets out a chuckle at your dumbfounded expression. “I’m Iwaizumi, that’s Hanamaki and Matsukawa.” He waits a moment, smiling wider when you don’t show any recognition at it. “What’s your name?”

You’re so overwhelmed that it’s hard to even sound out the syllables. Your name doesn’t matter, you don’t disillusion yourself to think any of it matters, truly. But the looks remain even when you hesitate, and you find yourself speaking aloud. Though you barely get your name past your lips before you’re turned around by your shoulder, your response setting them alight. You’re left glancing up into a happy grin and pink hair. “You’re dressed up pretty. Nice skirt,” he coos, picking at the edge of it just once before leaning his face a bit closer to yours. “You’re pretty all over, you know that? Really pretty,” he draws out the sound until it sounds almost comical. “Right, Mattsun?”

You believe him when he says it, he looks at you like you’re shining, reflecting light like a diamond. The compliment, not your first but never truer, stews in your veins and boils your blood. There’s a vague hum from behind you, the man who caught you in your fall putting his big hands on your shoulders. Content to be near, if for a moment. With your constantly shifting gaze, you miss the lines on their hands and arms, the overwhelming smell of different colognes mixed with the smell of blood. “Not gonna say ‘thank you’?” He pouts.

“Tha—”

“Be nice, Makki!” The voice drowns out yours. “She’s just flustered. Right?” The unintroduced man smiles down at you again, his pretty face coming so close you can feel hit breaths tickle your cheeks. Kind or not, you jerk back instinctively. He continues, unbothered. “Sweet girls like her aren’t used to this. But we’re not so bad, I promise.” His pretty hand comes up to brush your hair back, cooing when your skin turns up the degrees more. Stupid, silly, your mind screams; it’s like your feet have been cemented to the floor. Like you’ve been here for centuries, and finally someone’s come to worship you.

Though his hand is shoved away from you rather harshly, with a frown. “Oi,” Iwaizumi growls, “let us do it ourselves, Oikawa.” He turns back to you with a certitude, closer and though you try to back away you’re only met with the hard lines of the person behind you. Mattsun still has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing comforting circles into the thin fabric of your blouse. Quiet, but not forgotten. You don’t dare look away from Iwaizumi though, his pretty eyes dark enough to make your heart jump uncomfortably against your ribcage. “He’s right though,” the noiret’s voice sinks low, “we’re not so bad. I think you’d like to see, huh?”

The words feel claustrophobic, your eyes widening. You glance at their faces in confusion, switching between each person quick enough to make you dizzy. “Uhm- I,” you stutter, but a brush up your leg has you gaping, frozen. “I don’t-” The cold fingers trail up the inside of your thigh, too high.

“Of course she does, look how nervous she looks.” Makki is so close now he’s molded to your side, the other men not far behind. “So precious,” he coos. “Here, take my hand for a second.” It is put in your field of vision like a peace offering, the breaths on your neck feeling suffocating. But with his long fingers opened invitingly, it’s almost easy to believe they have good intentions. You give in and drop your smaller hand in his, if only to get rid of the revering stare. Hiro grins wider though, and laces your fingers with his. He giggles, softly. “Like this, isn’t it so easy to just,” he drops your interlaced hands to brush up against his crotch, “put them here.” Every muscle in your body seems to quiver, but spun too tight to move. “You like it, right?” he taunts when you look down at the floor, holding your hand in place stubbornly. “Eheh, I can tell.”

“W-please stop,” you try to pull away, but the grip on your hand only tightens, thumb pressing down hard enough that you jerk back from the pain. “Aw, aw!” It’s painful, like your bone will shatter if he moves wrong, and the harder you pull back the more he clamps down. “That hurts!” you gasp, turning away in Issei’s hold.

“Such a good girl, look at you,” Iwaizumi says, his hands sliding around your waist to secure you a spot against him. You’re struggling now but there’s hands all over. More touch, more overwhelming motions to keep you near. You’re tucked into Mattsun’s chest, each swell of his chest brushing against your shoulder blades. And your cheek is pressed against a face, someone who starts pressing small kisses there. “You’re precious, I could just eat you right up.” Hajime grabs your face to turn it more towards him. On the inside you want to bare your teeth, show your claws and rip yourself out of the fragile shell, but then he presses a kiss to your forehead and all your fight sinks away. You were never the warlike type. You’re small, frightened and worst of all, cowardly. He smiles over your shoulder. “Right?”

“I’m sure she’d like that,” the tallest behind you grins, his deep voice shaking your body in his hold. “Just look at her.” One of his hands slips under the edge of your blouse, sparking like a smoldering ember. Though you start whimpering in their arms, he smiles. “Are you scared, little girl?” he chuckles, hovering his lips over your ear long enough to give you goosebumps. Your breathing is laboured, unable to stop the whimper that comes out.

“Pretty face, pretty hands, pretty legs,” Hanamaki names, his lips glued to the curve of your neck, “I bet you have a pretty tummy too.” He slips his free hand easily under the waistband of your skirt, pulling it away from your skin and you try to push him away to no avail. Though the pressure of his grip on you is anything but playful, he’s grinning like there’s no worry in his mind. “And pretty tits.”

“Guys,” Oikawa breaks the moment to motion his head towards the door then, already holding it open as the stroking continues. “If you would, please.” They’re suddenly pulling away from you, all but Mattsun who turns you in his hold and wraps your arms around his body, picking you up. His large hands under your butt, he chuckles when you gasp at the touch. Your arms are pulled over Issei’s shoulders and grabbed tight, forcing you in place.

You’d been overwhelmed, stunned and frightened, but when Iwa looks at you like you’re a new toy he can’t wait to use, to break; the building feeling shifts into something else. Terror.

“No, no, nononono,” you start pulling back against the brunet, looking around at the four men with big eyes. You try to kick your legs so that he’ll drop you, get fed up, anything. But he carries you into the building without a problem, much stronger than your pitiful attempt. “I have to get home, I can’t come with you,” you squeak, bristling when someone laughs. It’s a mean sound, cold and vicious and it makes your faltering heart drop. There’s an explosion of— some emotion or other, a stutter in your capacity to take in the world. You can only open your eyes wider, hoping that some sense comes through with it.

Excitement and fear always have a similar taste on your tongue, close enough in their thickness to mistake one for the other until it crawls out of your throat with a violent gasp for life. But this is more bitter, a feeling you recognize as panic too late.

“Let go! Let me go!! I don’t want to be here,” you rasp, the feeling slipping out in tears of stress at the corners of your eyes. The door is shut, casting you and them in darkness together.

“Yes, you do.” It’s Oikawa, though you can’t see him. The touch dragging up your back is enough to leave you with shivers. “We’re only going to take a second of your time, promise.” You’re carried deeper into this hall, the cold and draft the least of your worries. Part of you wants to scream, wants to bite and kick until you’re out of the door and as far away from them as you can. But a bigger part of you is more afraid of what they’ll do in retaliation, so you just bite your lip and try to control your tears.

“Hey, we promise,” the strawberry blond echoes, slipping around the tallest to shove his lips to yours. A deep rumble comes from his chest when you tilt your head away from him and against Mattsun’s neck instead. But he’s undeterred, instead pressing a few kisses to your wrist. “We’ll take real good care of you.” You can’t shake the feeling that their promises count for nothing. And as his long, scarred fingers tangle with yours like a mimicry of comfort, you can’t help but wonder. If those words on that page were written with so much conviction because the thing penning them down was the same as these men. Beastly, ungrateful monsters.

//

part 2 coming soon

[sepublic]

Campfire, Canyon of the Golden Winged Snakes, Hey Ho Whoa!

           AMELIA IS BACK BABY!!!

           Let me tell you, when I first saw her, I had to do a double-take… Like the way the characters just so casually passed her, I blinked and was like- Wait, was what Amelia?!? And then I realized it was, and I just… WHAT!

           I was a bit afraid we wouldn’t see her, but it seems that she’s our NEW fourth companion, to replace Tuba… RIP to Tuba, you had a good funeral, and given the trajectory this season is going as of now, we… Really won’t see you again, huh?

           Screw you Simon.

           We’ve gotten SO many fascinating revelations in these three episodes… I can’t say I’m surprised at all that Amelia, or at least the revelation of her, would return to help Grace (and maybe Simon) resolve her issues! That was a very neat twist with the massive pile of numbers actually indicating it was AMELIA and her monumental issues, not the Apex! Very clever of the writing team to have us heading towards her the entire time, though it makes me wonder when we’ll get back to the Apex given how we only have TWO episodes left…!

           What’s interesting is that according to Amelia, there’s ‘corrupted code’ in some cars, and apparently this refers to any cars that SHE made while trying to figure out the perfect world? Amelia mentions ‘quarantining’ them, and One-One wants them gone as well… Given what Amelia says about ‘ejecting’ cars, does that mean they’re all transported to the very end of the Infinity Train, and just… thrown off?

           Are there a bunch of cars strewn about somewhere in the wasteland, is there even an END to this Infinity Train??? Or are they all just lumped together and some sort of force-field is placed around them, or some other barrier, to keep the corrupt code from –presumably- infecting the other cars around them?

           It is a bit weird to see One-One insist on getting rid of those cars, though… I hope the denizens inside are okay, especially those corgis! Given his lesson with Tulip about not blaming himself worked, I feel like this is contrary to what he’d learned? Or is he simply allowing those worlds to exist, and remain ‘weird’, while still fixing the corrupted code so it doesn’t spread and disrupt the world of other cars who have their own thing going on? Regardless, as Amelia said… it seems One-One is still working on his issue of viewing passengers as ‘numbers’ to fix, like the cogs of a machine! It seems he’s at least TRYING to be more personable, but, well…

           It seems that Amelia is still working on that sound-motif she’s always had, which is pretty neat! She mentions a ‘pulse’, so I presume it’s sent out from the engine, and when it scans an ‘anomaly’ (AKA anything with corrupted code, including stuff and denizens from the unfinished cars) they’re ejected… Given Amelia mentioning having to quarantine Hazel soon, I imagine this pulse heads out every now and then? Shouldn’t one pulse alone have done the trick, or is there a certain range to them and Amelia has to travel through the cars and activate the pulse from her location, to allow maximum effect?

           Anyhow, Amelia! You know, I mused that Episode 7 of this season would introduce the Book 4 protagonist, given how our previous Episode 7’s worked… Each one established the general idea/setting for our protagonist, as well as a formal introduction! The Chrome Car told us about Lake and her deal with wanting to be her own person, escaping the Flecs… The Mall Car established the Apex and properly introduced us to Simon and Grace…

           So… maybe The Canyon of the Golden Winged Snakes Car re-introduces us to Amelia, while establishing the conflict of the next Book; Fixing the corrupted cars! This is just speculation on my part, of course…

           Back to Amelia, I guess I shouldn’t be all-too surprised that she’s still kind of a jerk, what with the way she just… steamrolls over what Hazel has to say to ‘correct’ her with the proper facts, and whatnot! I’m a little glad, because it doesn’t completely forget that she still has a bigger number than Simon or Grace by FAR… But also upset, because c’mon Amelia, Hazel is a freaking kid! I know you’re trying to erase multiple decades’ of past sins and mistakes, but she doesn’t know!

           I also like seeing her just trash-talk Simon and calling him a child, especially since we know that he and Grace are only eighteen thanks to the Reddit AMA by Owen Dennis… Even if Simon were physically older, mentally he really isn’t! Granted I guess I can’t blame him for THAT, though I can blame him for Tuba’s death…

           I remember when the writers discussed juggling multiple characters, so after seeing Tuba die, I was wondering what was really the point… But I see now! It’s because they ALSO have to handle Amelia as well! And dang, she’s still remarkably callous… She doesn’t remember Grace at all and doesn’t even seem remotely interested… And upon hearing that a cult was started in her honor, she just does NOT care! It really shows that Amelia still has a LOT to work on, that just fixing the broken cars isn’t enough for her…

           It was a bit weird to have our main trio just pass by this obvious, fellow passenger, and just totally ignore them… But given Grace’s rule about ‘not trusting adult passengers’, I guess I’m not surprised? I have to wonder when it was made, and how young she was when it was established; If Grace was a kid and that was part of her apprehension towards adults, and/or they were actually trying to get their numbers down, so she saw them as ‘deceitful’ or whatever! Coupled with adults being less likely to fall for the Apex’s propaganda, and it makes sense…

           What’s really fascinating is that One-One doesn’t even know about the Apex, according to Amelia! Which, given the implied length of the Infinity Train, it really says a lot about how much stuff could’ve happened, completely independent from one another! It almost seems like fate that Simon and Grace encountered so many kids and brought them together… Whereas Tulip didn’t encounter ANY passengers, sans Amelia, on her journey!

           (Well, there was that ONE dude in the next car over who immediately got sent back home. And she was only there for five months, but still!)

           I feel this low-key ties back to what I discussed earlier, about One-One being an ‘ends justifies the means’ sort of person; That the situation with the denizens is less a matter of them dying, and more about what that says about the Apex passengers as people! Of course, he doesn’t even KNOW about them, which honestly blows my mind… He really IS disconnected, huh? I guess Tulip helped make a dent in his metal head, but there’s still a lot of work to go… You know, Amelia’s criticism of One-One seeing passengers as just ‘numbers’ reminds me of what some other fans brought up, on the idea of if whether or not issues can actually be quantified like that!

           Given what Owen said about the train also being wrong sometimes, and I have to wonder if this will be resolved by the end of Book 3… or perhaps Book 4, assuming we get it! Yeah, most of the team has been laid off and the viewings are low, so SERIOUSLY- WATCH on HBO Max, spend actual money on this thing if you want it around because you’re LITERALLY paying for Book 4’s production by this point people! And spread the word!

           Anyhow, looks like other fans were right- Hazel IS a failed creation of Amelia, in this case her attempt to recreate Alrick… Although she implies that Hazel is more than just a ‘clone’ of him, is this referring to Hazel being a little girl, or something else entirely? Is the implication that Hazel would’ve been her and Alrick’s child, because uh… Amelia and Alrick are white. She also mentions a ‘handkerchief’, so what’s THAT about…?! Did she just toss one aside and it glitched into Hazel…?

           Hazel is taking this about as well as you’d expect a child, and I’m wondering if Grace suddenly turning around and calling her ‘null’, only to ask to stay overnight… Means that she has a plan to ditch Simon and hang out with Hazel and Amelia, for the rest of her life? Either way, Simon is apparently taking her ‘betrayal’ to heart… That, or he’s expressing genuine remorse at seeing what he did to Hazel, but probably not. Honestly, the way his character is going it seems like he may go off the deep end…

           OR, maybe not! Because we get some more development on him and THE CAT… Samantha! That’s right, an actual name! I guess I��m not shocked that ‘Samantha’ managed to smuggle some tiny One-Ones out of the Tape Car, and even a miniature player as well! I have to wonder how she finds her stuff, honestly… Considering how vast the Infinity Train is, it’s not out of the question for people to go entire months without encountering others! It’s actually kind of a miracle of fate that The Cat has encountered so many passengers, over and over, across this show…! Given the possibility aired by Mace about some characters being ‘destined’ by the Infinity Train, and I’ve got to wonder…

           It’s interesting that even when Simon is taking his rage out physically, he NEVER goes for The Cat… and she knows this, no less! Not once is she ever scared for her life, instead she’s more concerned for what this has to say about Simon! It’s complicated, all right, and apparently all we know for now is that The Cat accidentally left Simon behind, and ultimately stuck with her choice to prioritize herself! It’s interesting, the idea that even if Simon and The Cat have a better understanding as to why the other did what they did, they won’t ever really ‘forgive’ one another, or reconcile- Just go their separate paths, for now and likely eternity…

           Simon is of course getting mad at Grace for not talking to him and is confused by her changing her mind! A confrontation between the two is inevitable in our last two episodes, and given how we haven’t seen Grace’s number at all… It’s probably low. I can see the two reuniting with the Apex at the end, only for Simon to invoke his larger number to turn them on Grace… Or try to head back to the Apex to do exactly that!

           Still, given how the show is still making the point to delve into his perspective and trauma, and how he STILL won’t harm The Cat… I have to wonder if the season really will end with Grace leaving the Infinity Train, and Simon staying behind to fix his own issues? Of course, what about Hazel… We know she’s a denizen for sure so she can’t leave, right? Unless her fake number can fool One-One… Speaking of which, was Amelia’s number at 337 when she first arrived? Because that seems a bit small for someone who had otherwise hijacked the Infinity Train by then and was making unfinished worlds…

           Back to Amelia, if Simon doesn’t help… I wonder if Book 3 will end with HER taking lead of the Apex and leading them down a new path? It’d be ironic given how she mentioned about not being great with kids, and tie back to her penance… Or, maybe Grace will continue to live with the Apex and help! Maybe Simon will join Amelia… Who knows? Personally I’m fixated on the fact that Amelia just UTTERLY outclasses Simon… I expressed previous appreciation at Tuba being able to defend herself, until you know what…

           But given how Amelia is a lot more savvy, jaded, and cynical about this sort of situation; I think she’s probably safe for now! It’d feel a bit unresolved for Simon to get HER killed off too…

           Overall, a fascinating turn of events, and I can get a good sense of why the episodes were clustered the way they were together, to be released separately! Each does its own little arc… The first one establishing the mood and having Tuba, only for her to die! Then the next one involving Amelia and the fall-out of the Hazel revelation… And the last two episodes will be THE finale, just like it’s traditionally been in the past! I can’t wait to see what happens next…

[whump-town]

A Cumbersome And Heavy Body

Chapter Three: I'm Treading For My life, Believe Me

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn’t going to go down without a fight. It’s just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count:  6103

Author’s Note: I did listen, on repeat, to the Anastasia soundtrack while writing this. Which, you would think, would make this a rather happy chapter and if you thought that... how silly you will feel in a few moments. You can find the first chapter here! 

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird) bonus: I’m 19 and a humanities major so obviously I don’t know anything about medicine so I’m doing my best out here

Not knowing how to think I scream aloud, begin to sink My legs and arms are broken down With envy for the solid ground

There is not a sound. Not a shiver. The floorboards do not moan lowly. No hinge gives its creaking complaint. The disturbance is a felt one. Something she feels right where her fourth rib meets her sternum. It has no name. Calling it instinct is superstitious. Claiming it as training or intuition is childish.

It has everything to do with love and fear.  And love and fear alone.

“Aaron?” The comforter he seems to be forever tangled has been kicked away in his fitful sleep. In the low light of the room, the hallway light seeping in, she can see his heaving chest. As though he has run a great deal, not lying supine on his bed. “Aaron, can you hear me?” Despite the bitter scent of sweat, she can’t tell what it is that draws her deeper into the room.

Slowly, his dark eyes open, breathing rasping out as he opens his mouth to answer but no sound leaves his pale lips.

Looking over her shoulder, only after looking and listening for a sign they’ve awoken Jack, does she enter the room. Shutting the door behind her, she stifles the room to darkness. She can’t even see the hand extended in front of her. Not that she needs it. The path of his room is simple.

Two steps in there is an outfit shed by the dresser on her right side. The pant leg extends out and if she doesn’t lift her foot, she’ll trip. Three more steps in and she needs to extend her hand just a fraction to feel the cool wooden bed frame. There she can pivot herself with its aid. Step high over the sweatshirt on the floor and she’s good. Well, mostly.

She gets tangled in the comforter he kicked off.

“Em--” he coughs, letting out an achy moan. “Emily?”

She gets to his nightstand and leans heavily on the old wood, catching her breath. The damn blanket was like fighting an octopus. “Right here,” she promises, knocking all kinds of shit to the floor as she fights her way to the lamp. It comes on with a click and they both wince at its sharpness. She’s got her eyes closed, trying to allow her pupils some small reprieve, when his hand wraps around her forearm. Cold clammy fingers wrapped around her wrist. “Hotch?”

The soft hazel of his eyes is unfamiliar. “I want to go home,” he rasps softly. His chest shutters with the effort the simple request has taken. The tears in his eyes slide down his cheeks without the guilt. He strikes her. Not with his palm open and hands roughened by callouses. He does not hit her or cause her to draw back with his words. By the look in his eyes. The confusion. The pain.

“Aaron--” Once and only once does she consider trying to convince him that he is exactly where he craves to be. Mouth open, the words pushing at her tongue, she decides that will only hurt them both. Softening the look on her face, she crouches down by his side. Taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

The rash on his chest has depended its angry red, it taunts her now as the glisten of his sweat across his pale skin. Every visit to the doctor promises that it’s not as bad as it looks. It causes him mild discomfort and nothing can be done. It is a product of the radiation. To heal the wound is futile. Stepping off a cliff to avoid a hill.

“You’re feverish,” she notes, moving the back of her palm against his forehead. To her surprise, he doesn’t pull away from her touch. Not even as her fingers draw against the sharp peak of his cheek bones. He lays, compliant, eyes foggy but on her. With a fond sigh, she observes, “dehydrated. You didn’t drink the water I gave you.”

When he speaks, he sounds much more like himself. The tone costs him more than it's worth. “My throat hurts.” Which is an awful excuse but it’s the truth and she knows it’s just another part of normal life falling away from her grasp. Today it is just water but tomorrow it is the hospital. It’s the central line and the saline and the tube they’re going to place in his stomach because he’s reaching the point of inabilities.

And it is never as simple as a sore throat.

She’s tired of seeing his blood so casually wiped from his pale skin. The bags under his eyes deepened to caverns and the lakes of tears in his eyes. There is nothing she can do. The mass of cancer can be cut out of his flesh but the cells could still multiply. Quite simply, there is nothing she can do for him. Except--

“Stay.”

He mistakes her movement for the path to leave. She’s just aiming to pull the comforter back over him.

“I--” They look at each other. She sees so much burning vulnerability. “I’ll stay,” she caves and with that promise she can reach down and pull the comforter back over his body.

Already, his eyes are dropping shut. “You can--” he coughs, his whole body jarred by the movement. “You can sit, Emily. I can keep my hands to myself.”

She rolls her eyes but sits down on the corner of the bed. She takes his hand, rubbing at his knuckles when he turns his head to cough. “Shut up,” comes her hesitation reply. It feels wrong, misplaces. She wants to slip into their innocent, normal tit-for-tat banter but he’s not up for it. It’s not what he needs or is even capable of.

“Please don’t just sit there and stare at me,” he rasps.

Her face flushes. She had been doing exactly that. “If I lay down, you better not try to cuddle me.”

He huffs at that but whatever he might have said is overshadowed by his deep, nasty sounding coughs.

She reaches

“Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

She gently moves her hand across the bed sheet until she finds his. Interlacing her fingers with his she manages, thickly, “please don’t die.” His head turns on his pillow and she can feel him looking at her but she keeps her eyes on the ceiling. After a long pause, her heart beating frantically the whole way, he simply squeezes her hand. Not a promise… just comfort. Sniffling she sits up and grabs some of the blanket, pulling it over her own bare legs. “Stop hogging the covers. You’re not the only who might want some.”

As she settles down, turning her back to him, she closes her eyes. Feeling the hot stream of her tears falling over her face. The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is his hoarse voice, full of tears of his own. “I’m so sorry Emily.”

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

“How are you?”

Radiation was early this morning. He’d been lying if he didn’t admit that he gave Emily hell about it. Which he does feel fairly guilty about but she got what she wanted to he’s not that sorry. For the first time, he let her come in with him. Mostly because he didn’t have the strength to get himself out of the car but if he doesn’t dwell on that thought too much then it’s okay.

But he also knows that Emily told Garcia about this morning. Briefly, no doubt, about him being an absolute pain in the ass. Mostly how he’d let her tie his shoes. How he’d limped, leaning heavily against the wall to the bathroom and losing the meager bit of breakfast he had. Whatever she knows, she wears on her face. The worried crinkle between her brows. The downward quirk of her pink sparkling lips.

She shouldn’t be here.

Despite the ear protection Dave had spent so much time finding, his ears still ache from the rattling from the radiation machine. Every nerve in his body agitated by hot fire packers digging further and deeper into his brain. The dancers with their little tacs glued to their shoes traveling along his skin. To his legs and then up his arms. And, yet, he pushes on.

As confidently as he can manage, he forces himself to focus his eyes on Garcia. Smiling through the haggard, involuntary sway of his body. “I’m okay, Garcia. No need to worry.”

But she can see how pale his skin has gotten over the last month. How the shadow of a beard across his cheeks makes him look sicker, weaker. She knows that he won’t like her attention but she craves for Aaron Hotchner. So, she finds herself looking at him longer, trying harder to see within him. To find her boss and not the ghost he’s left behind. “We… I love you, sir. You know that, right?” She hesitantly touches his hand and as much as she thought it would hurt to feel him recoil it hurts even worse when he doesn’t.

But he’s here, isn’t he? Is it not just like her stupidly brave boss to keep trying, to keep pushing?

Hotch’s hand trembles where she’s captured it in her own and as self-conscious as that makes him feel… he can’t pull away. All these shields, blocades he’s built around himself have been his destruction. He’s pushed them away until they no longer let him near without armor of their own. Always prepared to enter the cave and find a beast. But Garcia, merciful Garcia, still just sees him. It terrifies him but he just wants someone to disregard his wishes. To throw caution to the wind and hug him. Touch him.

“I know,” he manages. He smiles, clenching his teeth to refrain from showing or saying how much better he feels with her around.

She stands, leaving his side. “Just making sure,” she confirms. She turns, her hand on his shoulder, as she takes in the state of his house. Empty. Emily has been diligent with cleaning up after them. Hotch, too, when he can manage to stand long enough to wash the dishes.

She remembers, like a blow to the heart, that Emily has fallen behind on laundry. That had been the one chore Hotch was solidly keeping up on. Emily had seemed so positive about that, only a few weeks ago. Smiling as she reassured he was very adamant to let her anywhere near the laundry (and as she suspected, his underwear) so as long as he was managing to be his usual stubborn self things would be fine. They had been. But after the nose bleeds he’s not as strong. His appetite is gone and every week when they draw his blood the odds are slowly shifting out of his favor.

He’s anemic and they gave him a blood transfusion at the hospital after the nose bleed but it hasn’t helped. Now he takes iron supplements and a pill that smells horrible and tastes even worse. He can get over the pills. It’s just two more in the sea of things he takes. It’s the fact that he can’t lift anything. Years of training and rigorous training down the drain but his knees are like jelly and his arms like boiled noodles.

On top of all that, this morning they talked about starting chemotherapy in addition to the radiation. His cells aren’t responding. So, Emily’s thoughts have been elsewhere. Not on the laundry steadily building unwashed.

“I’m going to make myself useful,” she says, getting in a quick kiss before he can put up too much of a fight. She’s not sure if his lack of response is good or not. Either way, she tucks a blanket up around him. Smiling when he just looks up at her-- there’s a flash of Hotch in his exhausted eyes. He starts to fuss with her-- she doesn’t need to clean, that’s not why she’s here (which they really don’t need to argue about unless she wants to hash out how she’s really here to babysit him).

But he just sinks into the pillow behind his head. No fight.

“Please tell me if you need help,” she says as she walks away. He hums something under his breath but she knows he won’t. She’ll just have to listen for him.

The laundry really isn’t that bad.

Emily’s room is a mess but Emily is a bit of a mess herself so it’s not that surprising. She picks up minimally. Moving anything around too much will just make Emily flustered to have been caught. So, she just picks up the towels she sees and a few pairs of shirts and pants she knows Emily likes the most and heads to the laundry room. The washing machine and dryer are down the hall, pushed aside in a closet like space.

Tossing in what she’s gathered she goes back to Emily’s room-- she’s just wasting time so she doesn’t have to go into Hotch’s room. Picking up a discarded glass of water and a few water bottles. She makes note that if Emily isn’t back in time to throw their sheets and bed sets in the washing machine. It’s always nice to have clean bedsheets.

Looking at Emily’s room she realizes she has to venture to Hotch’s room now.

She comes to linger in the living room. “You doing okay?” She doesn't get a response but she can’t really see him so she moves closer. One of his legs is drawn up, resting against the couch and the other stretched out and over the arm of the couch. When she’d left him he’d still been sitting up, fighting to stay alert through their short conversation. It’s… nice to see him comfortable.

Without thinking, she reaches down and moves her hand through his hair. Trying her best not to react to the amount of grey she sees. He moves, shifting his face further into the couch. She fears she’s woken him but his eyelashes flutter for only a moment before he sighs and stills once again.

Sighing, she leaves him once again. Blindly hoping he’ll sleep for a while if she doesn’t bother him.

His room is… exactly as she expects it to be and, yet, not.

His bedspread is a dark green color, nearly emerald and surely something Jessica or one of the other’s picked out. There are pieces of him thrown through-out the room with the finest touches of someone else left behind. For example, the books that litter every surface is him. From his nightstand, to his dresser, to a few stacked on the floor. The nightstands are old and she feels a little sore work itself into her throat at the possibility that they are a set and were probably bought for him and Haley.

And now there’s only him.

There is a stuffed elephant and blanket on the floor on the other side of the bed. She wonders how frequently Jack sleeps with him. Probably more than normal now.

His room is neat. She tucks his comforter back where it should be. Placing a piece of paper in the book he’d left face down. There’s a single sock with colorful, swirling patterns. A shirt that looks very well loved tucked inside of a sweater of equal wear and tear. Clothes and homely things. Hotch things.

From down the hall she hears his muffled coughs and something hard hitting the wall.

“Sir!” She hurries from his room, letting the clothes in her hand hit the floor. It’s not hard to find him. His house has a familiar, simple layout. “Are you okay?” He’s standing in the hall, facing her. Shoulder pulled in, left arm around his chest, and the right blindly leading him along.

He nods, muffling his bone rattling coughs into his elbow. “Just…” he shakes his head. “Going to the bathroom.”

She looks over her shoulder, his room and bathroom are only a few steps away but… He doesn’t look like he’s going to get there without a little help. “Could…” she chews her lips into her mouth. “Would it be okay I help-- If you just leaned on me, a little bit? For my sanity?”

He nods, simply going where she moves him. It’s not hard to slip under him. Without heels, his height advantage is much more apparent. She looks down at the floor as she works his arm over her shoulders, smiling at the sight of his socks. Her own don’t match-- a homage to Reid but also because she knows it, secretly, drives Hotch crazy. But he’s wearing a pair of polka dot socks. Each one an extreme loud variation of every color you can think of.

“Nice socks, sir!”

It distracts him for a moment from the humiliation of needing both her and the wall to walk down the hall. He looks down at his socks-- socks that he and Emily had fought long and hard about this morning. He didn’t want to wear them. He’d needed normalcy. Craved it. He wanted plain black socks that would go unnoticed. But she had won and everyone saw him in his boxers and stupidly bright socks. It had put smiles on their faces too. Even Emily’s, though, she had tried to hide it behind her book.

“Emily’s doing,” he reassures her.

They can’t fit shoulder-to-shoulder into the room so she lets him lean against the doorframe and manage it on his own. Following closely behind. “Oh, of course,” she says smiling now she’s behind him and he can't see. Though, as soon as she’s done it she wishes he would see. To see her smile and know it’s at his expense and give her one of those scowls that have always just made her love him a little more.

But instead she sits on the corner of his bed and closes her eyes. Wincing and flinching as he gets sick.

Emily had been so… afraid when she left. Garcia hadn’t understood why. Even when the information Emily was throwing at her-- hurling words, meaningless words. Now… Now Garcia is cursed with Emily's same burden of knowing.

It had all come so quickly-- that the nose bleed had been because he was anemic and that they can’t get his red blood cell count back up. “Not to fret”, Emily had said thickly with sarcasm, his white blood cells are through the rough and the product of much anxiety. That the awful cough he has is from Radiation Pneumonitis and “not to worry” he’s on steroids that make him incredibly nauseous and a complete ass. The best part? It can scar his lungs!

All this information had come so quickly that Garcia hadn’t processed any of it.

Dave had called Garcia early this morning and asked if she needed anything to do. Normally, when he asks that sort of thing, he’s asking her over to do the grunt work of cooking-- rolling breads or kneading dough-- but today when she’d happily agreed he’d had something else in mind.

So, today, while Emily goes with Dave for a long lunch she’s staying with Hotch.

The original plan was just to leave him by himself. Dave had assumed that would be alright. Afterall, two days ago when Dave had last seen him, Hotch was very himself. Stubborn and grouchy when they tried to help him do anything-- even the normal sorts of things you do for people: hold the door, pass them a plate, ask if they want anything when you go to get yourself something, etc.

Having to explain how she couldn’t simply leave Hotch had… broken Emily just a little more. Keeping herself calm, collected as she explained that she was going out with Dave for a while and she’d make sure to bring him something back. Coffee or soup (anything so long as he’d agree to eat). She had cried as soon as she stood to walk to her room, lower lip quivering at just how easily he’d caved. He’d protested everything she did all morning and now just… submits. She’d sobbed in the shower.

He annoys her to no end. Her closest friend, the man she’d left behind to search for something more in London, was a basket case. Do not mistake that. Aaron Hotchner has to do everything himself. Independence is very important to him and she’s being forced to watch him give in. Too tired to fight.

Garcia had arrived a little sooner than expected and Emily had opened the door in a towel, her mascara from that morning smudged under her eyes. Before she could get out an apology, Garcia had already assured her she had plenty of time and that Garcia would go back out and tell Dave to cut the car and come in for a moment.

And Hotch…

He’d been asleep on the couch. Sitting up, nestled into the corner where Emily had left him.

“Hey, Pen?”

Garcia hadn’t even realized she’d been staring.

“He’s got a heating pad tucked against his side, will you warm it up?”

And she’d learned Hotch is prone to chills. That along with nine awful scars, Foyet had damaged his body's ability to regulate temperature and that radiation is being a bitch. So to ease the ache in his side, where Foyet had nicked a rib that won’t ever really heal, Emily just keeps a heating pad around. It keeps him warm.

The beast of knowledge.

“Garcia?”

She hates him. For a moment. Anger and impatient it eats her alive and that’s such an awful thing to have to feel about someone you love. Why can’t he be stronger? It leaves her body in a choked sound. How could she even let herself feel such contempt for the very man who always prides her for her brightness? Loves her no matter how much trouble she drags up? Goes out of his way to remind her to always be her bright silly self?

She stands from his bed and opens the bathroom door.

He looks ashamed and she hates that.

“Have I ever told you about the time Reid and I broke a coffee pot and hid it from you for a month?” she asks before he can apologize.

His Adam's apple bobs as he looks up at her. He’s still curled into himself, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. He feels weak, useless. He couldn't even find the strength to stand and pee. Then, on top of it all, she’d been right there on the other side of the door as he vomited. By now, this is not the first apology he’s been beaten to. Emily has this infallible way of sensing them coming and quickly changes the subject to something else.

It’s… strange to see Garica practice it too.

“Please tell me that was far too long ago to be worth fussing with you over?” he asks, trembling as he accepts the hand she offers.

She smiles and tuckers herself back against him, wrapping her arm around his hips. “Oh it was a while ago,” she assures him. “Like… Gideon long ago. He was just a baby--” she keeps talking no matter what. When he whispers that he needs a break at the doorway, a whole two steps later. Tells him how terrified they’d all been of him at some point in time. How that’s all rather silly because Aaron Hotchner is nothing but a big softy. And, believe it or not, it has always been Derek Morgan breaking that secret to the rookies. That he’s not as big and tough as he looks. That a good, warm batch of snickerdoodles will melt his big icy heart so quickly--

“How many people did you tell that to?” he asks.

She shrugs, only the people that really needed it. “Do I have to give you a number if I make you some right now?”

He considers her offer. His stomach has settled a little and the smell alone would be divine. Plus, Emily had said he could pick dinner… what’s the possibility that she would cave to just letting him eat a cookie or two? He smiles, “I’d consider adequate reparation.”

“Wanna help?”

His smile falters just a bit. He can’t stand for that long and--

“We can make them at the table,” she adds, hastily.

And… he nods. Okay.

That’s how Dave and Emily find them an hour later.

Hotch is covered in flour and Garcia too. A good proper mess.

He’s wrapped in a blanket, the one from the couch, and leaning heavily on the arm propped up on the table. Smiling, content, as Garcia checks the cookies and reassures him that they need only a little bit longer. So that they come out right as the bottom is browning but not brown. ANd he nods his head like he understands when she says the point is to let them finish baking on the pan outside of the oven. That’s the secret to soft cookies.

Which, to him, just sounds like she’s saying she's going to feed slightly undercooked cookies but he’s eaten cookie dough raw for years. He’s never had salmonella but he did get cancer so obviously someone wasn’t warning him about the right things.

“What in the world did you two get into?”

“Cookies!” Garcia holds open the oven to show them. “If you wait just a moment they will be ready!” She places the dirty dishes into the sink. Throwing some water over them to make it easier to wash the dough off.

Emily raises an eyebrow at Hotch and he shrugs. She’s amused by the sight of him covered in flour and what more is to add but a submissive shrug. What can he say except he’s a softy who has always lacked the ability to tell them no?

“You didn’t let Hotch do the measuring did you?” Dave asks, stepping in and inspecting the damage done to the kitchen. Under his breath he continues, “you can tell he’s never been a math man. I’m convinced he doesn’t understand fractions.” Dave has cooked with him too many times. Hotch has never once successfully measured everything right in any dish. The amount of times one fourth has been mistaken as a half or an eighth of something rounded up to a third… it’s crazy.

Garcia glances at Hotch and he already knows exactly where she’d going-- “Well,” she admits, “I let him put the cinnamon in--”

Hotch groans from the table, a dramatic sigh as he closes his eyes and admits defeat.

“It wasn’t his fault!” It was. “There might just be a little bit too much cinnamon. It’s not a big deal!”

Aaron Hotchner brought to his knees by fractions.

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

When Hotch was in the second grade he got chickenpox from his next-door neighbor Michael. A very common thing given the time and the general mindset of “chickenpox parties”. It had been awful and itchy. His brain so ravished by the fever that he doesn’t remember a whole lot about the experience. Just that it had begun as a patch of dry skin under his right arm, perfectly wedged between two of his protruding ribs. That week of horrible fever and endless itching is the only time Hotch can ever recall his father being gentle.

He’d awoken once during that week, just after four and when his father typically arrived home, to the door shutting softly. His mother whispering to gather his father’s attention and diverge the man away from Hotch. Who, thanks to itching, had only just managed to fall asleep.

Halfway up the stairs, Hotch can remember waking up in his father’s arms. The man had shushed him softly, rocking him the way you might a child until Hotch had laid his head against his father’s chest and gone back to sleep. The gentleness of that action has haunted Hotch for years. Something he thinks about occasionally. Trying and failing to wrap his mind around something so out of character. So bizarre.

“Daddy,” Jack whines, he twists in his father’s lap. “You’re not watching, look!” His little finger demands Hotch’s attention, pointing to the TV. “Did you see it?” Jacks asks, sitting up to gauge Hotch’s reaction. “It was amazing, huh?”

Knowing his son, Hotch does try and get the boy out of the house as much as possible. Which means that lazy nights come far and rare in between. If he can, Hotch likes to take him to the park, museums, aquariums. Anything to keep his little mind crazed by the ideas of the world around him and actively engaged. Today… is not one of those days. There hasn’t been a lot of those days recently.

“The cancer is spreading--”

There’s a certain understandable science to the way that chickenpox works. They actually follow a pattern on the body when they spread. Hotch’s had curled from his left side to his right, working in the grooves of his ribs, and up his sternum.

A very similar pattern to the cancer spreading in his body.

Radiation is no longer enough.

He has two rounds of chemo and spends a lot of time thinking about what comes next. He’s going to get sicker. Weaker. Probably lose his hair. What will really be left of him when all is said and done?

Outside the rain comes down in buckets, thunder shaking the earth, but there’s nothing to the peace inside. Emily had gone around lighting candles, trying to soothe Jack in preparation for if the storm knocks out the electricity. Even if she’d managed to annoy him with her fluttering about, she’d been gentle and understanding. Making sure his shirt was buttoned to hide the deeply irritated skin on his chest.

She’s stronger than he is.

They are all.

“Asland,” Jack mumbles in amazement. He’s settled back down in Hotch’s lap, head on his thigh so Hotch can mindlessly play with his hair. Hotch can’t follow the plot of the simple movie but he’s seen it enough times to hum and mumble responses to Jack’s questions.

The Chronicles of Narnia. It’s Jack’s new favorite thing.

They’ve probably watched it now at least a dozen times.

Emily’s started having dreams about the movie.

No matter how many times he requests it though, she’ll still play it and Hotch will sit down and let Jack explain the plot again. Everytime, it ends with tears.

“I don’t understand why he has to leave,” Jack whimpers.

Hotch is struggling to fight with consciousness. Radiation leaves him haggard. Limbs seemingly attached by measly strings and joints that buckle with minimal weight. He’s got a rash up his chest that itches and burns a lot like that chickenpox rash. It’s normal, he’s assured, and they give him ointment to keep on it. Not to clear it up but rather to keep it from getting infected. Which… seems so practical if not normal. Mundane, really.

“Who?” Hotch rasps, forcing his eyes back open to squint at the TV.

Jack looks up at his father, tears streaming down his face. “Asland.” Over the course of the last few months, of course Jack can tell his father isn’t well. Everyone treats Jack like a thoughtless child, and he is child, but he’s not stupid. He knows why he has to sleep at Jessica’s and why, no matter how much Emily and Hotch make a point to only see him on Hotch’s “good” days, that his father is slowly withering away.

The thigh under Jack’s head used to be bigger. Tense with muscles not thin, almost to the bone. His father seemed to loom, towering over everything. Jack had thought him a king, a knight, a hero. Someone who, through the aches pains of it all rises triumphant and reigns on. Because his father has always been the best kind of person. Strong, vigilant, and forgiving. Surely… that would offer some forgiveness, no? An extra life in the bonus round or a break.

Hotch swallows thickly around the nausea knotting up in his throat. “Asland,” he repeats with a sigh. Right. Asland dies. They’re passed that point but he does die. For the greater good, a strategic move, but the sacrificial play none-the-less. “Sometimes,” Hotch lifts his head. “He was saving the other’s, Jack. He sacrificed himself.” He’s too tired to explain how the book was just a huge religious metaphor. “Sometimes people have to leave.”

Jack sniffles and wraps himself around Hotch’s stomach, burying his head closer. “Why?” he asks miserably.

Hotch doesn’t know. It’s never what you want but he doesn’t want to tell Jack about all of that. How at one point Jack and Haley had been the ones to leave Hotch reeling with that same question, despite logic dictating a clear answer. That Emily had done the same thing to him multiple times. Everyone on the team, really. He’s probably done it to them. If not already, then soon.

“I don’t know, buddy,” Hotch shakes his head. “I really don’t.” Jack nods his head, crying softly against Hotch. Hotch starts to rub Jack’s back, despite the ache in his limbs. “Listen…” Hotch clears his throat and Jack senses the turn in conversation. Jack sits up, looking, searching in Hotch’s eyes as he sniffles and wipes his face with the back of his hands. “I have to… We have to talk about something, buddy. About what’s been going on.”

Emily sits in the guest room and tries her best not to think about what’s going on in the living room. It was only a matter of time but… she couldn’t help but think maybe they could fix all this. It must be a matter of faulty testing. Surely, that must be the case. Hadn’t they already been through enough? Have they not lost enough?

Jessica sends her a text, Hotch isn’t answering his own phone.

Emily leaves her room, leaning out first just to see if they’re still talking. They’re not. The TV has been turned off, no sound.

Jack is curled into his father, clutching Hotch’s t-shirt in his little fist. Despite the dried tear tracks on his face, the boy looks at peace. His head tucked under Hotch’s chin and arms holding on tight, Hotch won’t be able to move without Jack noticing. Understandably, Jack has some apprehensions about his father leaving his sight.

“How’d he take the news,” Jessica asks. Her anger has melted, leaving her wilted in a puddle of emotions that she doesn’t even know where to begin to deal with. “I can’t--” she shakes her head. “I just can’t imagine it,” she whispers, glancing at Emily. “He’s so young,” she brushes her tears from her cheeks. “He can’t lose Aaron, too.”

She nods her head, she’s afraid to lose him as well. To be a child, though, living this as a reality that at any moment you might become an orphan… Jack’s only a child. He’s not even ten yet. What will he have to cling to? The cold nights come frequently and he’ll be alone. Surrounded by people but alone.

In London, there wasn’t a single moment she could step out and not get lost in crowds. It was the safest way to avoid detection. In those days, she’d clung to online Scrabble and read and rereading the letter Hotch had written her before she’d left. It was in the file with the other identities and money. While it had not been a technical element to the FBI’s idea of “everything” she might need it kept her alive.

On those cold night’s she’d curl into herself with her heating pad pressed against those old wounds and read his letter. Fingers ghosting over the ink and eyes taking in every detail. Where his hand wavered writing about Reid failing to cope. The stain of a tear beside Jack's name. Her favorite passage:

“I believe Ashley will try to leave the unit the next chance that she gets. You were her mentor and I’m afraid I have not offered her too much in claims to stake here. A part of me is partial to her staying. You were her mentor and she reflects that in the strangest moments. I hope she stays, I indulge myself in her rebellions against me. I think it reminds me of you.”

It never failed to make her smile. Take her back to the nights she’d drive home in a fit of rage or have arguments with her imaginations version of him in the shower. Cursing like a sailor but telling him how she really felt.

What will Jack cling to when Hotch is not here?

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan

[the-melting-world]

The Empress | Side B: “The Wolves”

Art by @markmefistov

~ In which a humble gardener looks for answers…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Muriel 

Track Origins: “The Wolves” by Ben Howard

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: The Empress

cw: none

~ 1.7k words

Asra and Kipling go to the palace library to see if there are any books on grey magic. They agree to meet Nadia for tea afterwards.

Kipling had a feeling that this visit to the library was going to be a lost cause. And she was right. The gardener didn’t know how long she and Asra sat in silence, leafing through tome after dusty tome under the soft lamplight.

“There’s nothing here, Asra,” Kip huffed. She didn’t want to give up, but she thought it would be best to save herself the disappointment of going through the whole damn library.

Asra dogeared the page of the book he was holding before setting it off to the side and scooting a little closer to Kipling. He brushed a swirl of curls off her shoulder and pressed his forehead against it.

“Kip, come on. Don’t give up now. We can keep looking as long as we need to. There’s bound to be something.”

Kip shook her head. “Asra, no. There’s not even anything that mentions or even hints at the existence of grey magic. And I know exactly why.”

Asra lifted his head. Kipling wanted to gaze into his purple eyes and just let herself get lost in them. But what good would that do? It wouldn’t make her problems go away.

“Why?” The magician asked.

Kip sighed. “There were families on my island who had a lot of money, a lot of power, and a lot of sway over… too many things. They took away all of our records of magic. They employed our finest professors so that upcoming umbras only had the dying elders to rely on. They banned umbras from going to school with the other kids. There was a monastery on a hill where we were all contained.” Tears threatened to spill over as Kipling kept going. “We were only allowed to come down on certain days. We couldn’t stay for long at the market or the festivals or anywhere. Not even the beach…”

Asra tried to wrap his arms around her, but the gardener pressed a hand to his chest.

Asra held her hand instead. “Kip… did no one try to stop this?”

Kip exhaled slowly. “It happened slowly over decades until it was just normal. The people responsible feared umbras enough to cut us off from everything and make sure our magic did not grow beyond that hill.”

Asra waited while Kip insisted on wiping her own eyes. “So when I tell you that there’s nothing about us or our magic outside of the Melting World, I mean it.”

Kip could tell Asra wanted to comfort her. She could feel his concern morphing into waves of anxiety. How long would it have to be this way, Kipling wondered. She and Asra seemed to be in this constant state of worry and confusion regarding her magic. When was it going to stop? When would they be allowed to go back to normal?

“Come on,” Kip whispered, putting those thoughts to rest. “Nadia must be waiting on us with tea by now.”

Kipling walked with Asra hand in hand to the parlor where the Countess served tea and entertained small groups of guests. When they entered, Kip squeezed Asra’s hand before letting go to greet Nadia. The gardener found it a little surprising that the Countess was already at the door. 

Kipling came forward, perhaps a bit too quickly, to embrace her tall, statuesque friend. But Nadia, ever understanding and perceptive, warmly welcomed Kip and absorbed all of the weight behind her burdened breaths. 

While they were still hugging, Nadia said, “Kipling, Asra? There is someone here that I want you to meet.” 

Kipling withdrew and looked up at Nadia in uncertainty.

Her smile was tentative, but still warm. “He arrived unexpectedly. Usually, I wouldn’t permit someone to interrupt the time that I’ve set aside for us, but this man says that he has access to information on grey magic, which I know is something that you, Kipling, have been searching for.”

Kipling’s chest constricted with a sudden, uncomfortable heat. An Elder? Could it be possible that someone from her homeland traveled all the way here?

When Kipling was ready, Nadia guided her and Asra to where the tea was set up. All the while, Kip’s mind raced. Her chest thundered with anticipation.

“Kipling, Asra, I would like to introduce…”

Kipling couldn’t take another step. She saw the back of someone’s head. It could have been anyone. But then they turned. 

No.

Then they stood up.

“An ambassador from the Republic of Floating Isles and an expert in grey magic.”

Kipling took in the long, bejeweled dreadlocks, one of which was starkly white against the rest. The visitor had warm brown skin like hers and a murky green gaze that felt too excitable, too clever for this world. 

“Oz’mandias Sese Mar XIV.”

And that scar. Straight across the bridge of his nose. A jagged brushstroke over his handsome face.

Nadia chuckled, “Did I get all of that correct, Oz?” 

The very same scar that Kipling gave him ten years ago.

“Yes!” Ozy said without looking in her direction. “That’s how you say my name.” His eyes never left Kipling’s.

“Ozy?”

Kipling barely realized she had spoken. She had no idea what kind of reaction Asra and Nadia were having right then. All she could focus on was the boy – no. The man now – from her childhood. How time had matured his features, and yet kept everything that made him the smartest, most talented grey mage she knew. The differences sent Kipling’s mind in a tailspin. 

How could Ozy just look at her like that? With just as much fondness and warmth as he did on the first day they met. How was it possible? After what she did? After the things she said?

“Kipling?” Nadia must have finally noticed. “Do you two know each other?”

Ozy’s gaze dropped in what Kipling knew was uncertainty. He hadn’t told the Countess. 

Asra’s hands were on Kip’s shoulders. She knew he wanted so desperately to protect her, but he didn’t know how and he didn’t know what from.

“Nadia,” Kipling’s eyes were wet, “Ozy is my cousin.” 

Ozy looked up suddenly. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting Kipling to say those words. And just as suddenly as his hazel eyes locked with hers, Kip’s sight became overwhelmed by water. Her entire body in fact. Another portal had opened without her permission. Once again her emotions had wrenched open a hole in the fabric of reality. 

Only this time, she wasn’t asleep.

***

Please let this be a dream. Please let me be dreaming. Please…

Kipling opened her eyes to the sound of someone humming. She saw grass first, then flowers. Daisies. She rolled over and saw endless pink and blue sky.

The humming grew louder.

Kipling sat up and looked around for the source. Across an uneven blanket of hills and daisies, she saw a figure kneeling in the flowers, their back turned to her. Kipling started to get up, but she didn’t need to. Some strange gravity pulled her closer, as if she were riding along an unseen belt.

The humming grew. More figures came into focus. The one kneeling was petting something in their lap. That something was a body. Relaxed and half stretched out on the flowers, their head resting on the leg of the first. 

Kipling blinked. It couldn’t be.

The one horizontal, being stroked by the other, had brown curls that looked dipped in gold dust. Daisies and poppies and baby’s breath scattered about them, catching the light. The head turned to soak up more of that light on their face. Kipling’s heart skipped at the glimpse of their cheek. Their freckled cheek.

“Khleo?” Kip wondered out loud. 

She wondered… and yet she doubted. Kipling looked harder, realizing that body didn’t belong to Khleo. It wasn’t long enough, echoing Kip’s shape more than what she remembered of her friend. And this person’s arms… 

Kip stood up this time. She needed to get a closer look.

“Khleo? Can you hear me?”

The one kneeling looked up. The face of a woman and a lion – Kipling wasn’t sure how it was possible.

You broke a lot of things.

The woman, the lion, the sphinx stood up slowly, lowering Khleo’s head off her lap as she did so. She blocked Kip’s path to her best friend.

You broke things. You came from broken things. Beautiful things. All around you. All broken. 

Kipling didn’t want to look at this creature that just kept getting bigger and scarier and breathing hotly against her face.

And now you expect to touch?

The hum from before was a roar now. The woman’s maw was so sharp and closing fast. 

You will not come here and touch my things. I will not let you. They are mine and they are too beautiful for you to break!

Kipling screamed.

The roar drowned out into a gargle as gallons of seawater rushed in from all sides. Kipling yelped as she was tackled to the left, out of the path of the charging lion. The tunnel of water warped her surroundings. She was leaving that place with the lioness and all the other beautiful things that Kipling wasn’t allowed to touch.

The slap of zero gravity pulled Kipling back to her senses. It was short-lived and soon she was back in the Countess’ tea parlor, holding on tightly to her savior. She didn’t hear Nadia or Asra, so she assumed she and Ozy were alone.

“Ozy?” Kip forced herself to lean back some and look up at him. She couldn’t believe it. He was still not angry with her. 

“So you met Strength? Funny that portal took you there.”

Kip shook her head. “A Major Arcana?”

Ozy smiled gently. “Yes. Khleo’s. Strength can be very uh… territorial over them.”

Kipling took a moment to breathe. Her brows pinched as she turned over Ozy’s words. “Them? What do you mean?”

Ozy playfully tugged on her ghost lock. “Or she.”

Kip scoffed and shook her head. “Ozy, Khleo’s not–”

“Not what, coz?” Ozy dipped his chin. “Different? Didn’t you see her arms? It’s been ten years.”

He let that sink in.

“You, me, Khleo. We’ve changed a lot.” He leaned forward and plucked a cup off the table. “So let’s drink this tea before it gets too cold!”

Ozy took a leisurely sip. And then he smiled too wide, too inappropriate for the occasion.

“Because we need to talk.”

[waywardnerd67]

My World, My Everything

Summary: She was everything to him. His entire world revolved around her, but a decision had to be made. He had a job to do and in making this decision he would save everything that meant the world to him. Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count: 1899 Prompt: “All Our Own” -Radio Company (Lyrics are bold) A/N: This is for @atc74​ Collab Challenge Contest

His finger traced the worn edges of a small photo. The moment in which it was taken as fresh in his mind as if it had happened the day before. It was meant to be the most important day of his life and ended being one of the worst. Slipping the photo back into its spot held within his wallet taking one last, long look at it before closing it in place. Looking out over the dashboard of his car, Dean Winchester looked up into the darkening sky as the end came barreling his way.

October 29, 2005 - San Diego, California

Dean pulled into his normal parking spot at (Y/N)’s apartment building. It had been a few weeks since he last saw her. His case in New Orleans had taken a little longer than expected but now his plan was back on track. Before heading up to her place, he pulled out his phone hitting his dad’s number.

“Dad, when you get this call me. There’s something important I need to talk to about.”

Snapping the phone shut, he grabbed his bag and ran up the exterior stairs with his key in his hand. The door flew open just as he reached the top of the stairs. His eyes traveled the length of her curvy body marveling in her natural beauty. Her bright eyes matched the smile spreading across her face.

“Stop gawking and get your ass in here, Winchester.”

He jogged over and scooped her up holding her tightly, “I missed you pretty girl.”

Leaving (Y/N) had been the one of the hardest moments he had and finally pushed him to make a huge change in his life. Letting her go, Dean set his stuff near the door and kicked off his boots next to the black heels she must have worn to work that day. Seeing his stuff next to hers had his chest tightening with pure happiness.

Leaning against the counter he watched her cook as she told him all about her clients for the day. The only thought running through his mind was that this beautiful, successful business woman was all his. Instinctively he ran his hand over his right pocket of his jeans smiling softly as she continued to talk. Their dinner was simple and filled with laughter as Dean told her all about the voodoo case he had in New Orleans. The rest of their evening was filled with passionate love making and the most restful sleep Dean had in weeks.

Dean awoke to gentle kisses being pressed against his chest and shining eyes staring up at him. The corner of her lips curling into a smirk as he raised an eyebrow at her. One look from her had him pouncing and their morning began as their night had ended.

“Did you think about what we last spoke of?” (Y/N) was snuggled into his side with her leg draped over his waist.

He brushed his calloused fingertips against her soft skin, “Listen to yesterday long before the way it has become and it all came down to you.”

“And…?”

“I don't really know the way, played out stranger than it seemed. But what went down came true like an all day dream.” He pushed himself up as she propped herself up on her elbow.

Her eyes searched his eyes for the unspoken words he was holding deep within him, “Dean, it doesn’t have to be a dream. You’re twenty-six now and can make your own decisions. Especially when it comes to having a stable life.”

He ran one hand through his hair, “I don't wanna be the one to say it's wrong. When the heavens open and a new day comes along. I know I would rather be together alone in a big top circle and a world we can call our own. It's all our own.”

“Does that mean…” the sheet fell from her body as she sat up hope shining in her eyes.

“In a world we can call our own we'll find shelter, darling. Where I'll always promise to never let be. I’m here to stay.”

(Y/N) launched herself onto him kissing him wherever she could get her lips on, “Handsome, that is all I want is you here all the time. You have no idea how happy I am right now.”

“Well, you can show me how happy you are.” Dean laughed as she playfully smacked him.

She got up heading towards her bathroom, “Maybe I will if you join me for a shower.”

Dean was about to follow her when he heard his phone beep with a new voicemail, “I’ll be right there.”

He watched her go in closing the door behind her. Looking at his phone his body tensed as the missed number was his dad’s. Quickly dialing his voicemail he listened to the strange message.

“Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.”

There was EVP on the message which had panic tightening around his chest. He heard the shower turn on and his heart began to ache painfully. Pulling on his jeans his hand brushed against the small object that brought tears to his eyes. Getting dressed as quickly as he could, Dean grabbed his things then wrote out a note for (Y/N).

“I have to go. I love you, Dean.”

He shut the door as he heard (Y/N) called out to him. Running down the stairs and to his Baby, Dean took off like a bat out of hell. He knew the path all too well down to Palo Alto where his little brother, Sam, was going to college. It had been years since they last spoke but Dean always made a point to go find him from afar. Now, he needed his help in order to find their dad.

Present Day

Dean stood in front of his car alone facing the greatest threat the world had ever seen. Sam was back at the Bunker trying to figure out another way to save the world, but Dean knew it was pointless. This was his burden to bare. This was his destiny. Dying to save the world and his life was worth losing knowing that he was saving the world (Y/N) was living in. As he watched the dark clouds split open and a figure in a white suit emerging from them. Dean closed his eyes, the vision of (Y/N) clearly in his mind before opening them and heading straight for Chuck.

                                                          ***

(Y/N) was wrapped in her favorite blanket when the doorbell rang. A tall man, with long chestnut hair stood there. His eyes were bloodshot and tired looking. He was holding a small shoebox in his hands.

“May I help you?”

“Are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” His voice was hoarse as if he had been crying.

She nodded, “Yes I am.”

The man took a deep breath, “My name is Sam Winchester…”

Hearing the surname made her gasp, “You’re Dean’s little brother. W-Where is Dean?”

His hazel eyes connected with hers with tears in them, “D-Dean wanted you to have this when he… when he passed.”

(Y/N) stared at the box shaking her head, “No. N-No… he can’t be. Tell me, he’s around the corner or on his way. Don’t you dare tell me he’s gone!”

Sam held the box out to her, “I-I’m sorry, but I can’t. He sacrificed his life in order to save the world. He defeated God and defended all the people of this world. The only thing he made me promise to do is deliver this box to you.”

As she took a hold of the flimsy shoebox a blood curdling sob erupted from deep within her chest and her body gave out as she fell into Sam’s outstretched arms. He helped her inside to her couch as she let out all of her anguish knowing the world no longer had Dean Winchester in it. Sam sat with her until there were no more tears left for her to give.

“I’m s-sorry.”

He rubbed her back, wiping away his own tears, “No need to apologize. Would you mind if I stay while you open the box? I’ve been watching him carry this around since he came to get me from college. I’m curious what’s inside.”

She nodded her trembling hands taking the lid off. There were all kinds of trinkets from all his travels. A worn copy of her favorite book, Little Women, with his hand written notes. A small photo album with pictures of him throughout the years he was away from her. Seeing his piercing olive eyes and handsome face brought fresh tears down her cheeks. Then there was a small square box and an envelope. Within the box was a simple diamond ring, a soft gasp coming from her.

“Pretty girl, I know you probably hate me and you should. I had to leave. Not because of my dad or the job. I had to leave to keep you safe. There is nothing in this world more important to me than you being alive, safe, healthy. Even though the thought of you being with someone else tears my heart apart, I hope you found someone who loves you as much as I do. I want you to live a full and happy life.

If you’re reading this then Sam has kept his promise. I’m gone but the world is safe. Don’t be sad that I’m gone. There was no choice in the matter and no other way. I had to save the world in order to save you and that meant my death. (Y/N), I love you. You are my world, my everything. I wanted to give you this ring the morning I left. I kept hoping one day I might be lucky enough to give you this in person. Now, I want you to have it to remember that you were the only woman for me. I love you so much. Live a long, beautiful life. -Dean”

(Y/N) took the ring, slipping it onto her finger, more tears falling down her face, “Damn it Winchester, even in death you’re a charming son of a bitch.”

Sam started laughing and (Y/N) found herself joining him. They began telling stories about Dean to one another until the early hours of the morning. Exchanging phone numbers with promises to keep in touch, (Y/N) watched Sam drive away in the all too familiar black Impala. She looked up to the sky, a cool breeze whipping past her.

“Dean Winchester, if you can hear me then you get your ass back down here to me.” She closed her eyes praying that he would be in front of her when they opened.

                                                          ***

A thousand miles away, the Earth split open shaking the ground violently. A large hand grasped the edge of the opening pulling themselves up onto the dirt. Coughing and dry heaving until collapsing onto the ground. Catching their breath and getting up they made their way down the nearest road. Nearly an hour later, they entered a small gas station asking to use the phone.

“This is Sam.” The familiar voice brought a wave of emotions over them.

“Sammy, it’s me. I-I’m back.”

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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[madamhatter]

@bigcasinc​​​ / continued from here

An estrangement turned into a rogue arrangement; such a fact still puzzles the Ramshackle prefect to this day. It wasn't meant to unfold nor develop to such a thing, a constant thought after each instance of intimacy that lingered with Octavinelle prefect. 

Like an unsupervised weed found growing in the garden, emerging each chance it can. Like a wild mushroom growing at a base of a moldy tree, wild and untouched. Like a yarn ball that tumbled out of someone's hands and unraveled.

'Out of hand,' either of them would've called it, and neither of them would call it unwanted too. A matter that came by spur-of-the-moment decisions. Stubbornness incarnate and deception extraordinaire seemed that they couldn't get enough of another.

'Simeon,' now revealed to be Sophie, never anticipated this. Every misstep and exposure to the other would only spell the worst for them. Every step they took wasn't even up the regular development staircase nor followed a path worn by traveling feet. Conceiving the journey was only indecipherable scribbles on a map that had no landmarks nor compass on it. 

The publicity of their relationship had only remained behind locked doors, or so she desperately wanted. Savor for their underclassmen and prefects, there should've only been a handful of witnesses to the budding closeness. All it should've been considered was a situation of odd pairs befriending another. 

( Even after all this revealing and knowing what little I even know of myself, how incomplete this head of mine is, why does he stay? What chance is there that this'll end sooner than I want it to? That's the terrifying art - I don't want it to, and some part of me hates me for being selfish. I don't know why, and I can't tell. My memories are here and there - only my name coming back to me.. ) 

Unfortunately, a persistent menace without any filter tended to blabber out loud without thinking of repercussions. He would go unnamed. But this unspoken person surely knows that the vice prefect is capable of an array of knives and the many ways to prepare seafood. ..Which does not startle or threaten him as he'll only laugh and refer her to her truly harmless 'basking shark-chan' self. 

Study hall was already being challenged by her lack of attention. It was enough for both of them to sit beside another other and discuss notes, acting as the shining top students and representatives of their respective dormitories. At least, the Octavinelle bunch had plenty of 'fish in the sea.’ Ramshackle was occupied by the otherworlder, a cat, and herself. Not much competition there. But today provides a risk to their bleeding thoughts - both seemingly sharing the same issue. 

She couldn't keep still and had to stand up by the desk, looking over the crowd. He stays seated at the end of the row, writing. She manages to glance over at him, and she raises a brow.

His slightly twitching hand and avoidance to look at them as she called his name and touched him revealed more than enough to her. The gull of this man to lie right to her face - - as if he'd be trying so hard to avoid her gaze if he was thinking of terrariums! 

A ploy to disrupt him was enacted without a second thought. His hat blocks the sight of the other underclassmen in the classroom; her lips remind him where exactly he was. Ka-plunk went the pen against his notebook. Those hazel-and-golden eyes stare right back at her, breaking the perfected gentlemanly façade and revealing the pure awkwardness underneath it all.

--And this man still has the gull to lean forward as if they’d been alone again. Knowing his habits, there would be residual blood on her lips if he wasn’t careful or he allowed his restrained compulsions get the better of him. Though, there is as affectionate and gentle of a touch to his as were hers. A passing kiss and nothing more to it---.

Simeon pulls away before anything else could develop, satisfied with her plan working. Typical scolds begin, “Why did you think lying about what you’re thinking of is alright? Your thoughts are your own and by no means do you have to share what they are. If something is bothering you or concerning you, you don’t have to hide it. Besides, trying that with me? Don’t make into a fool now - you wouldn’t even have looked like that if you thought of terrariums. The day you frown about a mushroom is the day you’re going to the infirmary.” It concludes with a deep huff. She returns the hat to his head, adjusts it by the corner, and turns again to look forward. 

He speaks once more, now truthfully, but still with a little twisted amusement of his own. She raises a brow, still facing ahead, whispering back to him, “That wasn’t even meant to be competitive. You decided to to be dishonest, and not only that, in the worst way possible. You’re sharper than th--” 

“Ahm-” Simeon chokes on her own words. Blistering red erupts across their face, shattering any steadiness and poise the vice prefect had. She spins at her own feet, glaring. Seemingly innocent Jade taps the end of his pen on his cheek, staring right up at her. Each word hanging off of his toothy grin and reaches her ears. 

Oh all it brings back are memories of idiocy. Oh Seven this was things she had shoved into the back of her memory closet. Oh god, not the yawning, anything but the yawning. Seven, please let her remember something else--! And the next closest association coming to mind was the sound of splashing water. 

“Jade! What are you going on about?” A harsh whisper leaves her, hands gripping the table ledge tightly. “This isn’t at all the place to be talking about this! This isn’t a course on human development and health - - that sort of thing isn’t even being touched here or even for this semester. All it was had been a simple distraction! Humans aren’t as--” She starts the chopping motions with her hands. Telling herself to stop. “We aren’t wired as wildly as merpeople, especially moray eels! Just because it’s hot enough and there’s plentiful food doesn’t mean we act on this instinct--! We don’t even have that built into our minds, I--” She gulps. “And that is NO invitation for anything you’re thinking about!” 

“What make you think it’s alright to be so careless and ask that? Who knows who in the Seven could be listening and taking what they will from that?! Jade Leech, you know better than to do that--! You’re as terrible as your brother, but not in this w--”

“Hadden-senpai--” A voice croaks behind the air.  “Are you done talking to Leech-senpai?”

"A...a......Ah.” A dying squeak leaves Simeon. It is the sound of humiliation and failure, resignation to utter defeat. Her hand closes to a fist, tearing her eyes from Jade’s and looking down at the notebook. All the color in their ears stay - still redder than a Riddle’s hair - while the color from her face flounder. Her eyes squeeze shut, only imagining the polite smile on Jade’s face in all its smug glory. 

Clearing her throat loudly, Sophie turns immediately to face the student. Stone-faced and as ever grumpy looking as ever, to add to that....Even if her ears still were burning. “Were manners never a part of your discipline in your dormitory?” The student in question was a first-year Pomefiore student - a lack of etiquette was surely a black stain for the prefect. 

He stood quite taller than Simeon - as most students did - but it never concerned her the years she had been here. “Vice prefects were conversing and disruption is an unsightly thing. No less, a troublesome habit to have with your older years. Schoenheit-san has hopefully considered lessons on how to rectify that. In no imagination of mine do I see him tolerating that.”  

True to the reputation Simeon garnered at the college, the most relentless and unforgiving didn't sparse words. Between the Octanvinelle and Ramshackle vice prefect, Simeon was considered the rougher of the two by most freshmen, while Jade was politer. That was until they actually learned that it the latter you best be careful with, while the former was considerably softer and more forgiving. 

“Underclassman, what is it that you need then from Leech-san? After that interruption, I exect something worthwhile.” 

[victoriareyloficlists]

Single Parents

Updated 10 November 2021

Rest of the Masterlist.

A Beautiful Mess by MizuPhoenix (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben/Kylo is a new dad, left with a baby and note from a one night stand. Rey is his flighty loud neighbor, who always has way too many friends at her house and doesn't make things easy on his new lifestyle. They argue relentlessly, until one day an emergency calls for her help with the baby and spawns them into the path to something heated in a different way. ) Baby Fever by HerSistersKeeper (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Single dad Ben Solo is fine staying single, even if he does find Rey, the teacher who lives a floor up from him and his son, attractive and charming. His toddler, Matt, has other ideas.) Baby Shark by Melusine11 (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo, kindergarten teacher extraordinaire can handle a lot. Fights over who is the leader in line for the day, crying over not getting the right color crayon they want, puke after gym time, but the one thing that consistently raises his blood pressure is one damnable song.) Bearers and Builders by AverageEpaulet (AO3 2021  Rated E Complete, 10 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: In which Rey needs a nanny for her daughter Hazel and Ben happens to be the just right for the job. TW: previous infant death.) Butter Crisp Sandwich by DarkMage13 (AO3 2021  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: “Mr, I insist you join me for a tea party today, at precisely noon. My teddy will be there.” Ben glanced at the boring clock on the wall. Ten minutes until noon. He swallowed in fear. There was no escape.  Or: Ben Solo cannot say no to an adorable hazel-eyed little girl's request for tea.) Choreae Lucis by Shestoolazytologin (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo takes his daughter to her ballet classes and forgets his heart there.) chosen dreams by blessedreylo (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Single dad Ben Solo is struggling with a fussy baby that won't stop crying. Ben's new neighbor Rey hears the crying and knocks on the door to see if she can help.) Close Enough to Kiss by Somewhere_overthe_Reylo (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey's daughter comes with her to take a final exam. Dr.Solo ends up being soft for babies.) Expanding The Family Tree by WaterlilyRose (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 9 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Life didn't turn out exactly the way Rey imagined but she never imagined she could be this happy. Ben and herself were a good team with their daughter and proved themselves to be good parents.So if it worked once... why not again?) Father Knows Best by American_Punk_1990 (AO3 2016  Rated M Complete, 20 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo is doing all he can to be the best single father that he can but he is in desperate need for a good baby sitter. Rey needs a new job and the absurdly tall, kind of goofy looking guy with the world's cutest baby seems to have a perfect solution.) Go And Catch A Falling Star Chapter 17 by Ayearandaday (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: As a child, Rey is mesmerized by ballerina Leia and grows up to become one. Single dad Ben and his daughter Stella fall for Rey.) Goodnight Moon by LittleAndikin (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben's 3 year old daughter Lily won't go to sleep without listening to the library's podcast reading of Goodnight Moon. When she's in the elevator with her father & a neighbour, she recognises Rey from her voice as the person who reads to her every night.) Halloween Wishes by danceinmystorm (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo tries his best to make sure that his daughter gets to trick or treat and get candy for Halloween. Just as the night feels like a bust, their next door neighbor invites them in for a fun surprise.) Have My Everything by MotherofScavengers (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: After months of convincing, teacher Rey is at last dragged by her friends to a strip club and gets gifted with a lap dance. When she's alone and waiting, she finally meets the dancer: Usually shy Ben, the single father of her favourite student. ) Hot Cocoa and Cinnamon by ABeautifulBreakdown (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When a trip the the park leads to her child wandering off Rey is left in a state of panic. Distraught and over run with emotions she hunts down her little boy only to find him standing with a strange man who upon closer inspection doesn't actually seem so strange.) i found love where it wasn’t supposed to be, right in front of me by Lutrosis (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben’s the sweetheart nanny to Rey’s twin daughters. When her new boyfriend is frustrated that he’s lower on her list of priorities than her children, he dumps her. Rey texts Ben and comes home early to find her kids tucked in, and Ben, ready with ice cream.) I need a teacher by kyoloren (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Single dad and photographer Ben Solo sets up to take photos of fashion model Rey at her place and accidentally stumbles upon her massive dildo collection. Rey, forever sexually unsatisfied, decides that maybe she should try the real thing…) I Was Lost (For You To Find) by LadyReylo (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 19 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: “On Friday we received a visit from a man and his lawyer.” Mr Kenobi opened the folder on his desk. Rey instantly recognised it, her eyes widening, dread filling her. “What... what do you mean? What is going on?” She said, her tone firm. Whatever this was, if it involved her son, she needed to know the truth now. “His name is Benjamin Solo. And he claims his son was illegally put up for adoption eleven years ago without his consent.”) In Full Bloom by deedreamer (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When high school teacher Rey Kanata gets flowers with a cryptic message, she freaks out, thinking she's being hit on by one of her students. On a mission to find out who sent the flowers, she meets Ben Solo -- single dad and owner of the little florist down on Main Street. When the flowers turn out to be a delivery error, Rey knows her job's no longer at risk. But what she doesn't know is that she's about to fall head over heels for the man who keeps sending her flowers day after day because he's a goner for her, too...) In the Bleak Midwinter Came a Rey of Light by Reylo_of_light (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey's luck had run out. No purse. No phone. And now her car had broken down and her toddler is crying. Lucky for her, her knight in a shining Tesla is about to pull up. Perhaps there are miracles at Christmas.) Island Holiday: A Reylo Christmas Story by Rey_KnightofRen (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Violinist Rey Niima is traveling to Hawai‘i to perform in her best friend Finn’s destination wedding the week before Christmas. She’s supposed to be playing a duet with cellist Ben Solo. Although Rey and Ben were rivals back in college, several years have passed since then and Rey discovers that Ben is now a VERY attractive and VERY eligible single dad. She starts to hope that her suitcase isn’t the only thing she’ll be bringing back with her from Hawai‘i…) Liam's Friend by Lady_of_Haven (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Neighbor Maz watches Rey’s son Liam while she works and goes to school. Maz pushes him in his pram at the park everyday at 12, which is when Ben walks his dog Kylo. Little Liam loves Kylo and Ben. One day, Rey is out with Liam at a coffee shop when he recognizes and reaches out for Ben.) Lizzy Solo by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Its bring your kids to work day and little Lizzy Solo meets Rey for the first time. "Are you the same Rey that my dad told Uncle Hux he was half in love with?") Locked Out by INTPSlytherin_reylove97 (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Single mom Rey has never accepted help from her neighbor Ben. But when she gets locked out of her apartment with a crying toddler, Ben is there. And Ben wants to continue to be there for them.) Love is Strange by SpaceWaffleHouseTM (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Or the one where Rey lies and tells her coworkers she has a loving husband and a son. Now the annual picnic is coming up and she needs a fake picture-perfect family. Fortunately, her friend Ben fits all the requirements.) Love's Mystery by Hartmannclan (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, 14 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo only needs one lady in his life; his daughter, Hope. So he is surprised to find himself intrigued by the masked woman who just spilled a drink down the front of his costume. Maybe this year the company Valentine's day dance won't be so boring after all? And what happens when he has to leave suddenly.....) lunch thief by thisismelodrama (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 34 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: In which Rey’s son steals Ben’s daughter’s lunch and chaos ensues.) maybe we're from the same star Chapter 4 by INTPSlytherin_reylove97 (AO3 2018  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Living together was supposed to be easy. Another person to help with the kids, they already spent most of their free time together anyways.) My Dad Will Not Date Miss Palpatine (But Maybe He Can Marry Her) by AnneAnna (AO3 2021  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Annie Solo is perfectly happy with her Dad and brother and the last thing she needs is her dad's high school sweetheart coming to town and ruining everything. But maybe just maybe Miss Palpatine will be far better than she expected.) Neighborly by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and her son move into a new apartment and meets her new neighbor Ben and his cute dog.) Now I'm In It by crystanagahori (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: So Rey might have accidentally told her boss that she was bringing her loving husband and sweet two year old son to the fundraiser. She does not, in fact, have either. She does, however, have her neighbor Ben and his two year old son Noah.) Off guard by TheReadingNook (AO3 2019  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The last thing Rey is looking for is love. As a single mom, her plate is as full as she wants it to be, but her son seems to think otherwise. And when he sets out to fill that void, they learn some interesting things about life, love, and the bonds of family and friendship.) Our Karate Kids by Theyna_Shipper (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rey drops in on her daughter's karate class for Halloween, she meets Ben Solo, another single parent, and watch their children spar.) Overboard by Biekewieke (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 10 Chapters, Overboard AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Organa-Skywalker is a rich snob who hires her to clean his party barge, making her life difficult and fouls her mood. After a freak accident throws him overboard and Rey ends up saving his life. When he wakes up, it turns out he has amnesia. Rey sees it as the ultimate answer to all her prayers. She gets to take his arrogant ass down a peg or two AND she has someone to help around the house and with the kids for a while.) Please be my Daddy! by erney007 (AO3 2019  Rated E Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Raising a child while having to do such demanding job is hard. Rey, an ICU nurse, accidentally finds out that her asshole neighbor, Ben Solo, is quite good at babysitting. After plaguing her child with Elsa obsession, Obiwan starting to call him “Papa”. And Ben kind of likes it.) Raincheck by Hormonal_Trashbag (AO3 2019  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben's 7 year old son tries to ask out his teacher Miss Rey on behalf of his father.) Rey's Braids by Magdalane (AO3 2021  Rated M Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben's little girl falls in love with braided hairstyles. He watches video from the popular YouTube channel in which Rey teaches different braiding techniques. After weeks of failure, he DMs her on Instagram, desperate...) Say It With Feeling by amybeegood (AO3 2018  Rated E Complete, 18 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Meet Rey, the Maid/Escort who really needs a solid day job and Ben, the reclusive, virgin billionaire who doesn't have a clue about real life or how to hire household help.) Something About November Chapter 18 by SpaceWaffleHouseTM (AO3 2019  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Ben's adopted daughter finds a box of love letters he wrote and never sent, she decides she wants him happy for Christmas. With help from her Aunt Gwen, she sends her the letters.) Something Missing by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: An angst-free AU where Ben takes his kid to work and loses track of him only to find him eating contraband candy with Rey from IT.) Take Me Out To The Ball Game by empirestrikesben (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is sitting with her daughter next to Prince Ben at a baseball game. Her daughter sneaks popcorn while her mom's distracted. The video goes viral and Queen Leia invites Rey and her daughter to the palace.) that's where you take me by blessedreylo (AO3 2020  Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Single dad Ben asks his daughters nanny Rey to live with them during quarantine so she can help take care of her while he works remote. Lots of domestic proximity and mutual pining ensues.) The Ties That Bind by Telcontarian (AO3 2020  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Professor Ben Solo rules the classroom with an iron fist and he is not generally known for his kindness or for his understanding. However, when Rey approaches him to ask for help with her daughter, Kira, Rey finds that Ben is more gentle and caring than she originally thought.) To Play Pretend by SuchaPrettyPoison (AO3 2020  Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Single dad Ben Solo is tired of being hit on by some of the mums from his daughter's kindergarten class. He asks his friend Rey to come with him to pick up his daughter as his pretend fiancée.) To Say Good Night to You by dawninthemtn (AO3 2020  Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben is living a lonely quarantine when he gets a FaceTime call from a random toddler. He makes friends with the child, and eventually, her mother.) Violet Solo Turns 5 by hellocienne (AO3 2021  Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Little Violet Solo is Ben’s entire world. His daughter is the most precious person in his life, and he is adamant about doing anything it takes to keep his little girl smiling. Despite Violet’s obvious charm and charisma, not even one of her invited classmates went to her 5th birthday party, and she is about to get an intense meltdown that not even Ben—super dad extraordinaire—could keep under control. Enter Rey Niima—Ben’s coworker who he might or might not be in love with for the last three years. She’s Violet’s (other) favorite person in the whole wide world, and this woman will truly do anything for Ben’s precious little girl. Even if it means sending a group text to her friends who all live in different parts of the city, and inviting their children to attend a spontaneous birthday party.)

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Rumor Has It {11}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler-Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst, Slight embellishment of actual real-world media

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

**NOTE: A WORK OF FICTION. NOT CREATED TO GARNER HATE OF ANY SORT.

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

**Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤❤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You were reeling. You didn’t know if you were more furious or hurt. After everything, after the last few weeks, therapy, the revelations, the openness between you, your tears, and struggle this was where you were. Lost. Confused.

 After sitting in your office or almost an hour after the end of your FaceTime call with Chris examining the screen record of Chris’ background and the one from Ana’s picture you’d gone through every single scenario. You’d even branched out to scenarios of those scenarios and at the end of it all you’d settled on was something wasn’t right. Everything pointed to your husband being a liar, your husband playing both angles when in fact he as a low-down dirty asshole. You were reluctant to believe it especially with all you’d been through together in therapy. The emotions he’d expressed couldn’t have been faked. Only an actual sociopathic psychopath could have faked it. that possibility had you wondering if your husband was a sociopathic psychopath.

 This new light on the situation didn’t help you keep focus for the day. Concentration was pointless, working was pointless. Every couple of minutes you were thinking about it again. wondering where they were right now if they were together if they were laughing together about how easy it all had been. Needless to say, you were now looking at “platonic” actions in a whole new light. You now looked at the video of them together at TIFF differently, you looked at the interviews they did together and the body language differently. You even looked at the times they’d been together when you called him while he was filming. Your insecurities were at an all-time high.

 Those insecurities are what had you on a private jet bound for San Diego, two days before your scheduled trip to LA that was supposed to have you meet up with Chris. You’d followed your gut, insecurities, and fears here because you had a feeling something was up, and you refused to sit around and ignore it any longer. You’d played the dutiful wife, the wife who played the trust card. You’d played the faithful and devoted wife who did everything in her power to save and strengthen her marriage. It was time to play a different card, the stealth wife. You were going to get to the bottom of this one way or another.

“Hello?”

 “I hope you’re not just going to roll over on this one.” Your mother’s voice resonated and you sighed out in the backseat of the chauffeured truck.

 “Mama, for goodness sake,” you began before she cut you off.

 “What would be for goodness’s sake is you putting both of them in their place, especially her. A man can be as faithful as Jesus but there will always be snakes and Jezebels slithering through the garden of Eden.”

 You rolled your eyes. You didn’t have the time or patience to listen to her scripture riddles. “Mama, I don’t have time for this.”

 “Do you have time for a divorce?” You almost fell out. She had the uncanny ability to take it from zero to two hundred in two seconds. This was not different. Still, she had a point.

 “I will take care of it. I’m in San Diego now and I’m going to confront Chris.”

 “Take a beat, I say confront her first.”

 “What?”

 “Yes, both parties are equally complicit but sit with her, get a feel for her. You’ll be able to tell her intentions within the first two minutes. I’m not saying go and beat her ass off the bat. It’s what I would do, but there are ways to be tactful in a situation like this,” she suggested.

 You had thought to go to her and rip out her hair then give her a nice souvenir in the form of a face scar to be used as a reminder to stay away from your husband. You’d also thought to play devil’s advocate and go behind enemy lines and assess the situation from her side. You’d left both options open and decided to go to the horse first. Hearing your mother’s thoughts, you decided to go with her plan. You’d go see the snake, Jezebel, first.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost an hour later, you were sitting in a hotel room in front of a set table with an assortment of foods before you.  Your mind was racing but you felt strangely calm as if you were slowly gliding through the air in zero gravity. It would have been peaceful, but your heart felt heavy.

 “Uriah?” Her accent was very clear. You also heard her shock and confusion. When you turned to her she had a smile on her face. She was a pretty woman. There was no lying about it. You could see why men would fall for her and her big hazel eyes, striking bone structure, plump bottom lip, and exotic accent. Thinking about that you saw what would draw him in.

 You smiled widely and stood. “Ana. How are you?” She returned your smile and stepped to you with her arms out. Once before you, she threw her arms around you hugging you. It was unexpected and your first red flag.

 “I’m so good. How are you? Oh my goodness I love this outfit you look amazing.” She was being overly friendly. This was a sign she was overcompensating for something. You played her game and carried in with small talk.

 After a few minutes, the two of you sat down across from each other. “Chris didn’t mention you were here.”

 “I know. He doesn’t know. I wanted it to be a surprise. So please don’t tell him.”

 “Oh, that’s so sweet—so romantic.” Her smile slipped for a moment. You didn’t miss it. She smiled again and straightened her back coming back to being the picture of friendliness.

 “I wanted to have a bit of lunch together just us girls. It’s been such a long time since we chatted. I just wanted to catch up.” You knew it was believable. You were not an amateur actress.

 “That sounds nice.”

 “I remember a few things Chris mentioned that you liked. Cucumber sandwiches, dragon rolls, and that salsa from your country that you said you couldn’t live without. I hope it’s the right brand.”

 Ana’s eyes roamed over the food on the table with a huge smile on her face. “Wow, he told you about all this?”

 You nodded and sipped your tea, “He did. He talks about you a lot. I can see he likes you.” Ana looked at you and studied you as if she were searching for something. You suspected what she was searching for. You kept your cool.

 “Yeah, we’re good friends. He’s a great man. You married a keeper.” You slowly nodded and took up one of the California Rolls before you. It was one of the two sushi products you would touch. From your example, Ana did the same and made a plate with a little of everything.

 The two of you ate in silence for a few minutes. After some quiet, you chatted about the business, upcoming projects, silly stories floating around Hollywood, fashion, makeup, and travel. It all seemed normal. If you didn’t have the fact in the back of your mind that she was fucking your husband then it was possible to become friends. In another life, the two of you may have become friends. You may have been good friends.

 As you spoke about trivial things, you formulated the right path to go. You couldn’t be too direct, and you couldn’t be too passive. You had to find a way to ride the line between the two.

 “I hope everything is okay with your family. I heard the break Chris took was because of a family emergency,” Ana led a little over an hour into brunch.

 “Yes, it was. We went through some things that had the power to break us. It was important we took the time. I wasn’t sure we still felt the same way about each other anymore.” It was true. Sometimes you had to reveal something personal to open the gates. Ana’s hand reached out for yours and rested on top in a reassuring way.

 “I’m sorry. I had no idea. Do you want to talk about it?”

 “No, no need. I want to distract myself. How are things with you? Anyone in your life that makes this crazy life of fame better?”

 She remained quiet for a little while then toyed with the straw in her Fiji water bottle. Her eyes didn’t go back to yours though. “Things are okay. They could definitely be better. I never realized how much fame could be so lonely. You have millions of people watching you all the time. Tens of them around you but still you can feel--.”

 “Alone?”

 Ana looked to you and nodded with a melancholic smile. “Yeah. I don’t expect you to understand. You have Chris.”

 “He’s been pulling away for some time. It may just be our workload and our maybe we’re not the same people anymore. We might have outgrown each other. I understand.” It was a stretch but in the light of new details maybe it wasn’t. Ana watched you and you tapped into your actress side and played up everything you felt a little over two months ago.

 “Oh Uriah, I’m sorry. Do you think--.” Ana paused looked down timidly then bit her bottom lip before she spoke again. “Do you think he’s having an affair?”

 Bingo, you thought. Nothing you’d said since this brunch began had any path to eluding about an affair. The fact that she brought it up was suspicious. “Do you think he is? You’re with him a lot more than I am these days.”

Ana looked at you. you felt the air in the room change, her eyes got slightly darker. “How would I know that?”

 You shrugged and took up a beignet. You loved that the powdered sugar just melted in your mouth.

 “Wait, are you insinuating I’m having an affair with Chris?”

 “I never said that Ana. Why would I even say that?”

 Ana straightened her sitting position and held her head higher. You knew what was coming and you loathed it. Either you’d slipped somewhere, or she was seriously on edge about the topic.

 “Oh, I see. You asked me here under false pretenses to play nice and sugar me up hoping to get me to spill something. You told me some sad story about your marriage hoping it would give you the optic of the sad victim so I could feel sorry for you. Wow. These questions weren’t you being a friend or a decent person. You were trying to find out of I’m having an affair with Chris. I can’t believe this!” She sprang to her feet and walked away from the table.

 “You’re overreacting, Ana. I never accused you of anything. All I wanted to do was catch up with you.”

 “Bullshit!” She rolled her eyes, turned her back to you then looked at you again.

 “By you coming to me like this it shows how scared you are. Do you feel threatened by me, Uriah? Worried that Chris likes me more than you? Scared that our connection is better than yours?” She was trying to get to you, you could tell. You refused to play this game.

 “Look, Ana, I’m not here to play games with you.”

 “No, you’re here to see how much of a threat I am for your marriage. What you should be thinking about is do you actually have a marriage still?” She didn’t give you a chance to reply before she walked out the door slamming it behind her.

 “This bitch!” She just moved her next chess piece—the knight.

 ~~~~~~~~

When you got to Chris’ room that evening you were even angrier than you were at brunch with Ana. You should have thrown her out the fucking window instead of playing nice with her. Yes, a tactical approach was the best but a show of dominance and violence was always a good move. You hadn’t made one misstep. You didn’t take the con too far, you weren’t too passive or direct. She had always been on edge. She probably was suspicious from the moment she walked in. You knew better than anyone a guilty conscience would always see a threat even where there was none. You were a threat though. You knew now she wasn’t as innocent as she pretended to be. That made you wonder just what the fuck was going on.

 According to Chris’ assistant, he was busy doing some last-minute interviews and events for Knives Out. You took advantage of the quiet and time alone by thoroughly scanning his room, especially where the backgrounds of his facetime call and her image looked identical. There was no mistaking it in person. They were the same. After you roamed around the room wondering just what the walls would say if they could talk. Would they tell you all their sorted secrets about your husband and a particularly hazel-eyed co-star? Would they speak of his fidelity and boringness or would they speak about his betrayal?

 When you’d thought yourself weary, you moved on to ways to relax which included taking a long bath and feasting on room service. It was a good distraction but that was all it was—a distraction. One that you knew would end as soon as Chris got back. You would have to address the literal elephant in the room the picture.

 You were so distracted by the view from the living room window and your tumultuous thoughts and feelings that you almost didn’t hear when the door opened, and Chris walked in.

 “Uriah.” You looked to see him standing there dressed in perfect business casual wear with his hair perfectly tousled. You would never think he was unattractive. For a few moments, his eyes left your face and roamed over your robe-clad body and down your exposed leg. As he scanned you, he walked more into the room.

 “Hi.”

“You’re not supposed to be here in San Diego. I thought we were meeting in LA.

 “I know, I just—wanted to be here.”

 Chris sighed and sat in a seat across from you. you found it a little strange that he hadn’t seen you in a week and he hadn’t come over to greet you or initiate contact. As you were going to bring it up, Chris began speaking again.

 “Checking up on me?” His words rubbed you the wrong way. Turning around to face him you crossed your legs not caring that they were fully exposed.

 “Should I be checking on you? I wasn’t aware you needed checking up on.”

 He kept eye contact with you. You could see the tight clench in his jaw and the straight line of his lips. He was annoyed.

 “Did you lure Ana to lunch and accuse her of having an affair with me?”

 Closing your eyes, you sighed and cracked your neck. You’d just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. The bitch had tattled and moved her second chess piece at the same time.

 “Don’t lie to me Uriah,” Chris warned through tightly clenched jaws.

 “I did not accuse her of anything.”

 “So, you did lure her to lunch and treated her like a homewrecker and threatened my career and name in the industry?”

 “Are you kidding me, Chris?”

 “Are you kidding me, Uriah?!” He sprang to his feet like a firework shell shooting into the air. You could feel the anger coming off of him.

 “I cannot believe you would do this! Why would you do this?”

 “Me? Why would I do this? Why would you do this?”

 “What are you talking about? What have I done Uriah?” You got off the couch and made your way to your purse for your phone. If he wanted to play the fool you would enlighten him. once you found the picture you shoved it in his face.

 “What the fuck is that?” You watched him as he scanned the post then rolled his eyes.

 “It’s a post.”

 “No shit it’s a post. Did you send her that sweater?”

 “So what? I wasn’t going to wear it, she liked it so I gave it away.”

 “And this?” You pointed to the background of the picture and then went to the still of his facetime call.

 “What about this? Why does your background which is here, identically match hers?”

 Chris looked at you like you were bat shit crazy as if he had no idea who you were.

 “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. What the fuck is this?”

 He didn’t speak, he just stared at you.

 “I’ve suppressed the urge to ask the question because of everything we’ve been through these last months but come on Chris. I can only be so complacent.”

 “Ask the question, Uriah. I dare you.” It was another warning. You flared your nose and hesitated. You knew if you asked it you’d be right back where you were before therapy. The hurt on his face was evident. He looked as if he were holding back tears.

 “Ask it!”

 “Why do your backgrounds match?”

 “They are hotel rooms, I’m sure they are all identical.”

 “Bullshit!” You walked away from him and to the window.

“Did you come here to confront her--to confront me?” You clenched your jaw and fought back your tears.

 “I wanted to see where your head was and the opportunity arose to see where hers was too,” you explained.

 “Satisfied? Was her denial enough?”

 “She didn’t deny anything. She threw her cockiness around instead. Did she tell you that when she came running to you to get sympathy and create an even bigger wedge between us?”

 “This isn’t about her Uriah. This is about you. I thought you trusted me. I thought we’d moved past this and had turned a page and were moving forward. I thought we were stronger.”

 “I thought so too. I really tried not to come here with this. I debated it but Chris how can I look past this? If you were me, what would you have done?”

 “I wouldn’t come here accusing you or your costar or fucking!”

 “For the first half of our marriage you accused me of fucking Christiano! I just need you to explain this to me.”

 “I have nothing to explain. This wasn’t my room. She wasn’t here.”

 “So, she wasn’t in here dressed like that with you? You weren’t fucking her before this was taken?”

 He didn’t speak right away. He looked disappointed. He sighed and walked away facing his back to you.

 “I don’t think we’ll ever get past this.  The last two months were a waste of time. I thought we could move forward and be stronger because of the pain and the struggle but I don’t think we can.” He turned back to you in time for you to see a tear roll down his cheek.

 “I never lied to you. I’m not playing you either. That picture was not taken here. She’s never been in here.” He dropped his head and wiped his tears away. “I don’t think I should be here either.”

 He didn’t give you enough time to speak, he just walked out the door leaving you alone. You didn’t know what to think or believe at this point. You knew you weren’t crazy. You also knew that this bitch had shown her full hand. 

~~~~~~~~~

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[pls-let-me-out]

Pride and Prejudice

PART TWO

Summer came slowly. The days turned longer, the temperature warmer, and one day fruits hang where flowers had been.

Although the family participated to many social events, Piper never seemed to enjoy the dances quite as much as she the ones shared with Mr. Grace. Mr. Grace, the one whose name was never spoken in the house, more for Mrs. Solace’s destroyed nerves than Piper’s wellbeing. And when someone asked Piper how she was coping, Piper would smile, and say, “It’s becomes easier each day that passes.” Will didn’t believe her.

If there had once been a sense of expectation when they adventured to town, as there was a possibility of meeting Mr. Grace, seeing his and Piper’s story unfolding before their eyes, as Summer came they learnt to leave in boredom again.

And how dared Mr. Grace just walk out of Piper’s life without as much as a goodbye? The more the days passed, the more Will seethed, until bitter disappointment replaced the anger.

But Spring came to an end, and everyone knows that the big things in life always happen during the Summer.

 In the first days of June, Mrs. Solace’s cousin invited Piper to London, and she didn’t think too long before accepting.

“After all,” she reasoned with Will, “it can’t hurt, can it? Every day I’m here, I am forced to see his ghost. I wander through the fields, and if someone calls my name, even if it isn’t his voice, I expect to see him when I turn.”

Mr. Caesar sent them a letter, and Mrs. Solace loudly announced that he was asking whether Mr. Solace was dead yet, although no one read it until dinner.

In the letter, Mr. Caesar apologized for felling the need to leave so harshly after Will’s outmost rejection. Despite that, he didn’t have any hard feelings for his cousins, and to show it he invited Will to visit him and his newly married wife, Mrs. Leila Caesar, a Beta.

“She must be very beautiful if he wants to rub her in front of Will,” Mitchell said.

“And she will have our house!” Mrs. Solace exclaimed, throwing her napkin on the table, only to ask Jonathan to give it back to her a second later. “She will throw us on the streets, and now none of us will survive. We will die, all of us!”

Will didn’t mention that Drew had been sneaking off to the fields more lately, to return late and with red cheeks, so at least one would survive. He didn’t say it, but he gave her a pointed look. She glared right back.

“I’ll go with Will,” Mitchell said. “I want to see her, too. She is probably really ugly if she has agreed to marry him.”

“You won’t come with me,” Will said. “I’ll go alone.”

Mr. Solace raised both eyebrows. “You are willingly going to Mr. Caesar’s house?”

“I don’t have much better to do,” Will reasoned. “And he can’t have become worse than he was during his visit.”

Mitchell groaned, slumping in his seat. “You are always so little fun.”

“He expects you to bring one of your siblings, though,” Mr. Solace said.

Three days later another letter came. It was from another long-lost cousin of Mrs. Solace, who invited one of her children to visit her, as she was going south with her husband, and since their children were already married, she would have felt alone. For obvious reasons (he was her favorite child, and Drew had reclined the offer, as she didn’t want her studies to suffer, which was an utter lie) she chose Mitchell.

“She is rubbing it in my face,” Mrs. Solace seethed, ripping a hole in the napkin. “She is rubbing it!”

Mr. Solace patted her back, but didn’t hide the amusement from his face. After all, as he often said, he wouldn’t be around to see his children fall in disgrace.

 Mr. Caesar’s house was beautiful, immersed in a green scenery. They certainly paid a lot in gardener, as many different kinds of flowers were on either side of the street. Mr. Caesar was at the door, standing straight beside a beautiful woman. Will blinked several time, but despite Mitchell’s prediction, it didn’t change.

Will was given a tour of the house, before Mr. Caesar had to leave, and Will was left alone with Mrs. Caesar. It would have been his life, if he had been any more afraid of saying no to the Alpha. He couldn’t find it in himself to regret his choice, not even as a they drank tea from shining, expensive cups, in Mrs. Caesar’s private parlor.

Left alone, Will and Mrs. Caesar quickly dropped the formalities. It didn’t take long for them to bond, as Will had the ability of putting people at ease.

“It isn’t easy,” she later admitted. “Being married to him. Being married in general, I think.” She leaned closer, a grimace curling her delicate lips. “And his patron is a nightmare at times.”

“Lady Demeter?” Will asked.

She nodded, widening her eyes. “She wants to know everything we do. We have been married for two weeks, and every time I see her, she asks whether I am pregnant already.”

A matching grimace fell on Will’s face. “Lord. I met her grandson, he was a real nightmare, too.”

“Mr. di Angelo? I only met him once, and he was very closed off. Although I have to say, I have heard many good things about him, especially from the servants.”

Will’s nose scrunched up. “I wouldn’t know, the first time we met, he called me not pretty enough to tempt him into dancing.”

Leila’s jaw went slack. “Oh, Goodness! What did you tell him?”

“Oh, I stumbled upon that conversation for a chance.” Will waved his hand in dismissal, as for him it had quickly become a matter to laugh about. “I was at the right place at the right time. I’m ashamed to admit that I later rubbed it in his face.”

Leila laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand, and Will couldn’t help but join her, despite having a blush on his face.

 Luckily, Mr. Caesar wasn’t home the second day of Will’s stay either. Leila brought him to the beautiful fields near the river, and Will enjoyed every second of it. The first day, his hair was slicked back, as Mrs. Solace had forced him in a chair and done it, but after a bath he didn’t bother repeating the process himself.

“Do you come from around here?” Will asked Leila, as they strolled around a path. “I didn’t ask yesterday.”

“Yes, I lived here my whole life,” she said. She looked up at the sky, as though it held the answers to her every question. “I always thought I would travel a bit more before getting married.”

“You can come to Longbourn anytime you want,” Will said. “I must already tell you, my father’s wife will be absolutely insufferable.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Your father’s wife?”

“My step-mother,” Will explained. “My mother died when I was thirteen. My father is his current wife’s third husband.”

“She had been married two times and he still married her?”

Will shrugged, turning his eyes up to the sky, too. It was a dark grey, not the best of premonition with which walking, but Leila was sure that it wouldn’t rain. “They had been friends for years, they knew they wouldn’t fall in love. She had four children, my father three, and they had another together. They needed an Alpha – or Beta – heir.”

“It doesn’t sound very romantic.”

“Oh, it isn’t. My father was in love with my mother, and Aphrodite – his wife – was with her previous husbands. Maybe she accepted to marry my father because she was tired of falling in love.”

“It’s terrible to think, isn’t it?”

Will shrugged. A part of him couldn’t help but think whether it wouldn’t be good for her, to find another man to fall in love with for real after having married Mr. Caesar. He couldn’t follow that line of thought for much longer, as a shout of Leila’s name came from afar, and Will’s own decency stopped her.

They both turned – Leila a bit startled – to see a dark-skinned girl walking in a fast pace towards them; long, curly hair bouncing on her back. When she got closer, Will realized that she looked like someone he knew, but he couldn’t get a name. Underneath her sweet scent lingered another, manlier and Alpha-like. It was slight, but it tingled Will’s nose, and even if he didn’t recognize it, it rubbed him the wrong way.

She and Leila greeted one another informally. Hazel, Leila called her.

“This is my husband’s cousin,” Leila said.

Hazel tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes as a smile brightened her features even more. “So you are a Solace.”

“I am,” Will said. In front of such a beaming smile, the previous annoyance, caused by the scent, melted as snow under the sun. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss…?”

“Levesque,” Hazel said, bowing her head. “Miss Hazel Levesque, but just Hazel is fine.”

Will repeated her gesture. “William Solace.”

“Hazel is Lady Demeter’s granddaughter,” Leila said.

Will nodded. It took him a moment to connect the dots, thus recognizing the scent. “I think I know your cousin.”

“Brother, actually,” she said. “We have both taken our mothers’ surnames. And believe me, I already knew.”

But before she could give an explanation, the sky broke above them, with such fury one would have thought they had wronged God themselves. They shared one look, and ran for their lives.

 When they finally entered the house, they were all shivering. Will pushed his wet hair, sticking to his forehead, away. They were getting too long, Mrs. Solace had threatened to cut them for weeks.

Soon, they were all sitting in front of the fireplace, steaming cups of water in their hands, and blankets on their back. Will even wished he had brought his furs from home.

“So, you know all of my cousins, William?” Hazel asked him.

Will smiled. “I met them, yes.” Was that enough to say, in regards of the time they had spent together? The balls, the times they had run into each other in town. It surely wasn’t half enough to explain Piper’s heartbreak. “Mr. Grace once told me you were supposed to go with them.”

Hazel giggled. She really was a lovely Omega. “Oh, yes. But my brother plotted against me.”

“Plotted?” Will repeated.

Hazel waved a hand in dismissal. “Sometimes he forgets that I am grown, and I don’t need anyone to take decisions for me. Still, I can’t help but understand him, you know?” She stirred her tea, taking a long sip before continuing. “When our father died, I was only sixteen, and I took a couple of wrong decisions, which I often try to forget about. He took care of me. I don’t think he will ever see me as an adult, even when I mate and have children.”

Will nodded, sadness bitter on his tongue. “Oldest brothers are annoying like that.”

“Do you have any?” Leila asked.

“I did,” he said softly. “They were both Alphas.”

 Little kids always have a special kind of adoration for their oldest siblings, so pure it really must have been sent by God. Will had always thought so. He saw it anytime he locked eyes with Jonathan. Sometimes, Kayla still looked at Will like he had hung the moon in the sky. Austin did so far less. Lacy sometimes let her guard down, and she was the second to younger among them, her happiness was always refreshing. Mitchell had only ever looked at them as though they were ants, but Will was pretty sure they weren’t completely hated. He, Drew and Piper shared a different kind of bond, more mature than the others’. He surely adored Piper, and Drew did, too, even if she forgot it at times.

 Hazel left when the rain finally stopped pouring from the sky, saying her grandmother had to be searching for her. Mr. Caesar returned home from the city not long later, and asked whether they had been home all day. Leila giggled, and told him the whole story (or what she could, as Mr. Caesar wasn’t much interested in stories that didn’t involve him or the Lord).

“We will visit Lady Demeter tomorrow,” Mr. Caesar said. His eyes bore holes in Will’s. “She was kind enough to extend her invitation to you as well.”

“I’m not sure I have clothes beautiful enough to meet her,” Will said.

Mr. Caesar visibly shivered. “It isn’t a problem, Mr. Solace. Lady Demeter prefers humble people.”

Will nodded, but he didn’t need to meet her, to know she wouldn’t be humble at all, more similar to her arrogant grandson than her joyous granddaughter.

 Once again, Will was right. Lady Demeter was an aging dark-skinned woman, whose hair had turned white, but she kept her back straight. A lily was placed at the start of her braid, it was the same color as her clothes.

She looked at Will, raising an eyebrow, and he couldn’t see anyone but her grandson in him, even if they didn’t share any physical trait.

“William Solace, is it?” She asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

“It is,” Mr. Caesar intervened.

Lady Demeter nodded once, before turning her attention to Leila. As they waited for dinner, they stayed in the parlor, Hazel sitting next to her grandmother, and a woman unknown to Will on the armchair opposite to her. She leaned towards Will when he sat. Her scent was strong, heavy even if feminine. An Alpha.

“Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano,” she presented herself, the name falling easily off her tongue. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “From Hazel?”

“Oh, no. I know Mr. di Angelo and Mr. Grace quite personally,” she said, waving her hands. Two rings, one silver and one gold, simple bands on each middle finger, and they caught the light of the candles.

The doors opened, a familiar scent reached Will’s nostrils even before he turned. Even if the previous day Will asked Hazel whether her brother had come with her, and she said he hadn’t. She looked absolutely ecstatic to see him, jumping from her seat to hug him. Mr. di Angelo chuckled in her hair. Will found himself stunned by the sight.

“Please, don’t bother greeting me, Nicolò,” Lady Demeter said, the wrinkles on her forehead deepened.

Mr. di Angelo let go of his sister, and his eyes widened when they landed on Will. Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s gaze never left Mr. di Angelo, and she looked as though she were having lots of fun.

Lady Demeter cleared her throat, and Mr. di Angelo’s attention shifted back to her.

“As you wish, grandmother,” he simply said. He looked back at the door, clasping his hands behind his back, raising an eyebrow. “Is dinner quite ready?”

“Have some manners, boy,” Lady Demeter replied sternly. “Take a seat.”

Mr. di Angelo did as he was told, but not without winking at his sister first. Winking, and she giggled. He told Hazel that he had come to escort her back the next day, so that she wouldn’t be alone during the ride. If possible, her smile widened even more.

“She is always like that,” Miss Ramírez-Arellano told Will quietly, leaning closer to him. “He can do no wrong in her eyes.”

Will turned to her, but he didn’t have time to ask the question on his tongue, as a servant announced that dinner was ready to be served. Lady Demeter demonstrated how much of a humble and kind woman she was, when she threw a fit for the way they were about to sit, asking Mr. Caesar to move in Will’s place so that he would be next to his wife, leaving Will between Mr. di Angelo and Miss Ramírez-Arellano.

“I understand that you have many siblings, Mr. Solace,” Lady Demeter told Will.

“I do,” Will confirmed. “One older than me, and six younger.”

“And they are all in society already?”

“No, the youngest is only seven.”

“So many children in society, yet the first one isn’t even married.” Lady Demeter shook her head. “What a peculiar choice.”

She pronounced the words like they were venom to be spat, and it brought a smile to Will’s lips.

“It would have been cruel to keep the other children home as the oldest went out, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t have encouraged siblinghood, I think.”

“Your mother must be a very strong woman to have birthed so many children,” Lady Demeter continued.

“My mother was particularly frail of health,” Will said. “She never bore any children. We were all adopted.”

“How peculiar,” Lady Demeter repeated. “All of you?”

Will thought of his oldest siblings, Piper’s older sister. He thanked God for having masked his scent, or it would have turned sour, and it was the last thing he wanted to happen in front of such an arrogant woman.

“I thought Lady Persephone would be here,” Mr. di Angelo said.

His way of cutting the conversation short lacked in smoothness, but for once Will was glad of his presence, even if Mr. di Angelo had to already know much of the Solaces, to be completely disinterested in the answer.

Lady Persephone, as Will understood from the following conversation, was Mr. di Angelo’s late father’s third wife. Miss Ramírez-Arellano was a close friend of both siblings, and she spent most of the dinner talking to them. She also knew Mr. Grace.

“He has been in London for the past few weeks,” she said about him. “His sister as well.”

Will only smiled, hoping Mr. Grace wouldn’t run into his sister, giving her the time she needed to grieve and move on.

After dinner, they moved to the parlor. Lady Demeter sat on a high chair, which resembled a throne engraved with flowers. Will sat between Mr. Caesar and Miss Ramírez-Arellano on the soft sofa.

“Plenty of these paints are made by Hazel,” Lady Demeter said, gesturing to the walls. “Do you paint, William?”

Will, ever so cordial, smiled. “Not really, no. Although I can see that Hazel is very good.”

“Strange.” Her eyebrow rose again, and so did Mr. di Angelo’s, as though it had been called. The idea alone so ridiculously funny that Will bit his lip to avoid giggling. “Did you not have a housekeeper to teach you?”

“We did,” Will said.

“And she didn’t?”

“She tried. Unluckily, I was a terrible child, and preferred painting the walls instead of canvas. Eventually, she surrounded.”

Mr. di Angelo coughed, his face as red as Hazel’s. He tried hiding his blossoming grin behind his hand, as Hazel raised her fan.

“Do you have anything to add, Nicolò?” Lady Demeter questioned, her voice stern.

Mr. di Angelo shook his head, without uttering a single word, nor raising his eyes from the floor, as his shoulders trembled.

Lady Demeter’s lips curled. “Can you show some contain, boy?”

However, Mr. di Angelo could not. He almost fell forward, and Hazel grabbed the back of his shirt to keep him up. He turned to red he would have passed for a tomato.

“They are always like this when they are together, Mr. Solace,” Miss Ramírez-Arellano told him quietly. Fondness sparked in her eyes, becoming a fire when Mr. di Angelo loudly guffawed.

Miss Ramírez-Arellano seemed to be a decent Alpha, and once more, Will couldn’t muster how a good person could be friends with Mr. di Angelo. He hadn’t forgotten Mr. Lawrence’s story, yet.

“Do you play the piano, William?” Lady Demeter continued.

“Only a little,” Will replied.

“Play it for us,” she ordered.

From her demanding tone alone, Will knew he wouldn’t. He opened his mouth to protest, sweet smile already in place, but Mr. Caesar accepted for him. Once more, locking eyes with Leila, who seemed unperturbed, he knew he could have never lived that type of life.

So Will sat at the piano, stretching his fingers. When he was only a child trying to keep up with his older Alpha brothers, he had broken the index of his left hand. It had never completely healed, but it felt like a lifetime ago. If it weren’t for the crook in his index, Will would have been sure, it was only a dream.

Concentrating as best as he could on playing, even if he missed a few notes here and there, he tuned out the conversation. At some point, Mr. di Angelo stopped next to him, calix in hand, eyebrow raised.

“Are you trying to intimidate me, Mr. di Angelo?” Will asked, looking up.

Mr. di Angelo swallowed, and Will’s had no choice but to follow the movement of his throat. “I know by now that you are not so easily intimidated, Mr. Solace.”

Will smiled down at his hands. He wanted to find a sense to what Mr. di Angelo had said, but there was a part of him that couldn’t help but be already satisfied. He didn’t understand why.

“Tell us, Mr. Solace,” Miss Ramírez-Arellano said loudly, without standing from her position, but claiming everyone’s attention. “How was our di Angelo in Meryton?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have many niceties to say, Miss Ramírez-Arellano.” Will locked eyes with Mr. di Angelo, who was as stiff as a statue. “The first time we met was at a ball, and he refused to dance, although many people were only waiting for an invite.”

Mr. di Angelo’s eyes remained on Will as he defended himself. “I didn’t know anyone.”

“And as everyone knows, one absolutely can’t introduce himself at balls,” Will said. He raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile on his lips. If he had been any pettier, he would have reminded Mr. di Angelo how he’d heard him calling the company ‘not pretty enough’.

“I danced at the next ball,” Mr. di Angelo said. He raised the calix to his lips. There was a ring on his middle finger, a simple black band.

“After telling me that balls and dancing made you miserable,” Will replied.

“Lord, Nico, you are a disaster,” Hazel said, and she sounded absolutely delighted.

Miss Ramírez-Arellano sighed, nodding tiredly. Lady Demeter rubbed her temples, calling a servant to pour her more wine, and Mr. di Angelo grimaced, as though he were swallowing a whole lemon.

 Leila and Mr. Caesar had some urgent matter in the village, and Will preferred staying alone in the house.

His thoughts circled around the previous night, how Mr. di Angelo had somehow charmed Miss Ramírez-Arellano, enough for her to even define him a younger brother. He could easily explain Hazel’s adoration for him, as he was her brother. Mr. Grace had demonstrated himself to not be as much of an Alpha as he had seemed, so there was no reason to take him into consideration again. Maybe, if Will waited enough, Miss Ramírez-Arellano would show herself as another Mr. Grace.

He sat by the window in Leila’s private parlor, the only place in the house which wasn’t infested with Mr. Caesar’s scent. He wrote a letter to his sister, which he would send before going back home. However, it wasn’t long before a servant came, announcing Mr. di Angelo’s presence.

Mr. di Angelo, who only bowed his head to Will, let him do the same, and sat in front of him, on the other side of the table.

“Are you here for Mr. and Mrs. Caesar, Mr. di Angelo?” Will asked, when the silence became unbearable. “I’m afraid I’m here alone.”

Mr. di Angelo’s scent spiked, if only for a moment, and Will shivered. “I’m not.”

“Are you here for me, then?” Will’s voice was filled with confusion, but also a hint of surprise.

Mr. di Angelo’s eyebrow arched. He sat stiffly, and once again Will wondered whether he was a statue. “Hazel will stay for one more day. She would like to invite you for dinner again.”

“It would be a pleasure,” Will lied.

Mr. di Angelo seemed to catch onto that lie. “My grandmother won’t be there.”

“Oh,” Will said. A smile slowly spread on his lips. “Accepting your sister’s invitation would be a pleasure, then. I was under the impression that you would have left today.”

Mr. di Angelo cleared his throat. “We should have. Hazel has asked me to stay one more day, although she came to visit our grandmother, and she has already left. We will leave the morning of the day after tomorrow.” There was a moment of silence, then he looked down at the table, his eyes barely grazing over Will’s letter. “Are you writing to your family, Mr. Solace?”

“I am.”

“Are they well?”

Last time they had seen, Piper wasn’t. “They are. I understand that you come from London, maybe you have seen my sister. She is there with a maternal cousin of hers.”

Mr. di Angelo raised the other eyebrow as well. “I haven’t.”

He cleared his throat again, and Will wanted to tell him to have some honey, as it seemed quite sore. But Mr. di Angelo stood, and Will didn’t have time to say it, as Mr. di Angelo bowed his head, and left as though he were running from a fire.

 Mr. di Angelo wasn’t there during dinner. Miss Ramírez-Arellano excused him, saying he had had some problems in his father’s proprieties, that needed to be resolved quickly.

“He has asked me to escort his sister back to Pemberley House,” she told Will. “She really doesn’t like traveling alone.”

 On the last day of his stay, Will attended the Mass. Mr. di Angelo was in the front row, already there when Will arrived. Miss Ramírez-Arellano took the seat beside Will, tipping her head in greeting. He smiled back, scooting over to let her sit.

“How come you are already back?” Will asked her quietly.

“Hazel has forgotten an unfinished painting, and Nico came back to get it, although she has said many times that it wasn’t an urgency.” She shook her head, a fond look back on her face. “At times, I only follow him to make sure his tongue doesn’t get him into a fight in inns.”

Will didn’t say anything, his doubts about Miss Ramírez-Arellano resurfacing in his mind. He would have fallen asleep during Mr. Caesar’s salmon, if it weren’t for the rain shaking the windows.

“Is it your first time listening to his salmons?” Miss Ramírez-Arellano whispered to him.

“It is. I can’t say I wasn’t given signs. He spent a week or so at my house last Spring.”

“During the time of Nico’s visit to Meryton?”

Will nodded. “They also met. Mr. di Angelo might have erased the memory, he didn’t seem very fond of the place nor the people.”

“He always does, but that is rarely the truth. He doesn’t let many emotions slip on his face, has been thought since he was a child that Alphas shouldn’t let them through.” As she talked, Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes were as hard as steel. She talked of him as one would have of their youngest sibling. “Although you don’t like him much, he is very loyal to his friends, protective of them. I learnt that just last Spring, he saved a friend of ours from a loveless engagement. Apparently, he was completely in love with a girl, and not only was she indifferent to him, she showed particular interest in his money.”

Will’s heart completely stopped. His eyes fell on Mr. di Angelo’s straight back. He didn’t have many expectations on the man, but as his palms turned clammy, he realized he had also been nursing the feeling that, just maybe, he was a terrible man, but not the most terrible of all. How could he have been, when his sister was so lovely?

Somewhere, Will found the strength the continue the conversation, even if his cheeks burnt as though he had been slapped. “He saved his friend?”

“I don’t know the details, none of them talks much about it. Our friends, he is utterly heartbroken. He was really taken with that girl. I can’t help but think that Nico has done taken the right decision. Also, the girl’s family, they were of an inferior social standing, and it appears that the mother was very ambitious.”

“Who says that the girl wasn’t in love as well?” Will asked, his eyes snapping from Mr. di Angelo’s head to Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes. Now that his heart was beating again, the sadness had been replaced by anger.

Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes widened. “Do you know the girl?”

Will was about the say that he knew, and also explain why, but the old woman in front of them turned to shush them. So Will bit his lip, raising his chin. For the rest of the function, Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s gaze was a sunflower, and Will’s face the sun.

 Will almost ran out of the Church. He passed through the people, in need of a single breath of fresh air, until he got one, and it wasn’t nearly enough. He ran, and when his legs cried in despair, not able to carry him anymore, he took a moment of rest under the roof of the old town-hall. Drops were running down his face, and he didn’t know whether they were tears or rain.

A thunder shook the sky, covering the sound of steps, but the scent that he hadn’t been able to name filled Will’s nostrils, even over that of the rain.

“Are you completely insane?” Mr. di Angelo asked. “You will catch something, running under the rain like that.”

Will turned to him, biting his lip so hard it should have broken. “I don’t see you arriving with a carriage, Mr. di Angelo.”

Will had spat his name like it was a curse, as if it could be used to slap Mr. di Angelo’s stoic face, and color some emotion that wasn’t disdain, if only for once.

“I have something to confess to,” Mr. di Angelo suddenly said, his face turning into a new type of void boredom. “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. In declaring myself thus I am fully aware that I will be going expressly against the wishes of my family, my friends, and, I hardly need to add, my own better judgment.”

If the ground had opened and swallowed him whole, Will would have been less surprised. There was disgust on Mr. di Angelo’s face, towards himself or maybe even Will. He shook his head. “It makes no sense.”

“What makes no sense?”

“Everything you have just said.”

“I love you, does that make enough sense to you now?” Mr. di Angelo shook his head, pushing the hair from his forehead. The clothes he wore were completely wet, and Will didn’t have to look down at himself to know his weren’t doing much better. “With the inferiority of your family, your rank, it will never make sense.”

“It never will because this isn’t a confession, it is an accusation!” Will exclaimed. “If my standing gives you so much pain, then my rejection should bring you joy alone! After everything you have done to my friend, my family, me, you come and claim yourself a man in love? You must be joking.”

Mr. di Angelo scoffed, crossing his arms on the chest. “Your friend? Would you be so disgusted, had I not been honest in saying I take no joy in your social standing?”

Will’s skin burned, his heart running wildly in his chest. “Mr. Lawrence. Does the name ring any bell?”

Mr. di Angelo closed his jaw so tightly a muscle jumped. He didn’t say a thing, but for less than a second, his eyes flashed red. His scent spiked, and still he didn’t say a word. Will had no doubt that, if he had opened his mouth, he would have growled.

“He told me of what you did to him,” Will continued, venom slipping through the cracks of his voice. “How you ignored your father’s testament for pettiness and jealousy over a dead man’s love. With time, I could have even forgiven you for that if you had made amends to him, but what you did to my sister and Mr. Grace was somehow even worse.”

Mr. di Angelo let his arms fall. He moved closer, leaving wet trails in his wake. “Saving my friend from a loveless marriage?”

“My sister was in love, and still is, with Mr. Grace.” Will snarled the name of the traitorous Alpha who had gone and followed his friend’s advice instead of the seeing the truth. “When your party left, and I now know it was because of you and your ill-advice, she was left completely heartbroken, feeling a derision everywhere she went, as everyone had known she was hoping that Mr. Grace would ask her to marry him.”

“I watched them closely, and thought her indifferent.”

“She is shy!” Will said, and only realized he was yelling when his throat hurt. “She barely shows her affection to me, and I’m her brother!”

Mr. di Angelo took a step back, as if those very words had slapped him, more than anything else Will had said. Another thunder flashed in the sky, followed by a loud echo.

“And talking of others not showing their feelings when you have never shown anything but disgust to me, makes you both a liar and a hypocrite,” Will finished, heavily panting. With every breath, he caught more of Mr. di Angelo’s scent. There was a chant in his blood, asking for more.

“If this is all,” Mr. di Angelo said, his lips curled downwards, not in a show of disgust, but something Will hadn’t seen on him before. “Then I won’t steal any more of your precious time.”

He turned, and disappeared so quickly Will could have convinced himself to having dreamed every word and every anger, if it weren’t for the scent lingering in the air, and the buzzing underneath his skin.

 It was late mid-summer, the day Will arrived home, and Piper’s scent of lavender hung in every corner, and her luggage still near the front-door. Jonathan’s laughter came from the parlor, and Will followed it, as if enchanted.

Will added himself to cuddling pair on the sofa, causing Jonathan to giggle and say that he wasn’t breathing. As quickly as they let him go, Jonathan ran out of the door, probably to chase the ducks in the courtyard.

Will told her of his time at Mr. Caesar’s house, although he had been home for some weeks, leaving out every bit concerning Mr. di Angelo. He didn’t want to rip any old wound open, both his and Piper’s. She later told him of her time in the city, how life was so different there, and made her miss every one of them. They moved to the stairs in front of the door, watching Jonathan run around.

“Did it work?” Will asked, afraid of the answer. When he closed his eyes, he still saw Mr. di Angelo, the water sticking his clothes to his body, the disgust in his eyes when he confessed those feelings that so deeply hunted him.

“I think so,” Piper said. “If I saw him on the streets, I might even not recognize him. Maybe in a couple of years I will laugh about it, and the way I fell so quickly, despite my best intentions.”

It constricted Will’s heart. He smiled, a tight one that he knew didn’t look natural.

“I almost forgot,” Piper said, clapping her hands, waiting for Will to look at her. “I met the postman as I was coming here, and he had a letter for you. I took it, but I was confused, as it is from Mr. di Angelo.”

Will’s heart stopped again. He turned to his sister, feeling stiff and awkward in his own skin. “Have you read it?”

“No, of course not.”

Piper took an envelope from the pocket of her long dress. Will’s fingers shook as she passed it to him, and he cradled it close to his chest.

“Do you have any idea what he wants?” She asked, her voice almost fragile, and Will wondered whether she had really forgotten about Mr. Grace, if only the ghost of his presence did this to her. “I didn’t think you two exchanged letters.”

“We don’t,” Will said. He cleared his throat, standing, but the pavement swayed under his feet. “I’ll go read it somewhere.”

Piper nodded, her eyes boring holes his back as he walked away.

 Will sat by the river, the wind caressing the grass and making it dance behind him, as he looked up, wordlessly asking for the strength of opening that letter. Eventually, it came to him. Mr. di Angelo had written it by hand, in an elegant but rushed handwriting. The envelope, which had in fact seemed quite full, contained two sheets of paper. Will shook himself out of getting lost in the details, to finally read that letter. He wasn’t surprised by how Mr. di Angelo had avoided any term of greeting.

Be not alarmed by receiving this letter, as I intend not to bother you with those feelings which have disgusted so much you in June, but only to explain myself. With that, I do not wish to persuade you into agreeing to feelings you firmly refused, nor to humble my character in any way. The only thing I wish for, is the possibility of telling you my motivations, as I can never talk properly, especially when I find myself around you. You revolted two accusations against me: the first, separating Mr. Grace and your sister; the second, which I regret far less, is throwing Mr. Lawrence’s life away. I would like to start with the first.

I will not hide behind lies. It is true, I have separated Mr. Grace and your sister, and at the time I believed my reasons to be right. I looked at them closely, as my friend is sometimes too generous and is taken advance of, and I didn’t want to witness anything of the kind in Meryton, which for him was a fresh breath. I watched closely, saw my friend falling more and more in love, for someone that shied away from his offers. For a time, I believed that she was playing a game of sorts, trying to get him to want her more. I apologize for being such an Alpha.

Jason couldn’t talk of anything if it didn’t concern her, and your step-mother never said that your sister was in love, but only that she hoped to finally marry her off, as I caught her saying numerous times. Other times again, and you were there, too, so you should remember, she talked of how Jason should have hurried in proposing, as Piper could have had any other Alpha she wanted.

After the ball at Netherfield, I asked Miss Grace whether she had noticed it. We don’t often see things eye-to-eye, but we both care about Jason. So I invented having some urgent business in London, to which Miss Grace added herself as company. Jason added himself to the party, as we knew he would, and, although we hadn’t even thought of inviting Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, they came, too. We left during the night, and I only talked to Mr. Grace when we reached London, told him about my doubts, and he said he had shared them for some time, but thought he was only imagining her coldness towards him, as he misses the sun when it is covered by a cloud, with the faith that he will see it again.

I was sure I had only protected him, and his heart broke, so we never came back to Netherfield. I recognize my fault, and I will never apologize enough to either Jason nor your sister for the heartbreak I have caused them both.

As for the other matter, that of Mr. Lawrence, I am sure he told you a story. If you are willing to read more, I would like to tell you the real story, as long as it is.

I was my parents’ second born child. My sister Bianca died before she could present, but she had a frail scent. Even as a Beta, my parents had chosen her as an heir, and my being born an Alpha wouldn’t have changed that. I wanted to be a merchant, as my maternal grandfather was, and travel Europe and the rest of the world. I was young when my mother died, and my father married Hazel’s mother. However, she died, too.

For all that time, Bryce’s father worked for mine. He died when his son was eight, and I was seven. My father raised Bryce like a son, and I saw him so much as a brother, that I thought he would have been my father’s heir, when Bianca died. She was thirteen, and I was ten. Her death was a terrible accident, that involved my cousin Percy. I blamed him, under the influence of Bryce, but we were both children, and I can’t find it in myself to hold a grudge anymore.

Bryce was afraid of many things. He didn’t want to lose his family, and neither did I. With the years, we grew closer and closer, to the point that I thought he would never leave my life, I didn’t wish for it.

My father died when I was nineteen. It was a terrible time, I won’t lie. I tried to take care of all of his possessions, affirming myself so that I would be respected enough to not be challenged, before risking battles I couldn’t have won. I managed to affirm myself in that way, but I had left my family for too long, and when I returned, things had irreparably changed. I didn’t even realize.

Not long after my father’s death, Bryce told me that he didn’t wish to be a clergyman, thus taking the living my father had prepared for him, and asked for money instead. I accepted, and the next morning he was gone. Hazel was heartbroken, as she always cares too deeply.

Not a week had passed, when Bryce returned, saying he had made the greatest of mistakes, spending to the last penny in gambling and drinking. He asked for forgiveness, and I told him he didn’t need any, as he was a brother to me. I was a fool to think it would be all he would have done.

The following morning, Lady Persephone, my father’s third wife, left for her mother’s house. She had helped me, but she needed peace and time to grieve. How one could find peace with Lady Demeter still goes beyond me. The day she left, is the day I would have needed the most guidance, to see what was happening behind me.

Bryce left to study, and eventually taking his living. Not two months later, he asked me to give him more money, and I refused, knowing he would have spent it before night came. I had grown prideful in those days, and I appear to still be. If in his story he said that I have laughed in his face, I can make no deny. He also said that he couldn’t find any happiness in his studies, and I told him that there would always be a place for him with me.

So he abandoned his studies, and returned to live with me and Hazel. Even when he returned, I didn’t feel any less alone, but still kept everyone away. I didn’t acknowledge my pain, nor did I notice Hazel’s.

She was young, only sixteen, and Bryce has always been charming. I loved him so much, I couldn’t even be jealous of that. He charmed my sister, while I was too blinded with the pain caused by my new responsibilities, the ones I had never wished for. To this day, I don’t know exactly what lies he told her, but she believed that he loved her, and she mistook the brotherly love she held for him for something else. Understand that she was in a fragile state, and he took advance of that.

They ran away. I tracked them not too far, as Bryce may be charming, but he surely isn’t the brightest. He didn’t think that I would be able to find my sister through scent alone, even when it was only barely lingering in the air. For the first time, I thanked God for being born with the nose of an Alpha. I paid Bryce, and he promised to disappear from our lives.

When I saw him from the tea-shop last Spring, I thought it was a nightmare. I didn’t know he had become a soldier. I went to talk to him the morning of the ball in Netherfield. I have to admit, I didn’t like how he was always around you and your siblings. However, I didn’t get to speak to him, as when I arrived he was drunk, and I have too much dignity to try to speak to someone who wouldn’t even recall the conversation the following day.

I believe that this is all I have to say. I wish I had been able to tell you earlier, Mr. Solace, but as I have already said, there is something about you that makes my tongue tie. If you do not believe my words, I would ask you not to ask Hazel, who still finds shame in the naivety of her young age, but to Reyna, whom I always confessed my crimes to. I realize that there is nothing more I could ever ask you for, but as you said I am an arrogant man, so, if you will, consider my sister your friend, despite the brother she has found herself with. As you once told me, one does chose their family.

I hope this letter finds you and your family in good health and well,

my best wishes,

Nicolò di Angelo.

 Drew found Will with tears running down his face, and an expression so devastated that his sadness couldn’t be mistaken. She sat by him, nosing along his scent gland, covering his sour scent with her own.

“What is it?” She asked.

But Will only shook his head. “It’s nothing.” She didn’t bulge, and it wasn’t long before Will spilled the truth. “As you know, Mr. Caesar works for Lady Demeter, Mr. di Angelo’s grandmother. I met both him and his sister there.”

“Your luck is incredible at times,” Drew said.

“I know. I learnt some things about him, and his past, but also about Mr. Grace.” Will sighed, and found Drew looking up at him. “Should I tell Piper? She says she is finally doing better, and I don’t want to rip an old wound open.”

“I don’t think you should tell her. Mr. Grace is not our problem anymore, and he broke her heart. He can stay wherever he is.” Her nose scrunched up. “The only thing she can do now, is moving forward, and leave him in the past.”

 Up until the end of the Summer, they were in peace. Piper settled back to life in the countryside, the younger siblings – besides Mitchell, who would return when August ended – went back to their lessons, and Aphrodite’s nerves gave up every other hour.

Will tried his best not to think of Mr. di Angelo, busying himself every time the thought resurfaced. However, when he closed his eyes at night, he couldn’t help but get through their every interaction, and everything he had ever been told about the man.

He thought of their only dance together. Mr. di Angelo’s heart had beaten wildly, and even then, Will had wondered whether it was for the attention. After Mr. di Angelo’s confession, he wondered whether it was for his particular attention.

In August, their aunt Artemis wrote a letter to her brother, asking whether Will was willing to visit Derbyshire with her and another friend. Not a week later, Will was leaving again.

 Artemis didn’t like traveling alone. Will wasn’t sure what her business in London was, he knew that she fought social battles, and had some contacts inside the Parliament, especially in the House of Commons. For that particular travel, Will was with her and Hippolytus, a Beta working for her. He wasn’t fond of marriage, mating and romance, as he told Will himself.

“Derbyshire is beautiful this season,” Artemis said, the third night of their tour.

They were sleeping in inns, and they had been lucky enough not to meet any Alpha nor Beta who gave them a hard time, despite some people’s stares staying uncomfortably long on Will, at times.

Hippolytus nodded. “Are we visiting the di Angelo estate tomorrow? I heard it’s stunning.”

Will almost dropped his glass. “Pemberley, you mean?”

Hippolytus nodded again, tilting his head to the side. “You look like you have seen a ghost. Are you quite alright?”

“Just a bit tired,” Will said, and it wasn’t a lie. “What were you saying about tomorrow?”

Artemis chuckled. “We are visiting the di Angelo estate tomorrow, or Pemberley. I wrote to the housekeeper, and she is willing to have us. Although Mr. di Angelo won’t be there.”

“Are you sure?” Will insisted, leaning forward on the table. “That he won’t be home.”

Artemis furrowed her eyebrows. “Did you want to meet him? I hear he’s grown to be quite gorgeous.”

Heat rose to Will’s face. He blurted a negative answer out, the words tumbled down his tongue, but he didn’t wish to know whether his aunt and Hippolytus had heard him. He gave them both a tight smile, bid them goodnight, and escaped before they could understand what had happened.

 Pemberley House wasn’t far from the town of Lambton. They walked there, as Artemis was as fond of walking as Will.

Pemberley House was on the opposite side of the valley, and it caught the eye, despite being in perfect harmony with the natural beauty of the place.

The housekeeper was an old woman called Beatrice, whose words were stained by an Italian accent. In fact, as she led them inside, she revealed that late Mr. di Angelo had employed her shortly before his first marriage, so that his wife would have someone to talk to in her native language.

“He loved her so much,” she said. “That although she was an Omega and he an Alpha, he took her name. Come, I’ll show you the gallery with the family portraits.”

“I met him once,” Artemis said later on, as they stopped in front of a paint of late Mr. di Angelo. “He always looked so stoic.”

Will thought the same of his son. They looked like one another, and even in the portrait, Mr. di Angelo wore dark clothes.

“He did, didn’t he?” Beatrice said, tilting her head to the side. Melancholic joy shone between the tears in her eyes. “I remember when Bianca was born, and how happy they were.”

Next was a family portrait, in which Mr. di Angelo was only a baby, laying in his crib with the rest of the family around it. Will remained in front of it for a longer time, even when the others had moved on. His aunt called him out.

“Are you having baby fever, dear?” She asked teasingly, poking him in the belly. “Should we expect any surprise?”

Will only blushed.

Bianca di Angelo and her brother shared many qualities, such as their eyes. Beatrice confirmed as much.

“It’s strange sometimes, to walk here and see all their faces, when only one is left,” she said. “I look at him, and I can see Bianca, Maria and Hades, too. It’s a heavy luggage to carry, for only one person.”

A knot tightened Will’s throat. Even if he wanted, he couldn’t find it in himself to talk.

They passed by another section, that had portraits of Mr. di Angelo’s second wife, Miss Levesque. She looked much like her daughter, which Beatrice said wasn’t as good a thing, as she had gone through a bad time after her pregnancy.

“She was happy when she was expecting,” she told them. “But afterwards, she couldn’t find such joy in anything else. She wanted other children, but her health was too frail, and Mr. di Angelo had to refuse her. It broke her heart.”

Late Mr. di Angelo’s wife was called Persephone. She was still alive, as Will knew, and spent most of her time with her mother, although she sometime came back, to make sure that the children were doing well.

In the last section were portraits of only the children.

“Bianca was beautiful,” Artemis said. “But what I liked the most about her, was her cleverness.”

“You knew her, madam?” Beatrice asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

Although he didn’t see himself, Will knew he wore the same expression.

“She visited London with her father, not long before she passed,” Artemis replied. “She wanted to work with the Hunters of Diana, when she was older.”

Beatrice shook her head. “Such a tragedy.”

Will stopped in front of a painting of Mr. di Angelo, made not too long ago, he could tell. He recognized the style, as he had seen it already.

“Is this Hazel’s painting?” He asked.

Beatrice nodded. “Do you know her, sir?”

“I met her in Rosings in June,” Will said. “But I already knew her brother, from when he visited Meryton.”

“Tell me, is he as handsome as he is in these paintings?” Artemis asked.

Beatrice chuckled, stating that he was. Artemis’ eyes stayed on Will, and if her smile was anything to go by, his blush was answer enough for her.

 Lastly, Beatrice brought them to the library, but Will was lost in the way. A slow melody played on the violin reached his ears, and as a fool he followed it. Since he was always behind them, his companions didn’t even notice.

The door was left ajar. In the air lingered a familiar scent, sweet. Only when he noticed, did Will know that he was hoping for another. He stumbled back, but Hazel’s melody didn’t even falter.

Will turned, and before he knew it, he was on the balcony, and then down to the connected stairs. He passed through the gardens, breathing in the scent of fresh flowers. He closed his eyes, turning his face to the sun, and leaning back against a column.

The distinct sound of a carriage trained by horses shook Will from his peace. Was it Artemis’? No, they had left it at the inn, and come by foot. So he walked again, and reached the front of the house, to see the carriage being taken away, and Artemis, Hippolytus and Beatrice talking to a man.

The doors opened to reveal Hazel, her gown in her hand, the brightest of smiles on her face, as she called her brother’s name. Not that Will was surprised in the least to see that it was Mr. di Angelo.

Artemis gestured for Will to come closer, and he did, although the ground was spinning under his feet, and there was nothing anchoring him to reality.

Mr. di Angelo let his sister down, as Artemis presented Will as her brother’s son. Mr. di Angelo’s eyebrows shot up, as Hazel greeted Will, squeezing his hands. Mr. di Angelo was wearing a loose-fitting white shirt, that left most of his shoulders and collarbones exposed. Will looked away with a blush.

“It’s been so long,” Hazel told him, as they went back inside, hooking an arm in his and one in her brother’s. “How is your family doing?”

Will nodded, completely transfixed on the patterns on the floor.

“William?” She called him. When he startled, she looked over at her brother.

Mr. di Angelo had an eyebrow raised, as he always had, and seemed very stoic. Will wanted to shake him, and see the man behind the statue, the one that had written him the letter that had kept him awake for several nights.

“I’m sorry, I was distracted,” he said. “Could you repeat, please?”

Hazel chuckled. “I was asking about your family.”

“They are doing fine,” Will said. “My sister Piper has returned to London, and in the next few days Mitchell will return from Brighton. In three days I will return home, too.”

“I’m afraid I may have changed your plans,” Mr. di Angelo said. “I have invited Miss Solace to fish in our lake. You are welcome to join us, of course.”

“Fishing is boring,” Hazel cut in. “I will show William the gardens.”

They stopped in the parlor, where Mr. di Angelo called a servant to bring tea.

“My older sister spoke highly of the Hunters,” Mr. di Angelo told Artemis. “You may know my cousin, Thalia Grace. She works with you, now.”

Artemis nodded. “Of course. She is brilliant. And she left for Meryton, too, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Mr. di Angelo told her. His eyes flickered to Will. “She and Mrs. Jackson are thinking of returning during the Autumn, but I don’t think they will want Mr. Jackson, Mr. Grace nor me, too.”

“You should,” Will said.

Mr. di Angelo blushed, or something close to it.

 Will didn’t see Mr. di Angelo the following day, as he had already left the estate to prepare the boat. A butler walked Artemis and Hippolytus to the docks, so that they could reach him.

“When dad was still alive, they used to go fishing together,” Hazel told him. “I never joined them, but sometimes Percy and his father did.”

“Your brother wanted to be a merchant, didn’t he?” Will said, recalling the letter.

Hazel giggled. “He did. How did you know?”

Will blushed, but lied easily. “He told me.”

They laid a blanket to sit on in the grass, opening the basket Hazel had stuffed with food.

“He was a sweetheart when he was little. Your youngest brother is only seven, am I right?”

Will nodded. “He hasn’t presented, but we know he’ll be an Omega. His scent is so sweet. Mr. Caesar knows it, too.”

“He is your father’s heir, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yes. My step-mother is already lost in desperation over it.”

“It must be so hard, knowing your house won’t be yours forever,” she said. “Especially if you still have children as young as your brother Jonathan.”

Will hadn’t thought about it that way. But as he did, for the first time, he wished to never have to feel what Aphrodite had, when she had married his father, only to then realize how frail their stability was.

 Being tired, Will had chosen to leave for the inn early. He and Hazel separated at the door, with the newly made promise of writing.

“William.”

Will startled, looking behind himself, where Artemis, Hippolytus and Mr. di Angelo were coming from. Mr. di Angelo didn’t smile, but his shoulders relaxed, and so did his face.

“May I see you to the village?” Mr. di Angelo asked him.

Will’s heart skipped a beat, or maybe more. “No, no! I’m very fond of walking.”

“Yes, I know.” He hesitated for a moment, and opened his mouth as if he were about to say more, but changed his mind the last second. “I know.”

Will nodded, and took a step back. “Goodbye, then.”

Mr. di Angelo nodded without a word, his jaw closed so tightly a muscle jumped. Will’s eyes stayed on him longer than they should have, as his words echoed in his mind, with nothing to stop them.

You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Will couldn’t find it in himself to forgive Mr. di Angelo for the pain he had admitted loving him caused, as though Will were some unlovable creature.

 When Will reached the inn, he was surprised to find a letter for himself from his sister Piper. He opened it when he was already in bed. He read it once, then three other times, but it still wasn’t enough to make sense of the words written. Before he knew it, he was crying.

Will’s thoughts went to his family, and when he cried about them enough, his mind went to Mr. di Angelo, and how he would never see him again, as a man of his standing would never mix with one whose Omega brother had run away from home. After all, it seemed that Mitchell had really managed to throw away the good name of the family.

 When Will heard the sound of a carriage outside, he quickly moved downstairs, crumbled letter in his hands. Artemis was talking to Hippolytus, and of course Mr. di Angelo was with them, because somehow he had acquired extremely good-manners in the time Will hadn’t seen him.

Artemis talked to him, but Will didn’t hear a word, only trusted the letter in her hands. Hippolytus asked what was happening, and so did Mr. di Angelo’s confused brow, but Will couldn’t bring himself to talk, he wasn’t even sure he still had a voice.

“Oh, dear goodness,” she said, her arm going around Will’s waist. She bared her neck, and Will didn’t have to think twice before letting the scent envelope him. “There’s been a problem with one of his siblings.”

Will turned to Mr. di Angelo. He would have felt like a liar and a hypocrite to keep it, when he had been told so much about the other’s life. “Mitchell ran away with Lawrence.”

Mr. di Angelo paled, taking a step closer and raising his hands, dropping them again when he realized he didn’t know where to put them. He looked so utterly lost in that conflict, Will would have laughed.

Shame curled in Will’s chest. He wished Mr. di Angelo hadn’t come, so Will’s last memory of him would have been that of him in the gardens in front of Pemberley, with the sun shining on him, when, with only one step, Will would have reached him. Now he felt far, far away.

“Tomorrow you will bring Will home,” Artemis told Hippolytus. “I’ll reach my brother in London, see what we can do.”

Sometime later, when he was in bed about to fall asleep, Will realized that he didn’t remember going upstairs, nor bidding Mr. di Angelo goodbye. He almost wished he did.

 As expected of her, Mrs. Solace was utterly heartbroken. She cried and cried. Her son was lost forever, and her late-husband would never forgive her. Jonathan didn’t understand what was happening, and Piper and Will tried to keep him and the others out of the house as much as they could. However, they could only find a resemblance of peace when they were together under the furs, a pile of limbs and familiar scents.

Some days later, Apollo returned. Jonathan jumped in his arms as soon as he got out of the carriage, and their father scented him thoroughly. He took Piper in his arms, too. Will watched from the door, too afraid to walk out.

“You didn’t find them,” Will stated.

Apollo let go of Piper, but he kept Jonathan close. As he opened the mouth to reply, the door opened behind Will, revealing Austin.

“So?” He asked. “Where is Mitchell?”

“Let’s go inside,” Apollo said, rubbing his eyes, under which dark circles aged his face.  

Will exchanged a look with Piper. Apollo would have already talked if there had been good news. They went upstairs, and Mrs. Solace wailed again when she saw her husband, only stopping when he sat beside her on the bed, caressing her neck.

“We almost found them,” he said. Will’s heart stopped. “They rented an apartment in the outskirts of London, but when we arrived they had already left.”

“What did he want from Mitchell?” Lacy asked. “Why couldn’t he wait to marry him properly?”

Will sighed, moving closer to his sister and putting his arms around her from behind. Truth be told, he didn’t know either. Mr. Lawrence had known that they weren’t rich, Mitchell didn’t have Hazel’s dowry. With them, he wouldn’t find much. If he married Mitchell at all, that would be the real surprise.

“He’s lost,” Mrs. Solace said. She hid under the furs, wailing loudly. “My boy, my poor boy.”

 For almost another week, the house mourned Mitchell (and also their good name).

“I can’t believe he escaped,” muttered Lacy several times, leaning with her shoulder against the corridor as Will was passing.

Will, knowing well that she didn’t even know she was talking out loud, walked past her. Drew caught his forearm, dragging him in the parlor with her, where she was just waiting for another victim.

“If we say that he died–” she started in a low tone.

“No,” Will said firmly.

“–as if you haven’t thought about that, too.”

Will sighed. “I really haven’t, and you should stop.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“As you didn’t the first thirty times I told you.”

Drew rolled her eyes, hissing something under her breath, probably a plot against Will’s life. Calling every last bit of patience he still had, Will maintained his calm, and quietly walked away, only to be too quiet, and cause Austin to not hear him, and run into him.

“Are you a ghost or something?” Austin asked, rubbing his head. “I didn’t even hear you.”

Just a day or two prior, Piper had asked Will why he had been so silent lately, also stating he didn’t look much like himself. Not to give her any more heartbreak, Will used Mitchell’s situation as an excuse for his perturbation. And he was thinking of a man, it just wasn’t Mitchell, nor Mr. Lawrence. He thought that he wanted to know more about Mr. di Angelo, and dance with him again, in a situation that he could enjoy, unlike the first time. He also thought about Hazel, and how their friendship had already come to an end.

“What were you even running for?” Will asked, helping Austin up.

Austin lightened, clapping his hands. “Post!” He exclaimed, grabbing Will’s hand. “From aunt Artemis.” Austin didn’t let go of him, running to the garden, where Mr. Solace was, standing alone under the sun.

A window opened from above as he read, for Mrs. Solace stuck her head out.

“What were you two running for?” She shouted. “No running in the house!”

“We are in the garden!” Austin responded.

Will scuffed his brother in the head. “There’s a letter from aunt Artemis!”

Mrs. Solace shrieked, calling the other children to the garden. As she disappeared from the window, Austin turned to remember her not to run in the house with a loud shout.

The door opened, Kayla and Piper falling to the ground, Lacy stopping just before she walked on them, as Drew snickered out loud, nudging Piper’s foot with her own. Mrs. Solace didn’t notice them, and stumbled on Kayla’s legs.

“Dear,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “What are you doing on the ground when we may finally know of your brother’s future?”

“And ours!” Drew said. “We are one step from falling into utter disgrace, remember?”

Mr. Solace laughed, loud and clear. “Oh, dear.” Attention shifted back to him, as he shook his head. The shadows that had been on his face for days finally left, leaving him in a state of utter delight. “They will marry, if I pay him £132 every year.”

“That’s so little,” Piper said, smoothing her gowns, as Mrs. Solace clapped in absolute delight.

“Your aunt must have paid him something already,” Mr. Solace said. “I doubt he would have married your brother, had it been otherwise.”

Mrs. Solace gasped. “Why would you say something so unromantic? If they ran away together, they must love each other! Mitchell is beautiful and charming, who wouldn’t want to marry him?”

“Does she know the same Mitchell as I do?” Drew asked Will.

“Drew,” Piper hissed.

“There’s no need to say the things we are already thinking out loud, dear,” Mr. Solace reprimanded her. “If you’ll excuse me, I must write back immediately. Unless my dearest wife thinks there’s no need to reassure him with our money, and that I should just let them be. After all, they love each other.”

 The carriage stopped in front of Longbourn House. Mitchell acted as the star of a parade, waving at them delightfully. Jonathan was the only one who waved back.

“I can’t believe he did this to us,” Austin whispered, his lips tugged downwards. “He would have thrown us all in the dirt to have – have fun with that man.”

Lacy’s hand reached for his, her hold so tight his knuckles turned white. He didn’t seem to mind, only dropping his head on her shoulder, as uncomfortable as it was, since he was much taller than her.

“We only need to get through today,” Will said. “Then we can forget all about this.”

“Mitchell is married,” Kayla said. “We can’t forget. He’s – he’s lost, mother was right.”

“He was lost long before this,” Piper cut in. “He was lost when all he did was flirting with officers and spend his time idly lazing around.”

The matter was dropped, as their parents were done talking to the spouses, and it was their turn to greet them.

Mitchell showed them his ring several times, and uncovered his neck for them to see Mr. Lawrence’s bites. Each time, Will nodded, smiling tightly, acting like his heart wasn’t breaking, and shivers weren’t running down his spine, despite the temperature. If his siblings’ expressions were anything to go by, he wasn’t alone in the act.

The one who felt more at fault was Piper. She wasn’t only the oldest of the family, but also Mitchell’s oldest by blood. Whereas Kayla and Austin still tended to turn to Will first for counsel, the McLeans went to Piper first.

Mr. Lawrence remained inside with their parents, while Mitchell joined the siblings in the garden. Even in his mind, Will had already started referring to him as Mitchell instead of brother, his instincts recognizing the change in his scent. He was Mitchell, but he wasn’t Will’s Mitchell. Separation hit wolves hard, even if packs weren’t formally stated, hadn’t been since before medieval times.

Lacy sat on the swing, Kayla cuddling beside her.

“You will want to avoid doing that, if you want to look adult enough for a husband,” Mitchell said.

Piper opened his mouth to reply, and so did Will, ready to cut Mitchell off before the youngers stared believing him, but Austin did it first.

“I don’t even want to know the things you did to get that husband,” he said.

Something like hurt flashed in Mitchell’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced with anger. “I won’t tell you anything, as you are, and will always be, my younger and jealous brother.”

Austin slumped against the tree, shaking his head, and looking utterly defeated.

“You should have come up for my wedding,” Mitchell said. “It would have been even funnier with all of you there. I’m the third oldest, and the first to marry.”

Drew outright scoffed, and Will pinched her side. Whatever had happened, they couldn’t change it, even if they cursed Mitchell out. Drew was being courted by Lou Ellen, Lacy was ‘secretly’ talking to Artemis about joining the Hunters, Austin had dreams of touring with his music, and Kayla sometimes was keen on joining him. Who knew when they would all be together again!

“Mr. di Angelo said we didn’t have time to bring you all up there,” Mitchell continued, and then covered his mouth, as though it could put the words back in.

Will startled. “Mr. di Angelo?” He asked.

His siblings probably did the same, but the world around him was spinning, and he was numb to everything, except for Mitchell’s next words.

“He was there. He is friends with Bryce, he told me. He’s the last person before Bryce talked to before proposing to me. I swore to secrecy, though. For some reason, he didn’t want anyone to know he was there.”

[sapphicscullyy]

Stargazing

So hi everyone... I thought I might try my hand at writing some fic. I’d love to get into this more so tell me what you think (please). Ao3 link is here if you prefer.

Tagging @today-in-fic because that’s what y’all do here

 +++

Scully rolled over restlessly in the comfortless motel bed for what seemed like the hundredth time since she switched off the light. She could hear the faint hum of the television playing in Mulder’s room and wondered if he had fallen asleep yet. He probably hadn’t.

They’d been in this town for the past week, trying to find a missing child. Luka Astley, 6 years old, disappeared whilst playing in the front yard of his parents’ house eleven days ago, his mother sitting by the front window, watching him the whole time. They had yet to find any leads or any place to start looking. These cases always hit hard.

Scully stared up at the mould-covered ceiling, willing herself to fall asleep and escape the nightmare she and Mulder were living in. Her ability to fall asleep seemingly anywhere failed her at the worst moments; only when the solace of dreaming was all she desired. She sighed, attempting to close her eyes once more, it would probably find her in her dreams too.

The adjoining door between her room and Mulder’s let out a soft creak as it opened slightly, the blue glow of the television screen bathing the walls. She felt Mulder hesitate, before slipping partially through the now ajar door. His presence filled her room, washing over her in waves like a drug that both calmed and excited the body.

“Scully,” he called out tentatively into the darkened room, “are you awake?”

There was a small, selfish part of her that wanted to ignore him and return to her futile attempts of sleep, but the other part was curious as to what he could possibly want from her at this late hour, and where it may lead them.

She let out a small groan of affirmation, hoping it conveyed her reluctance to indulge any impractical ideas of his at this late hour.

“Good. Put some clothes on and meet me outside in five minutes,” he said, already stepping back through the doorway. “And bring your coat.”

Scully lurched up onto her elbows, ready to argue against his notion that it was okay to drag her outside in the middle of the night, regardless of if she could sleep or not.

“Mulder, what-” the soft click of the adjoining door cut her protest short. She collapsed back against the pillows and let out a long sigh, silently cursing her unconventional yet beguiling partner, before throwing back the covers and dragging her tired body out of bed.

+++

As Scully stepped out of her motel room, she found herself glad that she had elected not to ignore Mulder and brought her coat with her as the cool night breeze curled around her skin. She had thrown on a casual pair of pants and sweater, huffing as she had put her bra back on. She had run her fingers through her pillow-mussed hair and looked at her makeup-free face before sighing again.

She saw Mulder was already waiting for her by the rental car, door open as he threw in what appeared to be a blanket and flashlight. He spun around as he heard her approach and dared to flash a grin at her. She attempted to scowl at him, but she felt her traitorous lips begin to curve into a returning smile. She looked at his feet.

“Mulder, where are going?” She heard the scepticism creep into her voice. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Just trust me,” he almost looked shy, “I promise you that you won’t regret it.”

Scully sighed once more as he opened the car door for her, this time in acquiescence of her fate, a life forever dedicated to following Spooky Mulder, even if he woke her up and dragged her out of her motel room in the middle of the night.

She looked to the back once he climbed in. “Why are you bringing a flashlight?”

“Scully,” he nearly whined her name in objection to her questions, “you’ll see.” He turned the key in the ignition and she tucked her legs underneath before turning her head and staring into the deep night through the car window.

+++

They drove for about ten minutes, a serene silence stretching comfortably between them until Mulder pulled over along the side of a nondescript stretch of highway bordered by a thick copse of trees.

“Mulder?” What the hell are we doing here?

He just opened his door and stepped out of the car.

He collected the blanket and flashlight from the back seat before opening her door and offering her his hand.

“Come on, Scully,” he said pleadingly, “I’ll take you back if you don’t like it.”

She reluctantly took his hand, trying to ignore how his grip seemed to warm her entire body from her fingertips to her core, unable to resist the spell his hazel eyes were casting on her. He grinned at her and she ducked her head as she climbed out of the car, hiding her own smile.

He tugged her towards the treeline, walking along its edge for a few steps before turning onto a barely-there path that could not be seen from five feet away, let alone from the highway if someone was driving past. This raised her curiosity about how Mulder knew exactly where to stop along the highway, she certainly hadn’t seen any definitive markers or landmarks to identify the place.

His hand had never left hers, gently tugging her along, guiding her, not allowing her to stumble in the dark. His other hand held the flashlight, its weak beam illuminating the narrow trail ahead of them, blanket tucked under his arm. Despite not being able to see where she was stepping, or knowing what was coming, Scully felt safe.

It was not long before they reached the end of the trail, and even in the dark, the view that materialised before them as they emerged from the trees made Scully’s breath catch in her throat.

Illuminated in the dim half-moon light, the lake seemed to shimmer and swirl, painting an abstract masterpiece using the reflection of the night sky as its muse. The black water was streaked with the ever changing white spectacle, dancing on every crest of every small wave and ripple on its surface. The sky itself glowed with the light of a million burning stars, more than she had ever seen, seeming to pulse to the rhythm of some unknown melody. Spatters of colour filled the night above her and she stood, mesmerised.

The trance was only broken when Mulder said her name ever so softly, and she became aware of the absence of his presence by her side. She turned only her head to look at him and saw the blanket he had laid across a small expanse of spongy moss, and him standing beside it, waiting for her.

“How did you know this place was here?” she asked him quietly after she had settled on the blanket, him taking his place beside her.

She glanced over at him when she received no answer. To her surprise, the starlight showed her a faint blush that had appeared on his cheeks. “One of the officers mentioned it,” his words were barely there, just breath in the wind, preserving the quiet realm of Elysium surrounding them. A perfect island of solitude for two lonely souls.

Her eyebrow raised itself in preparation, as she opened her mouth to voice her scepticism on how the location of a reclusive and romantic date setting came up in casual conversation. But then she caught herself. Romantic date setting . Was that what this was? Was that what she wanted it to be?

“Do you like it?” His expression was one of fearful hope, and answered both of her questions. Yes.

She let her eyes trace the features of his face for a moment before she shifted her attention back to the night sky burning above them. “Yes,” she breathed, allowing a small smile to play at the curves of her mouth, “it’s beautiful.”

He hummed in agreeance. “It is.” She pretended to be oblivious to the fact that his gaze had not shifted from her as he said those words. Her skin tingled along the path his eyes followed as he watched her.

They sat like this for a few minutes, the starlight transfixing her gaze and bewitching her with its beauty. Eventually, he laid back on the blanket, and she joined him, shuffling slightly closer to his warmth as she did so. The moss beneath the blanket cushioned her body, almost more comfortable than the mattress on the bed in her motel room, but there was a sharp rock directly under where her head was resting, and she squirmed around, attempting to find an angle where it wouldn’t dig into her skull.

After a few moments, Mulder tapped her lightly on the shoulder. “Here,” he said softly, indicating for her to lift her head. She sat up slightly, resting on her elbows as he slipped his arm beneath her head. She hid her smile behind an eye-roll, even as she surreptitiously shifted even closer to him as she lay her head back down, now resting gently on his arm. Finally comfortable, and revelling in the proximity of his warm body next to hers, Scully let out a contented sigh.

The muscles in his arm tensed for a moment beneath her head and she felt the warm pressure of his hand on her arm, pulling her even closer. A smile twitched at the corners of her lips.

“Have you ever thought about starlight, Scully? How by the time the light from those stars reaches us, it’s already billions of years old?” His voice ruffled the hair around her ear, causing it to stand on end. Gooseflesh rose on the skin of her neck, taunted by the proximity of his mouth and all the things he could do with it if he only moved just an inch or two closer.

“Most of the stars we can see have died, millions, or even billions, of years ago. But their light goes on, travelling through space and time until it reaches our little planet, and then keeps going further still. Maybe it never stops.”

He turned his head away from her, gazing up at the objects of his current musings.  Her eyes slipped shut and she listened to the steady sound of his voice while slowly relaxing into his arms.

“I think that up there, amongst the stars, is where souls reside. Where they go when their journey on earth has come to an end. It brings me comfort to hope that, perhaps, all those souls we fail to save, that they find their peace in the blissful void of the cosmos.”

This suggestion sparked a thought in Scully. Though she knew he was thinking mainly of Samantha, or perhaps even Missy, her first thought was of her father. Was his soul up there, adrift in the universe? Could he be looking down on her and Mulder, lying together beneath a blanket of stars?

Her father had never met Mulder, though from what she had told him of her crackpot new partner, he hadn’t seemed to approve of him. But her mother had told her later, after, that he was just being protective of his daughter in her new job, even if it was not one he would like for her to be doing. Her mother had also said, though it may have been her own biased opinion of Mulder shining through, that Ahab would have liked and respected her partner greatly.

She wondered for a moment if the night sky above them was the one Ahab would have seen when he was out at sea for all those months, where he was so far from any landmass that there would be no glow of city lights on the horizon to pollute his view.

She realised Mulder’s voice had lulled, so she cracked open her eyes to look at him. His gaze caught hers, hazel eyes swimming just inches from her own.

“Sleep, Scully,” he pulled her even closer to him, breath tickling her hair, “I’ve got you.”

His thumb began lightly tracing invisible patterns on her skin and she felt him press a light kiss to the top of her head. His chest rose and fell with each breath, in sync with the rhythmic wash of the waves lapping at the shore. She closed her eyes once more, nuzzling further into his side and silently inhaling Mulder’s scent as she did so, and allowed the cadence of her surroundings to lull her to sleep.

She awoke to the shrill alarm clock ringing loudly in her ear. Sitting up in the bed, Scully noticed that she felt quite well-rested, something that seemed impossible while they stayed in this town. Looking down, she discovered that she was dressed in her leggings and t-shirt, and the memories of her night, and presumably the reason she was able to sleep so well, returned to her.

A smile broke out on her face, and she closed her eyes once more, unwilling to break out of the small spell of happiness that she had found just yet. Her day would be filled with horrors and nightmares that would leave a part of her hollow for weeks, but for just that moment, none of it crowded her mind. Instead, she revelled in the phantom press of his body against her own still tingling on her skin.

[mieczyhale]

you know what i could go for?? [late night ramble journey ahead // i did not re-read this so who knows!!]

an in-depth fic about klaus’s ten months in vietnam.. but with ben there. klaus getting pants and a gun shoved at him and ben is just as confused and freaked out. klaus finding out where they are, or ben finding out and telling him. klaus meeting dave and ben is sitting next to him, side eyeing dave because who is this soldier and why did he come all the way from the back of the bus to introduce himself. ben sees it / can tell when klaus shoves the briefcase under their seat right after and ben’s just like ‘are you fucking kidding me??’ and of course klaus would make stupid decisions because of an attractive man with a sweet smile. so he’s exasperated but also concerned because it’s 1968 and people like klaus are treated even worse now than they are in 2019, way worse, and all of these men are probably straight - dave included. and if any of them are gay they’re not gonna say anything let alone act on it. it wouldn’t be worth it. klaus could get himself hurt or killed just for being himself, if he acts too.. well.. himself after that he stays by klaus’s side more than he did in their own time, which is really saying something. offers advice and wisdom like he always has. he warns him about snipers and mines and bullets and in turn klaus warns his squad. ben can’t lie - it feels pretty fucking good to be responsible for saving lives without having to take any. he still wishes klaus would just try the briefcase, he has it, but at some point he stops pushing. because he does think klaus needs to go back and soon but everytime he brings it up klaus gets defensive and angry - he can do what he wants. he has friends here now. he has a family that actually likes him. that actually cares. he’s considered useful and important and he’s on drugs!! he can get high and none of them think any less of him for it. why can’t ben see that maybe this is where he belongs?? maybe the middle of the fucking vietnam war is where he fits?? and it’s not like he has anyone or anything back home. the only thing he could have missed is ben and ben’s with him in 1968 so there’s literally nothing. and ben wants to yell back, he wants to argue that there’s plenty for klaus to go back to, but he’s realizing that klaus.. might be right. and that hurts. and of course pisses ben off but it hurts because nobody should have to travel back in time and fight in a pointless war to find basic respect, especially not klaus. klaus who has been through enough - who deserves good things more than anyone ben knows. so after that conversation he doesn’t bring it up anymore. he looks at it sometimes, and thinks about their siblings, how they just gained their missing brother only to lose another, how are they doing? have they noticed klaus is missing yet? did they see the motel room?? did they know that all of that blood was klaus’s?? (shh patch didn’t die, hazel and cha cha escaped by knocking her out but she lives because i said so. diego shows up and finds her, freaks out at first but is relieved that she’s fine. he manages to get her to wake up and she tells him that klaus was there. he was hurt, very very hurt, but he got away. she doesn’t know where he went, he crawled through the vent, and he’s gone, diego. you need to find him - he needs a hospital. ahem anyway) ben thinks on these things and it never takes him long to get disgusted looking at it because it contains, in a way, their family. and he thinks he knows the answers. he gets to a point where he decides he wouldn’t be upset if they never had to see those jackasses again. his loyalties lie with klaus, after 13 years together there’s no way they wouldnt be. and if doing what’s best for klaus, doing what makes klaus happy, is staying right where they’ve found themselves than he can deal with it. that’s where he ends up anyway but its definitely not a quick or easy point to reach. he’s there for every battle, all the days of marching, watching klaus kill people and knowing how badly it’s affecting his brother and yet he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t pull back without orders, doesn’t put his gun down until he knows his squad is safe. and that fierceness grows as he gets closer to dave. ben doesn’t know what to think of dave at first, probably doesn’t trust him - knowing every man klaus has ever found attractive or had a “relationship” with before - but ben literally watches this - admittedly handsome - soldier boy fall in love with klaus, and klaus with him. ben witnesses the disco. the private conversation - from a distance, he’s doesn’t feel quite right listening in and he can still see them. the way they look at each other. how gently dave approaches every moment with klaus - the hand on his cheek, their first kiss (which he WILL tease klaus about later) when they head back to the hotel that was booked for all the guys for r&r, ben decides to wander saigon instead because he’s pretty sure he knows where things are going to go considering klaus and dave are roommates (oh my god they were roommates) by the time he gets back they’re both passed out (in the same bed. as he expected) from that day forward klaus is happy, genuinely happy in a way ben can’t remember him ever being, and dave has of course gained ben’s full approval (especially when klaus tells dave about the ghosts and dave believes him. even turns to where klaus is pointing at ben and tells ben that he’s happy that klaus has at least one good sibling, that he’s happy to know ben is there. when dave knows ben is there he always greets him. it’s not anything that grand really but it means a lot to ben. and when klaus finally tells him about the time travel, a little later on, dave believes him then too. said it made sense because he always thought there was no way someone as incredible as klaus could’ve come from the same place as he himself - let alone the same time. it never seemed to.. fit) SO ben is a fan. and he stays by both their sides - keeping them alive as best he can - along with a few other ghosts who are coherent, previous members of the 173rd, who pass things on to ben when klaus is too high. they talk, as long as no one but dave is around - dave who adapts pretty easily to klaus holding a whole conversation with someone he can’t see or hear. and ben.. stays ben. the only thing being in the war really changes is the way he views their siblings and he now has one other live person that he can “talk” to. eventually, almost 11 months in, they find out they’re getting sent to the frontlines. even closer to the danger. and klaus has a bad feeling. this is when ben brings up the briefcase again, hesitantly, and before klaus goes off reminds him that they could take dave with them. if he wanted to go. klaus can return to their time, to relative safety, and still have dave. it’s no longer a ‘one or the other’ situation. all they have to do is get dave to say ‘yes’. he says it very quickly of course (if you think i’d let dave die you’re out of your goddamn mind) he can be tough and feral when he needs to be, when pushed if klaus is in danger but he isn’t a killer, he doesn’t want to be a killer, he wants out. but he also wants a life with klaus and while they talked about going back to the states in.. well.. dave’s time and getting a little house and all that - doing that in 2019 sounds much better. especially after the night klaus told him softly about how things were different for lgbtq+ people, how they could hold hands and be as out as they wanted. get married. adopt. all things dave spent his whole life believing he’d never be allowed to have. so they do it - right then. klaus pulls out the briefcase and they gather the few things they wanted to keep and in a bright light they’re gone. (maybe they said something, or goodbye, to each squadmate before leaving. maybe they didnt and it hurt but if they waited around to get through everyone it would be too late to run) AND OH!! they take the ghost soldiers with them / the ghost soldiers find them in 2019, because i’m a slut for klaus having good ghosts, friend ghosts, who - even if they died horribly, are still the same person they were alive. and maybe sometimes they look like their deaths and sometimes they can look normal - ben teaching the soldiers how to be ghosts?? including how to appear as you were; whole, no holes or blood or missing limbs or chunks of head blown off. they’re all grateful and so is klaus. tho listen: he still gets high because i fucking said so - however, at least until the world is saved, he sticks to cigarettes and - for sleeping purposes - pot, dave does as well. because dave isnt a square. maybe he sticks to that path afterwards. maybe not. i for one support everything except 100% sobriety 100% of the time in this instance  anyway: later on when klaus can make ben corporeal for any amount of time he wants ben tells their siblings about the real life romantic drama he got to watch close up, from their first meeting all the way to the return to 2019. he also mentions a lot of things about the war, the sights and sounds of senseless murder - something their brother and his boyfriend were forced to take part in - the wounds they had to deal with, heal through. klaus and dave definitely have some scars. the fear. and that’s after telling them about hazel and cha cha and the almost two days they had klaus and nobody noticed. (maybe klaus lets his siblings meet the other soldiers, maybe not. maybe he lets them wander the mansion corporeal to scare the shit out of people. who knows) ben wants to make their siblings feel bad. he wants them to hurt and feel guilty. it’s the very least they deserve he thinks, when it’s all said and done. he hasn’t been able to say anything to them for 13 years and he’s got a lot of things built up - but gotta say, the last year (five-ish days?? starting at ep.1) have really taken the whole goddamn cake. klaus is embarrassed and shocked and actually quite touched that little benny is really going feral for the first time - though he keeps trying to tell him none of it is a big deal. he doesnt like confrontation. dave however is extremely pleased by the whole thing. klaus kept saying he and ben would get along if they ever got to meet and he was right. ben had, with a serious face, dubbed them the klaus hargreeves love & protection squad (bc dave doesnt know what the fuck even a ‘meem’ is yet) and that’s that. they make up a handshake and everything. klaus has never felt so loved. 

aaand eventually klaus and dave and ben (because of course he’s invited) do get that little house away from the city - someplace with few to no ghosts. someplace they can make their home. they make sure it has a room they can make up for ben even though he doesnt sleep (he still deserves his own space. a place to get away from them if he wants. somewhere to put his books and such. ben doesnt get emotional about that at all. absolutely not.) and they get pets and klaus gardens and ben reads books about gardening so he can help and dave works (mechanic is always a good time. or bookstore owner!! coffee shop?? listen. those may or may not be my favorite aus) and maybe the siblings get to visit and maybe they mend things and bond or whatever idk THE POINT IS:: Ben is a good brother and i think the idea of him going through vietnam with klaus is interesting and if someone with more ideas/thoughts ever wrote this i would be on that like cheese on broccoli honestly. THE SECOND POINT IS:: Klaus and Dave deserve to be happy and have the life they dreamed about together and if they shared their home with anyone it would be the Bentacles SO… OKAY…  that definitely did it’s own thing but i really really genuinely love thinking about what those months would have been like with ben there - what he would have thought or said or done about things yknow?? and how that would have affected klaus/changed things. i didnt give a lot of examples in this because my brain didn’t want to stay on track (as if it ever does) but it’s 1:30 in the morning and im so fucking tired lsdfd;lk if you actually read this.. first of all: im sorry. second of all: thank you. and literally if anyone ever wrote something about this topic (not like.. this post specifically, just the ben in vietnam plot) and nobody important dies i’ll love you and give you a lil smooch on the noggin  s m ooch. smooches. you know who likes smooches?? klaus. you know who deserves smooches?? klaus. you know who’s getting smooches?? THAT’S RIGHT. KLAUS. because dave has a degree in giving them and he can’t let that education go to waste amiright??

this post.. may or may not have been brought to you by wine as well.. 

ope

[captain-azoren]

The Spirit Forged: A New Breed

Since I’m going to be kind of busy for the foreseeable future, I don’t know how much time I’ll have to actually write fanfiction. So for now, I’m going to post outlines for the stories I do have in mind.

This right here is a prequel story to my current Spirit Forged fic, detailing how my OC Raiga came to be. If you have the time, read it and leave me a comment. I might actually write it out in full.

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·         The story opens with a group of loggers in a forest at night; the trees are massive as they walk between them lit by lanterns. Deer-ox haul something massive on a cart, hidden by a tarp.

o   All the men are nervous as they hear a growl in the darkness. They scream as a large animal pounces on one. The carriage bolts as the rest of the men, wielding spears and earthbending, fight the creature, but are nearly defenseless in the dark.

o   The last man standing runs in terror as the creature watches him flee, eyes glowing sapphire in the dark.

·         Aang and Katara visit the Eastern EK for a vacation, one of the few places they had left to see.

o   They are there to see the Immortal Forest, one of the oldest and nearly unchanged wilderness areas in the world.

o   Toph is busy with the metal bending academy.

o   Zuko is busy being Fire Lord, with the Kyoshi Warriors still acting as body guards.

o   Sokka is spending time with Suki for his vacation.

·         Aang and Katara overhear a logger arguing with a businessman over how dangerous the forest is. The logger quits and the businessman, Shung, yells back that he’s replaceable like everyone else.

·         Aang and Katara learn about mysterious attacks happening in the forests outside a developing city and decide to investigate.

o   The attacks have either been on lumberjacks or on travelers who strayed too far from the main paths into the forests.

·         Some people claim it’s a spirit, others claim it to be bandits, some dismiss it as wild predators.

·         They go investigate and meet the Zhang tribe in the forest.

·         The Zhang claim it isn’t them behind the attacks, but there have been territory disputes between them and the city folk over a specific spot in the forest.

·         The Immortal Forest is rich with giant trees extremely suitable for lumber, but it is considered sacred. The Zhang believe only they are allowed in there, as this is their homeland. Anyone else who enters will be hunted down by Bao Hu Shou, the King of Beasts, unless they are brought in by a member of the tribe.

o   Bao Hu Shou is a lion-tiger spirit, one of the oldest and strongest, only surpassed by the likes of Raava and Vaatu.

o   Bao Hu Shou was the guardian deity of the Zhang in ancient times. It was said he protected the tribe from other spirits in the era before the Avatar and before bending.

o   Some legends say that Bao Hu Shou would grant his power to a worthy champion, called a Spirit Forged, who would aid in protecting the people and the lands from threats.

·         The Zhang debate allowing the Avatar into the forest.

o   One of the Zhang objects, a burly man in his mid-20s named Grola, but another one, Raiga, argues to let the Avatar help clear their names.

o   Raiga has light brown hair styled into a mohawk, hazel eyes, dresses in brown hog monkey skins and wields twin daggers. He also carries gear for climbing trees. He is in his late teens and has many scars.

o   Grola shouts at and belittles Raiga, but the Zhang elder agrees with Raiga.

o   They perform a ritual to bless them.

·         Raiga eagerly volunteers to be their guide. He is scrappy and hotheaded, but means well.

·         They journey with Raiga through the forest and learn a bit about him.

o   Raiga’s father was an outsider, possibly a Water Tribe warrior who left the South Pole to fight the Fire Nation, and his mother was a sickly member of the Zhang. For most of his childhood he was scrawny and weak, called a runt by the others, but he has persisted and grew into a nimble scout and hunter.

o   Raiga was there at the Great Divide, but none of the gang remember him.

o   He has so many scars because he keeps throwing himself into danger, even though he’s not a great warrior. He is a good climber and decent hunter though.

o   Raiga proves to be somewhat annoying and overbearing, trying way too hard to become friends with Aang and Katara, though he seems to mean well. This makes it very hard for Aang and Katara to have any alone time.

·         As night begins to fall, the group has an encounter with Bao Hu Shou. It knows they mean no harm, but tells them to leave anyway. It does not want any more humans in the forest.

o   Bao Hu recognizes Aang as the Avatar, and voices its disappointment; this is not the first time an Avatar has come to intervene. Humans have tried to exploit the forest for centuries, and Bao Hu has fought them off. Avatars in the past promised to keep humans out, but sooner or later humans would break the promise.

o   Bao Hu takes note of Raiga, who shows the spirit the utmost respect. Bao Hu allows them to pass through the forest for this.

o   Bao Hu is very old, and time has taken its toll on him. The shrinking of the forest and the loss of followers has caused him to lose much of his strength and power. Aang pleads to let him handle things, but Bao Hu ignores him and departs with one last warning to not linger too long.

·         The group sets up camp for the night. In the middle of their sleep, they are ambushed by bandits. There is a fight and Raiga discovers the bandits are other Zhang tribe members, the ones who bullied him and are led by Grola. They have abandoned their traditions in order to turn a profit;

o   The Zhang bandits have made a deal with Shung to act as guides and security through the sacred forest so that they can brings heavy logging machinery in and chop down the trees for lumber.

o   One logging machine is a large mecha tank on treads with a massive chainsaw.

o   They offer Raiga a chance to join in on their scheme, but he refuses and fights back, but to no avail.

o   Grola pushes Raiga down the side of a cliff, providing a distraction as they flee from Aang and Katara who go searching for him.

·         Raiga is fatally injured from the fall, but is found by Bao Hu Shou. Impressed by his audacity and determination, Bao Hu Shou offers to save Raiga’s life by merging with him.

o   Bao Hu knows that he has little time left on earth as the forests continue to shrink, but by merging, they can save both their lives and have the power to take back the forests.

o   With little else to lose, Raiga agrees, and Bao Hu Shou merges with Raiga, transforming him into a beast man with claws and fangs and a tail. Raiga’s body is healed, most of his scars vanishing, and he soon finds he’s been gifted with incredible strength, agility, and heightened senses.

·         As Aang and Katara search for Raiga, they stumble upon the logging camp. They try to confront the loggers, but a fight ensues.

o   The Zhang fight like Jet, able to nimbly navigate the trees to fight. Others use logging machines to fight, like chains and saws and axes. Some are Earthbenders, who use their bending to uproot the stumps left behind.

o   The trees hamper Aang and Katara’s ability to fight back; they don’t want to destroy any trees, but the trees get in the way of their bending.

o   Katara has little water to work with, the roots prevent any major earthbending without knocking the trees over. Firebending is out of the question, as it could easily start a forest fire. Aang’s airbending skills are effective, but they’re outnumbered and they can do little to stop the logging mech, which is piloted by Shung.

o   Eventually, both Aang and Katara are bound by chains and rope. Aang laments not learning metalbending, and he wonders if he needs to go into the Avatar state.

·         The tide of battle turns when Raiga appears in his new form, to the shock of everyone.

o   Raiga begins to tear apart the loggers and the Zhang bandits, easily able to catch the ones in the trees and take them out one by one.

o   He breaks the chains holding Aang and Katara with sheer brute strength.

o   The last opponent standing is the logging mech. It tries to grapple Raiga with its claw arm, but Raiga is able to overpower it.

o   Raiga rips the mech to pieces, but leaves the trembling businessman when he sets his sights on Grola who tries to get away.

·         High off the adrenaline and his new power, Raiga mercilessly attacks Grola, mauling him out of anger and vengeance for all the years of bullying he suffered.

·         Aang and Katara are able to pull Raiga away before he can kill the leader, but Raiga has gone berserk, the spirit of Bao Hu Shou beginning to overwhelm his mind.

·         Aang tries to calm Raiga down, but Raiga realizes what a monster he’s become and runs off into the forest, his roars echoing through the trees.

·         Aang and Katara clean up what’s left of the camp, and Aang declares that the sacred forest is completely off limits to all except the Zhang tribe, who promise to more vigilantly protect it.

·         The tribe asks about Raiga, and Aang explains what happened with him and Bao Hu Shou. They say that Raiga has become Spirit Forged, but at a price; he has lost a piece of his humanity.

·         Aang decides to try and find a technique to calm spirits. He will look to the past Avatars and learn of the toll Kuruk suffered from fighting spirits directly.

·         We see Raiga standing on top of a cliff looking at the stars. He lets out a roar before vanishing into the night. This is not the last they’ve seen of him.

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There you have it. I did consider having Sokka in this, but then I thought the fewer characters to juggle the better.

I might consider having more stories with Raiga set during Aang’s time as the Avatar. He’s basically immortal so he can show up at any time. Something eventually happens to him to make him go into the feral state he’s in by Korra’s time.