#meaning I won’t have any help from him until tomorrow evening and the living room desperately needs to be reset

[harmonizewithechoes]

.

[mattyriddlegf]

The Stupid Closet (5)

hey everyone, happy Sunday release day! I hope you enjoy this one (also posted to my Wattpad: mattyriddlegf) :)

Comment to be added to the tag list as always!

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“Hey, you wanna go for a walk?” Draco asks you.

“Sure, that sounds nice” You smile. You drop off the stuff at Draco’s dorm and head back out, walking to the library in the process.

“So you wanna tell me what's going on?” Draco asks immediately, not wasting any time.

“What do you mean?” You ask. 

Draco stops walking and turns to you as you stop too, “you can be honest with me.”

You loved Draco so much and were really grateful for him being your best friend but you also knew that that meant he knew you better than anyone else.

“Draco, nothing is happening.” He looked into your eyes, furrowing his brows.

“I don’t believe you.” He states, “I saw the way Mattheo looked at you before he left.”

“It’s nothing, I promise. He just said something that Theo didn’t like the other night, that’s all” You shrug, only telling half the truth. He didn’t need to know about the shared kisses.

He takes a long pause before responding, “Alright, fine. But you can come to me, you know that right?”

You smile gently before nodding, “Yeah I know, thank you.”

You walk up to the library doors, stopping just outside.

“I promised Pansy I’d help her with the Transfiguration homework that’s due tomorrow, wanna join?”

“Oh no, I think I’m gonna head back to the house actually. Thanks though.” You smile before Draco enters the library, leaving you alone in the hallway.

You walk back to the Slytherin house. The common room is surprisingly empty. You look to your right to see Mattheo working at a desk by himself. 

“Hi.” You say as you walk up, leaning against the desk to get him to stop working.

“Hi.” Mattheo responds, watching you.

“Were you talking about me earlier?” You blurt out.

“When? You have to be more specific.” Mattheo responds, smirking.

“Earlier at lunch you said that Theo doesn’t appreciate what he has. Was that about me?” You ask urgently. You had to know.

“So what if it was?” The smirk drains from his face as he responds back with a question.

“Matty. I’m serious.” You look at him for a moment, him not giving a response, “Look, if it was about me, you can’t just say stuff like that” Mattheo is looking at the lamp on the desk, contemplating.

“I meant what I said. He doesn’t.” He looks over to you, dead serious.

“Mattheo please. He does…” You trail off. 

“Not like he should.” He mutters out quietly, “If I had you I-”

“But you don’t. Theo does. Theo has me.” You respond. Whatever was happening between you two, it had to stop. You enjoyed not hating each other anymore but you were in a relationship with Theo and you had to honor that.

“What are you doing here?” Mattheo asks.

Someone walks in the common room, you pause and watch them until they go into their dorm.

“You have to understand that my mind is going in a million places right now. I’ve kissed you. Several times in fact and naked, while I’ve been with Theo. That’s cheating. I cheated on Theo and I have to live with that.” You start rambling.

“You ramble when you’re upset.” Mattheo says. He thinks for a moment before standing up, just inches away from you.

“Just say the words and I’ll stay away. I’ll let you and Theo have the perfect little relationship you think you have and I won’t get in the way.” 

You stare into his eyes, trying your hardest to not get lost in them, “I want that.” You whisper. You couldn’t even convince yourself that you meant what you were saying.

“Fine.” Mattheo grabbed his books on the desk and walked off not looking back this time. 

You felt a single tear start streaming down your face, you wiping it with your arm before more follow. This is what you wanted, you wanted Theo. Not Mattheo.

You go back to your dorm and spend the rest of the afternoon trying to study but you had a hard time focusing. You hadn’t talked to Theo since he stormed out of lunch so you were worried about that as well. 

Pansy comes back from her studying to change for dinner, grabbing you along. You weren’t even hungry, probably from stress. You’re convinced that sitting in the same room as Theo and Mattheo would kill you.

You get to dinner, sitting down next to Theo. 

“Hey”

“Hey” Theo responds, smiling softly. You return the smile as he places his hand on your thigh. After he does that, you look over to see Mattheo watching you, clenching his jaw enough to notice. You look away before you regret it.

Throughout the entire dinner, Theo seemed normal, no longer upset about what happened at lunch. Him and Mattheo had been best friends since year one of Hogwarts and while they could butt heads sometimes, they were always there for each other. You just hoped that nothing would ever come between them.

You head back to the Slytherin house with the group, staying in the common room with Theo, everyone else splitting up. Theo sits on the velvet green couch next to the fire, you sitting next to him, leaning in.

“You know I really like you right?” You ask as you yawn.

“I really like you too.” Theo responds. You lay your head on his shoulder, listening to the fire crackle.

After about 20 minutes, Theo rubs your arm, waking you up, “Hey let’s go to bed”. 

You yawn as you get up and start walking to your dorm. When you reach your dorm door, Theo pecks you in the lips, “Goodnight cara mia”

“Goodnight Theo”. You watch him walk to his dorm. When he opens the door, Mattheo walks out with a cigarette and a lighter. He stops in the hall, looking at you.

You smile gently but this time, he doesn’t return the smile, just averting his eyes elsewhere before walking away.

You enter your room, Pansy painting her toes, sitting on her bed. You immediately change and get ready for bed, desperately needing a full night of sleep.

Today has felt like one of the longest days in a long time and you haven’t been this mentally exhausted in a while. You could only hope that at least the next few days would be easier.

You fall asleep quickly, Pansy going to bed shortly after you.

“Mattheo I need help with this, I can’t get it” You say trying to tighten the back of your corset dress.

Mattheo walks up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders for a second, “Hey, I’m glad I’m here with you” he whispers in your ear before moving his hands to the corset, pulling it tight and tying it.

He hugs you from the back after he’s done, “I love you sweet girl”

“I love you too Matty.” You spin around in his arms, standing on your tippy toes to reach him, connecting your lips with his.

This kiss was slow, passionate, and sweet. You pull back, “They’re gonna love you” you smile before continuing, “Not as much as I do though”

Mattheo was meeting your parents.

You could tell he was nervous, not being sure what to say or do.

“Seriously Mattheo, they will adore you. I adore you.” You say, holding his cheek as he smiles.

You wake up, the sun blaring in your dorm window. You look around, seeing Pansy in the bathroom.

“Good, you're finally up! Good dream huh?” Pansy asks, spraying herself with perfume.

The thing was…it was a good dream. A great dream even. But you couldn’t say that because it was with Mattheo, not your boyfriend. Shit.

taglist: @helendeath @mayamonroem @princessluvssleep @hatakemrs @feistyfox47 @malydiavsss

[thepixelelf]

the only way to get a good sleep

genres: established relationship, fluff!! pairing: reader x seokmin words: 1.3k warnings: none :] notes: this is for elv @seokmins day! ((it's technically a recast of an old fic of mine so I'm just praying you haven't read that one shhhhhh))

Seokmin misses you lots n lots.

Seokmin hasn’t slept in days.

That’s an exaggeration, of course, but any sleep he’s gotten has been fitful, restless, and generally not a good time.

He never really thought you’d be a catalyst like this. You only moved in two weeks ago -- some of your boxes are still sitting unopened in the living room, waiting for you to unpack them. The closet and dresser space Seokmin freed up for you remains half empty, since you were both too lazy to fully move in, more focused and elated on the fact that you’d finally done it. Seokmin had taken weeks, no, months to finally ask the question, and the way you’d answered so easily (with a smile, a laugh, and a hug) made it seem like all his worrying was ridiculous. The move was stressful, and cancelling your rent with your previous landlord was a nightmare, but the fact that you to would be together made Seokmin see everything through rose-tinted glasses. He didn’t care what he had to go through as long as you shared a home at the end of the day.

Of course, you two had slept in the same bed many times before you moved in, but somehow this was different. In the past two weeks, Seokmin swore he woke up already smiling, simply because you were there; beside him; living with him.

But since you left two days ago, he hasn’t slept a wink.

He knows you’re not gone forever, but still, he just can’t force his eyes to close; his breath to even out; his mind to rest. And he doesn’t know when exactly you’ll be back, either, considering your impromptu trip back to your family’s home wasn’t planned at all.

His mind wanders to the last message you sent him.

[my moonlight] miss you too, my sunshine

He lies still on top of the bedsheets, eyes trailing along the bumps and ridges of the ceiling. Sleep won’t come tonight, either -- he can tell.

Maybe he should call you. Last time he tried that (the night before), it got him about an hour of light sleep before he woke up again, but at least it was something. He needs to work tomorrow, and he isn’t sure he can keep his eyes open there after three nights of tossing and turning.

Sitting up, his hand wanders along the bed looking for his phone, which he picks up and detaches from its charger. It’s midnight already. Should he risk waking you up?

Well, he knows you have your phone on silent most of the time, so if you are asleep, he won’t be bothering you. He’s got nothing to lose.

The dial tone rings in his ear twice before he flops back down on the bed, his other hand coming to rest upon his stomach. After another two rings, he almost gives up, but then your voice makes an appearance, and he smiles.

“Trouble sleeping?” is the first thing you say. You really know him too well.

“Yeah... it’s just not the same without you.”

Along with faint footsteps, he hears your quiet laughter through the speaker. “You cheeseball.”

“I mean it,” he says, and he does. “What are you up to?”

“Are you asking me to talk until you fall asleep?”

His smile widens, and he knows he should be trying to keep still in order to fall asleep, but he can’t help it. “Only if you’re willing.”

“Well.” Something dings around you. “As much as I’d love to lull you to sleep, I need you to do something for me.”

“Hm?” Seokmin perks up, his interest piqued.

“I got you something,” you say. “It should be at your door in, hm, twenty seconds?”

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, still holding his phone up to his ear. His lips purse in confusion.

“How’d you get it up here? Deliveries go to the lobby desk.”

“Oh, I have my ways.” Somehow, Seokmin can hear your smile. “Just open the door.”

Knowing you, Seokmin simply complies, leaving the bedroom to reach the door to the apartment hall. He’s a bit too tired to understand much, but he knows anything from you is worth getting out of bed for. After fumbling with the chain lock, he finally twists the doorknob.

You stand just beyond the doorway, your phone held up at your ear and a bright smile on your face.

“Hey stranger.”

Too tired to comprehend what’s right in front of him, he still speaks into his phone. “You didn’t tell me you were coming back.”

You humour him, talking into your phone as well. “I wanted to surprise you. Did it work?”

He nods. “Uh huh.”

When he sees you laugh and hang up, he glances at his phone to do the same, still awestruck to have you standing there.

“C’mere you big softie, I missed your hugs,” you say, opening up your arms.

Seokmin smiles again and swoops in to wrap his arms around you. He relishes in your warmth, a smile against the skin of your neck -- which he knows you can feel. Slowly, he closes the door behind you and waddles with you through the apartment. It’s awkward with the way he clings to you, but he doesn’t care. He takes you all the way to the bedroom, flopping down on the bed with you squished underneath, and his heart flutters at your laughter.

“What’s this?” you tease.

“You were gone too long,” he says instead of answering, and you laugh again.

Despite your playful words, you soothingly pat the back of Seokmin’s head as you speak. “Well, it’s not every day your kid sister dumps her fiance.”

“She’s not a kid anymore.”

“To you, maybe,” you counter. “To me, she’ll always be my kid sister.”

Seokmin hums into your skin, already feeling the effects of holding you in his arms. He’s insanely tired. Still, he cares enough to ask, “How is she?”

“Heartbroken.” You sigh, a frown on your lips that Seokmin can guess is there rather than see it. “But she’ll get better. She’s strong like that.”

“Mhmm...” Seokmin’s eyes are closed -- have been since falling into bed with you -- and he’s starting to drift off. Before he can fully lose himself though, he lifts up on his elbows so he hovers above you, a drowsy smile on his face. He dips low, meeting his lips with yours in a soft, lazy kiss. You reciprocate at the exact same level, simply pursing your lips and not asking for anything more. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you say, closing your eyes to kiss him again.

Seokmin can’t say which kisses of yours are his favourite; he thinks he may get a new one every time. Whenever your lips are on his will be his favourite, he thinks.

He presses his forehead to yours, mirroring your wide smile with one of his own, eyes drifting shut once again. Collapsing on top of you, he hugs you tight, ready to fall asleep right then and there atop the covers.

“Seokmin,” you whisper, kissing his temple and twisting so you’re on your side. “I need to brush my teeth.”

He groans; hugs you tighter.

You laugh. Your hands move to push him off, though you put no real effort into it. “I gotta change too, sunshine. I’ll be right back.”

Propping himself up again, Seokmin opens his eyes to meet your sparkling ones.

“Hey,” he says. He kisses you again, and your smile persists.

“Hey.”

You reach your hands up to cup his cheeks, grazing your thumbs over his skin as if to test that he’s real. He loves when you do that.

His lips meet yours; soft, warm.

“You wanna get married?”

“Mmm...” you hum in a sleepy daze. Your hands pull him down for yet another kiss, this one lasting longer, though still as sweet and slow as the others. When you retract, you wrap your arms around his neck and whisper in his ear, “Can I brush my teeth first?”

Seokmin sleeps better tonight than he ever has before.

part two: How to Harvest Sunshine

[damiansgoodgirll]

heres something with damian: him and reader getting stranded in the airport due to a snowstorm and she cuddles up shyly with him

damian priest x reader

snow outside

you couldn’t believe your flight was getting delayed. well you actually could since there was a snowstorm outside but you really wanted to be home for the weekend and see your family that not even the end of world was going to stop you.

but the snow was increasing and a lot of flights got cancelled and you were worried about your flight too.

“you okay?” damian asked you when he sat next to you.

you just finished to film raw and even if you were supposed to be on different flights, you found yourselves stuck at the airport together.

“my flight is probably getting cancelled…” you whispered, trying everything you could to not to cry.

“mine too…i bet it’s sunny and cold in orlando tho…” he joked and you slightly smiled “are you going back home for a few days?” he asked while sitting next to you.

“i was supposed to before the flight got a four hours delay…” you said while reading all the delays on the screen.

“great…mine just got cancelled…” he said a little annoyed.

“what if i won’t be able to see my family?” you asked him and he could tell you were probably going to cry in any minute.

“hey…come here…” he held you closer “it’s not your fault and your family knows this…it’s just this freaking weather and the fact that we are in canada…and you gotta fly to vegas…i’m pretty sure it’s hot and sunny down there” he joked making you chuckled a little bit “i know how much this means to you…and i’m sure that you’ll see them very soon…” he said “…well, probably not tomorrow since your flight just got cancelled too”

“what?” you almost screamed in exasperation.

“hey hey calm down…take a deep breath for me hermosa…in and out…” damian saw how agitated you were and he was hurting for you. he knew how much you cared for your family and with the fact that you lived in orlando and they were in vegas, he knew you saw them not very often, plus with you being drafted from nxt to raw your life got busier and busier.

“i should call my mom and let her know i’m not visiting them this weekend…she was so excited when i called her yesterday…”

“i know hermosa…i’m so sorry…” he hugged you while you were typing your mum’s number. after calling her and explaining what was happening you felt a little bit more relaxed. you knew she wouldn’t be mad and that she would understand, you were just upset you couldn’t be there for her and your dad.

“it’s pretty cold outside…and here too…” you whispered trying to warm your hands a little bit.

thankfully damian was still hugging you so he didn’t make it awkward when his arm moved closer to your body to keep you closer to his bigger one.

he was cold too but he couldn’t help feeling all warm inside by having you so close.

there was a certain feeling between the two of you. you liked him more than a friend but you never understood his intentions. he was kind with you but he was kind with everyone so that didn’t make it special. he never showed anything that would make it seems like he was interest in you but right now, having him so close to you made you daydream about the relationship you could have.

“what if we share a hotel room?” he asked, waking you from your dream.

“what?”

“i mean…you’re clearly about to fall asleep here and even if i don’t mind you sleeping on me, this would be a very uncomfortable position for you to sleep and it’s clearly too cold here. plus all these people who’s flights been cancelled won’t stop making noise and it’s getting to crowded for my liking…we won’t be able to fly until tomorrow, hopefully the snow stops…and i’d rather sleep on a comfortable bed in a cozy room than staying here…” he said and honestly you were okay with everything he said. you knew there was the airport hotel just a few miles away and that the taxis were still going so before it was too late you both took the opportunity and got to the hotel.

damian got the room and - of course - there was just a bed. you pretended you didn’t care but inside you were the happiest person on earth.

you changed while he took a quick shower and both jumped into bed.

“dam…” you whispered.

“mh?” he turned his head just to see you.

“can you turn the tv on please? i - i can’t fall asleep without the sound…if it bothers you i can try and sleep-…” he didn’t even let you finish that the tv was on “thank you…”

“can i ask you why?” he was curious.

“i started doing it when i started living alone…i’ve always been scared of staying alone at night so the tv helped me calm…”

“but you’re not alone tonight” he almost teased.

“i know it’s just…it helps me you know?” you said shyly.

he loved how you just opened up to him and he honestly wanted to know every single detail of your life but he saw how you were about to fall asleep.

“i know…” he smiled “good night princesa…” he whispered while you closed your eyes. he fell asleep dreaming of more moments like this.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Five: Threatened to Reset

Heiress of Gotham

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: With the family's help everything is planned for the big move. A trip to Bludhaven to organize, pack, and move all your belongings leaves the past to be drug up. How will they react to your home? Will any secrets be found? Will emotions rise? Will your past be disclosed? It's all up to you... and maybe a crime boss and his goons.

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: The usual Banter and Bickering, Cursing, Knives, Threatening, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Arguing, Fighting, Shame, Guilt, Fight or Flight.

Mentions of: Sex Trafficking, Criminal Activities, Police, Drug Busts, Prostitution, Assassins.

A/N: There's a lot of information to digest in the chapter, and really what was meant to be one chapters I actually am going to have to split up in order to make them manageable. It's been awhile, and while I'm still trying to figure out how to manage my life in the sense of hobbies, work, my health, a possible second job, and extracurriculars, I request you all be patient with me. I definitely do have more in store, yet for now this chapter isn't proofread (at least the beginning and end) I just need to get this one out.

Having discussed tomorrow’s events as a group at dinner, your Father let you lead the charge in what would happen with your apartment’s belongings. Decided on packing everything up and either donating the things you don’t need, storing the important things, and transporting the things you do need, it was simple enough. Nothing a little packing tape and rounds of boxes won’t fix.

Starting the day with a hearty breakfast from Alfred, you all packed into a minivan you didn't know or think the Bruce Wayne would ever own, let alone have anything to do with. Nevertheless, the ride was fairly timely to get to your old apartment building. Saying hello to the few neighbors coming in and out who you recognized and knew, you led the gang up the seven flights and begrudgingly let them inside. You knew sooner or later they'd find out where and how you lived. It certainly isn't as nice as Wayne Manor, but of course, what else would you expect?

Assigning everyone to different spots and or groups of items in the apartment, you really feel like they went for overkill. A welcoming and slightly overwhelming sense of love blossoms in your chest as they really didn't all need to help, but everyone insisted on coming anyway. Even Tim's girlfriend, Stephanie. How nice, you think, for someone to actually care that much to go out of their way. Family almost congesting the apartment, you focus on your room and belongings. The fact that Damian hasn't even made any rude remarks (that you know of) is surprising in itself.

After almost everything is packed away, it's a few hours past noon, and Alfred is tired. Damian insists he's spent enough time in this 'hellhole' and almost demands that Alfred take him home. With the time having gotten away from you and some of the others, it seems to no one's surprise that Tim and Stephanie also apologetically explain their need to leave. They have homework they need to get done; and with that, Alfred agrees that it might be best to head back to the Manor with everyone who needs to leave. Dick lives in Bludhaven, so there's no surprise he'd stay. And while Jason has his motorcycle, coming from his own apartment, he says he doesn't mind staying until it's all finished. Bruce also having come separately after checking in at work, explains that the two of you can drive back together once everything's done. It'd been lucky enough that he'd brought his car, and not one of the nicer ones, either.

Searching all the nearby boxes, you don’t find it. It’s nowhere to be seen, and if it’s not here then that can only mean one thing: They took it. Opening up the box near the kitchen you retrieve a butcher’s knife. Hand gripping the handle tightly you storm to the front door and lock it.

“Woah, woah- what’s going on?” Jason asks, hands raising in concern as he stops boxing the books that’d been on the nearby shelf.

With a tense look in his eyes, you adjust the knife in your palm, getting a better and more sturdy grip on it. Other hand rising to your mouth you place your pointer finger before your lips. A tacit command of ‘silence’. Jason’s fear had drawn the attention of the other two, though you ignore them as you quickly storm through the living room and down the hall.

Eyes flitting back and forth out the window, up and down the fire escape you quickly return with the same fervor you’d previously held. “Why do you have a knife?” Dick questions.

Back at the front door, you press your ear to it and listen to the hallway, hoping that if anyone were to come, you’d hear them and be ready. In the attempt of a raid via bursting through the door, at least you’ll be the first one in the line of fire, able to protect everyone. No sound so far; backing from the door slowly, you turn toward the men. While the worst case scenario always pops into your mind first, you’re not oblivious to the measly chance this could simply chalk up to coincidence. Holding out the knife, you point to each man in the room as your gaze shifts between them.

“Look. There was a gun in there last time we were here. It’s always there. If none of you have seen it, let alone packed it away… then we have a big problem,” you reveal. Knife pointed in the direction of the safe that's now open within a drawer of the tv stand, it's clear that everything else has been packed away.

Between the couch and television diagonally to your left stands Dick. Hands raised, he holds a stoic expression as he stands closest to the safe. His blue eyes flit to Jason. Knife shifting toward him, he too stands with his hands by his waist, palms facing you. Eyes filled with confusion and concern, he shifts his weight as he stands across the room in the corner between the kitchen's counter and the opening to the hallway. His green eyes shift to Bruce.

Before you can even turn the knife on the man closest to you, diagonally standing in the kitchen opening to your right, someone speaks up. “I took it,” Jason announces. All eyes dart to him and you watch as he slowly starts to reach around his back towards his waistband. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Bruce move.

“Don’t!” You warn, stepping back and pointing the knife at him. He’s not going to disarm you. Eyes back on Jason, you motion with the knife for him to place the produced gun onto the table between you two. Gun dangling from his fingers, he doesn’t move, so you gesture again with more of a ferocity this time. “Put it on the table.” It’s a command, not a request.

He slides it across the table. Three steps close the distance between you and the item. Though Bruce could easily do something behind your back, just out of your peripheral vision now, you focus on the task at hand. One look at the gun has you skeptical; face tense, you use the knife to turn the gun around. The examination is short. One flip of the gun onto its other side and a quick lift into your hands to make sure the safety is on, you release the bullet cartridge to find that one bullet is missing. With a click of the cartridge locking back into place, you toss it back onto the table.

Storming back to the door where you're at a far enough distance from all of them, your forearms rest against the splintering wood, face buried within them for a moment to gather yourself. Slowly turning back toward the men, but more specifically Jason, you glare daggers at him. “Why didn’t you just tell me you had the gun when I first mentioned it missing,” not waiting for an answer, your head tilts a bit as you don’t play his game. “Nevertheless, did you really think I’d be stupid enough to not recognize that that’s an entirely different gun? So what’s your game?”

Silence lingers. Jason knows he’s fucked, and they all know it too. Why did he think she’d fall for that? Better yet, why wouldn’t she?!It was worth a shot, sure, but the real gun is still back at the Batcave. However, she can’t know that. “There’s no game,” Bruce says your name, a sincere look in his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking you,” you bark, knife turning on him as he tries again to take a step closer. His hands are still raised in an attempt to de-escalate the situation.

The silence is expected, however, the smile that creepily inches across your lips is not. A shift of the knife in your palm has you gripping the handle in an underhanded approach, ready to stab, rather than slice. “Ha,” you scoff, “I knew it… too good to be true. I can respect the lengths he’ll go to play his little games, but this is just beyond fucked. A ploy to what? Fuck with me, pretend to be my family, and now what? Kill me? I knew it. After yesterday, I just knew it was coming.”

“What are you talking about?” Jason asks incredulously, a hint of anger and fear within his tone.

“Who?” Dick asks coldly, taking a step closer.

“Antonio Marin?” Bruce asks. Eyes darting to meet his, you shift the knife in your palm again to get a better grip on it.

“Oh, you wanna play it this way? Act all fucking coy and innocent now?” Gears shifting, you eye the other two men. “Unless he’s just another victim to his plan, I don’t buy it. Richest man in the world and he’s a good guy? Yeah? No.”

“Should’ve known,” you sigh, shaking your head. “BPD? Too obvious.” With a sad smile and tears beginning to threaten your eyes, you chuckle. “Well if he wants me, then go ahead. I’ve got nothing left. If I’m the last piece to the puzzle then do it. Kill me. It’s three to one, I know you’ve got a gun and more than enough bullets to take me.” You thump your chest with your free hand, open, ready to accept your fate. “Do it! Shoot me, Jason. Right now! Kill me.”

As if the reality of the situation suddenly dawns on you, fear readily replaces the confidence you’d just boasted. Backing up against the door you shift the knife in your hand to a stabbing position again, as you continue to shift it, unsure which approach will be best in your defense. Suddenly you're terrified of what’s to come. “No… no. Three big men on one teenage girl?” The way Jason had hesitated, it’s apparent. “I knew he was expanding the business, but like this? NO.” Chest heaving with rapid breaths, you’re suddenly running on pure adrenaline. Panic sets in as you know what the man's got planned for you. “If you want me then I’m not going down alone. I’ll kill myself before I let that happen to me- and if that doesn’t work then I’ll mangle myself SO badly that nobody will buy me,” you threaten, voice deepening in a terrifyingly chilling way.

Placing the knife against your neck, you’re more than ready to take yourself off the table. You won’t let that happen to yourself. You won’t let anyone take advantage of you that way. A punishment worse than death is something you're not willing to participate in, nor offer.

Dick calls your name in a calm tone, one far too calm for this situation. “This isn’t any ploy, or game. We don’t work for anyone. If you think someone’s after you, you need to tell us. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

“Oh,” you relinquish too easily, knife falling back to your side. Turning to face the door your eyes settle against it for a moment before spinning back to face the man. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that Officer Grayson from the BPD was here! I’ll just tell you everything so you can either arrest me or take me out on his behalf!” With a step toward him, you raise the knife by your side again. “Do you really think I’m that stupid, Grayson? That I wouldn’t realize you’d try to get a confession out of me, record this- have them take a voice memo? This isn’t my first rodeo.”

"It's not like that. We're just trying to help! You can't seriously believe this is all some conspiracy against you," Dick argues. His voice is still calm, and while the raised brow elicits a begrudging irk and prick of paranoia in your mind, his words do nothing but continue to cause the gears to mentally turn. "If someone wanted to take you out there would've been easier methods. You would've been dead weeks ago."

A wry chuckle leaves your lips, a knowing smile still set on your features as you two stand off with one another. "Sure... if it was anyone else. Yet that's not how he plays his game and you know it."

"You still think I'm corrupt?" Dick asks, shifting his weight to lean into his hip on one side.

"How could you not be?! Look at me and tell me that you're not! That you don't know about Perdy Chapman, or any of the sabotage the BPD plays," you demand.

"I know about the sabotage. I don't know about Perdy Chapman, but if you know something," he recites your name, "you have to tell us. I can't do anything or help anyone if everyone's keeping secrets."

"What? So this is all a loyalty test? An attempt to get me to come back? There's no way he's that desperate."

"Come back? You worked for Antonio Marin?" Bruce pipes up, concerned blue eyes turning on you as he shifts his gaze between you and Dick. Hands still up in surrender, he takes a step towards you.

"Quit fucking with me! If this is because he thinks I'll rat, I won't! I'm not a fucking rat. We got out, we left! We don't owe him anything!"

"If you know where he is you need to tell us," Jason voices his concern, also taking a step closer. "No one is taking you back, no one is gonna hurt you. I'll be damned before that happens." Jason whispers your name, garnering your attention as he gives you a serious look, "If you think he's after you, we need to know. We can't help you if we don't know what's going on."

With a stomp and a slash of the knife by your side as you realize they're right, you won't do this without a stipulation. "Fine! But... I can't go to the cops. I can't... file a report. I can't do anything. Promise me-" you respond, voice starting off confident until his falls short of a whisper. Jason nods, starting to close the space as he pulls out the last chair remaining at the dinner table.

"No cops, you got it. Just... tell us what happened, what's going on," Jason concedes, hand settled on the back of the chair.

As you shake your head in decline toward the chair, Jason easily swivels it around and sits on it backwards, attention on you. As you place the knife on the side table by the front door, you start to pace. "I... don't know where to start," you voice your thoughts.

"From the beginning," Dick encourages, voice gentle as he realizes Jason has made progress by building a rapport. Something he hadn't realized he could be making more of an effort towards, he supposes. Even if he already feels like he's done more than he can for the girl.

As the Detective sits on the back of the couch and Bruce leans against the wall, your eyes can't help but find his... your Father's. "I... I can't-" you realize. Steps coming to a halt, you find yourself face to face with the last person in your life who you feel like you can't lose. The only person you need to impress, to suck up to.

"This is important," Bruce says your name, head tilting further downward as he offers a more straight-on look with your height differences, not to mention the sympathetic look that crosses his features.

Eyes falling to the floor, you shake your head. "I can't. I don't want you to look at me differently, and I know you will. There's no way you can't." It's a warning, a vague divulgence on the subject matter. There's no way this conversation can happen without someone's impression being changed or shifted. It's just not possible.

"That won't happen," Bruce reassures.

"There's no way it can't happen. You don't know!" You argue, hands gesticulating the emphasis of your seriousness.

"This is your safety we're talking about," Jason reminds.

"We all have pasts," Dick reiterates your name, "we've all done things. It won't change anything."

"I promise," Bruce adds on, following up with Dick's words. Bending to be on your level, he holds out his pinky, and while part of you hesitates, the seriousness in his eyes begs for a piece of trust. An inkling of hope, sincerity, vulnerability, trust. Wrapping your much smaller pinky around his, you shake on it.

As he lets go and returns to leaning against the wall, they all sit in anticipation, waiting for you to speak. "From the beginning?" You question.

"From the beginning," Dick echoes again, trying his hardest to be patient. With a tacit gesture of his hand, he guides you to sit on the couch cushions. Despite his offer, you choose to sit on the floor in front of the couch, back leant up against it as Dick chooses to sit in the armchair to the left of it. Jason comes closer, perching himself on the edge of the tv stand, while Bruce lingers by the back of the couch to your right, still in your periphery.

"It... all started about, I don't know, two years ago?" Jason nods in encouragement, a sign for you to keep going. "I don't- I don't know exactly when, I can't really place a time or say because I didn't know- I didn't- I never thought- I mean," the words tumble from your lips as your thoughts begin to race with the memories. Heart beating faster, there was never a definitive point in time you could place. "He just... started coming over. After-" swallowing the thick lump that forms in your throat, the faint burning sensation of tears threatening to start welling up becomes real. "-Mom got laid off."

"Mhm," Dick hums, hands clasping in his lap as he expresses the fact that he's listening.

"Everyone knew who he was. We all do, but of course, you're nice to people you don't necessarily know. You don't wanna start any problems. I guess Mama met him one night when she was out with my Tia. He said he could get her job back, that he could help her make money again, that we wouldn't have to move, to get evicted. He'd get her job back. So he did. She didn't ask, she didn't even want her job back after everything they said and did to her, firing her just because of her skin- but... he did it anyways. He got her job back at the hospital and even got her a promotion. How? I never asked, but if you know Marin, then I guess you can imagine."

"Then he told her she owed him," Bruce speaks up as you take a breath. His tone is definitive, certain, as if he knows. A shake of your head lets him know he's wrong.

"Of course, she went back to see him at the same bar. She thanked him, we all did... but that wasn't the end of it. He said if she ever wanted anything more, a side job, extra money, anything else, that he could give her that. That all she need do is ask." A sigh escapes your lips and you subtly shake your head again. you know you'll have to tell them. It'll get there eventually, yet there's no way of knowing how they'll react. "They became friends. I always thought he liked her, that's why he was so nice."

"But he showed his true colors, didn't he?" Jason comments, a dangerous and almost vengeful tone in his voice as he leans forward so his elbows rest on his knees. His hands curl in and out of fists as he listens.

"No... he was... just nice." Finally looking up to meet their eyes, you gauge the room. Each man has a different expression on his face, looks of curiosity, intrigue, suspicion, and anger all around. "He'd be at the parties, come over, take us out, have a drink. He became a part of the family, at least... for a while. I think it all changed when Mama said no to him. He asked her out, and she finally understood why he'd been so nice to her. Yet, that didn't change anything. Being friends, he was still coming around. Maybe he was doing more, becoming more distant, but not much changed. He kept offering, and offering, and eventually I think she figured if she had control, and it was something he'd offer, then how could it hurt? It was only after that year and once the gifts died down that, well..."

"What?" Jason raises his eyes again to meet yours as he'd been mulling over his own thoughts for a moment, head in hands. A chuckle shakes his chest subtly as his hands shoot out in gesticulation. "You can't just say 'after that, well...' and not finish the story!"

"Come on, Jase-" Bruce gently reprimands with a look.

"It's clear there's more," Dick interrupts his Father to address you, still in the position he'd been in. Eyes intent on you as he waits for an answer, a scowl on his lips.

"I finally asked him if there was any way I could do something. Something small to make money; like mow someone's lawn, pet-sitting, house-sitting... things like that." Eyes falling to the pilled carpet by your sock-clad feet, you pick at the fluffy brown fabric. "I had school. My mom would hate me if she knew I asked him, but everyone else was getting money, and I figured if he was like my Uncle or Dad it's normal to ask for those things... I think." Hair falling over your shoulders, it masks your face as you rush to get the rest of the story out.

"He... had me do jobs for him. It was easy. Deliver presents, bouquets, envelopes, packages, things like that. No problem, lots of people do that, right? But I was making at least a hundred every week, if not more, and, and I didn't think about it. It was easy money! I could buy whatever I wanted, I could save, I could spoil my friends, my mom... I never thought about it until I... got curious." Words trailing off, you risk a glance up at Dick. Tucking your bangs behind your ear, his expression is immovable. He's stoic; a pickup of heartrate leaves you anxious as you haven't been able to easily read him like many of the others.

The movement of Jason's lips slowly opening garners your attention, and as his eyes widen you quickly duck your head back down again. "You were..." he tests the waters.

"So one day I decided to stay. They never opened their packages in my vicinity. Never opened the presents, envelopes, packages, or undid the bouquet. It didn't feel right. I haven't gotten many presents in my life, but I'd think if I got a big one like those, I'd open it right away... see what it is." Continuing with your story, you didn't give Jason even half a fraction of time to finish his thoughts. "So I delivered the package like normal, watched them count out the money and hand it over before I was on my way. Around the corner, I was halfway down the block when I realized I could probably wait it out, hide somewhere across the street and watch them from one of the store windows. They wouldn't notice. I could just put on my hood, if anything, and... well, then it-" eyes shifting back up to Dick, you don't look away this time, "-it happened."

"I hadn't realized it but parked on the opposite side of the road and right by me out of sight from where I'd come there were cop cars parked. Cops lined up with their guns pulled, batons and riot shields ready. I froze..." At this moment it seems like the gears in Dick's mind are finally starting to turn and place things together. "I thought I was caught, for something I only suspected, but... within seconds the cops were ushering me out of the area while the second team were busting the gang of boys I'd come from for having drugs."

"They were using you," Bruce states, an air of sympathy encased in his word choice.

"You were a mule f-" Jason affirms.

"-But that wasn't the end of it," Dick says confidently, his dark blue eyes still set on you, unmoving, a quirked brow joining his visage. "You said you're out. So if that's true then how'd that happen?" He asks, finally shifting in his seat as his head slightly tilts. It's almost as if he's testing you. "Exactly," he clarifies.

"Once I realized what was happening I ran home. I-" jaw clenching, your eyebrows furrow as you don't want to have to admit this. Especially not when Dick looks so confident and arrogant. You know he'd seen you that day, just like you knew you'd seen him. A silent staring match follows,a few seconds, before your resolve crumbles upon the memories. "I told my mom. I was crying, and she was shocked and surprised and angry and mad and I didn't know what to do! I didn't know where to go or who to tell, and I knew she'd be mad but she said she wasn't mad at me, but at him and that it was okay because she was gonna get us out of it. We met up with Anto- with- with Marin," you correct yourself. "We demanded out, and... he let us go. He said we were free to go as long as we didn't say or do anything that went against him. My mom didn't want us involved with him anymore."

"He just 'let you go'?" Dick reiterates.

"Yes. That's it," you reveal, a shrug following as you don't bother to make eye contact. "Now you know!" The revelation leaves you upset and unaware of anyone else's responses. You just know that this changes everything, now that they know... they know that you're a bad person. You dealt drugs. You worked for a mobster. A gangster, a criminal; you stocked up drug money, saving it, keeping it. Blood money, one could even claim in earnest... and you couldn't argue with them.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980 , @theroyalmanatee , @azazel-nyx , @nightrose-18 , @vanessa-boo , @ih4temy5elfs0b4d , @agent-nobody-knows , @scarlett13 , @hoeinthehouse

[harley-sunday]

Champagne Supernova

Summary: You literally stumble into Charles Leclerc one evening and somehow end up with custody over his tuxedo jacket? Weird. Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader [f] Warnings: None Word count: 2.7k AN: Sometimes an idea just *mimics explosion with hand* pops up all of a sudden and won't go away until you write it down (I mean, I was literally in bed already but…). So here we are  Also, written on mobile (eL, don't @ me) so apologies in advance for shitty formatting and for not editing. Also², I live for validation so comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! That is, if you like it, of course :)

It’s warm inside the ballroom of the hotel you’re in and so you’re trying to fan yourself with a copy of tonight’s program because now that the formal part of the evening is over it really doesn’t serve any use anymore other than to help you cool down. You’re standing in the corner of the room, close to the bar, observing the crowd - Monaco’s elite; a strange mix of old money and self made millionaires that have come together for tonight’s fundraiser.

You don’t belong to either of those groups but instead are here because the PR agency you work for somehow got selected to promote the event. It meant a lot of overtime in the past two months for the entire team and so your bosses - Olivier and Claire, a happily married couple with two kids, a dog, and a perfect work-life balance (of course) - promised you and your colleagues a seat at one of the tables and thus an open bar for the evening very early on in the process to make up for all the early mornings and late nights. 

Dinner was a drawn out affair with seven small courses, entirely too much red wine, and a slightly boring silent auction reveal that took way too long for your liking. The promise of an after-party kept you from leaving early but it’s Monaco, it’s rich people, and so you could and should have known that their idea of an after-party is more champagne, bragging about who paid what despite it being a silent auction, and a guy with a comb-over and an ill-fitting tuxedo playing the piano, dragging out “Les Lacs du Connemara” way beyond the six minutes the song usually takes.

Next to you, Olivier and Claire are having a small domestic because Claire, slightly intoxicated, wants to stay but Olivier, scarily sober, has promised the babysitter they’d be back before one. Your other two colleagues are trying to persuade (read: threaten) the piano guy into playing “Sweet Caroline”, and you are feeling more miserable by the minute - one of your shoulder straps keeps sliding down, there’s a headache coming on, and your feet hurt like crazy in the stilettos you had no time to break in, so to say you are over it and ready to go home would be an understatement.

You wait for a lul in Olivier and Claire’s argument before you turn to them and tell them, “I’m heading out, ok? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Olivier nods but Claire starts to protest and grabs your wrist, “Babe. Stay.”

You shake your head and try to free your hand but Claire doesn’t let go. Looking at Olivier for help you tug again but her fingers remain deadlocked around your wrist and you know it’s because she’s drunk and wants someone in her corner when Olivier decides to stand his ground and make her go home in about five minutes or so, but it is annoying as fuck and so you pull a little harder and start to walk away. “Claire,” you warn her, “let go.”

She still doesn’t.

Until all of a sudden she does and it makes you stumble forward and bump into someone and then everything seems to happen at once - you flail your arms trying not to topple over, reaching out for something- Anything you can hold onto. It’s the arm of the guy you bumped into but as you steady yourself against him he loses control of the drink he’s holding, a quiet, “Oh, merde,” your only warning before-

“Holy shit, that’s cold!” You jump backwards in shock, fingers plucking at the fabric of your dress as you try to stop the liquid from dripping down in between your boobs while quietly cursing your best friend who made you wear this stupid dress with its stupid plunging neckline in the first place. The fabric is already clinging to your skin, your chest and stomach absolutely soaked and you look around for an easy exit, first to the toilets maybe, to save yourself from the horrified looks around you and any further embarrassment but then you see a stack of white napkins appear in your field of vision and before you know it you are being pat down by the man who’s drink you’re now wearing.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbles while trying to dry your dress but the napkins are white and your dress is black and so all it does is leave a trace of little pieces of fluff all over your stomach but before you have a chance to say anything he’s grabbed a new stack of napkins and goes for your chest-

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop.” You shake your head and take the napkins from him, gently pushing his hands back with a smile, “I got this.”

“Shit, sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair and is blushing like crazy, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him as you’re blotting yourself now. “I mean, I’m the one who bumped into you, right?” The napkins really aren’t helping and so you give up with a frustrated sigh, looking up for the first time then, letting out a quiet, “Oh,” when you see the man standing in front of you. Jesus Christ, he’s hot. And apparently still upset because he stares at you with his beautiful green eyes as if he wants the ground to swallow him whole. Even though you’re the one who could enter, and maybe even win, a wet t-shirt contest this very second which you think is ten times more embarrassing. 

“Let me at least do something to help,” he tries, reaching out his hands to you again but then thinking better of it. “Really. Anything. I mean, I will pay for the dress of course, but-”

He seems so flustered that you can’t help yourself, “Well, considering you almost went to second base just now-” you say with a wide smile and a pointed look between his hands and your chest, “-it would be nice to at least know your name.”

This makes him chuckle and earns you a smile in return, “I’m Charles.”

“Nice to meet you, Charles,” you say, meaning every word of it, and then introduce yourself. When you lick your lips you taste the champagne he spilled on you and can’t help but laugh, “What a waste of that Veuve Clicquot, though, huh?”

“I’m more worried about your dress, to be honest,” he counters with a grin.

“What? This old thing?” You motion for him to come forward and when he does you put your mouth close to his ear and whisper, “Between you and me, I think the champagne was more expensive.”

He chuckles again when you pull back and you can’t help but fall for him a little, the way he scrunches his nose something so- Adorable? Hot? You’re not sure. Either way, you want to see more of it, you decide. Charles still looks as if he’s ready to go into purgatory and so somehow you’re not really surprised when he tries again, “I mean it though. Anything I can do to make up for this.”

You look around then and even though most of the crowd has gone back to their smalltalk there are still some curious onlookers that seem way too invested in this, making you feel very exposed all of a sudden, and so, well, if he insists… “Maybe you could lend me your jacket for a hot sec and escort me out of here?”

“Of course,” he replies, already taking his tuxedo jacket off. He hesitates for a second but then drapes it over your shoulders anyway, “There.”

Instead of a ‘thank you’, a distracted, “Uhu,” comes out because it’s only now, when you see the way the white dress shirt is stretched across his arms and chest, that you see how muscular he is. He’s- Not broad but definitely athletic and you wonder what kind of sport he’s into. Before you have a chance to ask though he’s absentmindedly rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and you can feel your mouth go a little dry at the sight of his tanned, veiny forearms and hands. A fleeting thought of just how much you could make him apologize with those long fingers gets quickly pushed back when he holds out his arm for you to loop yours through.

“Come on,” he says and nods towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here.” He guides you through the room with ease and doesn’t stop when you reach the foyer, instead making you follow him outside where he nods at the valet.

“I didn’t drive here,” you start, because somehow you figured it’s your car he wants them to get.

“I know. Well-” he chuckles then, “-I don’t actually, but I’m making him get my car so I can drive you home. Or your hotel. I mean, I don’t want to assume-”

“Home,” you quickly reassure him. This time you remember your words and your manners, “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He leads you down the front steps when the valet pulls up with his car, a black Ferrari Pista Spider that you can’t help but silently admire, and doesn’t let go of you until you’ve reached the car and he’s opened the door for you.

You try to keep the wet part of your dress from touching anything inside the car as best as you can, offering a quiet, “Sorry,” when Charles slides into his seat.

He tuts, “Don’t worry about the car, ma chérie." 

And, oh- That’s- Nice. And a complete one eighty from how flustered he was mere minutes ago. Huh. Interesting.

If he does notice you clearing your throat to distract yourself, he’s kind enough not to mention it. Instead he starts the car, the engine absolutely purring to life, and turns to you with a grin, "Where am I taking you?”

Right here and right now please, you almost say, but you don’t think that’s what he meant and so instead you tell him, “Take a left at the stoplights and then a right at the next.”

As you guide him through the streets of Monaco you find out he’s an F1 driver with Ferrari who was actually born and raised in Monaco. He tells you how he’s on a three-week summer break until the end of August when the second half of the season starts with a race in Belgium. In return you tell him how you moved here three years ago when, after college, you got offered a job by Claire and Olivier.

All too soon, because sometimes Monaco really is nothing more than just a small town on the French Riviera, he pulls up in front of your house with an almost apologetic smile, “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” you echo with a nod. It’s silent for a moment before you decide to just put yourself out there, something about doing it now or forever wishing you had, “Would you like to come in? I could get changed and give you your jacket back? You might want to wash it though, I think there’s some wine- It probably needs to go to the dry cleaner’s, right? I don’t think it can go in the washing machine-” You hear yourself starting to ramble and so you close your eyes for a second and try again, “What I meant was: Would you like to come in for a drink?”

“I would love to but- I can’t,” he says and there’s something about him that makes you believe he’s telling the truth and that he’s sorry about it. “I have some auctioned pieces I still need to sign and I have to take a photo with the highest bidder in-” he looks at his watch and lets out a humorless laugh, “-ten minutes.”

“That sucks,” you tell him because apparently you’re now just speaking your mind without being eloquent about it.

He nods slowly, “It kind of does.”

Oh. Ok.

“Take the jacket,” he says then, “I can come pick it up later.”

Wait. What?

“Later tonight, or?”

He shakes his head, “No. Later as in, next week or something.”

“Oh, ok, yeah, that’s- Yeah, makes sense.” No need to stumble over your words, you think, you took your chances and it didn’t work out. It’s fine. It’s just that the 'or something’ kind of hurts.

He must see the disappointment on your face because he quickly adds, “I mean, so I can see you again. Later. When I’m not in a rush and you’re not covered in champagne.”

You can’t help but laugh, your mind once again too quick for your own good, “Who says I won’t be?” You let the words hang in the air with a raised eyebrow and it takes a few heartbeats but then Charles laughs as well, a burst of laughter that you want to hear again and again. You grin at him, “What?”

“You are something else,” he says, shaking his head. He reaches for his phone then, unlocks it, and hands it to you, “If you add your number I could maybe call or text you?” There’s a shy smile playing on his lips then, “About the jacket, I mean.”

“Are you sure you don’t want it back now?”

“No, that’s ok. My brothers are at the party as well. I can just take one of theirs.”

“Sure?” You try one last time.

“Sure.”

“Ok.” Your fingers fly over his screen then, adding yourself to his contacts before you hand him the phone back. Locked. A wicked grin on your lips, “Let’s see if you remember my name- Later.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Good.” You lean over the center console then and press a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll be seeing you then.”

“You will,” he says with a bad attempt at a wink, which so far seems his only flaw.

“Thank you for driving me home,” you say as you climb out of the car while trying not to flash anyone even though there’s no one around. A kind smile then as you close the door, “Drive safe.”

“Always.” He gives you a quick wave and then he’s off, the rumble of the engine echoing through the almost empty streets of the city.

***

He doesn’t call. Or text. And so his jacket moves from your living room, where it was draped over a chair for the first three weeks, to the guest bedroom slash your home office, this time draped over your office chair. Every now and then you catch a hint of his cologne  and so you still aren’t able to really forget about him.

At the beginning of November you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ll probably won’t see him again, that you probably made a bigger deal out of it than it was, that he probably doesn’t even remember you - your name just another girl added to his contacts because he was simply trying to be nice - and so at some point you move the jacket to inside the closet in the guest bedroom, telling yourself that the only reason you won’t throw it away is because it’s Armani and expensive as fuck. 

You’d like to say you’ve forgotten about both the jacket and Charles once December rolls around but that would be a lie. You’ve actually started to follow the remainder of the F1 season and saw him come second in the World Driver Championship. A warm feeling settling somewhere inside your chest whenever you see him getting doused in champagne by his teammates or rivals, taking you back to the night you met. 

He’s been on your mind more than ever and when your phone rings one night, an unknown, private number calling you, you somehow know it’s him and so you answer with a cheeky, “The jacket you are trying to reach is no longer available. Please try again later.”

He lets out a laugh, that same laugh you drew from him in his car all those months ago, and it’s like no time has passed at all. “Salut, ma chérie, I’m sorry for not calling any sooner but-”

“Don’t try to sweet talk your way back into our lives, Leclerc,” you say as you take another bite of the apple you were eating.

“Our?”

“The jacket’s and mine,” you reply. “We are doing quite well for ourselves.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Is that so?”

You nod even though he can’t see you, “Yeah.”

“I’d like to come see that for myself.”

“Hmmm,” you draw out. “We might be able to arrange a supervised visit. When would you-”

Your doorbell rings then and you hear it both in your house and echo through your phone and- Oh. Shit.

Charles chuckles in your ear, “Now?”

===

AN: I am so sorry for this very unsatisfying open ending. It was the best I could do for now... *sends hugs to those affected*

[skyfallslayer]

A Stitch In Time || Prologue

-Bucky Barnes x Daughter!Reader-

Series Masterlist

° Series Summary: A Time Heist mission goes wrong, and some of the Avengers end up in the 1950s. Desperately clinging to their lives, they wind up in a place subconsciously. And unfortunately for Steve, and especially to Bucky, they find themselves face to face with someone they wish not to see.

° Chapter Summary: Worried about how his mission may go, Bucky visits a ‘touchy’ place, and recalls the short life he had with you.

° Date: 7/20

° Rating: Teen

° Word Count: 4,569

° Warning: Talks about death/dying; Reference to Suicide; Guilt; Child Abandonment; Talks of Fertility Issues; Alcohol; Allusions to Depression. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

° A/N: The only excuse I have for taking so long to get this out is because I had an expected mental health break. One that was needed. But I'm back! And I'm slowly updating some of my other stories! So be on the look out for those! Also, let me know if I missed any warnings! Enjoy!

The freshly wetted grass squished underneath his boots with each and every step. His shoulders were slacked, but his wrists were tense as he held the delicate bouquet with both of his hands. He was always nervous to be here, even though he’s done it so many times after finding it, the nervousness never went away. The nausea never stopped too… or the guilt… the fear… the sadness. Nothing ever stopped like he so desperately wanted to. Was this a curse he was stuck with for helping to bring another child into this cruel world?

He reaches the end of his line, just a few short inches away from where his toes could touch the stone; The stone etched with words and numbers that made his heart ache. And when his knees felt weak he lowered himself to the ground, sitting back on his heels. With a bittersweet expression on his features, he removes the old lilies and replaces them with your favorite, pearly white ones. The ones you always smelled like when you came back from playing in the park. Who knew he would miss such a fragrance? 

He takes a deep inhale through his nose, and exhales quietly, gathering his thoughts. “Hey, baby girl. It’s been some… time since I’ve visited. I honestly thought I should wait until your half birthday, but…” He trails off, frowning. “But uh, I’m heading off on another mission tomorrow, a… potentially dangerous one.” He chuckles dryly. “You know the deal with those.”

He pauses like he’s waiting for your answer he knows he won’t get, letting the hot summer wind touch his face and through his chocolate locks. He waited for that as his cue to continue on.

“Uh… so…”

It hurts to even think about it.

“I was just…”

Should he even say it?

“Wondering again if it goes south I can…”

Should he repeat what he always says to your grave?

“Be next to you?”

Another pause, this time it felt more painful. It always hurts to be here. It always hurts to say those words because it wasn’t like he had a death wish, it wasn’t like he was afraid of death, he just… didn’t know if he deserved to be next to you. You were his whole world and he fucked it up. Fucked it up so bad that it makes him more anxious to want to hold you, and hug you, and kiss you, and just talk to you. He loves you. 

He’s loved you since the very beginning.

.

.

.

Bucky would have fallen back in shock if it wasn’t for the small bundle in his arms. His ex-girlfriend had just said some words that he didn’t need to hear right now. Couldn’t even comprehend it.

No, it wasn’t, ‘Can we get back together? I made a mistake’.

No, It wasn’t, ‘The baby isn’t yours’.

No it was–

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asked, disbelief etched in his words. There was also an underlying sense of anger and betrayal, because–

She couldn’t be serious...

Right?

He watched the woman standing in front of him roll her eyes, snatching her purse from his living room’s couch while responding, “I don’t want her. I only had her because you wanted to keep the baby after finding out I was pregnant.”

He nearly doubled over when he heard the disgust in her voice. “So you’re just going to leave?” Bucky asked, seeing his ex now putting on her winter coat. “But our daughter needs a mother figu–”

“YOUR daughter.” His ex snapped, poison on her tongue. “That baby–” She points furiously. “That baby is a spitting image of you. All the way from the shape of her face to the way she smiles. Everything. Which is fine by me, I don’t want someone looking like me out in the world.”

Bucky opened his mouth to speak as he followed her behind as she walked towards the front door. Unfortunately, she beats him to it. “As for a mother figure, you’ve got three sisters and a mom. That baby can pick up skills from them.”

She swings the door open, letting in the cold breeze of February. Snowflakes flew in, sticking to her clothes and curly hair. Bucky immediately stood sideways and drew you as far away as he could from the freezing air.

(Was she trying to freeze you?!)

“Dottie!” He called out from the doorway, stopping her on the porch.

She wasn’t even going to look back at him, wasn’t she? Or even look at you? Did she truly not feel anything?

He doesn’t know why but his voice cracked, and although he and his ex’s relationship was always rocky, and they both knew that whatever was between them wasn’t going to work out, he still doesn’t want her to leave him alone with a one week old.

“Come on…” He continued, quietly. “At least stay for a couple months until I can do this on my own.” His lower lip quivered slightly. “Please?”

He felt you shift a bit in his arms, probably from the weather, and waited for her to turn around…

But she never did.

“Goodbye, James.” Dottie said, before trailing across the snow covered path to the sidewalk. 

Bucky watches her disappear into the night, his feet glued to the floor even when part of his mind told him to run after her. It would be a lie if he said that he didn’t want to go after her, thinking that maybe she’ll change her mind if actually begs, but the mere thought went out the door when you started to get fussy and cry.

Something deep within him kicked in, probably that parental instincts he’s heard about from his own parents, and all his attention was turned to you cradled in a lilac colored blanket.

“Hey…” He whispered, readjust his hold so that he could gently brush their–

No.

That’s officially gone out the window. 

It’s just his daughter. His.

He readjust his hold so that he could gently brush HIS daughter’s cheek. To brush your cheek like a soft paint brush across a canvas. “Hey. Don’t cry.” He says, soothingly.

He makes a soft shushing sound as he closes the front door with his hip, before carefully guiding himself to sit near the fireplace. He lays you cautiously in his lap, almost in awe as he sees your eyes peeking open for the first time.

(Y/E/C) eyes. 

So beautiful like the world itself. He almost wanted to start taking pictures.

Maybe later though.

He chuckles sadly, tears in his own as he brushes your cheeks again. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, I got you.” He said, smiling down. “I got you, baby girl.”

You cooed quietly, staring back at him with a bit of curiosity. The look you were giving him melted his heart, but it also made him feel like he didn’t deserve any of this.

“I’m sorry…”  He croaks, sniffling. “It looks like it’s just going to be me and you, doll. I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

You made the cute sounds that took his breath away again, taking up his whole surroundings. However, if it wasn’t for his military training, he probably wouldn’t have even heard someone tumbling down the stairs. Bucky glances at the living room entrance, finding a certain skinny blond that he called his best friend. He saw his chest move slightly, and could almost hear him panting from here.

“S-Sorry.” Steve exhales, leaning against the door frame. “Your mom sent me down here when we heard everything go quiet.”

Bucky smiled a little. “She got worried?”

Steve copies him with a chuckle.  “Yeah. She wanted to make sure you hadn’t run off with her grandchild.”

The brunette shakes his head. “That sounds like my mother.” He turns his attention back on you, but from the corner of his eye he could see his friend shifting uncomfortably, almost hesitantly, in his spot. His smile grows. “Come here.”

“What?” The blond said, genuinely confused. 

“Come here, Steve. You can see her.”

He stiffens up a bit, looking unsure. “H-Her… A-Are you… are you sure?” Steve asked, pointing towards the stairs in the hallway. “I-I shouldn’t be the one seeing your baby first. Shouldn’t I–”

“Get your ass over here, Rogers.” Bucky said, almost wishing he could free his hand up and drag him by the ear (he was always so timid and too cautious sometimes).

Not even daring to question his best friend’s wish, Steve wandered over and took a seat on the couch next to Bucky. He leans in close, examining the small bundle in the soldier’s arms.

Steve’s big blue eyes lit up with joy. “Wow, Buck. She’s adorable.” He said, as you scrunch up your nose to show off your cute, chubby cheeks.

“She is.” Bucky said, fighting back the stinging sensation in his eyes again. He now wonders…

(Is this what it's going to feel like all the time now?)

After a moment of silence, Bucky threw his friend through another loop. “Wanna hold her?”

Steve held his hands up in defense almost immediately after those words left his tongue. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t.”

“I trust you.” Bucky holds you out a little, a reassuring look on his face.

Steve raises a cautious eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Bucky laughs. “I’ll show you.”

Bucky then takes his time showing Steve how to hold you, giving him pointers and readjusting everyone once and awhile until he has you in a good position. The blond’s nerves seemed to vanish into thin air when he started to see that you were looking at him with the same curious eyes you made at your father. Those eyes of yours could melt anyone’s hard shells at this point.

Steve chuckles, and grins as he gets butterflies in his stomach from you. “What’s her name?” He asks, sparing a glance at your dad for a split second. “Did Dottie ever give her one?”

Bucky shakes his head sadly. “No.” He said, his voice feeling rather small at the moment. “No she didn’t. I’m tasked with giving her one.”

“Have you thought of any? I know you were looking through some books a few weeks back.”

“I have and I think…” He takes another good look at you, making sure the name was the right choice. “I was thinking… (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” The blond repeats back, testing it out like an echo chamber for his friend who nodded back.

“Yeah. (Y/N).” Bucky tests it out his lips as other names start to form. “(Y/N)... Stevie Barnes.”

He looks up in surprise. “Stevie?” Steve asks in disbelief again. 

Bucky smiles. “Well, I heard Stevie is the girl version of Steve, so…”

“But…” His blue eyes look away again, looking completely torn.

Your father raises an eyebrow over this. “But what?”

“You’re flattering me way too much, Bucky.”

“Am I?” Bucky asked, tilting his head, slightly puzzled.

“Y-Yes!” Steve said, shaking his head. “Y-You can’t– You shouldn’t name your kid after me.”

Now it was his turn to be even more confused. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m– y-you have sisters! Parents. Y-You should name her after them. Not me.”

“But, Steve, you’re my brother. Besides…” Bucky shifted in his seat, knowing what he’ll say next is touchy. “I know… the doctor said you might not be able to have kids so… think of this as me… giving you a small piece of that.”

Silence befell, the subject was something that really hurt Steve when he heard it the first time; Hell, it even hurt his mother who was present at the time. It kind of haunted him for a while because what could he offer to a person who wanted to share his life? 

Steve stares at him for a while before tearing up, laughing quietly and looking away. “Jesus, Bucky. You’re making me cry.”

A chuckle. “Well don’t, ‘cause I’ll start crying again.” Bucky says, making them belly laugh. 

The blond sniffles and tests the name out on his own. “(Y/N) Stevie Barnes.” He looks back down at you, his smile returning fully. “Not bad, Buck.”

Your father looked at him teasingly. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Steven?”

“Nothing.” Steve replies, holding back another laugh as he watches you start to drift back to sleep. “I’m really happy for you, man.”

“Thanks.” 

A few moments more passed before you were carefully placed back in your father’s arms, where all he did was stare back at you as you pulled yourself to sleep. His happy face started to falter, and there was a heavy amount of doubt in his ocean blue orbs. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Steve.” He finally admits before swallowing the lump in his throat. He soon felt his friend’s hand on his leg, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Bucky. You’ve got your family and you’ve got me.” Steve said, honestly. “And you know this. However, don’t doubt yourself, you got this. You’re going to be a great dad.”

Bucky’s lip curled up a bit, not caring that he was about to cry again. “Steve Rogers. The man who always knows what to say.”

“What can I say? I try.” He asked, coping with his expression.

“And you think I’ll be great? Even with me being a soldier and everything else that comes with it?” Your father asked, doubt was still just lingering on the surface no matter what he did.

Steve gives another gentle squeeze. “I know you’ll be great. I know you’ll do anything to make sure she’ll be okay. So don’t worry too much, okay? (Y/N)’s going to be lucky she has you.”

Bucky hums, truly grateful for a friend like him. 

And without an ounce of hesitation, he bends down slowly and kisses your sleeping forehead. 

“I already loved you so much, (Y/N). I hope you realize that.” He whispers, lovingly. “And I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe.”

He swears at that moment he saw you smile.

.

.

.

Bucky brushed his flesh fingers against the words in the stone, tracing your name and important dates. February 23rd, 1936. A snowy, snowy day. Cool and crisp. Although he had to wait and wait until you were a week old to hold you, a week old to realize he was on his own, a week to realize that he truly loved you. No upcoming birthday surprises could top this one. But if he loved you so much then…

Why were you cursed to be underground?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When Bucky got back home to his apartment, he found himself subconsciously grabbing the bottle of scotch in his cabinet. Although he knew he couldn’t technically get drunk, the feeling he got after a couple glasses was close enough. Sometimes… he liked the quietness in his home, the time to relax, untouched and left alone to be himself; But most of the time, after so many years of being alone in his head, he loathes being alone. Friends and family were everything to him growing up. You were everything to him growing up. 

He still wonders what it would be like if you were here, running around, asking him twenty questions, painting his toes, etcetera. He always wondered what you were like when you got older, the side of you he never got to see. He always wondered what those short years did for you.

Why did he have to get taken from you so soon?

.

.

.

You dove around your grandparents and aunts’ legs as you made your way out of the house, ignoring how your father’s duffle bag, that subconsciously you hated, was laying on the porch steps. You stumble around a bit on your five year old legs, before finding the person you wanted to see. 

“Uncle Steve!!!” You yelled, throwing your arms up.

“Hey, Pumpkin.” He said, teasingly. He wastes no time to scoop you up, and carefully holds you close to him (it’s been years and he’s still afraid he’ll drop you). “Have you gotten smaller?”

You scrunched up your nose at him, shaking your head. “No.” You giggled at the silly nickname, and it all was because you were pocket size.

“No?” Steve said, tilting his head, all cocky. “Are you sure?”

You giggled again. “Yes.”

He grins. “Just checking.”

A sigh came from inside, before the two of you saw your father exiting his parents house, all dressed in his neatly ironed uniform. He looked miserable as he gazed at his bag on the porch.

“Ready?” Steve asked, readjusting his hold on you as he frowned himself.

“Unfortunately.” Bucky mumbled, not ready for what’s yet to come. However, when he faces you his whole expression changes for the better. “And there’s my little girl!”

“Papa!” You yelled, holding your arms out. He takes you in his arms, hugging you gently. “Are you leaving, Papa?”

“Oh, baby doll, I am.” He said, pulling back to look at you. “But don’t worry, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He taps your nose. “Okay?”

You nodded slowly and smiled. “Okay!”

“Good.” He gives you a big kiss on your head, before peppering your face with some more making you laugh. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you, too, Papa.”

“I love you more.”

He gives you one more kiss and one more hug before transferring you over back to Steve. They both give each other a strong hug and pat on the back, smiling bittersweetly.

“Be safe, Bucky.” Steve said, trying to hide his concern.

“I will. You too. The both of you.” Bucky said, grabbing his bag and making sure his voice was stern.

“We will. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Thank you, Steve.” 

He bid them goodbye, and you and Steve watched him walk down the path to the military jeep parked nearby. It was chilling almost to watch, and your five year old mind couldn’t quite comprehend the heavy feeling you felt underneath the surface.

“Uncle Steve?” You asked, prying his eyes away from the moving vehicle. 

“Yeah?” He said, softly.

You looked at him all puzzled, something wasn’t adding up. “I thought you told me you were going with him?” You swear he mentioned something like that to you yesterday. Right?

His eyes look away from you, almost like he was recollecting himself before giving you his answer. “I am. But not yet.” He replies, honestly. His orbs finally meet yours again. “Not until I know you're okay.”

“Really?” You asked, tilting your head to the side with curiosity.

“Sure am.” He smiles once more. “Now, what do you want to do? You want to see what Grandpa and Grandma are doing?”

Your eyes light up at their names. “Yes!!!” 

He laughs at your enthusiasm. “Okay, okay. Let’s go see them.”

.

.

.

Bucky throws a bottle of scotch across the room, shattering somewhere. He didn’t care though. It’s not like he even batted an eye.

Five years old. 

That was it.

That’s the last time he ever saw you.

And that hurt like a bitch.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He doesn’t know when…

But everything suddenly just…

Clicked.

Memories of his flooded in like a broken dam. He starts to recall who he was before and after the fall. Before and after the war. Before and after everything. So as he made his way to Siberia with his friend, Steve, he remembers something that was like a knife to his heart.

“I have a daughter.” Bucky said abruptly, cutting Steve off.

When he was on the run after the helicarriers fell, he remembers his time growing up in the early 1900s. The (multiple) times he saved his best friend’s ass from being picked on, or the way he took his younger siblings to the park, or helping his mother bake, or fixing the car with his dad. But there were a few memories he was confused by for a long time.

First he only heard little laughs, or someone trying to sing a child’s song. Then he saw little toys and dresses. Then he saw a little face with big, wondrous eyes. It didn’t take him long to realize who she was.

He met with his friend’s eyes quickly, almost getting choked up by an emotion that had been under lock and key for so long. “...I have a daughter… don’t I?”

Steve, who seemed taken back by his sudden string of words, opens and closes his mouth a few times, before settling his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Yes, Bucky. You do.”

Bucky looked away, the confirmation sending his mind spiraling again, and the Captain could tell. He decides to approach this carefully since he knows his friend isn’t hundred percent in his right mind yet.

“Do you remember her?” Steve asked, watching him nod slowly. “What do you remember?”

Bucky thinks long and hard about this. What did he remember about you?

“Uh… I remember she was tiny… always tiny.” He chuckles quietly, making Steve smile. “She uh… had um… (Y/H/C) hair that was kind of wavy when she got older. Um… big, bright (Y/E/C) eyes. She… she um… smiled a lot… I think?”

“Yeah, she did Buck. All the time.” Steve said, patting his shoulder gently as he could see the joy it was bringing to his friend.

Bucky laughs again. “Uh… you used to call her by a weird nickname. What was it? Uh…” He purses his lips. “Po… Potato?”

Now it was the blond’s turn to laugh. “N-No. No. Close… Starts with a P, though.”

“Um…” His eyes light a spark. “Oh. Yeah. I remember now. We took her to her first Halloween pumpkin patch when I could hold in one hand because she was so tiny.”

“Yep. That’s what I called her.” He says with a nod. “Your Ma tried to dress her up like one.”

“Oh, yeah, she did.”

And then it got quiet, and Steve saw the bright light in his friend’s eyes go out when the wheels started to turn again. He held his breath, knowing what he was recalling next.

Bucky swayed on the balls of his feet a bit, looking at the floor. “She was five the last time I saw her.” He says, bittersweetly. “I remember, the night before, I took her to Coney Island, and we just played games and ate until our bellies ached. I got her a stuffed bear on the ring toss…”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, trying to give him some comfort because he knew there was no stopping any memories of you.

“She was with you when I left. I gave her hugs, and kisses and…” His voice starts to break. “I love you’s…. Um…”

“Bucky–” Steve begins, hating how hurt he looked.

“Steve. W-Was that last time you saw h-her too?”

Steve closed his mouth, thinking to himself. He couldn’t lie. He was a terrible liar which the brunette always sees through. So what was the point of even trying?

Cap shakes his head. “No. I saw her when she was nine. ‘Bout to be nine.”

“N-Nine?” Bucky asked, just above a whisper. “W-Why?”

“Um…” He swallows. “I had to…. I had to tell your family about, you know… the train… and you.”

The Soldier went distant. “O-Oh…”

“I wanted to make sure I was the one to tell them.” 

“Oh…” Bucky started to get teary eyed. “D-Did you tell her?"

Steve held his breath again. It was like his mind started to relive that day.

You looked so happy to see him, but he watched that expression vanish when you saw his sadden face. It hurts to take you by the hand and into your room. It hurts to see how you’ve grown, and to think he got to see it and not your dad made the situation a whole lot worse.

He wanted to lie and tell you your dad was hurt. 

He wanted to lie and tell you your dad was still at war and won’t be home for a while.

He wanted to lie and say everything was going to be okay.

But he couldn’t, and felt like it was his duty to tell you what happened to your father, to his best friend.

He knew if the situation was reversed, Bucky would be doing the very same thing now.

And when he did tell you, he hated how you kept on denying it. You called him a liar, and god he wished he was.

“I-I did…” He said, feeling his eyes sting as well. 

Bucky jaw clenches. “A-And?”

Steve looks away for a second. “She cried for three hours.”

“O-Oh…” Bucky looks away too. “I always h-hated when s-she cries.”

With his hand still on the brunette shoulder, he gave him another comforting squeeze. “She…” Cap chokes, his memories flooding in all at once. “S-She um… she gave me her blanket, the one that she came home with. She um, wanted me… to promise to come back to her. But um… I failed at that, I guess.”

Bucky frowns. “Steve–"

“I tried finding her, Buck.” He finally looks at him. “When I came out of the ice, SHIELD managed to give me some of my things from the war. I kept the blanket in my chest, so… I tried finding her, because I didn’t want to break that promise to (Y/N), but…”

“You didn’t find anything?”

Steve shakes his head. “Not exactly.” He whispers, exhaling shaky. 

“Not exactly?” Bucky asked, wanting an answer. “What does that mean?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to look all messed up. Especially since he couldn’t make eye contact again. He swallows a lump in his throat and says, “I’m so sorry, Bucky…”

“Sorry about what?” Bucky couldn’t understand what was happening and it was honestly starting to scare him. “What are you sorry about?”

“(Y/N)...” He sighs quietly, and forces himself to look in his best friend’s eyes. “Pneumonia. She, uh… got pneumonia in ‘54 and passed.” 

Now the knife has dug deeper, chilling his bones too. “She’s dead?” He said, barely audible. 

“Yeah. She’s dead.” The Captain replies, dispirit. “I found the spot where she’s buried. I can take you there if you–”

“Thank you, Steve.” The soldier says, ignoring the blond’s confused state. “I mean it. You were always so good to her, and to think you never stopped looking after all this time means A LOT to me. Do you understand? You helped my daughter when she was at her lowest, and you even found her for me. I thank you for that.”

Steve smiles bittersweetly. “No need to. I said I’ll always be there for the both of you.”

Bucky returns the gesture. “As will I.”

“Now, let’s finish this, shall we?”

.

.

.

“-Bucky.” Steve says, touching his shoulder and getting a small jolt from the man. Surprised eyes fell on him as he returned with concerned ones. “You ready?”

“Uh…” Bucky looked around quickly, remembering it was standing in the locker room changing. He didn’t even realize he had zoned out. “Y-Yeah.” He said, zipping up the front of his Quantum Suit. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Steve tilts his head, the worriedness never vanishing. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Let’s get this mission completed.”

And those were the words that would change -everything-.

(TBC)

-Taglist Is Open-

@navs-bhat @liarasstuff @justmewoo @thed1v1n3

@luckyzipperscissorsbat @like-a-domino @kissesofdeadforme

@audigay

[sergeantsporks]

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 38.5/39: Closure

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17,  Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34, Ch 35, Ch 36, Ch 37, Ch 38

An alternate universe in which Evelyn managed to save Caleb after his confrontation with Phillip. The two of them escaped to present day through time pools, and have been using time pools to secretly rescue grimwalkers just after Belos attempts to kill them. The story follows Darius' mentor as he adjusts to his new life, as well as changes to the course of canon.

Ao3

“You’ve been putting weight on this fracture.”

“Mhm.”

“You’re going to stop doing that.”

“Got it.”

The healer—Phoenix hadn’t caught their name—shook their head. “I mean it. It won’t heal, and you could make it worse—it looks like you broke it two different ways and then used a slitherbeast’s bite to wrench it back into place.”

Phoenix winced. That would be the Collector’s attempt to ‘fix’ the break. “Sorry.”

“And—look, this may be none of my business, but there’s a weird block-up of excess magic in your arms; you might want to consider seeing a specialist. And an apothecary.”

“Yep. Aware of it. Okay. Thanks.”

The healer picked up the remains of Viney’s cast, examining the crack from Belos’ kick with a whistle. “What have you been up to?

“Eh. You know. The apocalypse.”

The whole family had made a pact not to mention Belos to anyone outside of the family or Darius for now—as far as anyone else was concerned, Luz had killed Belos, and that was that. Phoenix was almost certain that there would be ‘Belos’ sightings across the isles for some time, and he didn’t intend on adding any credibility to the notion that Belos could have escaped Luz.

“Haven’t we all. Well, nothing life-threatening. You’re cleared. See a healer again in a week for that ankle and to check the concussion, use the crutches, take it easy.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm. You’re welcome”

Another healer shot into the room, breathing heavily. “You get to do the one next door.”

“What? I thought you were taking care of him?”

“Not anymore. I like living too much.”

“Well, that sounds promising.”

Phoenix followed the healer out of the room, swinging on a new set of crutches. The moment the healer opened the next door, an abomination-themed paperweight came sailing out, nearly beaning them on the head.

“Stay away,” Petro wheezed, “I’ll kill you.”

“They’re here to help,” Phoenix told him, “They’re not going to hurt you.”

“Like I trust you either.”

“Friendly, isn’t he?” the healer commented dryly.

“Very. Petro, I didn’t drag you all the way here just to kill you now. They’re just a healer.”

“Coven healer?”

“Does it matter anymore?”

“It matters,” Petro wheezed through gritted teeth, “because which they are determines whether or not they might have motive to kill me.” He thought about it for a moment. “I’m not sure which kind would be more likely.”

“I don’t even know who you are?” The healer pushed into the room, holding their hands up in surrender. “Look. You’re in bad shape. I can either heal you now, while you’re conscious and can keep an eye on me, or I can wait until you pass out anyway and you won’t have any knowledge of what I’m up to. So which is it going to be?”

Petro glared, but didn’t throw anything else and let the healer get close enough to begin their magic. Phoenix heaved a sigh of relief and wandered back down the hall. Darius poked halfway out of a closet, pulling out blankets and towels, but he straightened up when Phoenix approached.

“Ah. Hello. I see the healers got to you.”

“They did.”

“How are you feeling? It seems like you look worse every time I see you.”

Phoenix shrugged. “I’ll survive. Look, Darius—I owe you an explanation. Besides disappearing on you, about what just happened—”

“Well—perhaps it can wait until tomorrow morning. I’m sure you need your rest, and we should get your quite extensive family settled in, of course, and—”

“Darius, are you avoiding me?”

Darius chuckled nervously. “What? Of course I’m not. I haven’t been looking for answers for thirty years just to avoid them now.”

“Are you sure?” Phoenix pressed, “I mean, you didn’t seem too concerned when I ran off after Jason—”

“You seemed distressed, I didn’t want to keep you in such a state—”

“—and now you won’t let me tell you what happened again,” Phoenix continued over him, “Are you avoiding me?”

Darius had always been bad at lying to him. A stellar actor most of the time, but absolutely horrendous when it came to fooling Phoenix. That was one thing that hadn’t changed over the years. It almost made Phoenix laugh—a grown man now twenty years his senior studiously avoiding his eyes like he was still a teenager.

“I’m not avoiding you. But are you sure you’re ready to tell me?”

“I’ve only been thinking of a way to do it for…” Phoenix tried to tally up how long it had been since he’d woken up in this time, then gave up. “…a while. Darius, I know you’re not avoiding it for my sake."

"I just think right now isn’t a good time.” Darius finished pulling blankets out of the closet and shut the door abruptly. “Tomorrow.”

“And what if something new comes up tomorrow? Darius, I’ve put this off for so long, I want to—”

“If you’ve been putting it off for so long, then it can wait another day. Hunter—” Darius locked up, inhaled, and released his breath in one long sigh. “Phoenix. Can we just leave it?”

“Are you scared it won’t be good enough?”

The words escaped Phoenix before he could really think it through, and the simple question made Darius freeze again.

“Excuse me?”

“This whole time—Darius, I’ve been worried that any apology, any explanation I could give wouldn’t be good enough. I was scared that you’d hear what I had to say and decide it wasn’t any excuse for not contacting you. That you’d hate me for it. But that… it works both ways, doesn’t it?” Phoenix took a deep breath. “You’ve spent years wondering where I’d gone, wondering what happened to me. And now I’ve showed up again out of the blue. Are you… are you scared that when I tell you what happened… it’ll feel like I just didn’t care enough? That it will feel like there was no real reason for me to not contact you, and I just didn’t want to?”

Darius chuckled hollowly. “Well, what am I supposed to say to that, hm?” He shook his head. “You’ve changed, Phoenix. The name, the scars—that’s nothing. There was a time when you would have had your tongue ripped out before you’d disclose all that to me; the Phoenix I knew took a day of coaxing before he’d ever begin admit something was wrong. But then—I guess you weren’t really Phoenix then, were you?”

“No,” Phoenix agreed, “I wasn’t.”

“What if we’ve changed too much?” Darius gave Phoenix a small, sad half-smile. “That explanation might be the only thing left between us—the last thing we say to each other before we find closure and move on in our new lives. Perhaps it’ll be good enough. Perhaps it won’t. Perhaps it won’t matter how good or bad it is because either way, we’ll simply drift apart.”

Dread settled in Phoenix’s stomach. Of course that was always a possibility—but it wasn’t one he wanted to accept. “Maybe.” Phoenix searched for the right words to say, allowing a heavy silence to creep between them. “Maybe,” he said again finally, “You’re right. That might happen. But even if it does, even if we drift apart… Darius, I will never stop caring about you. And I don’t think you’ll stop caring about me, either.”

“Never.” Darius took a deep breath. “I’m ready,” he said abruptly, “I want to know—and I want to know all of it.”

“To the last thing left unfinished between us,” Phoenix agreed. He cleared his throat, trying to decide the best place to begin. “When I disappeared—well, it actually started weeks before, when I found some old records concerning the fates of previous golden guards…”

Xxx

You were always going to fail them, too.

Phoenix snapped awake, the vestiges of a fuzzy nightmare still making his heart work overtime. He stared up at the ceiling, surrounded by the snores of other grimwalkers. It was just a dream.

He tried to rub his eyes, but his arms wouldn’t move, dissolved into a mess of mud that would stain the blankets if he let it.

“It’s okay,” he whispered to the darkness, “We’re okay.”

In time with his slowing heartbeat, his arms settled back to their normal state, and he rolled out of his blankets, snatching up his crutches and quietly hobbling out into the hallway. His joints ached. His bones felt stretched and thin inside of him.

But at least they were his.

He wandered into the kitchen. Jason sat at the table, staring blankly at his hands, but he looked up when Phoenix dropped into the seat next to him.

“It’s over,” Jason whispered, “It’s really, really over this time.”

“He’s gone,” Phoenix agreed.

Jason trembled and fell into Phoenix, burying his face in Phoenix’s shoulder. “It’s over,” he repeated, “It’s over, it’s over it’s over.”

Phoenix gripped him tightly, holding him close. “We’re safe now. He can’t hurt us anymore.”

“He’s finally gone,” Jason whispered, “We’re finally—he’s finally—it’s over.” He pulled back, eyes shining. “I don’t have to go with him. I don’t have to talk to him again, I don’t have to…”

“Never again, thanks to you and Mole.”

“Well—hey, you were part of it, too.”

Phoenix looked away, guilt bubbling up in his stomach. “I didn’t do anything.” His hands curled into shaking fists. “I tried. I really did, but I couldn’t beat him. He still got the better of me. After everything—the curse, getting out of his hold… I was still useless.”

“You saved Hunter’s life,” Jason said quietly, “I don’t think that’s useless.”

“I couldn’t stop him.” Phoenix’s hands opened and closed helplessly. “I was so close, Jason, but I still couldn’t…”

“Hey.” Jason tilted his head, ducking down so that he was looking Phoenix in the eye. “You fought fair. Belos didn’t—that kick was a dirty move. You would have won in a straight fight.”

“It was never going to be a straightforward fight with Belos,” Phoenix replied bitterly, “I should have known that. I shouldn’t have tried to fight like it would be.”

“What, and stoop to his level? I’m glad you didn’t.” Jason’s hand closed over his own. “Phoenix. Hey. Mole and I wouldn’t have been able to get into position without your attack. Hunter kept everyone from getting hurt when the glyphs stopped working. The others made sure Belos didn’t possess Petro again so you could face him head on. And without Petro, we wouldn’t have been able to trick Belos and get Mom and everybody free. This only worked because we all played a part—so what if you didn’t beat him all on your own? Neither did any of the others, and they attacked him all at once with a bunch of glyphs! I mean, hey, you went after Belos all by yourself, and you made it out with nothing but a concussion? Pretty good considering the results of our past attempts.”

A smile worked its way onto Phoenix’s face, disappearing just as quickly. “I guess.”

“He can’t hurt us again. That’s all that really matters—we don’t need to worry about who did what, or who helped the most.”

“I know, I know,” Phoenix grumbled, “You’re right.”

“Of course I am. I’m always right.” Jason gave him a cheeky grin. “Forget about him. He ruled enough of our lives—I don’t want to think about him a second longer than I have to. How did things go with Darius?”

And just like that, any sense of calm Jason’s reassurances had brought melted right back into a seething pit of anxiety. “Fine, I think? I mean… he seemed to understand what happened and why I couldn’t get back in touch with him.”

“But?” Jason prompted.

“But…” Phoenix took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Do you think he’s angry I didn’t tell him when Belos surfaced again? I mean, I’d just promised to tell him everything, and then I hid an incredibly big and dangerous thing—even though I had a reason, that’s got to sting. I’d be mad at me.”

“You could always ask,” Jason suggested, “Can’t hurt.”

“Hm.” Maybe, but if what Darius had said earlier—about how Phoenix had used to keep everything close to his chest, hiding it from Darius—had been true then, the opposite was true now. Phoenix was almost certain that if he did ask, Darius would just wave off the question.

“Is that all that’s eating you?”

“Well, that and the flesh-dissolving mud curse.”

Jason chuckled. “Right. That. Should you be up and around? Sam told me you should rest more.”

“That traitor.”

Jason pushed his shoulder. “You should say thank you. Now there’s one more person who knows what you need.”

“You need to not be in my kitchen at one AM, that’s for certain.”

Phoenix jumped, nearly falling out of his chair. Darius stood in the doorway, arms crossed. Even in the dim lighting, Phoenix could see the bloodshot red of his eyes. “Sorry. Did we wake you?” And how much did you hear?

Darius shrugged, an easy, fluid movement that didn’t quite seem to match that look in his eyes. “I was checking in, making sure Evelyn and Caleb were alright, and everyone was settled alright, and… you were gone.”

A hint of accusation laced his tone, and Phoenix flinched. “Sorry,” he said again, “I just… couldn’t sleep. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He wiggled his hands in the air. “Still here! Haven’t vanished off the face of the earth again!”

Jason winced, and made a small ‘whoof’ noise next to him while Darius’ smile got a little more forced. Phoenix’s hands dropped to his lap. “Sorry. Too soon.”

“A bit so, yes. Do you need something to aid your sleep? A potion, perhaps, or—”

“I’m alright, Darius. Thank you.”

Before his disappearance, it had been easy to fall into silence with Darius. Once there was nothing left to say, they’d just share a comfortable, nearby existence. But now, the quiet loomed between them, painfully, awkwardly huge.

Jason cleared his throat. “Well, I’m gonna go check on Mom and Dad and then go back to bed. See you in the morning.” He patted Phoenix’s shoulder and disappeared, along with any hope Phoenix might have had that Jason would know the right thing to say to Darius.

“So. The curse.” Darius waved a hand in the air. “You said it drains energy, drains magic… so does Edalyn’s. You could try her elixirs. See if it works out for you.”

Nothing Phoenix hadn’t thought of, but the suggestion coming from someone else did somehow make it feel more plausible. “Yeah. Yeah, that might work.”

“And if the elixirs help…” Darius took a deep breath. “It doesn’t seem all too different from my abomination magic, at least not in general form. I could… give you some tips on controlling it.”

Phoenix turned the idea over in his mind, a laugh building in the back of his throat, and bursting out uncontrollably. Darius blinked slowly, managing to look exactly like an offended cat.

“You could have just said no if you think it’s that ridiculous.”

“No—no, it’s not that, I just… well, you know. I used to be the one teaching you magic. I know things have changed between us, but I wasn’t expecting a complete reversal.”

Darius chuckled. “It is a bit strange when you put it like that.” He braced one elbow on the tabletop, resting his face on his hand. “Now I’m the teacher. I’m sentencing you to ten years of dish-washing for running off to fight Belos without me.”

“Which time?”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose you did do it more than once. Twenty years, then.”

Phoenix snorted. “In your dreams.” He leaned his elbows on the table to match Darius, rubbing his aching joints. “I’d like that, though.”

“What, washing the dishes?”

“No, no. For you to teach me how to work with this, make it into something helpful. And to just… spend time together exploring new magic like we used to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d like it a lot.”

Xxx

“Hunter! Jason!”

Luz cannoned into the two of them at the speed of light, closely followed by Willow and Gus. Phoenix laughed watching the two of them go down, but then King slammed into his legs, Collector flew into his chest, and he stared at the ceiling of Darius’ house, half wondering how he’d gotten on the floor.

“Phoenix!”

“Oof. Oh, we brought everyone. Hey!”

“Everyone but Eda and Raine,” King remarked, suggestively wiggling the bony arches that Phoenix was pretty sure passed for eyebrows up and down.

“And Camila,” Collector added helpfully.

Grimwalkers shuffled away from Collector, eying them nervously. Cherry’s hands twitched, like he might like to yank them away from Phoenix, and Darius’ eyes narrowed into little slits, his hand turning into an abomination knife.

Phoenix waved one hand at him. “It’s okay! They’re good, it’s fine.”

The others didn’t exactly crowd around to meet him, but they didn’t protest the Collector being there either. Luz pulled back from her attack on Hunter and Jason, eyes brimming with concern. “I am so, so, so, so, so, so sorry! I thought we finished him off, I thought—”

“Hey, whoa, it’s not your fault!” Jason protested, “You did amazing.”

“You were a puppet,” Hunter reminded him, “You missed the whole thing. But yeah, Luz. Don’t blame yourself. He’s… really good at squeezing out of tricky situations. You took a lot out of him—and whether you killed him or not, you definitely saved the isles from him.”

“He’s actually dead this time, right?” King asked Phoenix, “We’re sure?”

“Positive,” Phoenix confirmed, “Mole petrified him.”

“Good.” King nudged Collector. “Hey—remember—”

“I remember.” Collector floated up into the air, clearing his throat. “Hey, everybody. I’m Collector. I know I sort of… scared you before, but I’m really, really sorry for destroying your house. I can fix it, if you want? And… I’d like to be friends. No more house-destroying or puppeting. Pinky promise.”

For a long moment, no one said anything, just glanced at each other and the Collector. Finally, A.T. stepped forward, linking his pinky with Collector’s. “Hey, Collector. I’m A.T. and probably the expert around here on having friends. Everyone else seems to lack the experience.”

Protests and boos rose out of other grimwalkers, breaking the tense silence. A.T. just grinned, unfazed by their jeers. “We’re gonna get along great.”

Phoenix sighed in relief. He doubted anyone would actually be comfortable around Collector, not for a while. But at least open hostility had been cleared off the table.

“What’s going on in here?”

Everyone’s head snapped to the other side of the room, the Collector completely forgotten as Caleb made his way from the hallway, one hand on the wall for support. His face still hadn’t regained all its color, and he leaned heavily on the wall, but his smile was still the same big beam it had always been.

“Dad!”

Like a tidal wave, every grimwalker in the room shifted towards him at once, all of them babbling over with a thousand ‘are you alright’s and ‘you scared us’s. Cherry, ever the solid rock, got to him first, anxiously hovering inches away.

“You shouldn’t have tried to trade yourself for us,” he told Caleb.

A hush fell over the grimwalkers. Phoenix felt queasy, even knowing that Caleb would hear them out without losing his temper. It needed to be said. But part of him was glad Cherry was the one saying it.

“I couldn’t lose you. Any of you.”

“You almost lost all of us,” Cherry countered, “Offering to go to the human realm? You would have never seen any of us again! And we would have lost you!”

“I mean, I can make a portal to the human realm,” Collector announced chipperly, “You could have found each other again.”

King drew one paw back and forth across his throat, and the Collector made a small ‘ah’ noise, miming zipping up their lips.

“I just wanted to protect you.”

“You did something dumb and self-sacrificial,” Sam piped up, “If any of us had offered that trade, we’d get a nice long talk about how our lives have value on their own and we shouldn’t give up everything like that. You’d tell us there’s always another way.”

“I mean, Jason did try it,” Venari offered, “You’re okay with that?”

Caleb’s attention snapped over to him. “You did what?”

“This is what they’re talking about, Dad,” Jason said, fondly exasperated, “Your life isn’t worth any less than ours. You think we should live our lives free of Belos?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then the same should be true for you.”

A.T. nodded fiercely. “We’re not the only ones he hurt—you shouldn’t be stuck with him any more than we or anyone else should.”

“But I’m the one who—”

“You made mistakes,” Cherry cut in, “No one is denying that. You were unconscious, but Jason told Belos he needed to stop punishing you for what happened. And Belos isn’t the only one; you have to stop punishing yourself.” He twisted his hands. “It’s something we all have to work on.”

Silver raised a hand. “We would have been devastated if he’d taken you,” they told Caleb, “Please—don’t do something like that again.”

Caleb’s eyes welled up. “Okay,” he mumbled thickly, “Okay, I promise.” His hand hovered over his chest where bandages bulged against his shirt. “Is… are you all okay? I mean, that spell, the wound—”

Dagger waved a hand. “Sure, it hurt, but you think we can’t handle it?”

“Losing you and Mom would have hurt worse,” Jason told him. “Speaking of Mom…”

“Alive and well,” Evelyn commented from the kitchen. She waved from the table. “Hey. I went the other way ‘round.” She jabbed one finger at Caleb. “They’re right, by the way, mister. Pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll… well, I don’t have a good threat ready at the moment, but you won’t like it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” One of Caleb’s eyebrows arched up. “Although I seem to recall someone else going off alone to make deals with Phillip.”

“I was going on a rescue mission that I was pretty sure I could handle and turned out to be wrong about,” she corrected, “Not the same thing. But fine, of course, next time our kids get kidnapped by someone who has it out for specifically us and I track them down to their lair, I’ll come get you. Happy?”

Caleb smiled at her, a small, sad imitation of his usual smile. “Ecstatic.” He turned towards the Collector. “I’m—”

“The original! The first Caleb! Wow, Phillip would not stop talking about you.” Collector hopped up into the air, sitting cross-legged. “I almost feel like I know you, even though we’ve never met. Isn’t that weird?”

Caleb winced. “Well… I don’t know what stories Phillip told you, but I think I’d like it if you knew the real me. And… I’d like to know the real you. But, um. Before we get to know each other… does your offer of a portal door still stand?”

Xxx

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Phoenix looked up from the pile of books Jason had rescued from the rubble of the house—he, Mole, Joseph, and Cherry had been going back and forth between their destroyed home and Darius’ house, ferrying mostly-intact personal belongings to their owners. Phoenix had stayed behind where he could sit (at just about everyone’s insistence), sorting through what they’d brought and picking out what was still salvageable. But at Evelyn’s snappish tone, he wobbled to his feet and swung his way to the kitchen. Caleb stood with Collector and Petro, holding a bag that looked suspiciously like it was filled with crumbled pieces of stone.

Evelyn stood in the doorway, blocking their path. Brave of her, Phoenix thought vaguely, considering how Collector had flicked her shields aside like they were nothing last time. “You can’t be serious. After everything he did?”

“I’m not doing it for Belos,” Caleb said quietly, “I’m doing it for me. And for him.”

Caleb nodded to Petro behind him, uncharacteristically quiet and melancholy. Half-healed bruises and cuts still mottled his face, but his breathing came normally now instead of in those awful shudders. The moment he noticed Phoenix looking at him, he scowled, glaring daggers.

Evelyn crossed her arms. “He doesn’t deserve the kindness. He would have desecrated your grave a thousand times to make more grimwalkers.”

“But I’m not him. I need to bury what’s left, Evelyn—I’m not going to feel at peace until I do. Please.”

Evelyn sighed. “Are you really going to take him to the human realm?”

“Do you think anyone wants what’s left of him here?”

“I suppose not,” Evelyn admitted.

“You don’t have to come with me, Evelyn. In fact, I think it would probably just upset you. Just let me do this, okay?”

“Alright. Alright, but be careful.” She tilted her head at Petro, lowering her voice. “Do you actually trust him?”

“No,” Caleb said simply, “Not yet. But I don’t think he’ll try anything for now.”

Evelyn ‘hm’ed unhappily, but moved out of the way. The three walked—or floated, in Collector’s case—out the door, heading to the outskirts of Bonesborough. After a moment of hesitation, Phoenix followed. Maybe Caleb thought everything would be fine, but Phoenix was almost certain something would go wrong. He wasn’t willing to leave it to chance, especially after what everyone had said this morning.

Phoenix quickly fell behind—even with the injuries Petro and Caleb had sustained, they still walked faster than he could hobble on his crutches. After about twenty agonizing minutes, Collector swooped through the sky over him.

“Hiya, Phoenix,” they chirped, “Did you want to come along? Caleb and Hunter already made it to the human realm, but I can catch you up real fast.”

“Yes, please,” Phoenix panted. A star formed underneath him, and Collector sat next to him. They stayed low to the ground, but the star moved quickly, zipping through the streets of Bonesborough.

Collector fidgeted, tapping his fingers against each other. “Are we going to be okay?” they finally asked in a small voice.

“What?”

“You’re not still—are you mad at me?”

Phoenix hissed out a long breath. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I don’t know.” Collector rested his chin on his knees. “Were you going to take King away forever?”

“I think I was.” Phoenix heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. And I’m sorry for trying to make you disappear. And for destroying your house. And—” Their voice wobbled, and tears welled up in their eyes. “And putting you in the nightmare. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“I don’t want to, either.” Phoenix scratched absently at his arms where the wounds from Belos used to be. “I don’t think I ever did. I was just… scared.”

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“I was going to come back the first time. I really was. I mean—I was going to take King, but I would have come back.”

“I believe you now.”

Phoenix took a deep breath. “We both hurt each other. And I can’t promise that we won’t accidentally hurt each other again.”

“So… you’re saying we shouldn’t be friends?”

“No! No, it’s just a risk we have to take. You can’t be friends with people without… opening up the possibility of getting hurt. But that’s okay. And I think we’re going to be okay.”

“Okay.” Collector pulled the star to a stop in front of the owl house. “I hope so.”

“I know so.” Phoenix hopped off the star. “I’ll be back soon.”

The door shimmered in front of him, a wall of light too bright to look past into the other realm.

The human realm.

Phoenix slowly swung over the threshold. It didn’t feel any different to be in the human realm. He’d assumed he’d be able to tell when he crossed over, like all the magic would be sucked out of the world, but it just seemed… normal here. The house that held the door was a bit dilapidated, sure, and a recent-looking hole gaped in the floorboards, but nothing seemed terribly wrong with the place. He could easily imagine Jason curled up on that old couch reading, or Hunter pacing the floor.

Low murmurs rose up from beneath him, and Phoenix slowly thumped down a creaky staircase. Each step involved a lengthy back-and-forth with his crutches, but he made it to the bottom, where Petro and Caleb stood in front of a gaping hole in the ground. They slowly lowered what was left of Belos into the grave and covered the stone back up with dirt. Phoenix hobbled closer, but stayed far enough back that he wouldn’t be intruding.

“Would you… like to say something?” Caleb asked Petro.

Petro gave a short nod. “Bye, old man,” he said abruptly, “You gave me the best parts of my life, and I’ll never forget everything you did for me. Rot in hell. I’ll probably meet you there.” He gave the grave a snappy salute, then spit on it and stepped back.

“That was… nice?”

Petro acknowledged Caleb’s statement with a curt nod. “Your turn.”

Caleb took a deep breath. “I guess this is it,” he said slowly, “I wish we could have done something different—but I’m glad I landed where I did. I’m going to do better. With the grimwalkers you made, I mean. I won’t run away this time. No matter what, I’ll stick with them, and make sure they never feel abandoned and alone again.” He sighed. “I know Belos probably wouldn’t care. But… I hope whatever’s left of the lonely kid who was scared of me leaving would like that. Goodbye, Pip. I won’t forget you.” He glanced up, noticing Phoenix for the first time. “Oh! Did you come to…”

“I came to check on you.” Phoenix shrugged. “I don’t have anything to say.”

“No, I wouldn’t think so.” Caleb heaved a deep sigh. “Is it wrong that I don’t feel sad?”

“Why did you bury him at all, then?”

Caleb shook his head. “I don’t know. It just didn’t feel right, leaving him there. I know he did a lot wrong, but... I wanted to bring him back home.” He chuckled dryly. “I guess he got what he wanted in the end, didn’t he? Me and him, back in the human realm.”

“That wasn’t all he wanted,” Phoenix said softly, “You know that.”

“Yeah. I do. It’s just…”

“Complicated?”

“Always is.” Caleb bounced on the balls of his feet, staring up at the low ceiling. “Could you give me a minute?”

“Yeah.” Phoenix looked around, but Petro was nowhere in sight—Phoenix swore under his breath and hopped back towards the stairs, tucking his crutches under his arm and leaning against the wall for balance instead while he made his way up. The door to the house swung wide open, and Phoenix hobbled outdoors. There would be no catching up with Petro if he’d run, he knew, but the glint of ruined gold armor shone from down the path, at the edge of the trees.

Petro stood just within the treeline, watching the human realm with hungry, cautious eyes. Phoenix stopped short next to him, huffing for breath.

“Thinking of running?” he asked.

Petro snorted. “Think you could stop me?”

“Probably not,” Phoenix admitted, “Hey—Caleb trusted you wouldn’t try anything.”

“If I was ‘trying anything’ you and Caleb would be joining the emperor in his grave. This isn’t ‘trying anything.’ This is just leaving.”

“Leaving?” Phoenix echoed, “Why?”

“Why would I stay?” Petro countered, “There’s nothing left in the Isles for me. I’ve done enough damage there, I think.”

“You don’t have to go,” Phoenix said quietly, “You could try to fix things, make up for what you’ve done. That’s what I’m doing.”

“We’ve already established that you’re a better person than me, little bird. Besides, I can’t stay. No one there trusts me, and if they did, they’d have to be brain-dead.” A wry smile pulled across his face. “It’s like Cherry said, isn’t it? You’re glad I’m changing, but that doesn’t mean you want me around while I do. The Isles are too small, and too full of people who know me. Here?” He swept one arm out. “It’s huge here. I could walk for miles and not leave this city. It’s the kind of place I can change—if I want to. I could get far away from everything, truly far away.”

“You can’t get away from yourself.”

Petro looked around, feigning surprise. “No, really? And here I thought that I would just leave my skin behind and walk on a new man who’s never done anything wrong in his life!”

“You know what I mean.”

“Look, are you going to try to stop me, or what? Because if you do…”

“You’ll kill me? I thought you were planning that anyway.”

Petro snorted. “Maybe I’ll take a visit to the Isles in a few years to give it another shot.”

Phoenix reached into his pocket, his hand closing around the extra concealment stone he’d taken for Ash what seemed like a lifetime ago. “Here.” He held out the stone. “This will help you blend in here, keep people from asking too many questions.”

Petro eyed the necklace. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” Phoenix nodded to the stone. “I think you’re right. I think if you’re going to change, you need to leave the demon realm, at least for a little bit. Get some distance from everything.” He stared Petro in the eye. “If you aren’t going to cause havoc here. I mean it, don’t hurt anyone.”

“I have no reason to. No one’s going to get hurt—I’m not trying to run an empire here, sheesh.” Petro held out an open palm. “Am I getting the stone and starting over or not?”

Phoenix slowly lowered it into his hand. “This doesn’t make everything you did okay, you know that, right? But… maybe here you can become the kind of person who makes up for it.”

“Hm. Maybe. We’ll see how it goes.” Petro’s hand closed over the pendant, but Phoenix didn’t let go of the string just yet.

“Do you remember her? Victoria, I mean.”

Petro blinked. “Who?”

“The girl who stopped you when you tried to kill me. Do you remember her?”

“Ah, so that was her name. Of course I remember her,” Petro said easily, far more easily than Phoenix expected.

“Wha—you do?”

“I remember every kill.” Now Petro was the one staring Phoenix down, uncomfortably level for the topic. “When I tracked down the witches who killed my guardian, they didn’t remember who she was. I swore I’d never be that careless. I knew that if someone came to me, like you are now, and asked if I remembered who I killed, I would be able to say yes. Even if I was adding them to the list, they should know I’d remember.”

If it weren’t for the prerequisite of killing someone, the statement almost would have sounded… noble. Phoenix let go of the string, and Petro slipped the stone over his head. He rippled, shifting and changing. His ears rounded out, and his armor turned into a T-shirt and jeans. He still looked like Petro—the scars didn’t disappear, nor did the dangerous glint in his eyes. But something about him almost seemed... peaceful.

Phoenix stepped back towards the house, towards the demon realm. “Good luck,” he said softly.

Petro gave him a short nod, and stepped out of the trees, into the human realm. Phoenix watched him until he disappeared from view, then slowly hobbled back into the house at the end of the path. Caleb emerged from the basement, looking around. “Where’s Petro?”

“Gone.”

Caleb eyed him. “You don’t seem too concerned about it.”

“I think he’ll be fine. And I don’t think he’ll try killing me again for a while. Give it a few years.”

“Hm.” Caleb glanced down the path, worry creasing his face. Phoenix bumped his shoulder.

“I don’t think he needs the kind of help you and Evelyn can give. He just… needs to be on his own for a bit.”

Caleb sighed. “You knew him best, or at least as best as any of us could.” He closed the door to the house. “You ready to go home?”

“Ready.”

They stepped through the portal together, leaving the human realm, and Belos, behind. Eda and Lilith waited just outside the door, Collector nowhere in sight. Caleb froze, but Eda and Lilith didn’t seem to notice, crowding around Phoenix instead. Eda lightly punched him in the shoulder. “Look who’s back! Darius tells me you’re looking into elixirs, huh? Well, for a good price, I can—”

“We’ll share,” Lilith interrupted, elbowing her sister, “Glad you’re safe, sir.”

“Please don’t call me that, Lilith. Just Phoenix.”

“Right.”

“Ah—hello.” The bard witch from the keep smiled awkwardly at Phoenix. New scars streaked their face like tears, but at least they were still alive. “It’s nice to meet you properly. I’m Raine.”

“Phoenix. Sorry about…” Phoenix gestured to his face. “I wish I could have done something.”

“And I wish I’d been able to keep Belos from taking over the titan, but here we are. Don’t worry about it. Eda tells me you’re the previous golden guard.” They tilted their head at Caleb. “And this is…”

“One of the other ones?” Eda guessed, “Luz told us all about your secret little grimwalker group.”

“Ah. No.” Caleb scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly avoiding their eyes. “I’m… the original one…”

He still hasn’t figured out how to word it, Phoenix thought. For some reason, the familiar stumble made him want to laugh.

Lilith gestured to Caleb’s ears, delighted. “Oh! I see! You must have been here before Belos, that’s fascinating. You’ll have to tell me what the Isles were like—of course, I did see a bit of the Deadwardian Era myself through a time pool, but a first-hand account—and the rest of your family, such a rich depository of history, absolutely incredible.”

Caleb smiled warmly. “I’d be happy to talk with you. Evelyn and I both.”

“Evelyn, hah!” Eda grinned. “What a coincidence, that name’s run in our family for a while!”

“Huh,” Caleb said lightly, “How funny.” He cleared his throat. “It was nice to meet you two—I hope we can get to know each other better.”

He swiftly exited the house before Phoenix could say anything.

“Huh. Bit jumpy, isn’t he?” Eda tossed Phoenix a couple of glowing gold potion bottles that he fumbled to catch with his crutches. “Tell us how that works out, okay? Now that Lilth’s got the basic recipe down, we can mess with it until it’s right for you. Best to down it all at once, by the way. And don’t let it sit in your mouth for longer than you have to. Doesn’t affect the magic or anything, you just want to drink it before you can taste it.”

“You’re not in this alone,” Lilith cut in, “Curses can be tricky, but there are ways to manage them, and they’re easier if you have a support system.”

Phoenix’s chest glowed warmly at the reminder. “I think I’m figuring that out. Thank you.” He raised the elixir bottle like a toast. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“Any idea what you’re going to do now that you don’t have to hide anymore?” Lilith asked.

“I didn’t really think I’d make it this far,” Phoenix admitted, “We’re going to fix up our home, but after that… I’ve got no clue.”

Eda grinned. “Well, I’ve got a little something-something cooking up on the back burner. Now that Belos is gone, and the covens are being dismantled, people are going to need someone to teach them how to be a real wild witch. How’d you like to get in on the teaching action?”

Phoenix flushed. “Oh. I don’t know, I don’t think that would… I’m not exactly… I mean, I wouldn’t even know what a school is supposed to look like, let alone how to be a part of one.”

“That makes you perfect for the job. You think I want a bunch of rule-following book-stuffy teachers at a school for wild magic?” Eda snorted. “As if. No thanks. But from the way Darius was always ‘my mentor’ this and ‘my mentor’ that, I imagine you’re a preeeetty good teacher when you have a mind to be. Or at least a good counselor or something.” She smacked his back. “Think about it, alright? We’ll see if this idea even takes off, but I’ve got a sneaking suspicion it’s going to catch like honeybees on fire.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks, Eda.”

Caleb waited for him outside, but started walking the moment Phoenix closed the door behind him. He kept his pace slow, hanging back with Phoenix’s hobble.

“Why didn’t you let them know they’re your descendants?” Phoenix asked.

Caleb chuckled humorlessly. “Is it hard to believe that I don’t think I’m ready to tell them?”

Phoenix thought about Darius, and a brief smile crossed his face. “No. Not hard to believe at all.”

Xxx

“What do you think, salvageable or no?”

Phoenix considered the ladder Caleb presented for a moment. Compared to most of the wreckage they’d salvaged, this damage didn’t seem too bad. Not that he could even begin to wonder why Caleb had brought back a ladder when they were supposed to be looking for personal belongings. “Well, it seems mostly fine. Top rung is missing, but that… can… be re…”

Phoenix looked up at Caleb, who wore the biggest, smuggest grin he’d ever seen in his life plastered all over his face. “Is this the ladder you fell off of?”

“The one and only.” Caleb collapsed the ladder, sitting next to Phoenix with a sigh. “Titan, that seems like forever ago.”

“A lot happened,” Phoenix agreed, “I wish a few broken ribs and a busted ankle was still the worst injury you had to deal with.”

“Don’t forget the concussion.”

Phoenix waved a hand. “Jason’s had about 3 concussions since the day of unity, clearly they’re not a big deal.”

Phoenix heard an affronted gasp, and looked up to see a distressed Hunter jabbing one finger at him. “Do not say that in front of Jason. Do you know what we went through convincing him that he needed to rest?!”

“Was it worse than what we go through convincing Phoenix to take it easy?” Caleb asked wryly.

Phoenix waved a hand at the ladder. “Pot.”

“Fair enough. Did you need something, Hunter?”

Hunter took a deep breath. “Thank you for repairing Flapjack.” He scratched the bird’s head. “I… really thought I was going to lose him. But he’s okay now, thanks to you. I know… palisman are connected to their witches. If they’re going to heal, then they need to be close.” Another deep breath. “Which is why… I think he should stay with you for a bit. So that he can heal. I know you said he’s mine now, but in terms of magical bonds, I feel like the carver might stand a better chance for medical care, and you know more about repairing palisman anyway, so—”

Flapjack pecked his finger. Caleb smiled. “I don’t think Flap agrees there. And I don’t think that’s what you want, either.”

“Of course not,” Hunter declared immediately, “I want to keep him, I just…” his hands curled into shaking fists. “I don’t know if I’m the best person to take care of him anymore, at least not right now.” His voice cracked. “I hurt him, I—”

“Phillip hurt him,” Caleb said fiercely. He took Hunter’s hands in his own. “Phillip hurt him, not you. And Phillip’s gone now. Maybe I know more about repair than you, but Flapjack didn’t wake up to save my life. He woke up to save yours. I carved Flapjack, but he is your palisman.”

“Don’t you miss him?” Hunter asked, “Don’t you want a palisman? Aren’t you upset he’s not yours anymore?”

Or do you not care about him? The sentiment wasn’t stated, but it ran under the conversation like a riptide current. Caleb stumbled for words, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“Yes,” he said finally, “I do miss him. I loved having a palisman. And if Flapjack wanted to be my palisman again, I’d accept in a heartbeat. But… I couldn’t take him from you. Not if that’s where he wants to be.” Caleb rubbed the stumps of his fingers. “When I carved Flapjack, I wished to choose my own path in life. How could I deny him that same choice?” He heaved a sigh. “No. He’s yours.” A smile crossed his face. “But… I wouldn’t mind a visit from him every now and then. And maybe I could teach you a little bit about palisman repair, eh? My hands can’t hold the carving tools too well anymore, but I’ve still got some tricks left to pass on.”

Hunter smiled back, scratching Flapjack’s head again. “I’d like that.”

Xxx

“Hey! Phoenix!” Novus waved, beckoning him over. Ash stood with him, eying Phoenix nervously, but not retreating.

“So, good news—since a lot of my stuff was metal and small, it more-or-less survived the whole…” he waved a hand. “Yes. Anyway, I was examining those blueprints again, asking around, and I think we were looking at it all the wrong way.”

“Oh?”

“We were trying to figure out how to keep your arms from melting, trying to figure out how to keep it all smushed together. But that’s not the solution at all.”

Novus held up a much smaller, lighter gauntlet. Gauntlet wasn’t even the correct way to describe it—the contraption seemed to be a simple padded skeleton of metal with a joint at the elbow and a strap to pull over Phoenix’s thumb.

“What is it?” Phoenix asked.

“It’s a brace. Simple, easy. Instead of keeping your arms together, it’ll provide joint support for when your arms do melt—that way, there’s less stress on your bones and joints. And there’s plenty of space for your curse to get in and out through the gaps, so you can use it as needed. And look—” He twisted one of the circular bands, and it tightened, shrinking until Phoenix doubted he could fit his arm through without melting them.

“To keep the mud from pulling your bones out of place,” Novus explained, “It’s completely manual, so you don’t have to worry about it going haywire again. If it does get stuck, the whole thing pops open with a bit of pressure. I already tested it on my arm.” He tapped the brace. “It’s mostly for your elbow and wrist, but if you need more, I can work something out for your hands, too. Want to give this part a test?”

Phoenix delicately took one of the braces from him, sliding it over his arm and cinching it snugly into place. He moved his arm back and forth—the joint worked perfectly, bending the brace with almost no resistance. And when he slid his crutches under his shoulder, the strain on his wrist and elbow didn’t seem quite so terrible.

“This is… wow. Novus, thank you, this is incredible!”

“Thank Ash,” he replied with a grin, “They’re the one who gave me the idea to focus on support instead of containment.”

Phoenix blinked in surprise, turning to face the other grimwalker. Ash shrugged. “I could feel your bones shifting around when you saved me on that cliff,” they said quietly, “Like I said—it’s not something you can control or mess around with. So I thought maybe lessening the damage it does to your body might be a better option.”

Phoenix blinked back tears. “Thank you,” he mumbled, “both of you. It’s wonderful.”

Ash shrugged again. “Whatever makes all of… this… easier. I still don’t like…” they gestured broadly at Phoenix’s arms. “…but it seems like it’s helped us more than harmed us, and it’s DEFINITELY not going away any time soon. So… I guess we’ll just learn how to live with it, just like we have for everything else Belos did to us.”

“I guess so.”

Xxx

Phoenix slowly pushed open the door to Darius’ guest room. “Hey, Sam.” He’d missed too many meals in a row—Phoenix barely saw him anymore. Lake and Locke wouldn’t say it plain, but they were worried about him, too.

Sam grunted in response, absent-mindedly tapping a light glyph over and over again. He pushed the paper to the side and drew another one, obsessively checking all the lines, then gingerly poking at it with one finger. Nothing happened.

“It’s really over, isn’t it?” he asked, “They really aren’t going to work again.”

“That’s… how it looks,” Phoenix said gently, “Are you going to be okay?”

Sam heaved a distressed sigh. “These aren’t just a way to do magic without a bile sack. The glyphs are… they’re the language of the titan. The glyphs speak to them, and they respond with a burst of magic. They’re beautiful, they’re conversation. They’re more than just magic to me.”

“Yeah?”

Sam nodded, his eyes fixed on the dormant glyph. “Being with Belos, being the golden guard… it was so lonely. So isolating. I depended on Belos for magic, we all did. But then…” he tapped the glyph again, again with no effect. “But then I found the glyphs. I found what they could do, and I spend so much time studying them. I wrote glyph after glyph and tried combo after combo. And when I used the glyphs… I didn’t feel so alone. The more I used them, the closer I felt to the titan, and that was comforting. Maybe I had to run around in secret with them, maybe using them got me killed, but they were the best part of my life.”

Sam crumbled up the useless paper. “This is probably stupid, but losing them… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like just losing a hobby. It feels like I’ve lost a friend.” He quickly wiped his eyes. “Like I said, stupid, huh?”

Phoenix thought about King, about all the warmth and personality the tiny titan contained. Maybe Sam hadn’t spoken directly to the titan, the way Phoenix had with King, but if the glyphs were conversation… “No,” he said softly, “I don’t think it’s stupid at all.”

Sam smiled a watery smile. “And what am I supposed to do with my life now, huh? I’ve been studying the glyphs for years, and suddenly…”

“Eda’s looking for teachers,” Phoenix offered, “Maybe you could teach about the glyphs.”

Sam snorted. “Oh, yeah, right, a course about a dead language. Who’d want to take something like that?”

“Nerds like you,” Lake’s voice laughed from the door.

“And us,” Locke added, “I want to know more about the dead language.”

“Tell me about the dead language,” Lake agreed.

Sam’s face creased into a frown, and he opened his mouth, as if about to tell the two of them to quit bothering him, but no sound came out. Phoenix followed his gaze to Lake and Locke. Even though Lake had come in with a joke, there wasn’t a trace of humor behind the two of their faces, only plain earnestness. Sam turned away, but not before Phoenix saw tears start to stream from his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said thickly, “Yeah, okay. I’ll teach you.”

Xxx

“Last one—done.” Viney cut off Dagger’s cast and stepped back. “You’re all set—literally.” She finger-gunned, clicking her tongue. “Little bit of healer humor for you.”

Dagger stretched, wiggling his fingers with a groan. “Finally. I thought those things were never going to come off.” He started to get up, then caught himself. “Ah—thank you.”

Phoenix almost choked at the words, and even Viney looked taken aback for a moment, but she quickly smoothed the expression away. “Eh—you’re welcome.”

Dagger looked up at the ceiling. “You were… an adequate healer,” he said gruffly, “Likely better than most. Goodbye forever.”

He swung his legs out off the doctor’s bench and shambled towards the door, unused to the movement after his time healing.

Viney hesitated, taking a step forward and another back. “It doesn’t have to be forever,” she called shortly, “Hey—once things are back to normal around here, do you want to come to a flyer derby match? Rough contact sport, I’m gonna knock a whole bunch of people out of the sky.”

Dagger stopped in the doorway. “Well. Maybe. Only to watch people get body-slammed mid air and fall.”

“Right, right,” Viney agreed, “I thought you’d like that part. Hunter can tell you when the matches are—or you could stop by every so often, and I’ll keep you updated?”

“Sounds… fine. Goodbye now.”

Dagger stalked out, and Phoenix chased after him, flashing a thumbs-up to Viney. His own ankle still sat heavy in its cast, but he’d find another healer. “That was nice,” he ventured.

Dagger walked quickly, outpacing Phoenix. “I don’t care about your opinion on the matter. Honestly, why did you even come to the appointment? You knew I was going to be able to walk at the end.”

“It was… sort of my fault you got injured in the first place,” Phoenix said sheepishly, “I thought I should be there. And I know how you feel about trusting strangers. But I guess… that doesn’t apply to Viney anymore?”

“Viney is now an acquaintance,” Dagger said shortly, “One that I, in fact, trust and wish to be around more than I do you. This discussion is over.”

“I just thought it was n—”

“Over.”

Xxx

Caleb plunked a blue scroll on the kitchen table, unrolling it with a flourish. It nearly knocked over Darius’ coffee, but he lifted the cup just in time.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Caleb said with a grin.

“Dreams do come true,” Evelyn laughed, “Everyone—look. We’ve been working on plans for the new house. Novus has been helping, so he’s seen them, but we wanted to share the plans before we made any final decisions.”

“Now that we have an actual count on how many people will be living with us and aren’t periodically adding on rooms, we’ve actually got a real house design,” Caleb continued, “What do you think?”

Phoenix examined the paper, lifting Ghost up so that they could see. The plans did seem more orderly—two stories up with both floors relatively even in size, instead of a sprawling, chaotic bottom floor and a few add-on rooms up top where necessary.

Mole tapped the yard area with a frown.

“He’s right,” Jason piped up, “The fence is too close to the house. The garden will be smaller, unless we get rid of the griffin pen.”

Caleb and Evelyn glanced at each other. “That’s… the other thing we wanted to talk to you about,” Caleb said slowly.

Evelyn took his hand. “We don’t have to hide anymore,” she said lightly, “And with a portal to the human realm, well… we can get some of the foods Caleb needs more easily. The garden isn’t going to be as big because we… we thought we might move closer to town.”

“They’re rebuilding, too,” Caleb added hastily, “If there’s a time to bring our home closer, it’s now. The move will mean better access to food, more healers, help if we need it—we don’t have to be right dead center of the town, but we think it’s a good idea to be a little closer to the people.” He squeezed Evelyn’s hand. “We’ve been isolated long enough. I fell in love with the people of the Isles as much as the Isles itself; I’d like to be near them again.”

“What about hunting demons?” Horus protested, “We can’t get food if we’re not close to the forest.”

“We can live closer to the outskirts,” Caleb promised, “And like we said—now that we can rely on other people, we won’t have to worry as much about food.”

“There’s always bounties for bigger demons,” Evelyn offered, “You don’t have to give it up completely.”

“I don’t like it.”

Silver’s declaration came clear, ringing with distaste, but they quailed underneath the sudden attention as everyone turned towards them.

“I mean—” they stuttered, “I just—uh—never mind.”

“It’s alright,” Caleb encouraged them, “Go ahead, no one’s angry.”

“It’s—it’s too close. There’s too many people. Even with all of us, if they get angry, we won’t be enough to stop them.” They rubbed their arms. “I think we should stay in the woods.”

It was the most Phoenix had ever heard them say without cracking a joke. Silver got along with others so well and was so openly friendly, it was easy to forget the way they crumpled inside of a crowd. But Phoenix remembered how they’d shut down when the coven day parade had turned ugly, and remembered the way they’d nearly died. No wonder they were nervous about moving closer to town and revealing their presence.

“What if we just moved to the edge of the woods?” Phoenix suggested.

All eyes swung towards him, and Silver perceptibly sank in relief. Phoenix shrugged.

“I won’t pretend moving closer to people isn’t appealing,” he admitted, glancing over at Darius, “Even just in the months I’ve been here, we’ve had several emergencies that wouldn’t have been as dire if we weren’t so far from civilization.” He shifted Ghost to his other hip. “And I think Ghost should get the chance to be around witchlings their own age, or we’ll just be repeating history.

But… I think maybe we need to take it slower than moving right to their doors.” He cast an apologetic glance at Caleb. “We have been isolated for a while—I’m not sure launching right back into the thick of society is a good plan. If we move just to the edge of the woods, we’ll be within easy walking distance of town, but far enough away that it won’t be too hard to get used to. I think,” he amended, looking to Silver.

They shrugged.

“I’m okay with that,” Horus agreed.

“The griffins will like having more space, too,” Joseph added, “I know you won’t rely as heavily on their eggs with access to the human realm, but they can’t go out into the wild. And griffin chicks as pets are still a good source of income, especially if you’re planning to rely more heavily on resources from town.”

Caleb smiled, a somewhat tight smile, but still genuine. “Well, this is why we thought we’d get opinions before making a decision,” he said cheerfully, “We’ll reconsider. Thanks, guys.”

Grimwalkers filed out of the kitchen, Caleb and Evelyn following suit after rolling up their plans. Only Darius, Phoenix, and Ghost remained in the kitchen.

“You know, you could always stay with me,” Darius said casually. A little too casually—he stared at his coffee like looking at Phoenix would seem too desperate. “Especially if you’re looking to send the little one to school.” He nodded to Ghost. “I’m closer to Hexside. And if you want to stay near people…”

Phoenix shook his head. “I couldn’t separate Ghost from the rest of the family.” Ghost babbled in agreement.

“You’re their family, too. They wouldn’t be completely separated.” Darius’ fingers tightened on his mug. “What’s the alternative? You move far away? I mean, you in particular, you’re trying out Eda’s elixirs to manage your curse, and you and I had plans to figure out how to use it more beneficially. Wouldn’t it make sense to stay here? With me?”

“Oh—” Phoenix sighed. “Darius—”

“Don’t.” Darius raised a hand. “You’ll go with them. I know that.” A sad, brief smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can say that will change your mind?”

“I’ll visit plenty,” Phoenix promised, “We really won’t be that far, and if we’re closer to town, I can catch transportation to Bonesborough easy. It’s not—I don’t—you’re not—”

Darius shook his head. “It’s fine.” He smiled another one of those sad, small smiles. “I suppose I never really had to share you before, did I? I mean, you were always off on some mission or another, or guarding Belos, but… well, it’s different now, isn’t it?”

“I don’t care about them more than I care about you,” Phoenix told him bluntly, “It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, or that I prefer being around them to being around you. But…” he gestured back. “…they’re home now, in a way the keep never was, and in a way it would have been unfair to ask you to be back then. It’s… it’s hard to explain, but it wouldn’t feel right if I stayed with anyone but them.”

Darius looked away. “Of course. Stay with whomever you feel is right.”

He stalked off, and Phoenix heaved a sigh, setting Ghost down and rubbing his temples. “I’m making a mess of things, aren’t I?” he asked the toddler.

They nodded serenely and patted his knee. “Home,” they told him seriously, “Nee-Nee home.”

“I’m trying, buddy.” Phoenix caught sight of Chryses through the window, and he grabbed his crutches, swinging towards the door. “What is he…?”

Getting Cherry or Jason or literally anyone who was capable of walking right now probably would have been the better option. But Phoenix had been stuck inside for too long while everyone insisted that he rest, and this seemed like the perfect excuse to go out.

Chryses didn’t prove hard to catch up with. He moved slowly, and he kept pausing to peer around corners. Phoenix cleared his throat as he approached, but still, Chryses flinched.

“I’m just looking for Silver,” he said softly, “They disappeared after the house thing. I can’t find them inside.”

“I’ll help.”

The ghost of a smile crossed Chryses’ face. “I’m not completely fragile, you know. And I’m not sure you’re in any state to be helping, anyway.”

“Well, I don’t want to be treated like I’m fragile, either,” Phoenix shot back, “Besides, I think Darius is mad at me.”

“For staying with us?”

“More like for not staying with him.”

“Ah.”

Chryses and Phoenix wandered through Bonesborough, occasionally stopping to ask if anyone had seen Silver. Every time, they were met with head shakes and sympathetic ‘I’m sure they’ll turn up’s.

“I haven’t seen them.” The latest witch glanced behind Phoenix. “Ah—you might want to slow down. Your kid is having trouble keeping up.”

Phoenix blinked. “My kid?”

“Is that little one not yours?”

Phoenix clumsily turned around to see Ghost padding up the street towards them, huffing and puffing. They finally caught up with a dramatic sigh, reaching up towards Phoenix.

“You’re not supposed to be out here!” Phoenix exclaimed, dropping his crutches to crouch down next to them, “How long have you been following?”

“Oh—hey!”

A demon stopped and backpedaled, pointing at Phoenix and Chryses. “Are you looking for another witch like you? About yay high, braid?”

“Yes!” Chryses answered quickly, “You’ve seen them?”

“On the next transport worm to the third rib.”

“Silver,” Phoenix groaned.

Chryses scooped Ghost up. “We know where they’re going now. We can catch them. No need to rush. Should we take Ghost home first?”

Phoenix picked his crutches up and slowly rose to his feet. “No, we might miss Silver if they decide to come back soon. We should go after them.”

Chryses nodded, and Phoenix led the way towards the transport worm station—or, at least, where it should be, if they hadn’t rearranged the whole system since he’d disappeared.

Chryses hummed. “It’s nice to finally be walking with someone at my pace,” he told Phoenix, “I know it’s just because of your broken ankle and the baby, but… I’m glad I’m not struggling to keep up for once.”

Phoenix blinked. “Does that happen often?”

Chryses shrugged as best he could around the toddler in his arms. “No one ever means to leave me behind. But it’s easy to do.”

“I’m sorry.”

They plodded on in silence, climbing onto the transport worm. A few riders gave Ghost a worried look, or an openly-hostile stink-eye, but one glare from Phoenix sent them staring determinedly out the windows. Phoenix sat down with a whoosh, stretching out his injured leg with a sigh. The braces on his arms clicked gently with the movement.

Chryses plopped down next to him. “How long has it been hurting? The curse, I mean.”

“Oh.” Phoenix rubbed his wrists and popped his knuckles. “A while, I guess. I’ve just sort of gotten used to my arms always hurting a bit. The leg and the strain of the crutches don’t help, though. How did you know?”

“You’re not the only one with old wounds that hurt.” Chryses pressed one arm against his chest. “I hope we find Silver soon.”

The town remained a wreck—Belos’ shaking had caused walls to crumble, and graffiti still marred the buildings that did stand. But the woods hadn’t changed a bit. Aside from the occasional uprooted tree, there was no evidence whatsoever that the apocalypse had nearly happened.

Phoenix had SEEN their home destroyed. He’d seen it fall beneath the flick of the Collector’s finger. He’d come back again to fight Belos. But somehow, without a lurking threat, the wreckage seemed… sadder. Rubble had been shifted and moved, organized and cleared away so that the others could reclaim their belongings, but knowing that they wouldn’t be rebuilding and were abandoning the site altogether made the piles of stone and wood feel lonelier.

Chryses let Ghost down, pointing silently. Ghost toddled off, moving chunks of rubble with heavy little grunts, and digging in the dirt with their bare hands, singing a song only they knew the words to. Phoenix followed Chryses’ finger to Silver, who perched forlornly on a ruined chair, resting their chin on their knees.

“You didn’t have to follow me. I was going to go back.”

“I know,” Chryses replied softly, “Are you okay?”

“Just wanted to say goodbye.” Silver stood up, brushed themselves off, and waved. “Bye, ruins! Sorry that you two came all the way out here for me. In the immortal words of vegetables everywhere: lettuce leaf now.”

Chryses didn’t move from his spot, even when Silver passed him. “Silver.”

Silver’s shoulders trembled, but they stopped in their tracks. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth.”

“Are you sure about that? Both of you?”

“I’m sure,” Chryses told him. Phoenix nodded.

Silver took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be that close to that many people. Phoenix, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you got us pushed back closer to the woods, but even just that many people knowing we’re out there… I know there are benefits, I was listening to Dad, but it’s dangerous. It’s too risky. What if they find out we used to be golden guards and they want revenge? What if they all hate grimwalkers and they figure out what we are? What if they just don’t like outsiders? We’re safer in hiding. None of them can get angry at us if they don’t know where we are.”

“The cat’s out of the bag already,” Phoenix said quietly, “We’ve been living at Darius’ house for a couple of weeks now, and people have seen us. Caleb might have been able to sneak one grimwalker at a time, but moving all of us is going to be impossible not to notice.”

“Town isn’t that bad, is it?” Chryses asked, “I’ve never been, but surely the people aren’t—”

“You weren’t there!” Silver flinched at their own outburst. “Sorry. Sorry, but Chryses, you weren’t there. Phoenix, you remember how it was—they turned so fast. Maybe they’re not bad all the time, but they’re quick to form a mob.”

“That’s true,” Phoenix said slowly, trying to give himself the time to think of a rebuttal, “They could turn on us. But the last time that happened, you were able to redirect them pretty easily. We all escaped, and no one got hurt. And that was when there were only four of us—you, me, Dad, and Cyrus. How much easier do you think it will be if all of us are together?”

“They’ll know where we live. There won’t be anywhere to escape to.” Silver hugged themselves tightly. “I’m scared. And I don’t think I can joke it away this time.”

“I’m not sure I want life to change either,” Chryses admitted, “I was hurting already; it’s terrifying to think about how it could get worse.” He took a deep breath. “But what if life gets better? What if Ghost can grow up like a normal kid, something we never had? What if we can find a healer that will be able to stop Steven’s seizures? What if Darius and the owl lady really do have a solution for Phoenix’s curse? What if—if one of the townspeople becomes your best friend?”

“It’s going to be a hard step,” Phoenix agreed, “but we have to take it. We’ll figure out the change. We’ll keep compromising until we can all find somewhere comfortable. But we will make it. All of us.”

Compromise.

And just like that, Phoenix knew what we had to say to Darius.

“We’ll make it,” Silver echoed, “Maybe… maybe we could still build something out here. A safe house, in case home is compromised. Just in case. But stay near town.”

“We could at least ask Novus to add a secret room to the plans,” Chryses added, “Somewhere to hide out.”

“Box.”

All three grimwalkers twisted to look at Ghost, who proudly presented a filthy stone cube to Phoenix. An eye marked the surface, and a crack ran around the edge—the lid. Phoenix took the cube from Ghost—he’d never seen it before, but it looked important. Maybe Evelyn or Caleb would know what it was. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Wecom.” Ghost pointed to the trees. “All done. Home now?”

Silver crouched down next to them, “What about home here? Do you remember home here?”

Ghost eyed the rubble distastefully. “Home now,” they repeated, pointing firmly at the path, “Bye.”

They tugged on Phoenix’s crutch, and he shrugged apologetically. “I guess I better take them back to Darius’ house.”

Silver stood in a daze. “I guess so.” They smiled wanly. “Thanks for coming out here to find me. I think… I think you’re right. I think we’re taking steps in the right direction. Small steps.” Silver ruffled Ghost’s hair with a bigger grin, one that looked much more like them. “Perhaps even one could say… baby steps.”

Phoenix groaned, but a laugh burst out of Chryses’ throat. Silver’s head whipped around, a delighted grin plastered across their face.

“I got you?!”

“That was terrible.”

“But you laughed.”

“But I laughed.”

On the ride home, Phoenix idly pulled out his Penstagram scroll.

16 messages.

“Oh, titan.”

The most recent message was from Hunter, and was filled with so many misspellings and random capitalizations, Phoenix didn’t even try to read it. He handed it to Silver, who squinted at the screen, mouthing silently to themselves.

“He says that Darius says to check your messages. I think.”

Phoenix hissed, opening the other 15 messages. They’d been sent within minutes of each other, one at a time. Most of the first few were short, only a few words, but they got longer as time went on, before switching back to short messages.

Where are you?

Did you leave the house?

Are you in town?

Phoenix, where did you go?

Let me know where you went—Eda says you’re not with her.

Are you okay? Did something happen?

Phoenix, are you in danger? Where are you?

Why aren’t you answering?

Caleb says to ask if Ghost is with you. He and Evelyn are worried.

They just did a head count, and they want to know if you’re with Silver and Chryses as well.

Phoenix, I swear to titan, you better not have disappeared again.

Do not make me call Eberwolf to track you down. He’ll make fun of me.

Phoenix, can you answer?

Please tell me you’re alright

Please come back to us

Sick sadness settled in the pit of Phoenix’s stomach, and his arms shifted sluggishly in response. He hadn’t meant to be gone long enough to worry Darius—he’d just been chasing after Chryses and had forgotten to tell anyone where he was going. He leaned back against the transport worm, closing his eyes. The walk to the house and back had left a deep weariness settled in his bones. Phoenix had chalked up his recent exhaustion to how fast everything had moved since he’d run from the Collector, but he’d had plenty of rest and good food now that they’d finally come to a stop. Still, it took so much energy to do things now, and he wondered if it was extra strain from the crutches, or the curse. Maybe some combination of the two.

The worm came to a stop in Bonesborough, and Phoenix hurried back to Darius’ house. Darius paced back and forth outside, his shoulders sagging in relief when he caught sight of Phoenix.

“Don’t disappear on me like that again,” he scolded, “I thought you’d—you’d—”

“Belos is gone,” Phoenix reminded him gently.

“The curse isn’t! You can’t tell me about the time you eloped to the woods half wild in the middle of a boiling rainstorm and then expect me not to worry when you disappear!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d be gone that long.” Phoenix caught Darius’ arms. “Look—Darius. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m still here—look, I’m still here.”

“You’re still here,” Darius repeated. “Hunter—Phoenix. Please don’t leave again.”

He wasn’t just talking about today.

“Change is terrifying,” Phoenix said softly, “I know you’re afraid we’ll drift apart. I know you want to keep me close so that nothing bad will happen again.”

“The last few times I’ve let you out of my sight, you’ve nearly been killed. Is it so bad I want you to stay here?”

“They’re my family.” Phoenix squeezed Darius’ shoulders. “But so are you. I want to stay close—so how about a compromise.”

“A compromise?”

“Share. Once the house is built, I’m going to live with Caleb and Evelyn.”

Darius’ ears drooped, and Phoenix gave him a small shake.

“Hey, I’m not done. I’m going to live with Caleb and Evelyn on the weekdays. But I’ll stay with you on the weekends. And once Ghost is school age? I’ll take them to Hexside, and I’ll stop by every day. You’ll be absolutely sick of me.”

“Never,” Darius said fiercely, “That could never happen.”

“Joking aside… would that be okay? I know it isn’t exactly what you wanted, but it’s the best I can think of.”

“I think I can live with that.” Darius gave Phoenix a small smile. “Thank you.”

Phoenix hugged him, and Darius froze for a second, before patting him awkwardly on the back. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to you being so affectionate.”

Phoenix pulled back. “Sorry. Should have asked.” He pulled back. “Do you know where Caleb is? I should probably let him know we’re all back.”

“Likely pacing indoors. I think Evelyn was about ready to create another scrying spell.”

Phoenix winced. The moment the five of them walked indoors, Evelyn scooped Ghost up, plastering kisses all over their face.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she scolded them, and turned a stink-eye on Phoenix. “Some heads-up that you’d taken the toddler with you would have been nice. You’re old enough that I trust you to take care of yourself. They’re not.”

“Sorry. I didn’t even realize they were following me.” Phoenix held out the stone cube that Ghost had unearthed. “Do you recognize this? They found it at the house.”

Evelyn took the box with a frown. “It’s not mine. And it’s not Caleb’s. Where did they find it?”

“Digging around, I suppose? They were…” Phoenix made a mental map of the house. “…where the kitchen used to be.”

“Hm. The kitchen isn’t an add-on—this box must have been buried underneath the original foundations of the house and gotten shaken up when the Collector destroyed everything.” Evelyn turned the box over in her hands. “It’s a puzzle, I think. I’ll throw it to Sam to solve. He’s been itching for something to do. Or Novus, if Sam can’t.” She shook her head. “It’s odd, though. I could have sworn we were the first people out there. The land seemed untouched when we made our home. No signs of civilization until you hit town.”

Phoenix frowned to match. “But if you, Caleb, and Achsah were the first people out there…who buried the box?”

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

content warnings: daddy issues

Part Eight

“Jade,” my father’s voice follows his knocking on my door. “Jade, can I come in?”

I’m still laying in bed, but I’ve been awake for about an hour. It’s around 10am, and I’ve just been on my phone.

“Please?”

“If you have coffee, then yes,” I say.

My father comes into my bedroom. “No coffee, but I do have an apology.”

“I’m listening,” I tell him, not even looking up from my phone.

“Could you at least look at me?”

I look up, setting my phone on my chest.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re an adult, and you can go to parties if you want to. It won’t keep me from worrying because that’s my job as your father, but I’ll try to stop commenting on it,” my father tells me.

I’m almost so shocked that I could laugh. I don’t, but I could. I don’t think he’s ever apologized for something like this. He always validated his judgmental and overprotective habits by saying he’s not just my father, but he’s also an FBI agent and knows what goes on in the world.

That has always annoyed me. I know what goes on in the world too. Hell, my Mother died from part of what goes on in the world. But that doesn’t mean I should live in fear and shy away from having fun. It just means I need to know how to handle myself. I need to be cautious but not so cautious to where it takes over my entire life. I’m not going to lock myself in my apartment and be scared of the life outside of it.

“Thank you for the apology,” I say, sitting up a little straighter. “I think you need to worry a little less about what I’m doing in my life and focus more on the kid you have that needs you more.”

Dad sighs, but nods. “Are you saying you don’t need me?”

“I’ll always need you, but Jack is a lot younger than I am. He still needs you to make sure he takes a bath,” I say with a soft smile. “Just let me be 21, okay?”

Another sigh releases from his lips. “Okay. There’s breakfast downstairs if you’re hungry.”

I give him a thumbs up, and he leaves my room.

I think that was some father - daughter progress right there. I don’t trust that he’s going to be off my back, but I have hope that he’ll keep to his word and chill out a little.

Dad, Jack, and I have family time for four days until Dad is called about a case in Michigan. He’s hesitant to go at first, but I tell him it’s fine.

I’m used to him grabbing the duffel bag he always keeps packed and heading out the door with a kiss on my forehead. What’s new?

I’m a little annoyed, though. Four days was all we had until he flew off to another state.

“You’re missing my recital?” An 11 year old Jade whined, my arms crossed.

“I’m so sorry, princess. I have to go to work,” Dad said, that black duffel bag in his hand.

“But you just got home! And I’m going to be in the front!” I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, and I choked them back.

My father frowned, sighing softly. He bent down to my level, holding my hand. “Mom will video it for me. I have to go help people. Do you understand?”

I nodded, but I hardly understood, especially at a young age.

When I was around seven years old, my mom put me in dance classes to occupy some of my time and allow me to have an activity that would get my energy out. I loved it, but I wouldn’t say I was great at it. I stayed in the classes until I was 12 and was tired of my dad never being able to make any of the recitals or daddy- daughter rehearsals since he joined the BAU.

He gave me a small, relieved smile before kissing my forehead. “I’ll be back soon. You’ll do amazing tomorrow.” He kissed my disappointed looking mother quickly then went out the door.

Jack and I are left alone for some sibling bonding time, which usually means watching and playing whatever he wants. I guess I don’t mind too much; I have nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon.

A part of me wishes Spencer was here with us again. He would have entertained Jack easily and said some interesting facts stored in his magnificent brain. He’s also not a bad sight to look at.

—————

“You do not have to do that,” I tell my boss assuringly.

“Oh c’mon, let me pay you back somehow,” he says, using his stern voice.

“Okay,” I press my lips together and nod.

Hotch suggested he take me out to dinner as a thank you for watching over Jack last week. I don’t think it necessary since it wasn’t any trouble, but he insists.

I wonder if Jade would be there when he buys me dinner. A part of me hopes she won’t be, but another part wants to see her again.

I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about her as much as I have. It’s not as if she is all I think about, but I find her sneaking her way into my thoughts when I’m eating popcorn or even playing chess.

I tell myself it’s not wrong to think about a person. We as humans think about billions of things, and other humans are a part of those thoughts. But it still feels like I am doing something I shouldn’t when I see her face in my mind.

You’d think someone as smart as I am would understand why she’s inhabiting my brain at least a few times a day, but I haven’t.

The jet ride is finally over, and the six of us step onto solid ground.

For the next two days and two nights, we’re in Michigan solving a case of four murders.

It’s Friday afternoon when we’re back in Quantico, and Hotch is still determined to buy my dinner. I agree when he says to meet him at the restaurant at 7.

After finishing paperwork, I leave the office around three.

—————

“Well, yeah we’re going with you,” I tell Dad, “I don’t want to cook dinner.”

He laughs softly. “Alright. Be ready by 6:30.”

I’m glad he wasn’t gone for too long. There’s no telling how many days cases will take. Some take two, and some can take up to a week or two.

I take a shower at 5, giving myself enough time to let it air dry most of the way before using a little heat.

Dad hates when I take my phone into the bathroom with me when I’m showering. It’s not like he thinks I’m taking pictures or anything- or at least I assume he doesn’t think that. But he’s always scolding me about the steam getting into my charging port and fucking up my phone, which he reminds me every time that he will not buy me a new one so I learn my lesson. Of course, he would buy me a new one because he needs to call me three times a day while I’m at school just to see how and what I’m doing.

I sing along to the music playing from my phone that rests on the counter top. As one can see, I’m not very keen on listening.

Once I’m sure I’ve taken a too-long shower, I step out, dry off, tie my hair up into a t shirt to help dry it, and go to my room.

I throw on some straight leg jeans that are form fitting around my ass and thighs but flow down the rest of my legs spaciously. I then put on a navy blue long sleeved crop top and my white hightop converse.

After my hair dries most of the way, I blow dry it to add some volume. I keep my makeup light, just mascara, eyeliner, and a bit of concealer.

I’m not dressing up for Spencer as much as I almost want to. This is my usual look. Plus, I think if I did dress up a little my dad would notice and I’d be embarrassed as hell.

I meet Jack and Dad at the door at 6:27, and we head out to the restaurant. We park next to Spencer’s car. He’s always early to everything. I admire that.

He gets out, greeting my dad, Jack, then me. He gives me a little wave, seeming awkward and almost nervous. I shoot him a smile.

Spencer opens the door for us. “Thank you,” I say softly as I walk past him.

The dinner’s going well. Dad and Spencer are making conversation, and me and my brother are brought into it occasionally.

We’re waiting for our food when Jack stands up, doing his little ‘I’ve got to pee’ dance. Dad takes him to the bathroom.

“So how was the case?” I ask, resting my head on my hands as I look across the table to Spencer.

“It went well, and it didn’t take too long. Overall successful,” he says nonchalantly.

“What, no interesting facts about it?” I tease, a flirty smile on my face.

I may not be able to act on my crush, but can at least flirt a little.

“Well, I learned what twilight is,” he chuckles softly.

I laugh too. “You’ve never heard of twilight?”

“Not until yesterday, no,” he says innocently, confused as to why I’m shocked.

“It’s a pretty well known franchise.”

“Maybe I should look into them?”

“No,” I laugh a little harder. “You shouldn’t. They’re kind of awful.”

“Oh,” he presses his lips together, his cheeks pink.

I eye him with a smile. “It’s cute when you do that.”

“D-do what?” Spencer asks me. The blush on his cheeks gets darker, and he avoids eye contact.

“That,” I giggle softly. “The nervous lip thing and looking down.”

“Thank you?” He clears his throat nervously.

“You’re welcome, doctor,” I say with a grin.

Before I’m about to say something else flirty, my dad comes back with Jack. They sit down, and I sit up straight before giving Spencer a look.

He’s adorable when he’s flustered. And I probably, no I definitely, shouldn’t be teasing him like this, but what’s the harm in flirting? I probably won’t see him again for a while.

It’s also refreshing to flirt with someone who doesn’t try to fuck you after you say one thing. Instead he’s all red faced and nervous. I like it.

Maybe I’ll have to toy with this a little more. I need something to entertain me.

—————

I feel like a blubbering mess.

What was she doing? Was that flirting? I think so. But why?

Jade made me feel something that I definitely shouldn’t have. I was all hot and nervous, and my stomach was fluttering.

I’ve been flirted with before, sure usually it’s prostitutes and older women, but it’s still flirting. So why is it that when Jade did it I could barely say anything, and I just sat there blushing?

I was sort of relieved when the night ended, and I went back to my apartment. It’s not that I didn’t want to see her, because for whatever reason I did, but I needed to get away from all the blushing and butterflies in my stomach.

My boss’s daughter should not be making me blush and queazy. She shouldn’t be flirting with me either, and I shouldn’t allow it… but I kind of liked it. At least just a little bit.

It was just one little flirty conversation though. We won’t see each other often anymore because she’s not in the city much, and I’m busy with work. Good.

I couldn’t help but notice her scent and smile as she walked past me earlier when I held the door open for her. Her beautiful fragrance hit my nose and made me want to follow her mindlessly like those stupid, no talking cartoons like Tom and Jerry. Jade flashed me a smile too, a friendly, and now that I’m thinking about it, flirty smile.

I’ve got to get her off my mind. She’s my boss’s kid, and that’s all she is. She’s young, and young people like to flirt with no meaning nowadays. It’s just a fun little game to them.

I head to bed, a book in my hand. My eyes skim over the pages quickly, but I’m only retaining half of the words. The other half of my brain is filled with Jade.

nine

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter r @lilibet261 1 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum m @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 <3

[fluentmoviequoter]

Christmas Tree Farm

Day 2 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Pairing: Victor Vale x fem!reader

Summary: Sydney wants a Christmas tree and you offer to take her to get one, but Victor refuses... to let you go alone.

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

Warnings: fluff, random Christmas tree facts, references to Vicious and Vengeful, Victor is sarcastic, Sydney and reader team up against Vic... more fluff.

Masterlist Directory | Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info

“Victor,” Sydney groans, dragging out the last syllable as she collapses on the couch beside you. “It’s almost December, we need a Christmas tree.”

“Sydney,” Victor mocks. His care for her overrides his sarcasm as he says, “We can’t walk around freely yet. Just because Eli is gone and Merit PD is normal again…”

“As normal as they can be,” you add quietly.

“None of it means we can just walk down the middle of the sidewalk and get a Christmas tree like a normal family!” Victor finishes.

“But we are a family, right?” Sydney asks, looking up at Victor.

You glance at Sydney’s big, watery blue eyes, obviously trying to guilt-trip Victor into agreeing. Looking over to him, you see that he’s avoiding looking directly at her eyes.

“I’ll go with her,” you offer. “Although, I’d argue that looking like a family would be more inconspicuous than just one or two of us.”

“You’re not helping,” Victor snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I said no.”

“And we’re not accepting that,” Sydney says, lifting her chin defiantly. “Just admit you’re scared and then we’ll go get a tree.”

You press your lips together to hide your smile and look at Victor.

“You’re not going alone,” Victor says.

Sydney points to you and says, “I know. We’re going.”

“No, I mean, the two of you are not going alone.”

“You want us to take Mitch? He’s as big as a Christmas tree; not exactly what I thought when you said, ‘Be invisible.’”

You laugh at Sydney’s impression of Victor, waving a hand at him as you apologize.

“Just- let me think about it,” Victor decides before leaving the room.

“That was really good,” you whisper to Sydney.

“Oh, I can do one better!” She puts her hand on the couch behind you and leans forward to say, “No one is going to hurt you. Do you know why? Because I’ll hurt them first.”

“I can still hear you!” Victor yells, making you and Sydney laugh even harder.

✯✯✯✯✯

That night, after Sydney goes to bed, you knock on Victor’s open door. He looks up and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he invites you in.

“If you’re here to ask me to get a tree, it’s not happening.”

“I actually just wanted to ask why.” You sit at the end of his bed, looking at him as you fiddle with his blanket. “You made the decision, and I’ll respect it, but I don’t get it.”

“If we go out and get noticed, there’s no way of knowing what will happen to any of us. Mitch scrubbed the prison records and filed a death certificate for Sydney, but people who have met us before are out there.”

“I know. But you can distract them, and Sydney has a point.”

“First time for everything,” Victor jokes.

“You know she’s right. No one would think twice about a family picking out a tree. You two already look alike. If someone happens to look at you, they won’t think twice.”

Victor looks at your hands as he thinks. 

“It’s okay to be scared, to be cautious. But there’s no need to live the rest of our lives in hiding just in case. That’s not living, Victor. It’s Christmas. What better time to start a new life?”

“What if there isn’t a new life here?”

“Then we go somewhere there is. You got us away from Merit, Vic, you’ve done everything right. We’re safe. We can stay cautious, and I agree that we should, but that doesn’t mean staying in this cabin until we die of old age, miserable and tired.”

“Being with me makes you miserable and tired?” Victor repeats, pale brows raised.

You smile as you respond, “When there’s no Christmas tree, yes.”

He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “Fine. We’ll take Sydney tomorrow to get a tree.”

You lean forward and hug him quickly before standing, pausing as you feel his awkward pat on your shoulder. “And hot chocolate,” you say over your shoulder.

“And hot chocolate,” Victor affirms, watching you walk away.

He lays down, thinking about you and Sydney picking out a tree and laughing together. Maybe this living thing isn’t such a bad idea.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Get dressed,” you tell Sydney when she enters the kitchen. “Something warm.”

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“There’s something we need to do,” Victor answers, dragging a Sharpie across a book page.

Sydney shrugs and returns to her room.

“What’s the point of the matching sweaters?” Victor asks, Sydney’s excited gasp audible as she finds it in her closet.

“It’s Christmas, Vic, matching sweaters are a necessity. Yours is on the couch to put on before we leave.”

“Not happening.”

“No one will see you anyway, right?” you ask, standing before him with your hands on your hips. “What are you afraid of?”

“You, at the moment,” Victor mumbles.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Sydney asks as she skips back into the living room. “Oh, we match!”

“We do! And Victor will too,” you add, looking pointedly at Victor.

“I thought prison guards were bossy,” Victor grumbles as he leaves his book and walks to the couch, pulling the sweater on instead of his usual black coat.

“You look so cute!” you squeal, scrunching your nose as you look at him.

“This. This is what I was scared of,” Victor admits. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

“There’s a contract. You can’t change your mind,” you point out.

“What contract?” Sydney and Victor inquire together.

“You hugged me last night, that’s legally binding with Vales.”

“You hugged?” Sydney asks excitedly.

Victor shakes his head, following you and Sydney outside as he sighs in exasperation.

✯✯✯✯✯

“First stop,” you announce as you open the door of the Christmas-themed cafe. 

Sydney picks a booth and slides in, wrapping her arms around you in a quick hug when you join her. Victor sits on the other side, looking around at the decorations before his eyes land on you.

“Thanks,” he says quickly.

“For what?”

“Convincing me to do this. You were right.”

Your eyes widen as Sydney's jaw drops.

“Write it down, we can’t forget this,” she whispers to you.

Victor rolls his eyes and distracts the waiter, nudging him to look at his menu pad rather than any of you. After you order three hot chocolates and a stack of Christmas tree pancakes, Sydney asks where else you’re going. You look at Victor and raise your eyebrows, silently asking, “Should we tell her?” He looks at Sydney and then nods.

“We’re going to get a Christmas tree!” you tell her.

She gasps again and looks at you. “How’d you convince him?”

“What makes you think I didn’t reach this conclusion on my own?” he counters.

Sydney looks at him and says, “I didn’t think of that. So, how’d she convince you?”

Victor prepares to answer sarcastically, but the cocoa and pancakes landing on the table interrupt him. He looks at you and smiles, not his lying smile, but a smile that makes you think he’s ready to start living again.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Okay, so I did a ton of research after Victor said no,” Sydney begins as you walk into the Christmas tree farm.

“Never living that down, am I?” Victor asks you, walking side-by-side behind Sydney.

“Give it a few Christmases,” you respond, smiling as he sighs.

“We’re looking for a Fraser fir; it’s considered to be the best tree for families with pets and it’s the prettiest, in my opinion. The house has ten foot ceilings, so we need a tree that’s at least eight feet tall, but preferably nine.”

“How do you intend on measuring them?” Victor asks.

“With you,” Sydney answers quickly, turning down a row of Fraser firs. “I know how tall you are, so I can figure out how much taller than you the tree needs to be.”

“That’s why she invited you,” you say sarcastically, pointing at Victor.

“Sydney,” Victor calls, looking at you. “What if I put her on my shoulders? Would that help?”

You roll your eyes as Sydney says maybe, but she’s more interested in finding a pretty tree than listening to Victor. A man walks by with two kids, too busy wrangling them to notice you, Victor, and Sydney. You take Victor’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze, watching Sydney as you miss him looking at your joined hands.

“This is the one! Victor, come stand beside it?” Sydney requests.

Victor reluctantly pulls his hand from yours and stands by the tree. You move beside Sydney and agree that it’s the perfect height. As Victor begins cutting it, you show Sydney a picture of an ornament you had as a kid and offer to make ornaments with her. When Victor is finished, he drags the tree to the end of the row and lets you talk to an employee about getting it to the car, which Mitch is bringing now.

“It’s interesting that you let her do all the talking for you but can’t stand when she talks to other people,” Sydney hums, standing beside Victor.

“Meaning?” Victor asks.

“You’re jealous.”

You turn around and want to take a picture of Sydney and Victor in their matching sweaters with the snow-covered trees behind them. Pouting at Victor, you ask if you can, and he says it’s okay as long as you take one with them. Mitch soon arrives, and while Victor keeps the employee focused on tying the tree to the top of the car, he takes a picture of you, Victor, and Sydney.

“Putting that on the Christmas card, Vic?” Mitch asks, smiling as he returns your phone.

“I was thinking of putting your mugshot on it instead,” Victor replies, huffing as you smack his shoulder.

✯✯✯✯✯

You and Victor walk back while Sydney and Mitch take the tree home by car.

“Thank you for doing this,” you say, your knuckles brushing Victor’s as you walk side-by-side. “It meant a lot to Sydney, and to me.”

“I’d do anything for you,” Victor says quietly.

You catch his hand as he swings it, interlacing your fingers with his.

“You want to string up some mistletoe while we decorate the tree then?”

“Wait, decorate? I thought we were just getting a tree.”

“It’s Christmas, Vic. Without ornaments, it’s just an oversized house plant.”

“Like Sydney,” he teases. “Do I really have to help?”

“Yep. You said it, we’re family now.”

“I don’t remember saying that.”

“Fine, then, you said you would do anything for me. Do it for me, and Sydney, and Mitch, and Dol.”

“There better be cookies involved,” Victor sighs.

“Cookies and mistletoe. Sydney found some at the tree farm and you bought it for her.”

Victor shakes his head, but when you tug his hand and stand closer to him, he starts to think that maybe decorating a tree won’t be so bad. Not with you at his side.

[whoistartaglia]

Hello there! I absolutely love your work and it's absolutely amazing! I was wondering if you could do "spending the holidays with them" headcannons with heizou, albedo, kazuha, and any other male genshin character you would like to add in? Ofc no rush and take all the time you need. It's your choice if you would like to do it or not and I'm fine if you don't 😊 Again, I just really wanted to say that I love your work and think its amazing! Happy Holidays!

you spend the holidays together.

i ran with kazuha’s part. sorry for the angst, i just couldn’t help myself. happy holidays!

includes: heizou, albedo, kazuha.

warnings: gender neutral reader, slight angst in albedo’s and kazuha’s part. i tried to make it so that no matter what holiday you celebrate, you can still read (and hopefully enjoy!) these.

heizou.

you spend a day in the city together.

you take the train down to grand central station, and immediately head towards rockefeller center. it’s cold, and you really want to take a cab, but heizou insists its “too expensive” and that it’s “easier to walk.”

you relent, allowing heizou to walk you past the waiting cabs, and into the bitter cold. he leads you on forty-fifth east street, and then onto fifth avenue, but after about fifteen minutes of walking, you’re still not there.

“are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” you ask, the new york public library coming into view.

“yeah, we’re fine,” responds heizou. “new york city’s like a grid, and since we’re on fifth, we’ll be fine.”

you were most certainly not fine. especially when the empire state building comes into view. you didn’t know much about the city, but enough to know that it was nowhere near rockefeller. and when you ask a random stranger—a new york city native who does not want to deal with wide-eyed tourists—they confirm your suspicion.

“they said we should have went north from grand central,” you say. “we went south!”

“oh.” heizou tilts his head to the side, and then shrugs. “that’s okay. we’ll just walk—“

“we’re taking a cab.” with that look in your eyes, heizou doesn’t dare argue with you.

when you do eventually reach rockefeller center, you marvel at the decorations—the giant tree, the architecture surrounding you, the ice rink filled with figure skaters. you even take a couple pictures together—a true new york city holiday adventure.

albedo.

“it’s okay,” you promise, even as disappointment replaces the hope inside of you. “don’t worry about it… okay, i’ll see you later—bye.”

you hang up before albedo can respond back. he’s stuck half way across the country. you were supposed to celebrate the holiday together tonight with your friends but now… well, albedo wouldn’t be able to catch a flight until tomorrow morning.

you can’t stand your friends pity when you come back to the living room. you explain that albedo’s stuck in an overcrowded airport, and that he won’t be back until tomorrow. the words of condolences mean nothing; you still feel like crying, you put on a brave face, anyways.

after all, your holiday party has only just started, and you still have hours left to celebrate.

and after the initial shock and disappointment of albedo’s absence, you do eventually start to have fun. you miss him and wish he was here, but you can’t help but laugh when kaeya and diluc start arguing over who should open their present first, nor when klee opens theirs herself.

it’s only when the night’s about to wrap up when you feel the pang of absence again. soon, your guests would leave, and you’d be in an empty house all alone, with nothing but—

the sound of your front door opening halts all the “goodbyes” and “happy holidays.”

“who—?” kaeya begins, but you’re already moving past him to the door.

there he stands, illuminated by the warm porch light against the background of freshly-fallen snow.

“albedo?” you almost can’t believe your eyes, not even when you pull him in for a hug, not even when he whispers, so quietly that only you can hear it: “i’m home.”

kazuha.

this was the first holiday you’d be spending without kazuha in a long, long time.

you’d be okay, you told yourself. you had to spend the holiday season single plenty of times before; this would be no different. except… except that this was also your first time going to itto’s holiday party alone. you were only invited as kazuha’s plus one in the past—first as a friend, and then dating by the end—but itto didn’t have the heart to leave you out this year, even if you weren’t dating kazuha anymore.

that’s how you ended up standing on itto’s porch steps, debating whether you should just turn around and go home. you’re about to when the door bursts open and—

“hi.” you say lamely. the first words you’ve spoken to your ex in months.

“oh! hi,” he says. there’s an awkward silence, before he ushers you in saying, “we’ll about to have dinner… oh, you can put your gifts on the couch. i—we’ll—be in the kitchen.”

it’s so strange, the weird formality between you two now. but you do your best to ignore it. you also try to ignore the sideways glances kazuha continues to give you, but… well, based on the amount of times you’ve locked eyes, you’re not doing very well at that.

if your friends notice the tension (and how could they not?) they ignore that, too.

what you can’t ignore is that kazuha… didn’t get you anything. he doesn’t even look at you when you all exchange gifts, not even once. so you shove the gift you bought him away, and pretend your smile is real as everyone else opens their remaining gifts.

“i should get going now,” you annouce to no one in particular. and after several goodbyes and warm wishes and happy holidays, you’re almost out the door. that is, until kazuha stops you.

“[name], wait,” he says, coming to the door. “you… you forgot this.”

your face warms when he presents the bag with his gift in it. you debate just taking it and saving your pride—that’s what you should do.

“that’s…” you sigh. “that’s your gift.”

the room quiets. itto whistles. kazuha freezes. he looks down at the bag, at the name tag addressed to him.

then he’s moving, to where he was sitting earlier, back to the front door, standing right in front of you. kazuha holds out a neatly wrapped present. “and this… is your gift.”

you both stand there, not quite knowing what to do, what this means. but, if you were able to start dating during your first holiday party spent together… maybe, just maybe, something like that could happen again.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Elephant's Memory: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

Moments later, Spencer walks out of the conference room and storms out of the station, not looking your way once.

Your heart breaks a little for him.

"He was out of line, and I'm sorry," JJ says. "We want to release the mpeg from Owen's computer to the media."

"He left it because he wants us to know why he's doing this. By releasing it, it could temporarily dissipate his urge to kill and buy us some time," Hotch says.

"Time for what?" the sheriff asks.

"Time to figure out a way to bring him in peacefully. Jordan's innocent, and Owen wants to die, and if you choose to go knocking on doors, I think it's gonna get her killed."

"After the funerals tomorrow, I won't have a choice. Until then, you do what you think is best to find him and bring him in," the sheriff says.

"Thank you."

Two hours pass before Spencer and Derek come back from Owen's house. Spencer looks for you, and he feels guilty and sad when he sees how sad you look. He doesn't mean to treat you this way, and he knows he needs to apologize to you.

"Owen's mother's death left him with severe issues of abandonment. If we can get Jordan away from him, we'll save her and take away his reason to live," Spencer says.

"He'll take his own life."

"It's the only way we can save Jordan. Question is, how can we help her leave him?"

"He's kept Jordan in the dark. She doesn't know about the murders. If we tell her, that will make her want to leave. We can get her to turn herself in."

"Even if we could talk to her, the only person she trusts is Owen."

"There's one other person, and she might be able to get a message to Jordan," Emily says.

When you, Hotch, and Spencer were talking to Ike, Emily and JJ were also at the school to talk to Jordan's friends. Jordan's closest friend is Eileen, and Emily seems to think Jordan will listen to her. The only way to contact Jordan is through Eileen's messaging app inside her own home.

That's where you go next.

"Jordan doesn't know what Owen's done. She has no idea of the danger she's in," JJ says to Eileen who is on the fence about helping.

"Owen loves her. He would never hurt her."

"If the police find them and there's no way out, he will. We've seen it before. Even if he doesn't, she'll get caught in the crossfire," Emily says.

"We're trying to save her. You are the only person she'll listen to. We want to send a text explaining the reality of the situation. If you want to protect her and be her friend, this is your last chance."

Eileen sighs and opens her app on her computer. She begins typing a message, but she doesn't send it yet.

Jordan, there are some people here with me who want to talk to you. Listen to what they have to say. They are with the FBI.

"You're doing the right thing."

"It don't feel right," Eileen sighs and presses send.

She gets up, and you take her place at the computer so you can talk to her instead.

"Send her the news coverage," Hotch says. "Tell her to look at the pictures. Tell her we know Owen didn't tell her what he did."

You do as he tells you to, and you send her the videos and the articles relating to the topic.

It's a lie! You are liars!

"Send the mpeg. Tell her, when the police come for you, Owen will kill you and kill himself."

You do that again, but it doesn't seem to work.

You lie. Owen loves me.

She immediately logs off, and you look at Hotch for instruction.

"She logged off. Now what?"

"We've planted the seed. Now we wait."

It doesn't take long to hear back from Jordan, and you straighten up when you see she's logged back on.

You were right. What should I do?

Where are you?

If I tell you, you'll hurt him.

"She's not going to give it up," you sigh.

Can you get away?

I can try.

She logs back off, and ten minutes later, she logs back on.

You turned her against me.

"This isn't Jordan," you gasp.

"Somebody please tell me we didn't just get Jordan killed," Emily whispers.

If Jordan did get away, the place she'll probably go to is the police station. Everyone heads back over there in hopes Jordan will show up without Owen so you can keep her safe. Like you suspected, Jordan shows up ten minutes later, clearly scared about all of this.

"I got to the car while Owen was digging," she says. Your team brings her to an empty conference room and some water. "He didn't see me until he heard me start the truck. He tried to stop me, but I kept driving."

"We need to know where he is."

"You're going to hurt him," she cries.

"We don't want to hurt Owen, but we think Owen might hurt himself or someone else if we don't get to him really soon."

"He's at Willows Ranch," she sighs.

You, JJ and Emily stay behind while the rest of the team heads to the ranch. You don't think Owen is there which is why you stayed behind. Emily and JJ stay behind because of Jordan, but you don't tell them that Owen might show up here. If he does, you're going to be prepared for him to rescue Jordan.

You're pacing the entire conference room when you see Spencer come back without his FBI vest on. You leave the conference room to join him, but he doesn't seem too happy.

"They think he's going to his mother's grave."

"Isn't he?"

"He was gone when we got to the ranch." He approaches Jordan with a picture of a necklace. "I want to save his life, but I need to ask you a question. Did he give you this necklace?"

"I left it at the ranch."

"He's coming here."

"Call Hotch, tell him, and don't let her out of this room," Emily says to JJ.

You, Emily, and Spencer walk outside of the police station, but Owen isn't here.

"What makes you think he'll come here?"

"It's what I would do."

Just then, Owen comes around the corner with his assault rifle in his hand. Spencer unhooks his gun from his holster and hands it to Emily so that he's unarmed and without a vest.

"Cover me."

"What? No, Spencer!" you gasp.

"Do not shoot," he says and walks to the street.

"No! Spencer!" you cry and lunge for him, but Emily holds you back. "No, let me go! Spencer, no!"

You're crying at his point, but even through the tears, you watch with fearful eyes. Owen is unstable, and he will kill Spencer if given the chance.

"Owen, I don't have a gun. My name is Spencer, I'm with the FBI, and I'm here to help you."

"Yeah? I need you to stay back!"

The rest of the team arrives in a screech of tires, but when they see Spencer putting his life on the line, they stay back. They all get out and use the car doors as barricades, and they point their guns at Owen from a distance.

"Spencer, please don't do this," you cry and struggle against Emily's grasp.

"I know the only reason you joined the team was for your father. I know that he blamed you for what happened," Spencer tries to talk to him.

"Stay back! Right where you are!" Owen yells.

"I also know the only reason you killed Rod and Kyle was to protect Jordan. I know the harder you tried, the worse it got, and it felt like everybody just stood there watching you suffer, and not a single person even tried to help."

"They didn't. They didn't," Owen whimpers.

"I know you want to escape and forget. Believe me when I say I know exactly how that feels. You know what, though? You don't have to die."

"No, I'm already dead."

"No, you're not dead. If you die, you're gonna leave Jordan just like your mother left you. I know you don't want that. Do you?"

"Okay. You bring her to me, alright? You bring her outside."

"I can't bring her outside, Owen, but if you put the gun down, I swear to God, I'll take you to her. I promise nobody will hurt you. You'll say good-bye to her, and you'll give her the necklace. So, what do you say? Let's put the gun down. Let's go inside."

Owen just loves and cares for Owen, so he does what Spencer says. He drops the gun, and Spencer moves in on him. He still has his handcuffs, so he slaps those on Owen's wrists. When everyone knows Owen is no threat, your team moves in on him.

You yank yourself away from Emily's grasp and run over to Spencer. The first thing you want to do is hug him, but you resist that urge. You wipe your tears and push Spencer in his chest.

"How dare you do that! Never do that again!" you cry. "This is the second time when I thought I was going to lose you. Don't you ever do that again to me."

Spencer pulls you in for a hug, and you cry in his chest.

"I felt his pain, Y/N. The same thing happened to me in high school."

You pull away from him and wipe your eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"I was in the library when Harper Hillman came up to me. She tells me that Alexa Lisben wants to meet me behind the field house. Alexa's easily the prettiest girl in school. She was there when I arrived... So was the entire football team. They stripped me naked and tied me to a goal post. So many kids were there, you know, just watching."

"Nobody tried to stop them?" you ask, your heart breaking even more.

"I begged them to, but they just watched. Finally, they got bored and left. It was, like, midnight when I finally got home. My mom didn't... Mom was having one of her episodes, so she didn't even realize I was late."

"You never told her what happened?"

"I never told anybody. I thought it was one of those things that I thought if I didn't talk about it, I'd just forget. I remember it like it was yesterday," he whispers.

"I'm sorry," you sigh sadly.

"Owen just wants to forget, and I know what that's like. I knew I'd be able to talk him down."

You pull Spencer in for another hug, but this time, you don't let him go.

Hotch wants so badly to yell at Spencer for what he did, but he waits until everyone is on the plane ride home. Everyone is either asleep or has headphones in, so Hotch takes this opportunity to talk to Spencer. You're sitting next to him with your head on his shoulder, as if you'd leave him after what he did.

"You knowingly jeopardized your life and the lives of others," Hotch says. "I should fire you. You're the smartest kid in the room, but you're not the only one in that room. You pull something like this again, you will be. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir. It won't happen again."

"What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that that would have been the second time a kid died in front of me," he sighs.

You knew Jack and Lindsey had something to do with Spencer's behavior today.

"You're keeping score, just like Owen."

"It was my turn to save one."

"It doesn't work like that."

"It should."

"I know it's painful when the person you identify with is the bad guy," Hotch sighs.

"What does that make me?"

"Good at the job."

Hotch gets up and leaves, and Spencer takes out an AA chip that signifies one year of sobriety. You don't want to pressure Spencer into telling you what that is or even bring it up, so you approach the subject delicately.

"What's that?" you whisper.

"A reminder," he says after a pause.

"A reminder for what?"

"How much I love you."

You grab his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. He kisses the top of your head, and that's how you two stay for the rest of the plane ride.

"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered." - Tom Stoppard

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[aajjks]

choice!JK

despite the year-gap its been since minho has stayed at jungkook’s, his clothes still fit him. you were shocked to see his room was untouched; all his toys, games, and bedroom design were all still in place. it felt as if minho never left and he easily became accustomed to his familiar bedroom.

you made sure to help minho with his homework while mrs. min cooked something for him. of course dinner with minho was always endearing until you found out about his behavior. of course you scolded minho for misbehaving in your absence but he insisted that won’t misbehave again now that you both are together again.

turns out jungkook was right. minho made things a lot more lighter in the huge house. because of the 6-year old, mrs. min got to hear your sweet voice a lot more than usual and after 8 long days of neglecting food, you finally put something on your stomach.

mrs. min happily reported the good news to jungkook who seemed serious about feeding you through a tube to keep you from starving yourself but now that minho’s here, she and jungkook are sure you’ll take better care of yourself.

at 8:30, you put minho to bed after he took his bath but since he’s afraid of the dark you made sure to turn his nightlight on before shutting his door. “night min~” whisper as you head to your room but on this particular night, you find it hard to let sleep succumb you. to pass the time, you take a bath, do your nightly routine, and head downstairs to watch a movie or two.

by the time you finished the first movie, it was 9:15. once the second one ended it was 10 o’clock but still, you didn’t feel sleepy. because you’re prohibited from going outside, you walk around jungkook’s large mansion and take in all the expensive decorations around the house.

polished marble floors, glass chandeliers, you can’t believe he used to live in this huge house alone. not that you care! it’s just, strange. you could never live in a place this big by yourself yet here you are living in this huge house except you’re with minho and—

you hear keys jingling at the door and quickly, you sprint for your bedroom to pretend to be asleep. just as jungkook walks in the large house, you slam your bedroom door shut and throw the covers over you, pretending to be asleep.

you hear his footsteps heading upstairs but he bypasses your room. you gasp ‘he’s going in minho’s room!’ in a panic, you grab your shoe, ready to hit it over his head for hurting your younger brother.

but when you tiptoe closer to minho’s room and take a peek through the cracked door, all you see is jungkook making sure his nightlight is on. the gesture could mean so little to someone yet it means a lot to you. jungkook could be petty and turn it off to spite you, instead, he makes sure it’s on because he knows minho is scared of the dark. he did buy the nightlight, after all.

you’re so caught up with admiring jungkook’s small act that you don’t even notice him coming towards you and when he does, the first thing he sees is you with a shoe in your hand.

“sorry, i uh, ehem. i thought you were up to no good”

“Oh wow- how romantic yn.” He laughs, scoffing at you.

But can he blame you? “I’m not going to hurt him.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, carefully walking out of Minho’s bedroom to make his way into his own.

He knows that talking to you will do no good because you’re still pissed at him but he cannot help but think about trying to actually ask you about it.

Jungkook scratches the back of his head, his eyes a little red. “Hey yn… I have to go to a party tomorrow- for a drug deal.” He says, without any filter or hesitation because now you know everything so he might as well just suck it up.

Of course you’re going to say no- reject him, but he’s gotta try at least. So he intakes, before opening his mouth. “Would you like to accompany me? I mean it’s okay you can say no- you’re probably going to but..”

He’s currently fantasizing about hearing a yes from your mouth.

“Would you…?” He says with curiosity. This could be good for the both of you- but he’s not hoping for anything, “it would be fun.”

[unohanaswetdream]

THE KNOWING PT. 2/3

Now we're lying about the nights

Hiding all it behind the smiles

Take a look at what you did

You probably thought that you'd break my heart

You probably thought that you'd make me cry

But, baby, it's okay

I swear it's okay

♡♡♡ summary: - A glimpse into yours and Ignacio's relationship -

Something happened to your insides as you gave the girls one last glance at their state before you left them for Ignacio, nonetheless you choose to ignore it.

AO3 | PT.1 | PT.2 | PT.3

3.2k words

A/N slightly less use of italics ?

WARNINGS - 18+ please - explicit depictions of sex - talks of addiction and usage of drugs - unhealthy/toxic depiction of relationships - swearing

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Stepping out of the car, phone against your ear ‘yes baby, I will be safe, yes… yes we have a designated driver… no I will not be drinking much… what do you mean ?.. oh, no I will not be doing drugs, honey you are like a worried mother hen… yeah yeah, I understand you are looking out for me, well if I have an overdose which I won’t the only drugs I will ever be doing is weed, the other shit increases my paranoia tenfold’.

Arriving at the door you knock only for Jo and Amber to welcome you in as you continue talking on the phone, ‘yeah I just got here… girls say hi’.

Liar. Cheater.

In their inebriated state they responded with a slurred yet confused ‘hi’ making it apparent they were not in the right mindset to be talking to anyone let alone knowing what was happening in the world around them.

You huffed in annoyance at their mindless state, how dare they embarrass you in front of your husband acting like out-of-control addicts, you wish you could have told him that they really weren’t your friends. You would never be caught willingly hanging out with people like them and knowing your husband probably thought you were voluntarily chilling with them frustrated you to no end, these bitches just did not know when to stop embarrassing you.

You are a disgusting and horrible person.

‘Are they ok-‘.

You cut him off, ‘okay well I’m here baby, see you tomorrow’.

‘Just please stay safe, I love y-‘, you end the call not caring what else he had to say.

You do not deserve him.

Turning to the girls you flash a grin almost reminiscent of the infamous striped pink and purple cat, The Cheshire Cat, thinking about what drugs were on the menu and what you fancied for the night.

‘Girls, girls, girls’, your voice like a siren calling them in as you walked up to them, moulding your body into theirs.

You lower your lips to their ears, giving a soft nibble on Jo’s lobe ‘what is on the menu tonight’.

You think you are better than them ? You are not nor will you ever be, you are worse than them combined or even times two.

None of them were in any state to respond but that did not mean their cognitive ability was completely impaired as they both understood what you meant, Amber grabbed your perfectly manicured hand and led you to the living room so she could present you the goods. The small glass table was covered in little bags with different substances, from clear and hard to opaque and fluffy like freshly fallen snow.  Little buds scattered around the red leather two-seater, the one which was closest to the kitchen, the bong tipped over saturating the couch and buds.

You took a deep exhale at the mess, what a waste you thought as you looked at the now dampen buds.

This is a cry for help don’t you see ?

‘My loves do not sit on that wet two-seater until I clean it up okay’. They just nodded and sat on the dry couch to continue watching tv.

You grabbed the loose buds and bong to take it into the kitchen, grabbing the paper towel next to the tap you sandwich the buds between the two pieces of paper, drying them off as well as you could. Once satisfied you left the buds on a fresh piece of paper towel to continue drying off, while you filled the bong up with fresh water. It was an ordinary bong, it had green and blue tinted swirls on the glass with a classic base, a ring of decolouration on the inside of the bong demonstrating it had not been cared for. You could tell Ignacio bought it for them without a care in the world if they would like it or not. It was probably the first one and the cheapest one he saw, something that would get the job done, he was not a thoughtful person, especially if it was for someone, he did not give a flying fuck about them or what they wanted.

You decided to take the whole roll of paper towels to dry the couch off with, yet something caught your eye as you were about to leave, the top kitchen drawer which in any other house would be the cutlery drawer. You carefully opened it so the girls would not notice you, allowing you to snag a little baggy filled with white powder to take home – a normal occurrence when you would come to Ignacio’s house, you’d refuse to call it a habit even with the glaring evidence that you started coming over to his house more and more frequently since you discovered what was hiding in there – not caring that technically you were stealing, but what would they do, call the cops ? Like hell, the worse they could do is cry to Ignacio yet, he would just chalk it up to them being too high to remember and even if they blamed you, you were the favourite and you would take whatever advantage that would come with it.

You are just as reliant on that shit like they are and yet you judge them without knowing how they got to be here.

Running your hand over the laminated bench that tried its hardest to look like marble, you were disgusted. With the sheer amount of drugs Ignacio had within this house he could easily get real marble for the whole house let alone the bench, what was he doing with his life.

Projecting much, huh ?

You’re so miserable it is embarrassing.

Slipping the bag into the pocket of your jacket, you beelined back to the couch with the bong in one hand and the roll of paper towels in the other determined to have the couch cleaned as soon as possible so you could begin to unwind.

Finally, you place the back of your hand on the couch to make sure it was dry enough to sit on, the paper towels you used to wipe the water thrown on the floor, honestly you did not care if it was wet, you just wanted to take a hit and a drink of the Smirnoff that was on the floor eyeing you seductively.

‘Hey, Jo could you be a dear for me and pass me that grinder on the floor and the bottle of Smirnoff, thank you baby girl’.

As you received your gifts from jo, you sat yourself in the middle of the couch your legs spread like you were man spreading not caring if your skirt wasn’t covering anything. You placed the bottle to the left of you and checked in the top compartment of the grinder to see if there was any weed left to grind only to find it empty and this is where you started to pray that there was some either in the chamber or kief compartment but knowing how mindless they were they probably forgot about that bottom compartment.

Just because they do drugs does not mean they are idiots; you are still one when you are sober.

God pulled through and low and behold there it was, in the chamber so as prophecy would have it you started packing the bowl, yet Jo was still standing in front of you, causing you to look up at her.

Jo looked down at you almost frightened causing you to smirk ‘can I light it for you ?’.

It was a question in a question, can I sit on you ? You knew that was what she was actually asking permission for because every time you came over, she would ask you that exact question, look uncomfortable while lighting it so you would ask her if being in your lap would be more comfortable for her. She’d say yes with no hesitation.

‘Hop on princess and light me up.’

Two face.

And she did what she was told, sitting across your legs, your left arm cupping her ass occasionally drumming your fingers on one of her cheeks. You brought the bong to your mouth as she went to light the weed up, sucking in, creating bubbles in the water encouraging the smoke to move through the water into your mouth, you felt it glide down your throat like a sailboat on calm seas as you inhaled it into your lungs, holding it there for a second then exhaling and emptying the bowl out on the floor for the girls to clean up later. You repeated these steps multiple times; pack it, light it, smoke it, dump it.

You felt a warmness creeping up on you, dispersing itself throughout your body, reminiscent of what it felt like to be on the verge of falling asleep as your eyesight began to flicker. The long-awaited high had finally arrived and now, your mind finally silenced itself as you felt your body sink itself into the couch.

You rested your eyes, focusing on the environment around you through smell, touch and taste. Jo’s soft, slim bodying pressing up against you while her hand went to play with your hair lulling you into bliss, her shampoo infiltrating your nose relaxing your body. The burn of the branded vodka as you skulled it down like water, heating up your insides like a bonfire.

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

Wet kisses on your neck was occupied by an ‘I miss you’by Jo, sighing at the sensation it gave you, you tilted you head to the side giving her more access until,

‘No hickeys’.

Causing her to stop, earning her a ‘good girl from you’. Yet, you still hadn’t opened your eyes until now taking in her tinted cheeks and how her eyes had darkened significantly, you reached around to the back of her head to bring her closer to you so your lips could touch. There was no slow and sensual kiss, it was hot, fast and passionate, teeth grazing, nose bumping, constant moaning and grinding looking for any friction possible as your tongues infiltrated each other’s mouths like they were looking for treasure. Her lips pillowy yet slightly chapped, you could taste remnants of harsh liquor on her, yet you found yourself trying to drink as much of it as possible off her lips. Your hand slithering into and under Jo’s top to cup her tits and fidget with her harden nipples. You glanced over at Amber and despite all of the sounds you guys were making, Amber did not remove her focus off of the tv which played an ocean documentary, you not remembering when the channel changed.

Pulling away from the kiss, you move you lips to Jo’s ear giving it a quick swipe of your tongue ‘be a good girl for me and take of your pants and sit between my legs’, tapping her butt as she got up to follow your instructions.

As she sat between your legs on the couch you used both of your hands to run them over the tops of her thighs to reach her inner thigh so you could pull them a part making her knees rest on top of your thighs leaving her ankles barely hovering above the ground, ensuring that her sheerly covered cunt – for the time being – was exposed to anyone who dared to walk into the living room. Jo’s hair was perfectly parted into two buns that sat atop of her head making it easier to latch your mouth onto her neck while you kneaded the smooth flesh around her hot and achy core which you swore you could feel heat radiating from between her legs. Your mouth finding her pulse, you began to suck causing her to softly whimper, leaving your mark on her.

Using your hand, you lightly ran your fingers up and down the thin fabric covering Jo’s pussy almost like you were patting it, ‘wow already that wet that it is soaking your panties ? Just from kissing ? What a needy little slut you are’.

Feeling her pussy clench against your hand in response, you smirk ‘you know baby, you need to use your words, let me help you, okay ?’

Not caring enough to wait for her to respond you continue ‘repeat after me, my wet pussy needs your finger in it so you can make me cum’.

Doing as she was told; she responded her tone shaky ‘my wet pussy really needs your fingers so I can cum’.

You smile proudly at how well you taught her as you go to kiss her cheek ‘you are such a good girl; I am going to make sure that, that cunt of yours will be satisfied by my fingers’.

Moving her panties to the side, you dip your middle finger in between her cunt lips causing her to lean into you, her ass brushing against your pussy causing you to jolt forward due to the much-wanted friction as she rested her head on your shoulder. This movement allowing you to clearly see her puffy and glistening lips almost making your mouth water. You use you middle finger to spread around her slick that rested at her hole all around her labia, barely grazing her now stiffen clit, earning a low mewl from her as she tried to roll her hips against your hand. Not trying to stop her from her desperate attempts of getting some sort of relief, you continued to tease her, moving your finger to lazily play with her vaginal opening, you circle your finger around it occasionally, barely inserting your digit into her causing her pussy to flutter with anticipation pushing more of her juices down coating your finger.

Finally, you plunged two fingers into her, causing her to moan out of shock, luckily due to her high arousal state her pussy had relaxed enough to easily accommodate your fingers. You kept thrusting your fingers in and out of her wet cunt which filled the room with lewd noises sometimes inserting your fingers so deep into her that your knuckles would rest against her puffy lips, to push your fingers downward to stretch her so you could fit a third finger in. Every time you  did that, her moans would louden while her pussy would clench around you, once you got the third finger in you decided it was time to focus on her g-spot by firmly brushing the pads of your fingers against the top wall, feeling her wetness drip down the palm of your hand.

Hearing a moan that was not Jo’s, you pull your eyes from where your fingers delved into Jo’s cunt to look at the only person in the room, Amber, to find that her hand was in her pants playing with herself at the sight of you fingering Jo.

Your voice was filled with lust as you ordered Amber to ‘come here and play with yourself on this couch, I don’t want you to feel left out’.

She followed your order, her eyes not moving away from Jo’s filled cunt, you looked at Amber, ‘before you sit down, let me get a taste’, as you moved your eyes to her shiny fingers.

Amber did as you asked, your tongue rolling around the two digits in your mouth causing her to moan, pulling back you flash her a lustful smile, ‘sluts always taste so good’, signally to her you were done for now, she sat down and continued to play with herself.

Using your spare hand that was used to hold Jo’s thigh in place, you begin to play with her clit, no teasing instead going straight to the point of wanting to make her cum, rubbing the bud up and down, left to right and round and round in circles. Your handy work causing Jo’s breathing to become erratic due to the overstimulation of her pussy being stretched open and her clit being played with.

While your hands were occupied with Jo, your mouth became occupied with Amber’s. The kiss was wet and heavy as Amber was constantly moaning into your mouth as the feeling of your lips on her and your tongue invading her mouth helped in conjuring dirty images of you. This pushing her over the edge, cumming around her fingers as she began heavily moaning into your mouth but not pulling away from the kiss.

Your core ached with need as you had two beautiful women around you lustfully moaning and as if Amber had noticed your neediness, she put her hand under your skirt only for you to hear her mutter into your mouth ‘no panties’. The rough pad of her finger began toying with your clit causing you to groan and thrust into her hand while you could feel the tension in your lower tummy slowly building. The roughness of her pad felt amazing as it helped to alleviate the hunger that formed from neglecting your desires.

Feeling Jo’s pussy clenching more and more frequently around your fingers, you knew she was close, so you fastened your pace on her clit so she could hurry up and get off and as you hoped she came violently, her hips jerking up while you could see her legs start to shake, her moans and sobs loud enough that the whole street what know what just took place. She went limp in your arms almost knocking Amber’s hand. 

Feeling frustrated at Jo for almost making Amber stop, you move your lips to her ear and mutter harshly, ‘get off’, and she did, shakily getting up Jo moved to the other couch.

And Amber took the opportunity to warm the spot Jo had left empty, still keeping her fingers on your clit and mouth on yours she moved into your lap to straddle you. The vibrations of her moans in your mouth sent shock after shock straight down to your tummy almost breaking the dam that tried to stop your tension from reaching climax. In order to illustrate your need, you started grinding into her hand at a faster pace so she would go faster but she did not get it.

‘Finger me’.

‘Huh’.

‘Just do it’.

Slipping her two fingers into your wet cunt she started to stroke your g-spot, sending jolts to your clit making you eerily close to cumming however, to compensate for the lack of attention she was giving your clit you took it into your own hands. All the different sensations you were experiencing all over your body started to blend into one overwhelming explosive sensation causing your eyes to roll back to help hold onto this feeling for as long as possible, a habit that you always tended to do when you orgasmed.

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

After regaining your strength and remembering the real reason you were here you turned to look at Amber who had moved to sit beside you, staring off in space while Jo was messing around with the remote, ‘where’s Ignacio ?’.

‘Last time I heard, he was in the study’.

Getting up you leave them to search for your man yet, something happened to your insides as you gave the girls one last glance at their state before you left them for Ignacio, nonetheless you choose to ignore it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡��♡♡♡♡♡♡

resources: Directory of non-governmental organizations working in drug demand reduction, unodc.org, 1999 so it is quite old unfortunately but all continents are covered Drugs contacts, health.gov, 2019 Useful links, health.nsw, 2022 Organisations, drugpolicy.org

[moriihana]

we can’t fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || nineteen: little sister

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won’t leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

chapter summary: you and dabi go to toga's childhood home.

content: fluff, a little suggestive at the end bc i'm an indulgent little shit

word count: 1179

a/n: i promise i'm trying to get stuff out in a timely manner, i'm just not doin so hot as of late & my motivation's been pretty low lmao. also didn't have a gif for this one so i made a quick title card. oh shit i just realised i got the chapter wrong don't look at me oh no oh god

taglist: @iincandescenttt

AO3 link

← previous ; next →

You eyed the graffiti on the brick wall you were approaching, your heart twisting in your chest painfully. Oh, Himiko…

“She’s in there,” Dabi said, nodding at the house behind the brick. “We can wait out here until she comes out.”

“You sure I shouldn’t go see her?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you bit back tears. “How could anyone write those things about her…? They don’t know her.”

Dabi placed a hand on your shoulder, steering you into the building facing Toga’s house. “You know how this society is. Spoonfed by heroes, whenever they see something that doesn’t fit their narrative, they try to stamp it out.” You simply hummed in response and climbed the stairs behind him. You watched as he broke off the window panes of the room you entered and perched on the windowsill, gesturing for you to sit next to him. Amused by his antics, you shook your head a little bit and sat down, dangling your legs out.

You sat in silence for a few minutes before nudging Dabi’s shoulder when you spotted Toga leaving the house. “Touya, she’s coming out,” you said softly.

“I see her.” Dabi nodded, eyes trailing after Toga. When she walked out of the gate, he spoke up. “Never knew you actually had a heart, nutjob,” he ignored your stern look and continued, “But even you can get caught up in emotion, huh?”

Toga looked over her shoulder. “I was just curious about my old house. That’s all. Totally normal.” 

Your heart clenched at how Toga still wasn’t her usual, bubbly self. I’ll kill Hawks myself, you thought with hatred. And that U.A. girl who made Himiko cry. They’re the reason she’s so sad. I hate heroes, I hate that nobody cares about the ones who don’t fit in…

Dabi let out a laugh as he grinned down at Toga. “You sure you’re ready for what’s coming?”

“And what might that be?” Toga asked as she started to skip away.

“I mean, us putting an end to this rotten world.”

“Little late to ask that now,” Toga quipped in response.

Dabi lifted his arm with smile as he lit a flame in his palm. “Good. Whether we’re crying or smiling, the sun’ll come out tomorrow. So I say…” He smirked, directing his flames at Toga’s childhood home. “Let’s smile, Toga Himiko. Smiling…” Blue fire engulfed the building. “Is why we live our lives!”

You watched the fire blaze, a soft smile gracing your lips at the destructive beauty of it. I really can see the big brother in you, pretty boy. As emotionally stunted as you are, you’re still a softie. Thank you for helping cheer Himiko up, Touya. You didn’t really need me here, did you? You chuckled quietly to yourself. You were looking for a scapegoat to hide the fact you actually do have emotions. 

Toga stopped skipping and turned to look at the inferno. “You’ll get us caught, Touya-kun,” she said softly, “But… that was awfully kind of you.”

“Caught? Society don’t got the juice to take us down right now.” Dabi snorted as he dropped from his perch in the window, softening the landing with his flames. He raised an eyebrow at you. “You comin’, mouse?”

“You’re joking,” you deadpanned, shaking your head. “I’ll break something!”

Dabi barked out a laugh—if you didn’t know any better, it could be mistaken as mocking. “You think I’d let that happen? I’d catch you, idiot.”

You eyed him with suspicion. “Ah, fuck it,” you grumbled with a roll of the eyes, heaving yourself out the window. A small squeak slipped from your throat as you tumbled out, grunting when Dabi caught you with little difficulty. “You’re infuriatingly strong, pretty boy.”

“Told you I’d catch you. The recoil from my flames is no joke—takes a good amount of strength to handle,” he drawled with a sly grin. He then turned his attention back to Toga. “And it’s not kindness so much as twisting the knife in Endeavor some more!”

“Oh, stop being so emotionally constipated, Touya,” you teased as he set them down, which earned an icy glare. You looked over at Toga and gave a sympathetic smile, noticing her fiddling with one of her blood vials. Poor Himiko…

Dabi followed your gaze. “You’ll be able to use it, y’know—if the person’s someone close to your heart, you’ll be able to use their Quirk by drinking their blood.”

You limped over to Toga. “Touya made sure we grabbed some of Twice’s blood for you, Himiko,” you murmured, placing a hand on her head. “It’s not much, but,” you trailed off with a sigh.

“We’ll help that sad, sad parade to keep marching. And the ones having the last laugh? That’ll be us,” Dabi finished your thought with a grin. 

Toga pulled out the vial she was fiddling with and held it as if it were something precious, which it was. “Thank you,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. The ache in your heart eased slightly and you pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of the girl’s head. 

“I’m glad to see that sweet smile again, Himiko. I hate to see my little sister so sad,” you said kindly. That smile on her face grew bright, and you felt like the weight in your heart disappeared. “There we are.”

Dabi huffed and trudged over to the two, wrapping an arm around your waist. With a mischievous smirk, he leaned down where he could whisper in your ear, “Now don’t go ignoring me again, little mouse.” You withheld a shudder, giving him a soft glare. 

“Behave yourself,” you said sharply, though there was little heat in your voice. You tried—and failed—to conceal the way his voice affected you. Asshole, you thought. He knows good and well that his voice flusters me. Little shit.

Toga giggled. “Your love smells so sweet,” she cooed. You groaned and nudged Dabi away with your shoulder.

“Look what you did,” you grumbled. “And you’re always the one talking about not encouraging her tendencies.” 

The man huffed and pulled you right back against him, tightening his grip on your waist possessively. “You behave,” he quipped back lowly before looking at Toga. “Oi, lunatic. We’re headed back—don’t stay out too late. We still need you around, so don’t go and get yourself killed just yet.” Despite his rudeness, you couldn’t help but smile at the small bit of care he let show—even if he backtracked.

“You’re being awfully possessive, pretty boy,” you said with a grin as Dabi led you away, his arm still wrapped possessively around you. “You still all pouty from me not paying attention to you?”

“I don’t like being ignored, doll. I’m just making sure you don’t think you’re getting away with that again.” 

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Mmhm.” 

“You’re being awfully bratty for someone who’s in trouble for ignoring me,” Dabi drawled, squeezing your hip.

“I know you’re all bark and no bite,” you laughed. “Actually—no, you do bite. Hm. Fuck.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Oh dear.

[amor-immortalem]

Too Good to be True ch.2

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: sorry for the delay- I ended up being more busy on vacation than I thought I’d be and then the new zelda game came out so I’ve just been playing that nonstop too

this is going to end up needing a part three cuz its at ten pages again and any longer feels like it would be a commitment to proofread.

CW: references to past suicides/ attempted suicide

・・・〆・・・

The pair of half-demons are stuck in the hospital’s waiting room sitting away from Aurelius’ parents.

“How could this have happened?” The boy rakes his hands through his black-streaked white hair. “We were watching her so carefully.”

“All it took was a second,” Zulima’s champagne-colored eyes brim with tears. “I should have never brought her that glass of water to begin with. But when did she take them?”

Green eyes widen as he looks up at his cousin. “When you were in the hall fighting with my dad. She was completely alone so it had to be then.”

The pair are silent as Arella approaches, still with that deer-in-headlights look on her face from earlier as she takes a seat beside her son.

“Mum?” Aurelius is preparing to hear the worst news he could ever hear in his life. “Do you know anything yet? Is she gonna be okay?”

“They pumped her stomach. She’ll live.” Her voice is quiet and she buries her face in her hands. “Afterwards, she’ll do some time in a more intensive mental health facility. The doctor said he noticed evidence that she had tried to slit her wrists before taking the pills. Your father’s working all that out with the staff now. I just… I needed to step away.”

The two half-demons exchange an alarmed look when they remembered the laundry Azalea had brought down this morning. They’d just assumed-

“When I get back to the dorm, I’ll tear her room apart to find whatever it was that she cut herself with.” He promises, still worried about the distant look in his mother’s eyes. “Are… you okay?”

“No…” the human frowns at the thought that this is the third time a family member of hers has tried to take their life. “This isn’t the first time someone close to me has attempted to take their life. It is the first time, however, that they failed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your Uncle and Grandmother… they took their lives and I wasn’t able to help either of them beforehand.”

It’s quiet between the three of them before Mammon joins them. “She’s all set. Tomorrow, they’ll move her over to the other hospital but for tonight, after she wakes up, she’ll have a sitter with her so she can’t try anything while she’s here.”

“You’re not going to stay with her?” Aurelius hisses, annoyance in his voice. “Your daughter just tried to kill herself and you won’t even stay the night to make sure she’s okay?”

“Aurelius, I’ve been up all night. I wouldn’t be able to stay up all night to watch ‘er even if I tried. I don’t know what ya want from me right now.”

“I want you to act like you care about my sister!” With that the boy stands and storms off with his cousin following not too far behind.

“Aurelius!” Mammon turns to follow his son, but Arella stops him.

“Not now.” She says, “I’ll go after him right now but you need to give him a few days. Its just too much at the moment.” And then she’s gone as well.

・・・〆・・・

The front bursts open, nearly making Cyrus and Mahlon jump out of their skins. They’d been in Cyrus’ room just killing time until their parents got back from the House of Lamentation. Shouting can be heard although it was somewhat muffled by the eldest’s closed door but its at least clear enough that they’re able to gather that it was their brother making such a ruckus.

Footsteps stomp past Cyrus’ door and a door slams closed as he and Mahlon peek their heads out.

“What’s his problem?” Mahlon wonders as he peers down the hall, a small frown on his face.

“I’ll check on him. It’s rare for Aurelius to be this upset about anything…” as Cyrus starts down the hall, Arella calls out to him.

“Don’t. Your brother is incredibly upset right now. He needs a few moments to himself.” She says, worried that the 18-year-old would turn on his older brother at this point.

“What even happened? Did it go that badly at the dorm? And where’s Dad?”

“He’s at the hospital with your sister. She took an entire bottle of sleeping pills.” She replies carefully, hopefully he’ll get what she’s implying.

Cyrus’ eyes widened as his heart dropped all the way into his stomach. There’s an overwhelming level of guilt that washes over him. His little sister tried to kill herself and its all his fault. If he’d never asked his father to take him to the fourth layer, this wouldn’t be happening. He should’ve accepted his father’s ‘no,’ instead of pressing the issue.

“I have to go.” The 23-year-old calls as he rushes out the door, “I’ll be back later.”

“Cyrus, where-“ he’s gone before Arella even has the chance to finish her sentence, leaving her alone with her youngest.

“Why’d he run off so fast?” The five year-old asks. “And why is Azalea in the hospital just for sleeping pills? I don’t get it. Wasn’t she just tired? Won’t sleeping just fix it?”

“N-no, dear,” the human frowns as she kneels, getting on his level, unsure of how to explain it so that he would understand, “your sister’s not feeling so good up here,” Arella points to her head, “so she took the pills to hurt herself.”

“Is that why Aurelius is so mad? Cuz she hurt herself? Is she gonna get better?”

“Your brother is angry because he loves your sister very much and he feels like your father is responsible for what happened. And one day, I’m sure she will get better. Daddy and I are going to send her some place where she can get the help she needs.”

“We can still go see her right?” Mahlon asks. He still doesn’t exactly get what’s going on with Azalea. “So she won’t be lonely without us around?”

“I’m not so sure you’ll be able to go with us.” She doubts the mental hospital would allow a visitor so young unless they were the patient’s child. “Here, why don’t you help me make your brother’s favorite curry for dinner? It might help him calm down a little.”

“Okay! C’mon!” The half-demon smiles as he scurries off to the kitchen.

・・・〆・・・

Taking the teen’s words to heart, Mammon finds himself camped out in Azalea’s hospital room. He knows he’s never been the best at showing his true feelings to anyone but now it was time he started to try harder at it.

While she’s still sleeping, he’s been texting back and forth with his agent from Majolish. He was already up for a contract renewal- the only thing he’d really been waiting on was all the fine print to be finalized- but after what had just happened with his daughter, the demon decides maybe he should drop down to part-time modeling again or quit altogether. He didn’t have all this trouble finding the time to spend with his kids when he was just a part-timer.

Are you sure you want to resign as a full time model?

Yeah. I’ve been thinkin it was getting to be time to cut back anyway. Let the new talent have a chance to shine, y’know?

And there are some things that’ve come up recently. I gotta focus on my family right now and that’s not gonna work if I’m still doing full time shoots.

Alright then, I’ll re-work the contract as best I can. But don’t be surprised if Majolish decides its not worth renewing your contract altogether.

Mammon lets out a sigh through his nose as he rubs his eyes. They already felt so heavy and all he wanted was to take a quick 15 minute catnap. He just focuses on the mobile game apps on his phone for the time being.

・・・〆・・・

Aurelius is up in his room when he hears a soft rapping on his door.

“Go away!” He shouts, voice cracking from all the tears he’s shed. Whoever it is, he doesn’t want to see them.

“I brought you dinner,” Arella offers.

“‘M not hungry…” the white-and-black-haired boy grumbles, words instantly betrayed by the loud growl his stomach lets out. “Okay, maybe I’m a little hungry…”

His mother only smiles softly as she sets the plate down beside him along with a fork. She noticed he was looking at an old photo album.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“What’s there to talk about? Our family’s falling apart and its all his fault because he can’t get his act together.”

“It certainly feels that way.” she frowns, leaning against the desk. “But this is partially my fault that things have gotten this bad as well. You shouldn’t put all the blame on your father.”

“You’ve gotten better though,” the half-demon argues back, “when Azalea asks you to spend time with her, you drop everything just like with the rest of us. Dad doesn’t do that. He says he will but then something always comes up and he has to cancel on her and its not fair.”

“I know its not but this time, it really was an honest mistake. And I know it was because he wouldn’t shut up about how happy he was that he was the first one your sister thought to ask to go see this movie with her and how excited he was to go see it.”

“What’s more he had canceled everything he was supposed to do this weekend, begged your Uncle to get Diavolo to push back this weekend’s cabinet meeting to Monday, and wouldn’t accept any photoshoots from his agent for this weekend because he knew exactly what missing these plans with your sister would mean.”

“Then what happened? I don’t understand.” He rubs at his eyes.

“Cyrus, unaware of what was going on, had apparently asked your father to take him down to Hell at some point Friday night so he can show him how much he’s improved. I had taken Mahlon out grocery shopping with me so I don’t know what exactly was said but by time I got home, they had already left. The way everything turned out is partially my fault because I could have- no, should have- reminded him the movie was last night...”

Aurelius looked to the door in disbelief. This was Cyrus’ fault? He can’t believe his brother would do something so underhanded to their sister.

“I’m going to kill him when I get a hold of him.”

“No, no, no, no.” Arella says trying to divert her middle child’s attention- this was the opposite of what she was trying to accomplish. “Like I said, your brother had no idea about the plans last night. I’m sure he wouldn’t have pressed the issue if he had.”

That seems to calm the green-eyed boy a bit as he visibly deflates. Wordlessly, Aurelius picks up his plate and starts to eat before the curry can get any colder and Arella just leaves him to enjoy his favorite meal in peace.

・・・〆・・・

“Excuse me, young man, you can’t be back here.”

“Bite me! I’m just checking in on my little sister.”

The sound of a commotion in the halls wakes Mammon from the very brief nap he had fallen into. He blinks his eyes a couple times before he fully registers that it’s Cyrus’ voice he’s hearing right now. Mammon only pops his head out into the hallway. There, the demon sees hospital security trying to drag Cyrus out.

“Oi! Let him go.” He’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed as the security takes their hands of the half-demon.

Once Cyrus is in the room with Mammon, the white-haired demon just plops back down in his chair.

“Why’d ya run all the way down here, Cy? You could have waited.”

“I…” why did he come all the way to the hospital? Worry? Guilt? Cyrus can’t come up with a good reason so he just shrugs. “Guess I was just worried… honestly, I thought she’d be awake by now so I just wanted to apologize in person…”

“Why’re you apologizing?” Mammon arches a brow, “You didn’t really have anything to do with what happened.”

“I mean I kind of did.” The 23-year-old replies, “If I would’ve just listened and taken no for an answer then none of this would have happened.”

“This isn’t your fault though,” the demon sighs, “Only mine. Go home for now. Once she gets settled in in the psych hospital tomorrow and is allowed visitors, you can see her then and apologize if you want to but right now there’s only supposed to be one person in here.”

“Guess that’s why they were trying to drag me out huh?”

“Yeah, if you want I can text you when she wakes up and you guys can chat over the phone if she’s up to it.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that. Guess… I’ll see you at home…” with not much else, the half-demon takes one last look at his sister before he takes his leave.

・・・〆・・・

Three hours pass by before she finally wakes up. Another failed attempt, she thinks. A deep frown crosses her face as she sits up.

Why can’t I die? This isn’t fair.

Azalea takes a moment to take in her surroundings. A hospital room, and empty chair by her bedside- of course no one would stay with her. The weight of her depression lays over her shoulders like a 60 pound weighted blanket at the thought that neither her cousin nor her twin brother were willing to wait for her to wake up. It serves to remind her just how far removed from them she actually was.

And then the unfounded bitterness kicks in. They were probably at home with their happy families while she was here alone.

The 18-year-old is ripping off all the monitors attached to her. Even the IV goes as she can’t be bothered to even care about the alarms from the machines going off around her.

She wants to get out of here before she gets trapped somewhere she doesn’t want to be. That’s when she feels it- a hand on her shoulder.

Her head snaps up a snarl on her features, ready to yell at whoever it was that dared to put their hands on her but the words die on her tongue the moment her eyes meet his.

“About time ya woke up. I was starting to worry you’d done some major damage to that brain of yours with all those pills ya took.”

Is that relief in her father’s eyes? She thought he would be annoyed, angry that she tied up his busy schedule with this stunt of hers.

“You look like shit,” is all she can say and she immediately regrets it. Tired would have been a better adjective.

“Considering I haven’t slept in over 24 hours, I guess I can’t really argue against that. Hold still for a sec.” The demon says as he takes hold of the arm that she had ripped her IV out of mere moments ago, muttering a healing spell in infernal to repair the damage to her vein.

Mammon lets her go once the spell has run its course and resumes his seat in the recliner at her bedside.

It’s quiet between them before he takes a breath. There’s only one question on his mind.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” it’s the easy answer- better than having to talk about her feelings anyway. How does she even begin to explain not wanting to live anymore to her parents? How it’s usually her first response to any minor inconvenience that comes her way. “What comes next?”

“Well…” the demon starts, “we’re sending ya to a more intensive mental health hospital once you’ve been medically cleared here. There, they’ll adjust your meds until ya get the right combination and after some monitoring they’ll send ya home. After that, we’ll move you back home where your mother and I can keep a better eye on you until we feel that you’ll be able to handle living at the House of Lamentation with your brother and cousins again.”

Azalea says nothing in response. She knows she doesn’t need to be sent away somewhere but arguing with her father would be nothing but wasted breath at this point. Instead, she decides to focus on something else.

“You’re not apologizing?”

“Even if I did, I could never say it enough. Especially when it was something this important.” There’s a bitter smile painted on his lips- like the demon’s more than fed up with his own behavior. “At this point it feels like a cycle, y’know? We make plans, for one reason or another I can’t keep them ‘n you end up hurt. I apologize but no matter how much I try I don’t get any better. You deserve more than empty words, doncha think?”

And she nods because deep down, the half-demon knows he’s right. The way she’s treated isn’t fair.

“And that leads me to my next question: do you still want me in your life anymore?”

Azalea’s eyes widen at Mammon’s question.

“You’re giving up on me?” Her voice sounds so vulnerable.

“N-no, that’s not what I meant,” he’s quick to try and explain his point of view before it can turn into a fight, “I just think- look this isn’t good for you- you’re holdin’ your breath waiting on me to get my act together. You’ve given me every chance to change my ways and I still blow it every time. Its not fair to you and if I were you, I wouldn’t give me anymore opportunities to hurt you again…”

Azalea’s quiet again, uncertain of the answer she should give him. Before she even has the opportunity to answer, however, she finds herself interrupted by hospital staff who had come for their rounds.

“Think about it, alright? You can give me your answer when you come home. Until then,” Mammon tosses his unlocked phone to her, “Cyrus wanted to talk to you. Even came down here ‘n made a scene when they wouldn’t let him back here because he thought you’d be awake by then. I told him I’d have ya call when you woke up.”

・・・〆・・・

“I-I don’t know what to think Seph…” Aurelius is on a video call with his girlfriend, venting about the day. “I’m sorry for laying all this on you so unexpectedly when you just called to chat while you had a break.”

“It’s fine, Aurelius,” the periwinkle-haired demoness smiles as she waves her hand in a dismissive manner. “I’m not bothered by it. Clearly a lot has happened today and I wish I could be there with you in person. You look like you need a hug.”

“Yeah, it’s been one hell of a day.” The green-eyed half-demon sighs. “I’m probably not gonna get to see my sister for quite some time since Mum and Dad want to send her somewhere to get more intensive professional help- I can’t believe she’d actually try to kill herself over something like this… but I guess I wouldn’t really know what her perspective is like considering… well… everything that happened since Mahlon was born. I just know I’m really angry with my dad…”

“You have a right to be. Those feelings are valid.” There’s some shouting on her end of the line- break time was over. “I’m sorry I can’t talk any longer. I’ll call you later tonight when rehearsal ends, okay?”

“Thanks,” he smiles, “just hearing that makes me feel a little better. I’ll see you later. Love you.”

“Love you too, hon.” She smiles as she ends the call and the 18-year-old finds himself just staring at her contact photo wishing they’d had longer to talk.

“You’ll talk to her later, Aurelius.” he sighs to himself as he picks up his dishes from dinner and takes them downstairs.

When he gets out in the hall, he spies the door to Azalea’s room wide open and hears something crash to the ground. Investigating the sound, Aurelius finds Mahlon trying and failing to put one of his sister’s trophies back up where it belonged- a piece of it had broken off unbeknownst to the four-year-old.

“What the hell are you doing in here?!” The teen roars as he grabs his brother by the back of the shirt.

・・・〆・・・

Cyrus has been holed up in his room ever since returning from the hospital. He’s just been waiting for that phone call- for the chance to apologize to his sister for what happened.

And when the phone call finally does come up, Cyrus freezes. He’s unable to answer the call, worrying about what she might say to him- how she might tell him off for ruining her plans with their father and blaming him for how their family fell apart- how if he’d have never come back, their family would still be somewhat happy.

At the last possible second, Cyrus is able to make himself answer with an anxious “H-Hey…”

“Dad said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Oh, yeah! I wanted to say… I’m sorry. It was my fault Dad missed the movie last night. I-I just wanted to show him how much I improved after you helped me with my summoning technique a-and he told me no initially but I pressed the issue- If I had known what was going on I-“

“It’s okay.” She interrupts her brother. “It’s fine.”

“You tried to kill yourself over this!” He can’t stop the way his voice cracks as he suddenly shouts, “How is that okay?”

“I just did somethin’ stupid, Cyrus. Drop it for now. Also, I’m happy that you finally got the hang of things.”

“Azalea-“

“Listen, this wasn’t about you or Aurelius or even Mahlon. My actions are and have always been my own so don’t ya dare feel responsible for them.” There’s some noise on her end of the line, “And it looks like they’re getting ready to transport me to whatever stupid facility our parents picked for me so I gotta go. If I get any phone privileges, I’ll call you once I get settled in. I love you, see ya on the flip side.”

Before Cyrus can say anything, the line drops. If anything, he feels worse now.

・・・〆・・・

Arella’s standing in the kitchen, washing dishes when the front door bursts open, scaring the life out of the human.

“I got your message,” Thirteen says, nearly out of breath. “How’s she doing?”

“They stabilized her.” the black-haired human says, “Why’re you so out of breath? You know she can’t die thanks to that spell you cast on her candle.”

“That doesn’t mean other parts of her won’t be damaged- like her organs.” The reaper lets out a sigh as she takes a seat at the kitchen table. “I’m worried that taking a whole bottle of sleeping pills might cause certain organs to shut down… How’re you holding up?”

“I’m managing…” Arella frowns. “Ever since we rushed her to the hospital, I’ve been thinking about whether or not it was fair to Azalea to prolong her life past the years she was intended to have… Was a mistake made by not allowing the candle to burn out when it was supposed to? Did we force all this suffering on her by holding on to a child that should have passed away fifteen years ago?”

And Thirteen doesn’t have an answer for the human- at least not an answer that would put her mind at ease anyway.

“Don’t worry about what we chose to do. She’ll be fine one day- Azalea’s still a teenager, after all. It’s probably just a harsh case of teenage angst. She’s just going through a rough patch right now. It will get better.”

Arella gives her partner a disbelieving look.

“This rough patch has been going on for five years now. If it was going to get better, wouldn’t it have already? What if all of this is an unintended side effect from freezing the flame on her candle. What’s more, Azalea is far from stupid. She’s going to figure out she can’t die at some point. What do we do then?” The human can’t stop herself from rambling out all the thoughts that race through her mind.

“Well what would you have me do, Arella?” The reaper huffs, “Would you rather have me undo the spell and let the candle burn out on its own? I’ve been adding wax to it for the past 15 years and it burns away just as fast. You’ve even added drops of your own candle wax trying to undo the effects that dagger had on her and it doesn’t work. If I remove that spell, she’ll die in a matter of minutes!”

“What?”

Both Arella’s and Thirteen’s heads snap around at the sound of Mammon’s voice and find him staring at them with a shocked expression.

“Mammon it’s not-“ Arella’s voice is cut off by the sound of something crashing to the floor on the upper level of the house and muffled yelling and crying.

“I’ll deal with the two of you later.” the demon growls as he goes to check out whatever it was that was causing the noise.

・・・〆・・・

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