#she’d never lead me astray I know it

[loverboy-lover]

sitting here like a little fanfiction goblin scrolling through lana (@imsiriuslyreading)’s tiktok for fic recs because i trust her judgement implicitly and forever… that woman knows things and loves remus lupin to the ends of the earth so that’s that in my books

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

I Believe You, But Tell Me Again

(x)

Summary: Y/N is wondering if Jensen still sees her as he used to.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Lots of fluffy smut. Sexy af Jensen. Rockstar!Jensen. Definitely a warning. Unprotected PinV sex. Oral (f receiving), Brief fingering, some slightly insecure thoughts, established relationship. Fluff.

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 3,314

A/N: This fic is a request by @lacilou .

I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but I can't get this out of my head. Jensen, in the photo you're using for Off and On Again. Where he's super hot, and he knows it. Kinda cocky but totally in love with the reader (established relationship - married, long-time girlfriend??) And reader doesn't understand why he's so into her, but she KNOWS it even though Jensen has to remind her with "Feel this? It's all for you, "while he's holding the reader's hand over his bulge. If you could throw in "this what you want?" while he's slowly stroking himself as he walks towards the reader, lust in his eyes.

I hope you enjoy it sweetie, and everyone else too.

The dividers below were created by @talesmaniac89

The lights were bright, slightly blinding, as Y/N sat in front of the two cameras aimed at her. There were two cameras so they could decide later on which side was her better side. Or possibly her worse side, depending on the tone of the interview. 

Y/N squinted at the primped and stylish woman sitting across from her getting her makeup touched up. She wondered, would this interview be a friendly one? An interview to say, “Look everyone! Aren’t the Ackles great?” Or would it be one of those interviews that had an edge of nasty hovering just beneath the smile of the interviewer. 

She watched this interviewer, Shauna, pull away from her makeup artist, scowling. “It’s fine, Lisa. Just leave it alone.” 

Uh oh.

The interview started off friendly enough, touching on the things most journalists talked to her about - Jensen’s incredible skyrocketing success, his status as a rockstar icon, what a talent he was. As Jensen’s biggest fan, Y/N always enjoyed those kinds of questions. She couldn’t get enough of bragging about her ridiculously talented husband. 

But then the mood of the interview shifted and Shauna started asking much more pointed questions. 

“Now, Y/N, you and Jensen have been married over a decade now, right?” Y/N nodded. “Is there a secret to your success?” Shauna was smiling, but Y/N could see that her gray eyes were calculating.

It was a question she’d been asked a lot in the last couple of years as their ten year anniversary came and went. People seemed very interested in the fact that their marriage had lasted so much longer than had been anticipated. When Jensen had started dating her, just a nobody from nowhere, everyone had predicted it wouldn’t last. 

People on social media and angry people with podcasts all had an opinion on their relationship.

-- She’s not cut out for the limelight.

-- It’s way too hard for someone like her.

-- She’s not used to the media. She’s gonna break under the pressure.

-- He’s a rockstar who could literally get any girl he wanted. So, what’s up with him picking her?

-- It won’t last. These showbiz marriages never do.

But ten years on, now people were wondering how they actually made it to a decade. “What’s the secret?” They all wanted to know.

“There’s really no secret, Shauna.” Y/N said with a smile. “When two people are madly in love with each other, when they respect each other and work together as partners, staying together becomes much easier.” 

It was a variation on the same answer she’d given dozens of times. It happened to be true, but Y/N was still tired of trying to find new ways to explain to people that they got married because they loved each other, and they stayed married because the alternative was unthinkable for either of them.

Shauna smiled a sharp smile. “And in all those years, you’ve never been worried about the rock and roll lifestyle…leading Jensen astray?”

Y/N kept smiling because she couldn’t falter and let the reporter know she’d scored a hit. They weren’t usually that pointed with the infidelity question. Usually they skirted around it, saying things like, “Does it ever get hard when he’s on the road?” or “You must miss him when he’s touring. How do you keep tabs on him?” 

Y/N’s personal favorite version of this question came from a middle-aged woman reporter with lipstick on her teeth. “Have you ever just shown up to surprise him, or tried to catch him being naughty?” It was said with a cheeky grin as though they were just besties chatting, but Y/N had wanted to snatch the woman bald.

Shauna’s version of the question was the closest anyone had ever come to asking her outright, “Do you worry about your husband cheating on you?”

Y/N kept smiling and shook her head. “No, never. If you knew Jensen, you wouldn’t wonder about it either. He’s the most loyal man I’ve ever known, and the most honorable. I know beyond a doubt that he doesn’t take our vows lightly, and that he would never, ever hurt me like that.”

Shauna seemed slightly taken aback by Y/N’s adamant, genuine answer, clearly expecting some anger or some kind of dramatic reaction from her. When she didn't get it, the reporter just smiled again.

“So sweet.” Was her response, acid dripping from her words.

***

The day of interviews had taken quite a bit out of Y/N, especially the last one, and she was tired as she wandered out to the limousine that was waiting to take her and Jensen back to their hotel, whenever he was done with his part of the press junket.

The limo driver opened the door for her and smiled. “Fatima says Mr. Ackles is almost finished and will be out in about ten minutes. Do you want to wait for him? Or should I take you and send another car for him?”

Y/N smiled back and shook her head. “No, let’s wait for him.”

“Okay, great.” The driver said as he closed the door behind her. 

In less than ten minutes, she saw Jensen push out of the double doors, and amble towards the car. He wore black jeans that clung to his thick thighs, and a gray t-shirt covered by a black, long-sleeved denim shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the veins and corded muscles in his forearms - muscles he’d gained by long hours spent playing the guitar.

As he got closer to the car, she watched him push a hand through his long hair, sweeping it off his forehead, and she sighed deeply. Good God, he was so stunningly sexy. 

Even when he was just walking, he moved with the same seductive grace he used like a siren song onstage. No matter how many times Y/N watched him in concert, she never got used to that kind of magnetic, cocky seductiveness that poured out of him when he was singing. He knew he drove people crazy. He knew it, and it just made him smile.

He was smiling now as he climbed into the car. “Hey beautiful.”

Y/N smiled tiredly at him, feeling her heart warm at his usual greeting. When he settled into the seat, he reached over and pulled her into his lap.

She squealed lightly as he lifted her, and then chuckled. “You know there are seatbelts we’re supposed to be wearing.”

Jensen shrugged and squeezed her tighter against him. “Nah! I gotcha.” 

Y/N laughed again. “Oh, okay then.” She said, snuggling closer to him. The interview had knocked her off kilter a bit, and it felt especially good to have Jensen’s arms wrapped around her. 

She tucked her head under his chin, and he ran his big hand up and down her arm. “Hey,” he said with concern lacing his voice, “everything okay?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, just a long day sitting in the same room, being asked basically the same questions.” She shrugged. “I just wanna get home. Or, well, hotel.”

Jensen accepted her answer, kissing her forehead and then her lips. “Me too.” 

They ordered in their dinner, neither of them keen to face more crowds and questions, and spent the evening watching some trashy reality TV before calling it a night a bit earlier than usual.

Y/N went into the bathroom to get ready. She brushed her teeth and took off her makeup, and as she stood in front of the mirror she looked at her face closely. 

There were some lines there that hadn’t been there when she first met Jensen. She knew there was a gray hair or two hiding amongst the rest that also hadn't existed back then. 

She pulled her silk nightgown tight against her body and could see where she was rounder than she had been when she was younger. Her muscle tone wasn’t as good. 

I should hit the gym more, she thought.

She pinched one of her love handles and pulled at her skin, wondering what Jensen really thought about all these changes. She knew he loved her, knew that he’d always found her attractive. But how was that holding up these days? Did he still feel the same kind of heat for her? Did he still want her as desperately as she still wanted him?

She jumped slightly as Jensen popped up in the mirror behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, and nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck. He wore his pajama bottoms and nothing more. She looked at his biceps flexing around her as he squeezed her back against him, and his round, muscled shoulders, broad and strong, and she sighed. He was still so unbelievably perfect.

She lightly tapped his forearm where it rested just below her breasts. “You scared me.” She said, her voice accusatory.

He chuckled. “Sorry, I thought you heard me.” He caught her eye in the mirror. “But you seemed to be lost in thought.”

He moved his lips to her temple. “What thoughts are swirling around in that beautiful mind of yours? Hmm?” He murmured. 

She shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing.” 

Jensen’s face in the mirror wore a disbelieving look. “Don’t believe that for a second.” He pulled back slightly, and turned her in his arms so she was facing him. A small line of worry was creased between his brows.

“You’ve been quiet all evening; something is obviously on your mind.”

Y/N shrugged again and looked down at their bare feet. “Just tired.”

Jensen put his knuckle under her chin and made her look at him. “Y/N. Tell me.”

Y/N was caught completely by surprise as her eyes welled up with tears. She didn’t know where these doubts were coming from or why she was feeling this way. Maybe it was just one too many snide questions.

Jensen’s face crumpled as he saw her tears. He cupped her cheeks and brushed them away as they spilled over her lashes. “Baby.” His voice was worried and confused. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong? What happened?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, nothing happened. Really. It was just this reporter.” 

Jensen waited for her to continue, but his worried expression darkened slightly in anger.

Y/N bit her lip and debated what to tell him, how to explain the feelings she barely understood herself. Finally she just went for the honesty they’d always had with each other; they’d never been afraid to ask for what they needed from one another, and what she needed was reassurance.

“Do you still want me? I mean, the same as you used to.”

Jensen seemed completely taken aback by the question. Clearly that hadn’t been where he expected this conversation to go. He shook his head.

“Why would you even ask that? Of course I do.”

Y/N frowned. “Don’t just tell me what I want to hear. Please, tell me the truth. Are there things about me you’d change if you could?”

Jensen’s expression turned thunderous and he dropped his hands from her cheeks to grip her upper arms. “Y/N.” He said firmly. “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from? Of course I don’t want you to change.”

“I don’t mean my personality, or whatever.” Y/N explained wiping her tears away with both hands. “But my face or my body, the way I look. I know it isn’t the same as when we first met.”

Jensen shook his head, his voice incredulous. “Well no, you don’t look exactly the same as the day I met you over a decade ago.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “But you know, I’m pretty sure I don’t either.”

Y/N felt her skin flush. “But you’ve just gotten hotter.” She frowned. “Guys do that.” 

She opened her mouth to say something more, but Jensen slammed his mouth down on hers, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and invading her completely. She let out a little whimper as his hands let go of her arms to grab her ass and press her hard against him. He kissed her long, deep, swallowing every soft moan.

When he pulled back his voice was husky with want. “Baby, I don’t know where these questions are coming from, but I know the answers.” 

He grabbed Y/N’s hand and placed it on his hard cock where it tented his pajama bottoms, obviously not restrained by underwear. She bit her lip as he closed his eyes and groaned when she wrapped her fingers around him. 

“Feel this? It’s all for you, all because of you. Fuck, Y/N do you see what you do to me? Still? Always?” He pushed aside some of the bottles and jars that littered the countertop and lifted her onto it easily. His hand slipped between her legs and he groaned at her bare, wet pussy. “Believe me when I tell you that I want you. Every day. All the time. Years don’t change that.”

He shook his head. “In fact they just make things better cause now I know what happens if I do this.” 

He dipped his head, sucking her satin clad nipple into his mouth, while his thick middle finger slid inside her body at the same time. A strangled cry left her lips and she thumped her head back against the mirror.

She felt him smile against her. “Exactly.”

He took his hand out of her to tug on her nightgown. She shifted slightly so he could pull the silky material over her head as he continued.  “And yet, your body’s always a revelation to me. It never stops fascinating me.” His eyes followed the path of his fingers as he trailed them down her arms and then over the soft swell of her breasts. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin and her nipples puckered.

He circled his forefinger around the tight little bud, before dipping his head once again to flick the tip of his tongue against it. 

Y/N moaned deeply and wrapped her fingers up in his honey brown locks. “Jensen.” She gasped as he sucked her breast into his mouth and drew on it deeply, causing her cunt to clench and quiver.

He pulled her forward, to the edge of the counter, and then dropped to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her wide open so he could reach his tongue up to tease her hole. Y/N plunged her hand back into his hair and tugged on it before pushing his head harder against her dripping pussy. 

“God, fuck Jensen, yes.” She rambled.

He hummed against her folds before nibbling at her clit, making her knees try to lock around his ears. But his superior strength kept her legs spread wide so he could feast. He breathed hot against her, alternating between flicking his tongue against her clit and sucking it between his plump, luscious lips.

It wasn’t long before Y/N was bucking against his mouth as she rode out her climax while he lapped up her juices. She panted desperately and tugged on his hair again, begging him. “Please Jensen, fuck me. I need to feel you, need you inside me so badly.”

Jensen stood and scooped her off the counter, walking back into their bedroom. He laid her out on the bed, making sure her head was propped up on the pillows, before stepping away from her. He moved far enough back so that she had an unencumbered view as he slowly lowered his pajama bottoms. 

His cock sprang free to lean, hard and dripping, against his stomach. Y/N felt her mouth go dry and a keening moan erupted from her throat as he gripped himself in his fist, pumping slowly.

He walked towards her one slow step at a time. His voice was a growl. “Is this what you want?” She nodded, biting her lips and trying desperately not to come again, just from watching him.

“Tell me you want it.” Jensen ordered.

Y/N nodded again, almost frantically. “Yes, fuck. I want it. I want your cock.” She reached for him as he stood barely a foot from the side of the bed. “I need it. I need you.”

Jensen climbed onto the bed on his knees, grabbing up her wrists with both hands and pressing them into the pillows on either side of her head. He stared into her eyes as he spoke. 

“And I need you too, Y/N. I need you desperately, obsessively. I need you every waking minute. I need your love and your kindness. I need your good soul and beautiful heart.” He entered her in one hard thrust and she cried out. “But I also need your soft body. I need to sink into you. I need to feel you move against me. I need to hear you say my name like a moan. I need to feel you clench tight around me.”

He began moving slowly, sliding in and out of her with silky, unhurried movements. “I will always love you. I will always want you. And I will never need you any less than completely.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “Do you understand me?”

Y/N nodded and gasped as his cock slid over her sweet spot. “Yes. Yes.” Was all she could manage to chant. But it satisfied him and he began to move faster.

He switched positions slightly so he could lift her hips off the bed, hooking her knees over his forearms. He began to slam into her, hitting that same sweet spot over and over until Y/N was screaming out her overwhelming pleasure and falling into euphoria. 

Jensen continued to jackhammer into her, grunting harshly with each thrust. He pounded into her pussy over and over until she was once again on the precipice of bliss. As his hips faltered, he dropped one of her legs so he could slide his thumb between their bodies and swirl it against her clit. She screamed again and fell for the third time, clenching around him and pulling his climax out of him, along with her own.

The familiar aftermath of damp skin pressed together and lungs starved for oxygen, brought Y/N a kind of all encompassing satisfaction and peace. When Jensen finally rolled off of her, she rolled with him, so she could slot herself up against his side, wrapping one arm over his ribs and laying her head on his chest as he ran his fingers teasingly up and down her back making her shiver.

They were both quiet for a few minutes before Jensen broke the silence. “Y/N tell me the truth.” He said, and Y/N could hear the protectiveness and anger on her behalf permeating his tone. “Did someone say something or do something to hurt you today?”

But she just shook her head. “No, it wasn’t any different than a million other interviews really.” She shrugged. “Something about it just hit me, I guess.”

She raised up on her elbow, chin in her hand, to look at him. “But if you tell me you love me as truly, madly, deeply as you did the day we met, then I believe you.”

Jensen frowned slightly. “Are you comparing me to a Savage Garden song?”

Y/N giggled, but ignored the question, kissing him softly before laying her head back down on his chest. She smiled against his skin as she spoke. 

“I believe you, but tell me again.”

Jensen’s breath ruffled her hair as he sighed contentedly. “I will love you, and desperately want to devour you, every single day of my life - for the rest of my life.”

Y/N nodded, and her voice was full of confidence as she snuggled closer. “Thought so.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

[onceuponastory]

knights in leather jackets - biker!bucky x reader

Plot: Stuck in a dead end job at an ice cream parlour, Y/N dreams of something new in her life, especially when a biker’s charity meet and ride comes to town. And then, she meets Bucky. Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Y/N’s boss being an ass and a bully, verbal abuse and some violence and threats. Biker!Bucky is also very much a flirt in this, and likes using doll as his petname (yes, he’s a warning, hahaha). As always if I miss any triggers, let me know. Notes: This was inspired by a biker’s meet that happened near me, and also because I’ve always liked these kind of stories. This is not beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Gazing out of the window, Y/N drifts into a dreamworld. A local biker group is holding their annual charity meet and ride in her city, meaning that the streets surrounding the ice cream parlour she works in are full of motorbikes, and that the sound of engines continues to fill the air. She’s already served a few of them so far tonight, but the crowd has died down. Thankfully for Y/N, it means she can stare out of the window to her heart’s content, watching and listening to all the bikers.

“Hey, earth to Y/N. I don’t pay you to stand around looking like an idiot.” Her boss snaps, pulling her out of her trance. “Oh, please tell me you’re not staring at them.” He huffs.

“And who exactly is ‘them’?” She asks warily. 

“Those stupid bikers.” 

“It’s for charity!” She exclaims. “And besides, they’ve been great for business! I already sold a bunch of ice cream to them.” 

“I don’t give a shit! Could be for world peace for all I care. I hate those things.” Honestly, Y/N wishes she could say that she was surprised by her boss’ reply. But she’s been working for this asshole for so long, and been screamed at by him so many times that she’s used to his awful attitude by this point. “They just make too much noise, and they’re bad news. I wouldn't allow them to be here if I had my way.”

“Thank fuck you’re not in charge, then.” She mutters, rolling her eyes. If she could, she would’ve left this shitty job months ago and never looked back. Unfortunately for her, bills need to be paid, and nobody else wants to hire her, so it looks like she’s going to be stuck here, with her shitty boss, for the rest of her life.

Another roar of an engine sounds from outside, and Y/N sighs. She’d love to be like the bikers, driving all over the country without a care in the world. The wind in her hair, free to do whatever and go wherever she wanted… that would be perfect.

“I’m going for a break.” Her boss snaps, walking out and slamming the door behind him. The sound reverberates throughout the room, sending a shockwave through her entire body. Clenching her fist, she tries to calm down.

God, she hates this fucking place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

About half an hour later, Y/N is checking on something through the back when the chimes above the door sound, signalling the arrival of another customer. Before going back out, she takes a moment to brace herself. It could also mean her boss is back, ready to get mad at her for something else that isn’t her fault.

Thankfully for Y/N, when she goes back out to the front, the only person standing there is another biker. Dressed all in black, including the sunglasses perched on his head, he looks out of place against the bright colours of the ice cream parlour. Coupled with his extremely muscular physique and the biker patches on his jacket, he looks like the stereotypical bad boy in a movie, the one who comes in to lead the heroine astray and drive her to trouble. But she doesn’t care about that. She’s just happy that she has a moment of freedom from her boss constantly breathing down her neck. And besides, what's so bad about wanting a bad boy in your life? Especially when you live a life as shitty as hers.

“Hey sir, what can I get you?” The man looks up, brushing a few strands of his long brunette hair out of his face. Light blue eyes stare back at her.

“Hey there.” He grins. God, this man is gorgeous. He peers over the cabinet, staring at all the flavours. The light catches his eyes, and they sparkle even more. “It’s so hard to choose. There’s so many choices.” He murmurs. His voice is smooth like honey, and he hums to himself as he tries to decide.  “Nope, no clue. Can you recommend anything?” He stands up straighter, almost leaning over the counter towards her. Yet, Y/N doesn’t feel afraid of him coming closer. In fact, somehow she already feels comfortable around him. 

“Well, that depends. What kind of flavours do you like?”

The man chuckles, biting his lip slightly. “I do like something sweet.” He grins, pointedly glancing over her facial features. Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat, and she can already feel heat settling onto her cheeks. “But maybe with a little tartness.” He winks, and Y/N quickly bites her tongue before she can embarrass herself. “So what do you think…” His eyes move lower, towards her chest, landing on her name tag. “...Y/N?” He whispers. Y/N bites down even harder, quieting the moan that threatens to escape. This man just oozes charisma, and it’s clear he’s flirting with her. Although, after the shitty day she’s been having, he’s the welcome respite she needs. 

“Um. I think r-raspberry ripple would be a good choice then.” She stammers, her voice sounding more like a squeak than anything else. Already, she can feel her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“There we go then. Lady’s choice.” Quickly, Y/N scoops him some, thrusting the cone into his hand at breakneck speeds. As she does, her hand brushes against the leather of his gloves. And the sensation almost sends her heart into overdrive. Thankfully, the man doesn’t seem to notice her frazzled state. Or if he does, at least he doesn’t mention it. “Thanks doll.” He roots around in the pockets of his clearly too tight (although not that Y/N is complaining) jeans, handing over a wad of cash.

“It’s only three-” Y/N begins, holding out the extra cash. However, the man shakes his head. 

“No, no. You keep it. Consider it a tip.” And a real, proper smile, her first that day, grows on Y/N’s lips.

“Thank you so much.” She expects the man to leave then, their chance meeting over. Instead, he stands there, watching her as he eats his cone. Meanwhile, Y/N tries to think of something, anything to say to get him to stay. 

“This is amazing.” He smiles. “You have great taste.”

“You’re welcome. But you know….” She begins, and the man raises a brow. “I don’t know your name and you know mine. I think it’s only fair that I get to know yours.” Nodding, the man chuckles.

“It’s Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky. How’s the ride? I think it’s great what you’re doing, by the way. I’ve been here most of the day, but I saw and heard you all down there. Sounds amazing.” For a moment, she’s worried her gushing will turn him off. But in fact, he seems more than happy to discuss it with her. 

“Yeah, well, someone sends the call out, and we come to raise as much as we can. This time it’s for the local kid’s hospital.” He shrugs, showing there’s no question about his choice to help others. Y/N smiles. What was that she was saying about him being a bad boy? Seems like he’s anything but. “But you’re right. It’s great catching up with everyone, too.” Y/N holds out some more cash, and Bucky frowns. “I told you that’s your tip.”

“I know. But I wanna help too.” And then, Bucky smiles. A huge, warm, grateful smile. 

“Thank you. You’re an angel, you know that? At least… one that gives out amazing ice cream and helps others.” Y/N feels her stomach fluttering, and she giggles.

“Well, I’m happy to serve.”

But then, the happy peace is shattered. “Y/N!” Her boss shouts, banging the door open. Immediately, Y/N jumps. Noticing her sudden fear, Bucky frowns. 

“What the hell? Are you alright?” Her boss storms into the room, glaring at her. From the way he’s standing, his nostrils flaring, he looks like one of those cartoons with the faces that turn bright red whenever they get angry. If steam started coming out of his ears, Y/N wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.

“I told you to take out the fucking trash before I left, didn’t I?” He hisses.

“No, you didn’t. You just stormed out.” Y/N argues, willing herself not to get pissed off or cry in front of her cute customer.

“Don’t talk back to me. Need I remind you I pay your wages? I can easily take that away.”

“But-” she begins, already hearing her voice cracking.

“Hey, that’s enough. Don’t you ever threaten her like that again.” Bucky speaks up. His voice is immediately deeper, and more threatening. 

“And who the hell are you?” Her boss asks, looking him up and down. But like Y/N said, it’s obvious that Bucky is a biker. “Oh. Of course.” He scoffs. “Listen buddy, I don’t need someone like you to tell me what to do. This is between me and my employee, so it’s none of your business. Got it?”

“Oh, someone like me, huh?” Bucky chuckles. “The thing is, I don’t care what an asshole like you thinks about me. What I do care about is how you treat your lovely employee there.” Despite the fear coursing through her veins, Y/N registers her heart beating even quicker at Bucky’s words. “Now. Why don’t you say sorry, and I won’t be forced to bring my friends round to help me deal with you, hm?”

Next, everything happens in a blur. All Y/N sees is her boss raising his fist, and Bucky quickly grabbing his wrist before he can do anything. “Really shouldn’t have done that, buddy.” Bucky tuts.

“Fuck you.” Her boss hisses, only to scream when Bucky twists his arm even more. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Her boss whimpers. Bucky shakes his head.

“Not to me. Say sorry to Y/N.” He orders. Somehow, the threatening tone of Bucky’s voice is extremely attractive to her. Or that could just be because he’s doing it to protect her. When she said he was a bad boy, she couldn’t have been further from the truth. In a cheesy way, he’s more like a knight in a leather jacket. “Now.”

“I’m sorry…Y/N.” Her boss cries. Seeing the man who has bullied and threatened her for so long on his knees in tears is a pretty unbelievable sight. Yet, Y/N can’t help but giggle. She’s been wanting this bastard to get his comeuppance ever since she started working here, and she’s not missing a moment of it.

“Good boy. Now, fuck off and leave her alone. And if I ever hear that you’re treating her like shit again, I will bring my friends round, okay?” When her boss nods, Bucky lets go of his wrist, and he scurries out of the door without another word. As Bucky takes out his phone, dialling a number, Y/N lets out a breath she doesn’t realise she was holding. Her heart is still pounding in some weird mix of fear and love for the man who saved her. “Hey. We have a situation at the ice cream parlour.” Bucky speaks, pacing around the shop. “No, nothing like that. The boss was just being an asshole to his employee, so I made sure he knew to leave her alone or else. Asshole’s probably gonna go squealing to the police at some point though, so we should be prepared. …Okay, see you soon.”

When Bucky hangs up, he’s immediately back to the same, kind person he was when it was just them. “Are you alright? He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

“No, it just scared me. It’s nothing new, though.” She murmurs. Her words make Bucky’s jaw clench, and he sighs. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Y/N doesn’t respond. Instead, she crosses over to him, pulling him into a tight grasp, not even caring about the consequences. He smells like gasoline and patchouli oil. The powerful aroma infiltrates her entire senses, sweet and intoxicating. Bucky wraps his arms around her, pulling her even closer. So close she can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and feel his heartbeat through his jacket.

“Thank you.” She gasps. “So much.”

“Of course, doll. It’s what we do.” Being in Bucky’s arms feels safe and right. He holds her until her heart rate calms down, matching with his. She never wants to let go.

But then, she remembers. Bikers from all over the country are at this charity meet.What if Bucky lives miles away, and she’ll never see him again?

“Bucky, what happens when you go? What if he comes back?” She asks, her voice quiet. Pulling apart from her, Bucky grabs a napkin, writing his number on it.

“I doubt he will come back, but if there’s any issues, you call me okay? I’ll be right over.” He picks up his helmet, heading towards the door.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I’ve gotta go meet the others. Like I said, call me, okay?”

“Okay.” She nods, already missing him.

And then, he’s gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll see more from these two very soon.

Please follow @onceuponastory-library​ and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

[absolutebl]

Wedding Plan Trash Watch!

You ready to snuffle-kiss the burn? 

Before I start...

Find out about Mame and the Mameverse here.

Find my other trash watches of her and others here. 

We all know what we are getting in for, 7 episodes of BLduggery. To crane your neck as you drive by the car wreck or not... that is the question. Me? I'm wallowing in the guts. 

Episode 1 - In which I craft an ode to Dumpster Fires Everywhere 

I am sorry, but they opened with Battle Hymn of the Republic for PrapaiSky’s wedding? I busted out laughing. 

Also, you KNOW I can’t just let that go. 

Ready?

LET’S SING! (Bet you’d never thought I’d type those words). 

Battle Hymn of BL Tumblr

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the trash This is barely even BL it’s just Mame writing slash  She hath set ablaze such garbage in pursuit of all our cash But the trash watch must go on! 

 (Buh buh ba buh) 

Glory, glory hallelujah!  Mame hit us with a sewer.  Spoiling all our fun, Oh the shit storm has begun, But the trash watch must go on! 

I have seen the dumpster-fires of a hundred BL tropes She will sacrifice her ukes ’til they’ve lost all of their hopes We will watch in righteous anger while the refuse burns and smokes But the trash watch must go on! 

 (Buh buh ba buh) 

Glory, glory hallelujah!  Life’s rough for a BL reviewer.  When OG BL fans run afoul of Mame stans  But the trash watch must go on! 

 Buh buh buh buh! 

Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here for the next 7 weeks. Yes some of my rhyming conventions are awkward af but I never claimed to be a filker. Now where was I?

Oh YES, 

STILL AT THE VERY BEGINNING. 

Where have I seen this seme before? Oh! Top Secret Together. 

Micky D sponsorship? Nice. I’m impressed. 

Too many sound effects, abort! Is that the sound tech from Lovely Writer I sniff? Someone please fire his ass. Yes, it must be him. Only a straight dude misuses buttons like that. 

I feel Nuea’s pain I too hate the gym. 

This better not be in one of those situations where after instalove our seme arranges for the wedding planner boy he likes to plan his own wedding so that he can marry him at the end. 

Lots of pronouns going astray in that sentence, but you get my meaning. 

Drag baby around. Locker room. Kabeldon 

Honestly? And this is not usually a criticism I lob at Mame ( I know is there anything I have lobbed at her?) but the leads seem a bit stiff and uninspired. 

It is just me? 

Episode 2 - What’s this? Oh is that boredom? 

What are these boys in these office BLs doing behind their desks on those computers? They never actually seem to be working at all. They’re like brochure stock art ads for boys on computers. 

I had to skip most of the humiliating stuff with the food in the car and whatever was going on because… aargh. 

They keep ordering food in this episode of nobody’s eating it. And it looks really good and I’m hungry and this is very upsetting to me. 

Lom is just totally jerking Nuea around. Just tell him what your relationship is with the bride. 

There’s no need to be so fucking coy about it. 

I love the flaming yelling fit from Nuea tho.  

It was also a good kiss. 

But that’s what we expect from a Mame. 

Mame giveth and mame taketh away. 

Somewhat dull episode frankly. Even with the kiss.

Sigh. What have I become?

Episode 3 - WHAT IS THIS? There is nothing about this episode that pleased me even a tiny bit. Except Noel’s hair. But that wasn’t part of the script. 

Buckle up, I got A LOT to say. 

It’s a pleasure to welcome you back to your normal and expected ABL meets Mame interface where... ABL LOSES THEIR TINY MIND. 

Right on schedule it feels like. 

Ready?

Oh who am I kidding, you sadists life for this shizz. And you can’t tell me you don’t. 

Lom is so frustrating. 

I wanna punch him too. Sing it, sister! 

Random water sports. (And not of the kind one might expect from Mame. Stop it. You know she would go there. She’d think it was edgy.) 

Peeps! 

We need a name for when a BL reviews itself. 

It keeps happening. 

Should you tell him everything? 

Yes. 

1000 times yes. 

I’m basically screaming it at the screen. 

TELL HIM!!!! 

You tricked him into a date without telling him a single thing about what’s actually going on. Are you insane? 

What the hell. 

You keep kissing him but he is planning your wedding. How fucked up are you? You monster 

A Mame show calling out its own exploitive sexism is so fucking awkward. 

Mame. Sweetheart. Snookums. Sugarbeans. Shaken-baccon. You don’t have enough fucking talent to go meta. Leave it to the better BLs to follow trends. Your shizz is old fashioned and that’s why people like it. Don’t try to be classy, it makes this whole shit show just look even more shabby. 

Poor baby. 

Now he’s doubting himself completely. 

What are these assholes doing to you? 

Come with me. 

I’m going to transport you to this other terrible BL trash watch happening right now, where there is a LOVELY adorable boy named Max and I think you would be perfect together. 

So it’s basically just Narnia-level closet cases we are dealing with here? 

THAT’S IT?

THAT’S THE EXCUSE FOR THIS LEVEL OF MANIPULATION?

WHAT IS GOING ON? 

Nuea is such a cutie.

I want to punch Lom all over again.   

Noel looks v pretty as a blond. 

The proposal sequence was unnecessary. But at least I don’t wanna punch anyone. 

THIS IS NOT AN EXCUSE for lying. For manipulation. For not understanding how you’re betraying another person’s faith in himself. 

Especially not if you’re in the position of power: social, cultural, employer. 

Why doesn’t Mame EVER understand this? 

You can’t have a character that is sincere and earnest in love and yet entirely lacking in all forms of integrity. 

This is driving me crazy. 

No one is in the show is as crazy as this show is making me.

I started this episode wanting to punch Lom, and I’m ending this episode wanting to punch Lom.

That’s a mame plot for ya. 

No character development at all, on any side of the screen. 

And someone, mostly me, is always left with a mad desire to punch something. 

Frankly, I kinda want to punch the screen.

Episode 4 - I Am Going to Start Drinking

I like consent especially when “no” is activated. But this being Mame she shoe horns it in and then the seme ignores it. 

It’s so awkward. She’s actually incapable of making any non-problematic tropes sexy. It’s like there is only one lane for her shows and that lane is...

the WORST 

My “Punch Lom in the face 2023” campaign continues.

I don’t see how he can ever become a sympathetic character. He just trundles along lying by omission (when speaking up would make everything better). I hate him. 

I’m glad we get to see Nuea suffering, now show Lom what he has done and make him lose the boy. 

No? No.

Instead Lom gets rewarded with sex for being a sleazy lying gutless jerk? Well terds to both you fine gentlemen. 

I mean, very gay of you, Nuea sweetie. 

“Because just SOOOO hot” being the #1 excuse in my personal “I slept with WHAT?” experience. (Heh, to be fair I’m often the WHAT? in that equation. I live to be someone’s bad mistake... just not Lom-level-bad. 

Where was I? 

Oh yeah, Gaga has the sex scene. FYI. Came outta nowhere, that sex scene did. Very disjointed... not that kind of joint. Not that kind either.

It’s not a particularly impressive sex scene, which is disappointing. Because WHY ELSE WOULD WE BE WATCHING?

I mean, if you’re going to have your characters (and by extension us) forfeit all integrity and taste in order to watch your stupid show, the least you could do is give us decent chemistry. 

I’m not saying this is worse than LITA but at least LITA was hot.

It wasn’t anything else. But it was hot.

This this is 

not hot. 

In conclusion: if Nuea’s baby bro doesnt’t punch Lom in the face next week I will have to start drinking on Weds...

oh wait!

BMF ends this Friday! I can switch to drinking mid week!

YES

(I have a new rule: only one BL a week is allowed to drive me to drink in any give rotation.) 

Imma preemptively point out that I am aware that bearding and lavender marriages are still quite common all over the world. I would whole heartedly support a good depiction of it. (Even one where it stays fix in the beard position.) This is NOT a good depiction. 

I shall draw your attention to 2017′s rarely discussed (not really BL) We Are Gamily out of... you guessed it... Taiwan. You can argue with me about this only AFTER you have watched that. 

Okay, back to the trash watch. 

Episode 5 - I Neglected to Drink and that was a Mistake

Ate a lot of crap traveling home today (feel gross) + tumblr new desktop UX has me pissed + Mame & alcohol? I’m not sure I’d survive. So no alcohol. 

Here we go. 

Poor Nuea feels so guilty. 

Please save me from ever feeling that way after sex. *shudder* 

Before you ask, to the best of my knowledge, I have never slept with a married person. I’ve slept with married people... married to each other mind you... but I hope that makes it clear everyone was consensual. (I recommend it, by the way. Being a unicorn is lots of fun.) 

Where was i? 

We were dealing with punching Lom not my misspent youth. 

(looks at calendar. wait, that was last month.) 

PUNCH LOM 2023! 

Queen! 

I love her.

It wasn’t a physical punch but a verbal one is almost as good. (And can be more damaging in the long run.) 

Could we please still have an actual punch?

Pretty please?

Mame punches her characters all the time. And no character ever deserved a punching more than Lom. 

I do wish there was a nice boy back home to scoop Nuea up. 

That line of boys wanting him, could we see it, not be told it? 

I do like the random sinshine hyung side couple. 

Omg. COLD MICKY D?! 

That might just be the most objectionable moment in this whole show. 

And that’s a tall order. 

Pun intended.

(straight, HA! pun not intended but still very much THERE) 

Was I pleased we got multiple characters who are just outright gay? Yes. 

But representation has not been one of Mame’s issues. 

I mean Tharn was one of the first openly gay seme leads in a Thai BL, and she also had rep for lube and condoms in that show. That’s not the issue with TharnType. Or Mame. 

Her issues tend to revolve around story structure and audience manipulation. 

Was I pleased that Nuea knew what was going on? Yes, I’m glad he’s not totally clueless. 

I still want Lom to be punched in the face and I’m still mad at this show. 

Episode 6 - Too hot to drink, still a Mistake

I finally figured out my real problem with Lom. It’s not that he was closeted and manipulative without good reason (although he is). It’s not that he lied and strung Nuea along for a lot longer than was necessary (because he did). It is that he basically does everything for himself and his own ends. Even when he’s confessing his love it comes off as flat because it isn’t about Nuea and what Nuea wants or needs, it’s about Lom wants.

Hanging a lampshade on it doesn’t make it right. 

It was good bridge kiss. And car kiss. And sex kisses. 

There is something corrupted grunge romantic asking the person you love most in the world to hide that love and climb back into the closet with you for the sake of your nasty arse family (is that a queer taboo, hum). I’m not saying lavender marriages are necessarily wrong, I’m just saying it’s an interesting plot twist in a BL. 

I think we HAVE to hold this up and examine it in stark contrast to the final ep of Bad Buddy. It’s interesting how the closet retreat didn’t bother me at all in BB, and I thought it was quite a clever and elegant ending twist. Whereas here it’s just annoying. It’s not making me as angry as it probably should. But it is annoying as a narrative conceit and denouement.

Can I ask a question.

 It’s not a serious question, of course. 

What is up with all of the shows this year having dates on lakes featuring that thing where you ride a funny little floaty-boat while being dragged behind a fast boat. I’m sure it has a name, but I could not care less. New sponsor? 

The sex scene was fine. But I have to say, I wish they had leaned into the fact that Lom is a virgin and Nuea has more experience. It would’ve been a really interesting dynamic to see honestly represented on screen.

In conclusion, Nuea is a saint and next week everything comes to a head that didn’t already get head this episode.

Episode 7 - Finally I’m drinking! 

I am having a tiki beverage this evening to round out this show. Coconut rum and mango popping Boba are involved. Don’t judge. I have the alcohol palate of a 7 year old. 

I’m ready! Let’s shave this beard!

And, well, that was a pink saturated drama of the mothers in law. Enjoyable lakorn style scenery chewing. The ladies seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Lom pretending to be sad and pitiful. Also funny. 

Using his evil against his mom is acceptable. Suddenly his manipulative lying ways are working in the right direction. 

Honestly? 

This was a fine ending, I’m not mad at it. 

They managed to keep Lom in character until the end, he remained deceitful.  I would never trust him, but clearly Nuea is willing to ride that dragon. 

I guess 7/10? 

If you can tolerate Mame and liars (kinda the same thing) you’ll be fine with this show. 

But, frankly? Lom as a character would sit better amongst the drama bananas of Only Friends.

In summation: 

A lackluster Mame offering with less of her usual stellar chemistry, but all of her usual manipulation. An innocent wedding planner falls haplessly and hopelessly in love with a groom who relentlessly pursues him, even though he’s about to marry someone else. 

(source) 

[llovelyclouds]

notes on cristabel oct

here's all the relevant info on cristabel i took note of during my tlt reread, in one place!

you can find the rest of the posts in this project here!

CRISTABEL OCT

titles:

Mercymorn’s cavalier, first gen, founded the eighth (with Mercy)

name meaning: in latin the meaning of the name Cristabel is: beautiful christian/follower of christ

notes from harrow the ninth:

The reason Mercy is the Saint of Joy (htn. pg. 177)

Mercy won't talk about her to Harrow, even though John thinks she would, and that her name would upset Augustine (htn. pg. 177)

Augustine doesn't mind talking about her though, and says: "A total delight. Effervescent. Kind to animals and children. A master of the sword. Did not have the intellect you'd ordinarily find in a sandwich or an orange, and was a sickening twerp into the bargain. The Eighth House will never see her like again." (htn. pg. 177)

“‘You know what I feel… you know I don't think she was the best influence on Alfred… you know I think they brought out the worst in each other, and I don’t think you disagree.’ God said, ‘They were very similar people.’ ‘No,’ said Augustine. ‘They weren’t, John. She was a fanatic and an idiot- yes, she was, Mercy- and he… was a man who regretted he wasn't. It took surprisingly little to lead my brother astray.’” - Augustine and John, discussing whatever happened between Cristabel and Alfred (double suicide, maybe?) (htn. pg. 274)

Augustine hated her for sure, but he’s ok with pretending he didn’t for dios apate reasons (htn. pg. 279)

"Cristabel always said I was tidy." - Mercymorn (htn. pg. 410)

"you picked the wrong man to enter a suicide pact with. I hate 'em. Cristabel might have undone all my good work with Alfred, but here comes the reckoning." - Augustine (htn. pg. 487)

notes from nona the ninth:

"The only other people I put through that damn trial were Mercy and Cris, because only Cris didn't mind being trepanned on the regular."- Pyrrha, about her and G1deon's trial at Canaan house (ntn. pg. 84)

Was Mercy's nun best friend pre-resurrection (ntn. pg. 128)

"I was worried I was going to get the Antichrist bit from her too, but she was just like: stop doing this! Read your Bible! This was Christ's whole problem! I was like, What are you talking about, Jesus cured the lepers and everyone was all, Hooray, thanks man. M-'s nun was all, Are you kidding, Christ never said no and never asked anyone to pay and got everyone to pay way too much attention and brought the heat down on everybody, Christ didn't keep to office hours, she said. Don't do that." (ntn. pg. 190)

“Me in my bedroom with a nun and a migraine, her thinking that if she pushed me enough we’d instantiate the Trinity and we’d all be saved.” (ntn. pg. 399)

“Eventually it was the nun who changed things. She knocked on my door and said very nicely, John, how are you doing? And I said, Not great, honestly. She said, John, how close are you to finding the soul? And I said, I can’t, Sister, It’s too big. I don’t understand why it’s so huge. I can’t find the soul inside the body, I don’t know where to look. I don’t know what I’m doing. She prayed over me, and then she went away for the longest five minutes of my life. [...] Then the nun came back and knocked on my door and said, John, I think I have it. I know you’re very scared right now, but I’m going to help you. Please let me in. He said: I let her in. She’d brought P-’s gun. [...] She just smiled at me. She said, John, don’t misunderstand. I want to help you. I truly believe that in our most terrible hours we don’t instinctively reach out to God; we push ourselves away from Him. Don’t feel bad for not rising heroically to the occasion right now, Fear doesn’t help us achieve a state of grace; it deafens the heart. John, I truly believe you can save everyone. So concentrate, please. She said, Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for our sinners, now and at the hour of our death. And she shot herself.” (ntn. Pg. 404)

[hmmm-shesucks]

I know I’m about to get ate up but,,, guys,,,,

I’ve got a crush on Aaron

Now hear me out

Listen!

Yeah, I’ve got nothing. I won’t apologize. I trust Katelyn Mackenzie with my life and she’d never lead me astray. Aaron Minyard is an ass but he has potential and I’ll die on this hill.

[bethanydelleman]

The Times Women Don’t Know Their Hearts

I was thinking about my proposal analysis and it occured to me that there are two instances in Jane Austen’s novels where women don’t know how to respond to a proposal, and in both, cases, the problem is actually the influence of other women.

Emma has already been trying to turn Harriet off the Martins and on to “real gentlemen” by the time Harriet gets the proposal from Robert Martin. She ends up not knowing her own mind:

She [Harriet] was so surprized she did not know what to do. Yes, quite a proposal of marriage; and a very good letter, at least she thought so. And he wrote as if he really loved her very much—but she did not know—and so, she was come as fast as she could to ask Miss Woodhouse what she should do.—” Emma was half-ashamed of her friend for seeming so pleased and so doubtful.

Emma then clearly influences Harriet’s decision and it is implied that she also supplies her with the words of refusal. (One high point of Emma 1972 is that she actually begins to dictate Harriet’s response). So Harriet’s inability to know her own heart was Emma’s doing. It’s pretty clear by the end that if Harriet had not been led astray by Emma, she’d have accepted.

We also have Janet Ross in Mansfield Park (a friend of Mary’s):

Poor Janet has been sadly taken in, and yet there was nothing improper on her side: she did not run into the match inconsiderately; there was no want of foresight. She took three days to consider of his proposals, and during those three days asked the advice of everybody connected with her whose opinion was worth having, and especially applied to my late dear aunt, whose knowledge of the world made her judgment very generally and deservedly looked up to by all the young people of her acquaintance, and she was decidedly in favour of Mr. Fraser.

From Mary’s overall behaviour (the wish to marry for wealth and consequence), we can infer that the late Mrs. Crawford said from Mary’s words: “We were all delighted. She could not do otherwise than accept him, for he was rich, and she had nothing” What Mary doesn’t seem to grasp is that Janet must have known on some level before accepting the proposal that she wouldn’t have been happy with Mr. Fraser. Yet, she is able to be influenced and all her friends assured her it was a good idea so she went for it.

And then we have Anne Elliot, who does accept Wentworth’s first proposal, but then on the advice of Lady Russell (we know that Sir Walter didn’t have a huge hand in this), was convinced to break it off. This decision is a little trickier because in all honesty, I think Lady Russell was giving good advice. Like, maybe don’t marry a penniless sailor at 19, you might be a widowed mother in the next year... but it is ultimately a decision that Anne regrets. In hindsight, we know she would have been happier if she married him.

I also want to mention Maria Bertram, who raised by aunt Norris, has been taught to value wealth above her own happiness. We are not directly told that Mrs. Norris influenced the match, but she was instructed by Sir Thomas to conceal the engagement until he returned and then did the opposite, making it harder for Maria to call it off the marriage if that was her preference.

The only man who influences a marriage decision is Mr. Brandon Sr., who locks Eliza Brandon away until she agrees to marry his eldest son (Colonel Brandon's older brother). Jane Austen never really shows a heroine father manipulate their daughter/ward so directly, forcefully, and obviously. The closest is Sir Thomas with Fanny but even he isn't ruthless. The bigger danger for women in these novels is much more subtle influence.

I feel like the overall message here is that you need to be careful who you let influence your decisions. Or who you befriend. Anne is able to reject her father’s disapprobation, but she has more trouble with her mother figure. She forgets, perhaps, that Lady Russell is also a little too conscious of rank. Harriet and Janet both have friends who lead them down the wrong path. Fortunately Harriet gets back on track, but Janet ends up in a very unhappy marriage. 

And the worst part is, all of these influencers, Emma, Mrs. Crawford, and Lady Russell (and even Mrs. Norris), think they are doing the best thing for their friend. They cannot see their own folly.

[separatist-apologist]

A Crisis Of Faith

Memories feel like weapons

Summary: Dathomir has unmade you. And my misplaced loyalty has allowed you to lead the Nightbrothers astray. Unlike the Jedi - The Nightsisters of Dathomir do not turn on their kind. Our bond is eternal.

Merrin has spent years living on Dathomir with only Malicos for company, dedicated to fulfilling her end of the bargain they made. All she wants is vengeance.

She never expected Cal Kestis

Chapter 1: Give Me Back My Girlhood

Read on AO3

TW: canon-typical violence, emotional manipulation/abuse

She heard him before she saw him. 

Merrin pressed herself further into the cavern, back against the stone. Boots scuffed the steps, climbing ever upwards towards her. She didn’t want to see him—or anyone.

“Send him away,” she whispered to the sky. To her sisters.

Only silence responded. Somewhere just outside the flap of her dwelling, a rock clattered down the cliffside. 

“Merrin?”

A horned red and black head peered into the gloom. Viscus stepped in fully, walking towards her with his half-naked body. Merrin resisted the urge to count the scars in favor of staring at the dust-covered floor. Someone had once cleaned it meticulously. 

He crouched before her, a bowl of stew in his broad hands. The nightbrothers didn’t know what to make of her–or what to do with her. Merrin didn’t, either. Mother had kept her from them while her sisters had spoken of their inherent inferiority. Viscus didn’t seem inferior. He was kind, he kept her fed.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. 

And neither was she.

Merrin took the earthen bowl from him, still cowering against the wall, swallowing the warm concoction without tasting. She knew what they thought about her. Weak, foolish, young. She’d heard them talking once, had crept out to listen. In hushed whispers they’d wondered how she had managed to survive when everyone else had perished. She knew even Viscus wondered if she hadn’t chosen to protect herself over everyone else.

They didn’t know her mother had hidden her in a wall. 

“I saw what you did today,” Viscus murmured, lowering himself beside her. Merrin didn’t move, though she was afraid. Every day he came closer, coaxing her to speak as if she were one of his pets. It was starting to work, too. She wanted to trust him.

Merrin was miserably lonely. 

“That must have been hard,” he added. Her spoon clattered loudly into the half eaten bowl. Merrin didn’t dare look at him. They weren’t supposed to watch her. 

“Let us help you,” he tried, scooting close enough she could feel the heat radiating from his body. He was all wrong. She swallowed, her heart pounding frantically in her throat. Viscus was safe, he wasn’t like the others. She could trust him, she could be near him—

She skittered across the room, knocking the contents of the bowl on the dirty floor. Viscus sighed, the only sign he was losing patience. 

“You’re a little girl, Merrin. The brothers are starting to feel insulted that you won’t let us help you.”

“This is my burden,” she said. Her first words in a year. Viscus blinked and she wondered if he’d thought her incapable of it. “I have to do it alone.”

“Says who?” he challenged. She saw the glint of teeth, the flex of corded muscle. The nightbrothers were unchanged, even after the massacre. They’d fought back, had lost people, too. Merrin felt no resentment that they hadn’t been singled out for slaughter. 

Ignoring the mess she’d made, he tried again. Hands outstretched, Viscus came towards her again. Merrin trembled when he reached for her calloused hands, rubbing the pads over her skin soothingly. It wasn’t his nature and they both knew it. He looked uncertain, his touch icy. Affection was not in the nightbrothers repertoire. 

He valued strength, and watching a little girl bury the preserved bodies of her fallen sisters made him feel weak. He didn’t understand the task at hand. None of them did. They’d burned their dead long ago before moving on, but to honor her sister required Merrin to construct a burial pod. Only she knew the prayers, the songs. And only she possessed the magic to hang them for their loved ones to collect. 

The nightbrothers would get through one before they lost patience and demanded she do things their way. Let them feel weak. Better than shaming her fallen sisters. 

Merrin lifted her chin.

“Says me.”

A savage grin lit up the dim space between them. The nightbrothers were restless and looking for a leader. And since Viscus knew she’d speak, Merrin decided to ask a question of her own. “What of the outsider?”

It had been Viscus who’d told her about him months ago. He’d crashed in the swamp and from what Merrin had seen at night, seemed to be going insane. She heard him talking to himself, mumbling about order and he’s looking for me. She pitied him.

“He is not strong enough to withstand Dathomir,” Viscus told her, dropping her hands as he looked over his shoulder. “We cannot execute him without your permission.”

“Execute him?” she asked as visions of laser swords swam in her vision. “I–”

“It is a kindness to end him now,” Viscus tried, though there was no compassion in his voice. She knew better to expect it and still Merrin’s chest ached with its absence. 

“I will consider it,” she murmured, well aware her answer did not satisfy him. Still, Viscus did not challenge her. Briefly, Merrin wondered if Viscus wasn’t offering her pity, just as she did the outsider. If he knew he could strike her down and she wouldn’t try and stop him.

He was their leader. Brother Viscus respected the old ways. Even if it made no sense, letting a child make decisions no one had ever prepared her for. Merrin felt small, sitting in his shadow. Their eyes met for only a beat before Viscus lowered them, inclining his head as a show of respect. 

“Your exile is self-imposed, Merrin,” he reminded her. 

She only nodded, drawing her knees to her chin. 

And waited. 

The blotting red of the sun gave way to near violet dark. A heavy moon hung ominous in the sky. Merrin knew enough to know it was a warning. That didn’t stop her from creeping from her room so she could drink in the cool air of Dathomir. The world itself seemed to perk up at her presence. A playful, warm wind ruffled the strands of her silver hair before caressing her cheek lovingly. It made her heart clench painfully, reopening the bleeding wound in her chest. No one saw the way blood puddled around her feet, but Merrin felt it. Sometimes so acutely she couldn’t understand how no one else did. The world was different, so fundamentally changed and Merrin found it jarring that the others could not sense it. Could not feel what she did.

See what she saw. 

Sometimes Merrin thought the planet could feel her pain, if only because she felt its pain, too. Even with boots covering her feet, Merin could feel the dark churning of the magicks that had long governed her home. Like a root system anchoring her to the physical—a beating heart just as real as the one in her chest. 

She couldn’t cut herself off from it, though Merrin had considered it more than once. She simply did not know how. Instead, she embraced it, letting the magick fill her chest until she was all but drowning in it. If she couldn’t numb herself to the pain, let her feel all of it. Her sisters were given no relief, after all.

Why should she? 

Why should anyone?

It was what drew her out, her curiosity burning a wildfire through her. The wanderer, trapped in the swamp as he slowly went mad. How could she make a decision regarding his fate if she didn’t even know him? That was what Merrin told herself, at any rate. Truthfully, she couldn’t stand the thought of one more body in need of burning or burying. 

Merrin liked the swamp, though she hardly went anymore. It was teeming with writhing, uncontrollable life. The planet practically pulsated in the humidity, covering the landscape in a thick, red-tinged fog that held all manner of secrets. Hardly the place for anyone that valued their sanity to spend all their time. 

The whispering silence could have driven even her to madness. Merrin made her way down, down, down, boots silent over the ground as she stepped to the twisting, thorn-covered branches below. 

He was easy to find. Dressed in odd, tattered robes, he was older than Viscus by at least a decade, maybe more. Still young, though gray had begun to pepper through golden brown hair. His face was scratched from his crash, blood dried over his clean shaven jaw. She was careful as she crept closer, inspecting him warily. 

He spun, blue eyes piercing her even through the magick shrouding her. “I know you’re here,” he whispered, betraying his own fear. “I can sense you.”Merrin sat on the branch she was crouched on, letting her legs dangle over his head. She couldn’t reach her from her perch. It was safe to reveal herself, she reasoned. She exhaled a breath, blowing away the magick that shrouded her. 

“Who are you?”

Despair flooded through his vacant eyes. “No one. Nothing,” he added. “Alone.”

“Me too,” she whispered, feet swinging around her. The metallic tang of fear burned her nostrils, all but paralyzing her. He tilted his head, studying her just as carefully as she studied him.

“You’re a little girl,” he commented, awe coloring his voice. “How does a child come to be alone?”

She looked down at her hands. She had no intention of answering that. She didn’t have to. He knew. Stepping forward until his face was almost beneath her swinging shoes, he offered her a smile. Merrin blinked, hating the way hope bounced through her chest lightning hot. He was an outsider.

He’d smiled. 

“Go on, then,” he murmured, nodding towards the inky sky. “You don’t need to worry about an old fool.”

“Will you be okay?” she asked, unsure why she even cared. He turned again, looking at the swamp with the same glazed eyes. “What’s your name?”

“You’re a nightsister, right?” he asked, asking a question for a question. Merrin nodded her head before she could think better of it. 

“A rare thing,” he added, more to himself than to her. It made her uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t pin. 

“You should leave this place,” Merrin told him, clambering to her feet carefully. He didn’t turn to look. She’d seen that look in his eye before—Viscus often wore the same. Still, it meant he hadn’t gone insane. If he were smart, he’d fix the ruined ship he’d abandoned at the far end of the swamp and go back to wherever he came from. 

“Malicos,” he called. “Taron Malicos.”

Merrin swore she heard a chuffing laugh trail after her as she left him down there.

Alone in the dark.

-

[one year]

“Merrin!” Devron’s voice echoed through the basin. “Merrin, you come down here right now!”

She didn’t move from her place on the temple floor. She’d just lit her bundle of dried mushlings and had no intention of leaving until she finished her prayer. Smoke curled towards the steepled ceiling, drawing patterns in the air for her to read.

Merrin closed her eyes, stretching out with her senses. The roaring darkness rushed in, greeting her with a near playful wash of power. She arched her neck, letting the familiar thrum of Dathomir hum through her blood. She was getting better at letting it in, filtering out the cold until the settling warmth kept her steady.

She seemed to recall that was the way of things. Letting too much in, letting the dark steep through one's body, led to ruination. She couldn’t be certain, of course. She had the texts, though they were written in the ancient language and Merrin only knew bits and pieces. She was trying to teach herself, but she was not particularly patient, which meant she often became too frustrated and quit. 

“Merrin!” Devron’s voice roared. He was going to wake one of the chirodactyls and then they’d all be in trouble. She shut him out, focusing on her feelings. On centering her anger against her desperate need for peace. Balance…or something like it. These brief moments offered her a reprieve.

Of course one of the brothers wanted to ruin it.

“Merrin, you come down right now or I’ll drag you down!”

“Ha!” she laughed, breaking her concentration. The smoke scattered from her face, seeking refuge in calmer shadows. Huffing a sigh, Merrin brushed the dirt from the spider silk tunic wrapped around her body and marched to the yawning mouth of the cliffside temple.

“What is so important?” she demanded, hands on her hips. She could see him on an adjacent mesa, arms crossed over his bare, tattooed chest. Scars marked his skin, proof he was worthy of the position he held among the ranks of the nightbrothers. 

He was annoying, just like Viscus was. Always trying to force her to lead them like the old days, in the old ways. Merrin was not their leader. 

“Get down here,” he ordered, his voice bouncing off the endless cavern around them. She took a step into nothing, a thrill racing up her spine. Her next step was just behind him. It was childish, maybe, to delight in his irritated spin.

And Merrin, as everyone liked to remind her, was still a child. “You called?”

A near purple scowl darkened his face. “We’ve come to a decision regarding Malicos.”

Malicos. She’d spoken to him a few times in the year since he’d arrived. The Nightbrothers grew restless with each passing day he was allowed to remain. They hungered for blood—that was plain enough. Merrin did not. She’d been putting off her decision regarding his fate indefinitely.

Who cared? 

“Have you come to brag?”

“I’ve come to–” he gritted his teeth, turning his head with a grimace. “To ask for your help.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Where is Brother Viscus?”

“Tracking the prisoner. We had him in the dungeon, but—”

“But what?” she demanded. Malicos was, at best, a doddering fool more prone to talking to himself than causing true harm. Stupid, for staying on Dathomir, but no threat to Viscus’s power.

“He killed several brothers and escaped,” Devron mumbled, his anger apparent. Merrin blinked. In her whole life, even before the people with the laser swords came, the nightbrothers were the strongest warriors she knew.

“How?” she asked, some of her bravo slipping to fear. 

Devron only shook his head helplessly. “I–” 

Silence settled between them. He didn’t know. Merrin tilted her head to the red-tinted sky, letting the sun warm her skin. “What do you want me to do?”

“Use your magick–”

“What magick?” she demanded angrily, letting power bubble in her veins. She hated that they all knew she had it, that they expected her to fix all their problems with a wave of her hands. She could barely fix her own. 

“You’re a coward, Merrin,” he snapped. Brother Devron lacked all Viscus’s tact. She surged forward, shoving at his chest with her hands. It caught him off guard, causing him to stumble, but not fall.

“You’re a child,” he hissed. Everyone’s favorite insult.

“Fix your own mess!” she snapped, turning haughtily. 

“You’ll abandon us, then?” he called after her.

“Like you did to me?” she replied without thinking. It was the cruelest thing she could think to say. The nightbrothers had their staves and Merrin, her words. She whipped her head around, unbound strands of her silver hair catching across her eyes. It didn’t stop her from seeing the flash of hurt in his yellow eyes. 

Some of those scars had come from trying to stop the massacre. He wore them as a badge of shame like all the survivors did. 

“Brother, I—” Merrin extended a hand, but Devron waved her off angrily.

“I hope you take half as much care with my body as you did with everyone else,” he hissed. Her heart squeezed, that familiar, lonely ache washing through her. She could have gone after him and apologized if she’d wanted. 

But she didn’t. Merrin could not imagine Malicos escaping. She couldn’t imagine him killing anyone. Viscus would handle it. 

Play it safe. Go back to the temple, continue your prayer.

She turned her head towards the cliffside, ignoring the towering temple overhead for the carved-out archway that would take her to nightbrothers settlement. The dungeon was there—and Malicos, too, perhaps. Merrin hesitated. 

She had no right to interfere and at the same time, every right. Going to see them might make them think she was ready to be their leader. In a million years, Merrin never would be. Maybe it made her a coward, shrouding herself in that layer of shimmering warmth until she might as well have been nothing and no one. She’d just go and see–she didn’t have to do anything. 

Merrin ran, pushed by a sense of urgency. It was as if some invisible hand shoved, telling her to go faster, until her lungs burned from the need of air and her legs ached. Merrin half-tripped down the stairs, sending a deluge of loose stones to the bottom of the hidden settlement. The nightbrothers had moved further inward after the attack, seeking better defense. Sharpened wooden spikes served as an outer wall while the thick, sandstone cliffs kept casual interlopers from recognizing what lurked within.

By the time someone came looking for a fight, the nighbrothers would already know. Could flood out in whatever direction they chose thanks to carefully carved tunnels. Merrin slid her way down a rather narrow channel, her slim shoulders brushing against the rock on either side. The nightbrothers would have to shimmy, holding their breath to keep from being trapped.

Merrin stepped into the settlement with dread. The stench of death permeated the already musty air. Merrin nearly stumbled over the sprawling body of one of the nightbrothers. The death he’d been offered looked painful, even to her overtrained eyes. Deep gouges on his face made it seem as if an animal had ripped into him. 

The pooling blood beneath his head made her think his insides had been melted. Eyeless sockets dripped the congealing substance down his open face, obscuring who he’d once been. Most disturbing, at least to her, was the horn on his head that seemed to have been broken off so forcibly, part of his skull was also missing. 

She couldn’t reconcile the sort of creature capable of such brutality. Merrin turned away, looking from the carved settlements to the center square. A thick ring of Nighbrothers were formed around Malicos. Merrin crept closer, her heart pounding so loud she couldn’t hear the jeering. 

They offered Malicos respect. It scared her, watching them pound their chests.

More, when she realized it was a bleeding Viscus in that center ring. He was on his knees, blood dripping from a wound in his stomach she was sure was fatal. She could see his every slow heartbeat. 

Malicos took the knife scattered at Viscus' knees—a Dathomirian blade, likely made by Viscus’s own hands when he completed his trials into manhood. Merrin pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her scream as Malicos carved into his own chest some strange, arcing symbol of power. It must have been painful, given the roar that slipped past Malicos’s clenched teeth. 

The sound only excited the nightbrothers watching, their eyes alight with unmistakable bloodlust. Merrin was rooted in place, pinned by the glazed look on Viscus’s face. He shouldn’t have been able to see her—no one else could.

But she knew, as he died, that he was aware of her presence.

“I warned you,” Malicos warned Viscus, striding towards him with powerful steps. Blood stained his teeth, dripping from chapped lips onto the tangled mass of silver hair growing from his face.

“You will bow before me.”

“The nightbrothers will never kneel before you,” Viscus spat, blood hitting Malicos in the face. Chin jutted in the air, he was prepared for a warrior's death. She wanted to reach out with her magick and take his pain and knew to do so was to dishonor him. She held his gaze, instead. Viscus offered her the barest incline of his head, a sign of respect. 

She accepted with a nod of her own. Merrin did not flinch when Viscus' own knife slashed over his neck, or when his right horn was broken from his head while he gasped uselessly at Malicos’s stained boots. She stayed, creeping closer and closer, until she’d slipped through the crowd unnoticed. 

Malicos had turned to the nightbrothers, offering a grand speech of a new dawn. Merrin had no capacity to hear it. Not as she took Viscus’s hand in her own, lacing her small fingers through his powerful palm. How often had he extended that very calloused hand? And how often had she rebuffed him? She didn’t dare speak, lest Malicos figure out she lurked in the ever-present shadows of Dathomir. 

Viscus opened his mouth, trying desperately to take a breath of air that wasn’t coming. With her other hand, Merrin cupped his cheek like she’d seen the other sisters do to the sick and dying. Hoping she did it right and that it comforted him. A wet groan escaped him, and then his spirit faded. She didn’t trust the nightbrothers to honor his sacrifice. Those that had witnessed what happened were too busy kneeling at Malicos’s bloodstained feet.

And the rest would follow suit, out of blind obedience or fear. Merrin stood, gathering her magick to take Viscus with her. It glimmered green, drawing attention to her presence.

“Merrin—!” Malicos roared, but it was too late. He couldn’t follow her up to the sacred temples. There was no fire lichee to climb, no stairs. Only those who commanded the magick of Dathomir were allowed entrance. 

She would light the pyre herself.

One last burial.

-

“You’re avoiding me,” Malicos accused, catching Merrin by surprise. He was good at that. Her eyes glanced at the healed scars carved into his bare chest. A long necklace of hanging, broken horns grazed beneath his ribs. Proof of his power, of his status. He might have the nightbrothers, she thought bitterly.

He didn’t have her.

Malicos ran a hand through his wild, graying hair. A year and a half on Dathomir had done him no favors. The planet exacted a price on all those who tried to conquer and claim it. Malicos was no exception. He crept to the edge of the dizzying drop, resting a hand on the spiraling grave thorn Merrin sat on. She let her legs dangle into the mist, wondering just how far into the planet that drop fell. 

She could find out, if she liked. She didn’t have to stay. 

“You’re killing nightbrothers again,” she replied, turning to look at the setting sun. 

“Ah, so I have,” he agreed softly, his voice almost remorseful. “You’ve stopped burying them.”

Merrin didn’t know what to say to that. Guilt might crush her if she ever admitted why. Ash seemed to have settled permanently in the back of her throat, choking her as she slept. Death was all around her, the only consistent companion she could count on. 

Merrin sighed. 

“Will you talk with me?” he asked her in his coaxing way. “I am growing concerned about your melancholia.”

She shrugged. “What do you want to talk about?”

When it became clear she wasn’t going to move and ordering her might send her scattering high into the clouds where he couldn’t reach, Malicos chose to make his displeasure known in a different way. 

“You disappoint me, Merrin,” he told her. Fear seized her, threatening to wash her away. Heart pounding, palms sweating, Merrin was taken back to the day Viscus died. If someone as powerful as him could be cut down, she could be, too. 

“Why?”

“You spurn my every overture of friendship. Of care. No one is looking after you and I worry about you, Merrin. Alone with the dead…that’s no life for a young woman.”Young woman.

Not child. She turned to face him, some of her fear ebbing into hope. 

“You want to be my friend?” she asked, some skepticism coloring her words. He offered her one of his disarming smiles.

“Of course. I want to help you.”

“Help me with what?”

“I know who killed your family,” he said, his words ringing through her. Merrin couldn’t stop the strangled scream that erupted through her. He knew. He’d spoken, then, with the nightbrothers and pieced it together? Merrin pushed off the grave thorn to land heavily at his feet. 

“Who?” she asked, too breathless for her liking. “Tell me, so I might have revenge.”He reached for her face, his calloused fingers grazing her cheek. She let him tilt her chin until the sun glanced off her skin. Beneath her feet, the world rumbled a warning. 

She ignored it. 

“They were called Jedi,” he said somberly. “I suspected, but then I found these.”

He gestured towards the wide belt on his hips. Twin silver hilts hung on either side, a match for the weapons Merrin had seen as a girl. He unhooked one, igniting it quickly with his thumb. She skittered backward, falling to the cracked earth beneath her so hard her bones rattled. The humming red blade was so close to her face she could feel the heat. 

“This is the weapon of a Jedi,” he told her, watching her from where he stood.

“Put it away,” she pleaded, trembling in fear. He hesitated, and for a moment Merrin thought that was how it ended. Just like her sisters before her, cut down by that terrible blade. 

He took a breath, his thumb sliding back over the toggle. Merrin stayed where she was until he clipped it back to his belt. 

Jedi. 

“Let me have it,” she whispered, clambering slowly to her feet. “I want to see it.”

“You don’t touch it,” he replied, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Ever.”

“Are you keeping it?” she asked him. Would he learn to use it? Something about the energy it emitted made her think it was connected to the planet, though she might have just imagined that.

Might have been channeling that old fear so deeply that anything connected to the event felt alive. 

He crouched beside her, forcing her attention back to his face. “I want to help you get revenge, Merrin.”

Revenge.

“How?”

He helped her to her feet, squeezing her hand gently. Cold shocked through her at the touch, drawing her from his grasp. She didn’t want him to touch her. 

“Give me some time,” he told her, acutely aware of how badly she wanted it. Merrin’s desperation must have been written all over her face. “You are so talented and still could use some help.”All the air rushed out of her. “I don’t need help,” she told him, catching the pity that snagged over his features. 

“Even I need help, Merrin,” he insisted. 

“With what?” she demanded, refusing to think of what he’d done to Viscus. “What could you possibly need help with.”

He gestured around them, turning in a half circle. “The magick of Dathomir.”

Guilt slicked through her veins, slimy and cold. “Magick?”

He flexed his long fingers, lifting a nearby boulder with ease. Merrin stared unblinkingly. “How?”

“How, indeed,” he murmured, releasing his grip. Merrin almost felt betrayed.

Half relieved. 

She wasn’t alone. 

“You’ll teach me, and in exchange, I will orchestrate the downfall of the Jedi. You will have your vengeance.”

“You swear?” she asked, hedging closer.

“Sweet Merin. I swear on my life.”

He extended that callused hand. The very same that had cut Viscus’s throat, that had removed the horns he now wore around his neck. Merrin ignored every instinct screaming she walk away and took it.

His fingers curled around her wrist, holding her again. She hated it. 

She craved his approval.

“You’re wise, you know. For your age. Wiser than most, I’d say,” he murmured, brushing a strand of wild hair off her face. Merrin nodded, breathless from the praise. Furious with herself for being so easily swayed.

Desperate for more. 

“Get some rest,” he told her, releasing her entirely. “Tomorrow, we start.”

Merrin bit her bottom lip so hard blood flooded through her mouth. She waited for him to turn his back, to walk towards the carved entrance that would take him into the cliffs.

Only when she was back in the temple, high above the world and everyone in it, did Merrin let herself admit that she might have made a deal with a devil. Her magick—that of the nightsisters—was sacred.

Merrin pulled out an earthen bowl, lit a bundle of carefully dried mushlings, and waited for the familiar smoke.

She offered her sisters an apology. 

“Forgive me. We must ally with Malicos.”

[sequinsmile-x]

The Penthouse of Your Heart

All they wanted was a weekend away just the two of them, but as always life wasn't quite as simple as that.

-x-

A birthday fic for my bestie @aubreyprc . Thanks for always making me laugh, leading me astray and loving Taylor Swift just as much (if not more) than I do. I will forever be your 'mum friend' and pull you back from doing something a little too insane.

Excited to get drunk with you at New Year xo

-x-

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: None!

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“You almost ready to go, Em?”

Emily turns to look at her boyfriend, smiling at the sight of him in the doorway to his bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. He looked exceptionally handsome in his polo shirt and jeans, the rare sight of him in causal wear never failing to make her heart beat a little faster.

“Almost,” she replies, haphazardly folding one of her dresses that now lived in his closet before going to place it in her bag, “It’s only a four hour drive, honey. We’ll be ok.”

“Yes,” he says, walking across the room and taking the dress from her before folding it correctly and putting it in her bag for her, “But as soon as we hit Manhattan you know we’ll be stuck in traffic.” He raises an eyebrow at her as he puts his hand out for the blouse she was now holding, and she sighs as she hands it over, watching as he folds it and packs it for her. “Can’t believe I fell in love with a woman who can’t fold clothes.”

“Why would I need to when I have you to do it for me?” She asks, kissing his cheek and pulling away to zip up her bag. “At least you got here after I packed all the lingerie, I wanted that to be a surprise.”

Emily feels a sense of accomplishment as he swallows thickly, his hands on her hips as he pulls her into his embrace, her arms automatically looping around his neck.

“All of the lingerie?” He asks, and she smiles, biting at her lower lip as she hums in response. “How much are we talking?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” she snuggles into him, sighing contentedly as he wraps his arms tighter around her as her head rests on his chest, “I can’t believe the team didn’t say anything about the fact we both have the same weekend off.”

Aaron runs a hand up and down her back, “Dave seemed suspicious, but kept his thoughts to himself for once,” he kisses her forehead, “Of course, when they find out we’re together he’ll claim he’s known the whole time.”

It had been almost a year since their friendship had become more. A desperate first kiss inside her hotel room after too close a call with an unsub was the first step they took, and they had walked hand in hand ever since. Their friendship deepened after he made her promise to tell him when she was having bad days, and she kept that promise. So, after they became a couple the team didn’t seem to notice that they were spending a lot of time together and that Jack was incredibly comfortable around Emily.

Keeping it a secret had been practical at first, whilst they found their footing together, but as time went on they realised they enjoyed having something to themselves, a rarity in both of their lives. Jack and Jessica knew, as did Elizabeth, but the team did not. They both knew it was only a matter of time until they had to tell them. They couldn’t advance with their discussions of living together, even though she practically lived at his apartment anyway, or marriage until their friends knew about them.

Emily in particular was worried, aware that secrets had almost torn them apart in the past, but she also didn’t regret anything. The 11 months she’d had solidifying her relationship with the man she loves without outside interference was not something she could ever feel guilty about

“What did you tell them you’re doing again?” Emily asks, leaning back but keeping her arms around his neck, her fingers trailing through the short hair at the back of his head.

“That I’m taking Jack away for the weekend,” he replies, his hands on her hips as he pulls her closer.

She nods, smiling up at him, “I settled on telling them that I was spending the time with my mother.”

“What, no ‘sin to win’ weekend this time?” He asks, his eyebrow raised.

She laughs as she shakes her head, “No, this creates much fewer follow-up questions,” her smile widens, “And it means everyone gives me a wide berth for a couple of days because they think I’ll be in a bad mood.”

Aaron shakes his head at her, leaning in to stamp a quick kiss against her lips, “Hopefully I can make sure you’re in a good mood.” She hums, a teasing sparkle in her eye as she kisses him.

“Maybe, we’ll see if you’re up to it.” He narrows his eyes, all but growling as he pulls her impossibly closer, kissing her again with more force this time, leaving her breathless when he pulls away, “I might be in a great mood on Monday at this rate,” he kisses her again. She chuckles, her hand shifting to idly play with the collar of his polo shirt, “Excellent even.”

Aaron smiles at her, the dimples carved out in his cheeks in a way that always makes her stomach swoop.

“Come on sweetheart,” he says, reaching for her hand and squeezing it, “We should get going.”

___

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to let me at least pay half?” Emily asks, turning to look from the view of Central Park to her boyfriend, her arm wrapping around his waist as he joins her by the window, “I know this place is expensive.”

Aaron smiles at her, shaking his head as he does so. It was a conversation they’d had multiple times since they’d decided to come to New York together for a weekend away. He wanted to treat her, to spoil her even though she didn’t need it. So much of their time was dedicated to doing things for other people, that he wanted to make sure they had this. Some rare time just the two of them, something they could look back on and hold on to when real life got in the way. He leans down and kisses her, his arms snaking around her back, pulling her closer.

“Consider it an early anniversary present,” he murmurs against her lips, kissing her again, “Don’t worry about the money, Em. I wanted to do this.”

She playfully narrows her eyes at him and makes a mental note to try again later, knowing she could convince him of just about anything when she was naked, or about to be naked, but for now, she lets it go. She leans into his side, her head against his shoulder.

“Don’t think even for a second this gets out of you getting me a real gift next month when it’s actually our anniversary,” she jokes, trying to move away from him as he briefly tickles her, his fingers teasingly digging into her ribs.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” he replies, thinking of the jewellery he’d already bought her, the necklace from Tiffany’s that he’d purchased instead of the ring he’d had his eye on, talking himself out of it at the last minute. People had to know about them before he proposed, he knew that, and they’d have to have the conversation with their friends, their defacto family, that they’d been avoiding for almost a year now. “I wouldn’t dare.”

She hums as she tilts her head to kiss his jaw, her lips against the rough of the stubble that had just started to form. She’d asked him to leave his razor at home for the weekend having persuaded him to let his beard grow out for the couple of days that they were away.

“What do you want to do first?” She asks, smiling at him, “There's a nice Italian just a block or so from here.”

He chuckles, “Of course you know that.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, a smirk forming across her face. “Honey, I’m the daughter of a US Ambassador, it can’t surprise you that I’ve stayed at the Ritz-Carlton before.”

His response is cut off by a knock at the door, and they both furrow their brows as they look towards it and then back at each other.

“Did you order room service?” He asks, and she shakes her head in response. Aaron disentangles himself from her and walks towards the door across their suite. He looks through the peephole and sees the man from the desk who had checked them in just a couple of hours previously. He opens the door, and watches as the other man swallow thickly, his name badge displaying his name as Tony, and Aaron meets his eyes. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you, Agent Hotchner,” Tony says, clearing his throat, looking past him to see Emily walking over too, standing just behind Aaron, “It’s just…we saw on your credentials when you checked in that you work for the FBI?” Aaron furrows his brows, “Yes,” he replies, standing aside slightly so Emily is more involved in the conversation, “We both are.”

Tony nods, “Great,” he says, nodding slightly, “Good. We need your help with something.”

“We’re on vaca-”

Emily puts her hand on Aaron’s arm and squeezes slightly, cutting off what she was sure would be a tirade of some sort. “What do you need our help with?”

Tony clears his throat again, letting them both know he was nervous, something that just seemed to be part of his disposition.

“We found a body in one of the rooms, we think the guy has been murdered.”

___

“The Ritz-Carlton? That’s a bit fancy for a father/son weekend away in the city isn’t it Hotch?”

Aaron sighs at Derek’s words, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to hide his frustration, his plans of a peaceful weekend with the woman he loved disappearing through his fingers like sand.

“I just thought I’d treat him,” he replies, hoping it puts an end to that part of the conversation, “The guy from the desk, Tony, said that the guy who was checked into the room where the victim was found is from DC, so can you and one of the others just go check out his place, I’ve asked Tony to send Garcia the details.”

“Of course,” Derek replies, “Why have you got involved in this?”

Aaron chuckles under his breath, asking himself the same question, “Apparently they want to keep this as quiet as they can to keep the hotel’s reputation upstanding,” he says, and Derek laughs down the phone, “The New York field office are doing everything here, and they’ve asked that we do the DC side of things.”

“No problem, boss,” Derek says, “Want us to call Prentiss? Get her involved?”

Aaron looks up at that exact moment, the sound of the bathroom door opening drawing his attention away from the call. He’s briefly speechless at the sight of his girlfriend in just her underwear, her hair and make-up ready for the dinner they were on their way to, as she does up one of her earrings. She winks at him, a sly smile on her face that lets him know she knew exactly what she was doing. She walks across the room to the closet where she’d hung up some of her clothes, and his eyes follow her.

“Hotch?”

Aaron clears his throat, remembering he was on the phone as quickly as he had forgotten.

“No, no need to bother Prentiss,” he replies, his finger to his lips to keep his girlfriend quiet as her eyes narrow at the mention of her name, and he smiles at her.

“You sure? She’d jump at the chance to get out of spending time with her mother.”

“I’m sure, she told me she was looking forward to it.”

Emily flips him off from across the room, making his smile get wider as he half-listens to Derek.

“Ok, as long as you’re sure,” Derek replies, “You go have fun with Jack, we’ve got it from here.”

“Thanks, Morgan.”

Aaron hangs up the phone and slips it into his jacket pocket, straightening the collar of it and his shirt. “Are you sure I don’t need a tie?”

Emily rolls her eyes at him as she tugs her dress down over her underwear, turning silently to indicate that she wanted him to up the zip for her. He closes the distance between them and does just that, gently pushing her hair out of the way.

“Yes, Aaron, I’m sure you don’t need a tie,” she turns to face him when he’s zipped up her dress, her arms looping around his neck. She looks him up and down, biting her lower lip as her eyes meet his, “You look very handsome.”

He smiles at her, his hands finding their way to her lower back, the dip there that he swore was made for him.

“And you look gorgeous,” he replies, kissing her, “Although, I did also enjoy the view before you put the dress on.”

“Well,” she says, kissing him again before moving away, grabbing her purse from the table she’d left it on, “You’ll get another chance to see that after I’ve eaten.”

Aaron nods and leads her out of their suite and towards the elevators, it’s only when they are standing there waiting, her arm linked through one of his, that she speaks again.

“Aaron?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“If I really was with my mother, you’d call me to rescue me, right?”

Aaron laughs, and turns his head to kiss her temple, “In a heartbeat,” he replies, leading her into the elevator as the doors open, “You’d be the first person I’d call.”

___

Emily isn’t sure what’s woken her up at first. She groans slightly as she burrows further into the comfortable bed, the mattress she wishes they could take home with them enough to make her almost drift back to sleep, and then she realises she’s alone.

She’d fallen asleep wrapped up in Aaron’s arms, sated and pressed up against him, their clothes spread out across the room in a way she knew she’d have to pick up in the morning so she could look at the housekeeper in the eye. She reaches over to his side of the bed and feels the sheets are cool, indicating he’d been gone a little while, and she realises that was what had awoken her.

They rarely spent a night apart these days, even sneaking into each other's rooms on cases, their initial rule of never doing that lasting not even the first case they’d worked together as a couple almost a year ago. She knew they lived together in everything except name, she spent most of her time at his place, a lot of her clothes were there, her favourite ornaments making their way over too. Spread in amongst the things that belonged to the Hotchners, their lives blending together.

They’d discussed it, knowing they couldn’t officially take that step until they stopped hiding their relationship. Not just from the practical side of things, she was highly aware Penelope would spot the official change of address form seconds after she submitted it, but in every other way too. She knew this phase of their relationship, the secret, the clandestine nature of it, was drawing to a close, and she was excited. She wanted to talk to her friends about the man she loves and wanted to move forward with him.

She just had to get past the fear of their reaction. She knew some of it was her and Aaron’s fault, that the length of time they had kept their relationship a secret would add to the sting for the team, but she didn’t regret it.

She imagined it would be like ripping off a bandaid, short but sharp indignation from the people they loved.

Emily stretches as she sits up, the chill of the room making her shiver as the sheet falls from her chest, exposing her naked skin. She stands and pulls on Aaron’s shirt, seeking him out, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep wrapped up in him again.

She finds him easily, in the living room section of the suite. He was sitting in an armchair that he’d turned to look out over the park and the city, wearing his pyjamas he must have pulled on in the dark to not disturb her, given away by the fact his t-shirt was inside out. He turns to look at her as he hears the door from the bedroom opening, and he smiles at her.

“Sorry,” he says softly, turning to look back out the window, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s ok,” she replies, her words partially lost to a yawn as she walks across the room, her footsteps quiet against the soft carpet, “What time is it?”

“2 am,” he says looking at his watch. He shifts in the armchair to make room for her as she climbs into his lap, curled up with her side pressed into his chest, her leg over the arm of the chair. He wraps one arm around her to steady her, and his other hand rests on her thigh. She rests her head on his shoulder and he turns his head to breathe her in, his eyes closed as he smells her hair, the scent of her shampoo always enough to calm him. “I’m ok.”

She smiles, looking up at him, “I didn’t say anything.”

He cups her cheek, holding her in place as he kisses her forehead, “You didn’t have to.”

It was something they both treasured, that they knew each other so well. So intimately. They were able to have conversations without saying anything at all. They knew when to push and when to let the other work things through.

She turns her head to kiss the palm of his hand, “Want to talk about it?”

Aaron smiles, turning to look back out at the view, the lights of the city reflected in his eyes, “I didn’t even hesitate.”

She creases her brows, unsure what he was talking about, “What do you mean?”

“Earlier on,” he says, clearing his throat, “Once we had the field office and the team involved I didn’t hesitate to just carry on with our plans,” he explains, his lips pressed together as he looks at her, “I just wanted to spend time with you. I didn’t even consider offering to help.”

She sighs as it clicks in her mind, “Aaron-”

“I just…I feel bad sometimes. That I can do this for you, that I didn’t even think about it, but I couldn’t for Haley. When we were together…I probably would have ordered her room service and worked the case until it was done.”

“Honey,” she says gently, cupping his cheek to make him look at her, smiling when he squeezes her thigh in response, “Things are different now, hell I would have probably worked it too a few years ago. But we’ve both learnt from what we’ve gone through. There’s a time to work, and there’s a time to let others do it.”

He laughs humourlessly, “It’s a lesson I learnt too late to do right by Haley.”

“Hey, no,” she says firmly, her soft smile slipping from her face, “I won’t let you speak about yourself like that. You’re raising her son in the way she wanted, you’re doing everything she asked and more. You’ve done right by her, Aaron. And I’ll fight anyone who tries to say anything different.”

He smiles at her, “Even me?”

“Especially you.”

Aaron nods, resting his forehead against hers, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies, “now, let's go back to bed, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

___

Dave and Derek exchange an exasperated look over the phone on the desk, both of them sighing as Tony, the desk clerk from the hotel, nervously lost track of his train of thought once again.

“We just need confirmation of the last time you saw the suspect,” Dave says, with more patience than Derek was currently capable of. They had the guy in custody, the weapon had still been in the trunk of his car, but they just wanted as much detail as possible before they interviewed him

“Right, um, It was about 5 pm I think, he wasn’t due to check out for another couple of days.”

“Are you sure?” Derek asks, closing his eyes and shaking his head as there is silence again.

“Yes,” Tony says, “I’m sure. I told Agent Hotchner all of this anyway, and his girlfriend.”

“Well, Agent Hotchner isn’t working….” Derek drifts off looking at Dave who just sat up straighter in his chair, his interest finally piqued.

“Did you say, girlfriend?” Dave asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, he had his girlfriend with him.”

Dave and Derek look at each other again, wry smiles spreading across both of their faces, “What did she look like?”

“Oh she was beautiful,” Tony says, the most confident he’d sounded throughout their entire conversation, “Tall, brunette. I think she said she was an agent too.”

Derek feels like the air has been sucked out of the room, and he sees the shock on Dave’s face too, both of them clearly thinking the same thing.

“What was her name, Tony?” Derek asks, “Do you remember?”

“Oh god, it was…Agent Prince, I think?” He says, sounding unsure, “No wait, Agent Printis?”

Dave smirks at Derek over the phone, “Agent Prentiss?”

“Yes!” Tony exclaims, “That was it. Agent Prentiss.”

The room falls into brief silence as Dave and Derek stare at each other.

“Son of a bitch.”

___

Sunday afternoon comes around far too quickly, and Emily sighs as she waits for Aaron to finish checking out.

He smiles at her, his arm around her waist as they wait at the desk, “You ok, sweetheart?”

She hums in response, leaning into his side, “Just thinking about how much I hate flying commercial.”

Aaron kisses her, putting everything into it he knows she wouldn’t say. This weekend had been needed by them both, a chance to recharge before they returned to their often very chaotic lives.

“We’ll do something again soon,” he says and she raises an eyebrow at him, both of them very aware that wasn’t true, that they’d likely be another year down the line before they got uninterrupted time like this, “Well…we’ll try.”

Emily chuckles and nods, “Maybe next time we’ll bring Jack along, I missed him.”

He’s always surprised by how she’s always able to make him fall even more in love with her. Her love for his son was one of the many things that constantly blew him away.

“That would be nice, if you’re happy to go to DisneyWorld, he’s insistent on going at some point.”

Emily grimaces slightly but smiles at him, “Well, he’s the only person on the planet who I’d endure that for.”

Any further conversation is cut off by Tony’s appearance, “Ready to check out Agent Hotchner?”

“Yes please,” he says, handing over the key.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your stay, and thank you again for your help. And your discretion.” Aaron nods in response, “Of course.”

“I spoke to a couple of members of your team actually,” Tony says mindlessly as he types on the keyboard in front of him, “They were very nice.”

Emily and Aaron exchange a slightly nervous sideways glance, not having considered Tony speaking to the team. Derek had texted Aaron to let him know the case was resolved and they’d thought about it very little beyond that.

“Glad to hear it,” Aaron replies smiling tightly at the other man.

“They were surprised to know you were here with someone,” Tony says, smiling back at them, “I didn’t realise you worked with the team too Agent Prentiss.”

Aaron and Emily look at each other, both of their hearts dropping into their stomachs.

“Shit.”

___

“We should just run away.”

Aaron sighs and reaches out for his girlfriend's hand, briefly squeezing it as the elevator ascends to the BAU’s floor, “Em-”

“Just take Jack. Jessica too, if she wants to come. Change our names, fake our deaths,” She rambles, her uncharacteristic nerves on full display whilst it was still just the two of them, “I’ve done it before.”

“Em,” he says more firmly this time, gaining her attention, “It will be fine, ok?” She looks disbelievingly at him, and he sighs again, “They might be annoyed at first, but they’ll get over it, ok?” And I’ll be here.”

She groans but nods as the elevator doors open, and she drops his hand. As they step out onto the floor Penelope greets them, a smirk on her face Emily was sure would be visible from out of space.

“Peaches, Bossman,” she says, her delight clear as she looks back and forth between the two of them, “You’re needed in the conference room.”

Emily presses her tongue into her cheek and clears her throat, “Can we get a coffee first?”

Penelope shakes her head, “Afraid not, it’s pretty urgent.”

She walks away without further comment, and Emily and Aaron exchange a quick look before they follow her.

Neither of them is surprised to find the entire team sitting around the conference room, their expressions ranging from amused to confused, with a little bit of irritation thrown into the mix. Aaron closes the door behind them and indicates towards a chair for Emily to sit down, sitting in the one next to her once she has done so.

“Let's get this over with,” Aaron says, in full Hotch mode, making Emily smile, “I’m sure you have questions-”

“Damn right we have questions.”

“How could you keep this from us?”

“I knew it.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Why was it a secret?”

Aaron holds his hand up as they all speak up at once, their questions all overlapping, the room immediately falling into silence again.

“I know it must have been a shock,” Aaron says, “And that certainly isn’t how we wanted you to find out, but yes, Emily and I are together.”

Emily feels him place his hand on her thigh under the table and she smiles at him before looking at the rest of the team.

“I’m sorry we kept it from you,” she says, specifically looking at JJ and Penelope, not missing the hurt she could see on their faces.

“How long have you been together?” JJ asks, and Emily opens her mouth to answer but is cut off by Dave, a smug look on his face.

“I’d say about…4 months,” Dave says, looking pleased with himself, “I saw them together on a weekend with Jack, and they seemed, in retrospect closer than usual.”

Emily narrows her eyes at the older man, “You think you know everything, Rossi.”

“I do know everything, and I can’t say I was surprised by what Tony said.”

Derek rolls his eyes at the same time Emily does, well aware that he had been as shocked as he had.

Emily places her hand over Aaron’s on her leg and links their fingers, the slight squeeze he gives her all the permission she needs.

“Shut the fuck up, Dave,” she says, peeling some laughter out of her friends, “We’ve been together for almost a year.”

The room falls into silence, the team’s expressions becoming serious again, and Emily braces herself for another round of questioning.

“What?”

-x-

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[vivaciousoceans]

for your consideration

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti & Barbara Howard

Rating: T+

Warning (s): Religious Trauma, Religious Guilt, Homophobia

Word Count: 668

Genre: Angst

Barbara Howard thrives in chaos. She can move through the trickiest situations with poise and grace, not even batting an eye when the world seems to be burning around her. She enjoys the chaos, if she’s being honest. She needs the noise to get through the day. Which is why she teaches kindergarten, which is why she has remained at Abbott for so long, and if it was up to her she’d have a home full of children. She craves the buzz of the day to keep voices in her head at bay. The voices that constantly lead her astray, yearning to be set free from the mundane of her everyday life. 

She prefers chaos because she can control it. The wars of the world are manageable. She can quiet her children. She can work within the confines of teaching at a school like Abbott to make sure her students have everything they need she can mentor the younger teachers - train them in her image. What she can’t control is lust that bubbles up her throat every time Melissa lifts her head too high, revealing too much of her neck. She can’t control the way her pulse quickens when the aroma of jasmine fills her nostrils whenever Melissa swings her hair. She can’t control that. She can’t control the fact that she’s an abomination.

Except she doesn’t actually believe that. She hasn’t since she was twelve, because how can love be wrong? Was it not God’s love for his children that made him send his one and only child as a sacrifice for humanity? She’d said so, when she was twelve, and soon after she’d tasted the metallic bite of blood. Her mother had never been one for corporal punishment, but that day, that day Barbara knew she’d stepped over the line. She doesn’t do that anymore. Step over the line, no, she toes it, pushes it even, but she knows exactly where the line is. 

Realistically she knows that things are different now. Her mother is long gone, she can no longer smite her, but that line is still there keeping her in check. It’s almost a tradition at this point. The longing, the lust, and the guilt that follows soon after. 

“Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray to God my soul to take. If I should live for other days I pray the Lord to guide my ways.”

She says that prayer each night, since she was eight, and she hopes that tomorrow she can continue to keep the temptation at bay. Hopes that she can remain behind the line, and she does. But Barbara thrives on chaos, and she likes to push things, to bend, to shift, but never to break. 

It’s a girls night, there’s no work to be done, and Gerald is at something . She doesn’t really know these days, perhaps she should, but there’s a lot of things she should do. She doesn’t focus on that, doesn’t linger on her failings as a wife, because tonight she needs a break from her guilt. Melissa offers her just that. They laugh, and drink, probably more than they should, but it’s a Friday night. Melissa’s skin is flushed red from the wine, and her eyes are dark like the leaves in spring, and Barbara is running her hand absent-mindedly along her arm, pushing the line, bending it in such a way that it could snap at any moment.

It would be so easy to snap it, to reach over and place her lips along Melissa’s. She’s never been to confessional, but she’s sure kissing Melissa would offer her complete absolution. 

But Barbara Howard doesn’t cross the line anymore.

Melissa leaves soon after that, an excuse on her lips that Barbara can’t quite register. Things are different afterwards, awkward, tense, each passing moment building up to something explosive. And for once Barbara can’t control the external chaos.

[laspocelliere]

Day Twenty-Three: Suit

“It suits you.”

Aymeric turned his head, propping his chin lightly on her bare shoulder to see her face as she spoke. The bed wasn’t theirs, nor the room, nor the city it was located in. The Alliance leaders were meeting on one of their rare opportunities to come together, which meant that he could be with his wife for the first time in far too many months. She lay on her back now, propped up by haphazard cushions and carding her fingers absently through his hair where he’d dropped his head heavily onto her shoulder. They’d been laying in lazy, sated silence, but it was clear her sharp, ever-turning mind had yet to be idle regardless.

“Suits me?”

She hummed, scratching her nails lightly across the back of his neck. “Speaking for Ishgard. Its people, and their needs, rather than that of the Church.”

He laid his head more comfortably against her shoulder, mulling over her words. It hadn’t been that many moons since the new government of Ishgard had been developed, and he still wasn’t entirely sure he was gratified by the position that had been thrust upon him. She, of all people, knew his hesitations, and so her words were a strange, soothing balm on his own insecurities.

“We’ve a long way to go,” he said quietly, tracing his fingers lazily along the warm expanse of skin along her torso. Every time they met was rare and precious, and he tried to soak in every sensation of her presence while he could. His memories couldn’t keep his bed warm at night while she was gone, but they certainly helped. “There are too many voices growing impatient at the slow pace we’re taking.”

“Because you want it done properly.” Her tone was thoughtful, and assuring. “Rushing things only leaves space to fall into the same pitfalls of the Church.”

“The pitfalls are reassuring to many. I can’t be seen taking those away without being accused of having my own agenda.”

“You do.” His gaze drifted up to her face, to find her eyes seeking his, sharp and focused, and so intently filled with every belief she had for him that it nearly knocked him breathless. “The agenda of the people. Not the Church. Not the Archbishop. The people, and what’s best for them.” She brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead, fond and familiar. “No one is better suited for it.”

“Perhaps I learned it from somewhere,” he mused, her praise and faith in him warming the deep recesses of his heart. He shifted so that he wasn’t so completely draped over her, moved to her side so he could pull her properly into his arms. “Some wayward hero, perhaps, who so selflessly strives for the happiness of others that she sacrifices that what’s best for her.”

“I haven’t sacrificed you.” Her voice was quiet, but rang with a clear honesty that was impossible to ignore. 

For a moment, he simply looked at her. She was everything that their country needed, and she would put those talents to the test again and again, simply because she wouldn’t know how to live with herself if she didn’t. She’d felled gods and men alike, and now faced armies both on the horizon and at her back, and not once did she falter.

And at the end of it all, somehow, she’d chosen him.

He loved her so much it nearly choked him.

Instead of an answer, he simply kissed her, warm and open and true, and hauled her tighter against his chest. He harboured so many doubts about his position in Ishgard that it felt like each day would be the one to finally send everything tumbling down. But her faith in him, resolute and true, was really the only opinion that mattered. She was his true north, and she’d never lead him astray.

That was more than enough to go by.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Until the Stars Are All Alight--Chapter 20: The Pyre of Rumplestiltskin

Hello, and welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2019!  This au combines two story ideas I’ve wanted to explore for a while. 1. What if CS existed in a Tolkien-esque, LOTR world? 2. What would have happened if it was Killian rather than Neal that Emma ran into when she was stealing the bug?  Huge thank you to my beta, @blackwidownat2814​​​​​​, to @clockadile​​​​​​ for the amazing story and chapter art, to @kmomof4​​​​​ and @cssns​​​​​for putting this event together, and to the ladies in the CSSNS chat who have helped me think through this story.  If all goes well, I should be posting every Tuesday, and the story will have approximately 18 chapters plus the prologue and epilogue.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Summary: CS Lord of the Rings au: When Emma Swan steals a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, she has no idea it will lead her toward an adventure filled with danger and intrigue, sacrifice and a love stronger than anything she could imagine.  Tasked with bringing the Savior home, the elf, Killian Jones of Misthaven travels to the Land Without Magic.  Can he convince Emma to fulfill her destiny before the Dark One regains power and takes over all of the Enchanted Forest?

Rating:  T

Word Count: 2094

Other Chapters: (prologue) (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (21) (22) (epilogue) 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 20: The Pyre of Rumplestiltskin

A/N: I’m sorry in advance.  It was necessary

The Underworld

The Underworld.  They’d made it.  Emma sprinted the last few steps into the cave, and then came to a stop, looking around and trying to catch her breath.  Everything about this place was hard and sharp and hot.  The stone floor of the huge cavern came to a promontory over what appeared to be a river of hot, red, molten lava.  All around them was the smell of sulfur and brimstone.

This place really was hell.

With every fiber in her body, Emma wanted to turn around and leave this terrible place, but she knew she couldn’t.  Her whole life had been leading up to this moment, and she wasn’t going to fold when things got difficult.

“Well?” Regina said from behind her, “what are you waiting for?  Destroy the damn thing!”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Not helping, Regina.”

Didn’t the former wannabe queen think Emma would be doing just that if she had even the slightest clue how?

Emma thought back to the walk over here.  While Killian had gone off to talk to Regina, she’d sought out Merlin, looking for some last minute advice about what she was supposed to do.

As usual, the wizard was effectively no help at all.

“Never fear, Emma,” he’d said with a reassuring nod.  “When the time is right, the answers will come to you.  You’ll know what you need to do, and you’ll be given all the help and support you need to do it.”

Well the time was right, and she had no more insights into what she had to do than she had before, and now that Merlin was dead, she didn’t even have cryptic wizard advice to point her in the right direction.

Wonderful.

“Swan?” Killian said, stepping up behind her and putting a comforting hand on her lower back.   “We’re here.  You’ve got our full support.  Follow your instincts, and they won’t lead you astray.”

Emma felt a rush of love, of confidence rush over her.  She had no more knowledge than before what needed to be done, but Killian’s faith in her had always given her faith in herself.  What would she have done without him?

She took a deep breath (or as deep a breath as it was possible to take in the stale, fetid air of the Underworld) and squared her shoulders.  “Maybe I’m just supposed to…toss the sword in the lake of fire?  If the fires of hell won’t destroy it, I don’t know what will.”

“It’s certainly worth a shot, love,” Killian said, smiling in encouragement.

Emma stepped up to the very edge of the promontory, every step more difficult than the last as the heat intensified to the point that it felt like every breath she took seared her lungs.  Once she was in position, she pulled Excalibur from its sheath, pulled back her arm and threw it as hard and as far as she could.  She watched as the sword floated on top of the roiling surface of the fiery lake, and then slowly sunk beneath.

For a moment, she thought she’d done it.  For a moment, she thought the sword had been destroyed, but a part of her knew it couldn’t be that easy.

And it wasn’t.

A moment later, the sword flew out of the lake and back into her hand, none the worse for wear.  Not only was it undamaged in the least, it hadn’t even retained the heat from the fires; it was cool to the touch.

On to plan B….whatever that might be.

“Well that didn’t work,” Regina said.  “So what now?”

“I don’t know!” Emma shouted, turning toward the woman and glaring in her frustration.

Killian stepped between the two of them.  “Give her a minute, Regina.”

“We don’t have a minute!” Regina shot back.  “Any minute now the Dark One’s going to show up.  We need to finish this before he gets here!”

“No we don’t,” Emma said.  She didn’t know how, but suddenly she knew.  She had no more insight than before as to how she was supposed to go about destroying the sword, but she knew this with absolute certainty.  “We need him here.  For some reason, he’s vital to this, and without him, it doesn’t matter what I do; I won’t be able to destroy Excalibur.”

“Do you realize how insane you sound right now?” Regina shouted.

“She’s the savior!” Killian roared back, clearly losing what was left of his patience with the woman.  “If she says the Dark One needs to be here, the Dark One needs to be here.  Now kindly prepare yourself for a fight or go the hell away!”

Emma smiled, grateful beyond measure to have this man in her corner, even if no one else was.

“He’s not the only one, Emma,” she heard from the far corner of the yawning cavern. “You have many, many people backing you, and here we shall remain until the very end.”

Emma whirled around, shocked at the utterance. It was impossible; he was dead, but she’d swear the one who had just spoken to her was…

“Merlin!” she said. Impossible as it was, he stood there smiling at her, but he looked different, brighter, somehow, luminous. “But you’re dead!”

“So I am,” Merlin smiled, “but that doesn’t mean I’m gone. I told you that you would have all the help you need here at the end, and accordingly, here we are.”

For the first time, Emma noticed that Merlin was not alone. Dozens, maybe hundreds of luminous beings stood behind and beside him. Some she recognized–Robin Hood, most prominently–and beside him, Liam Jones. There was something different about Liam, though. Whereas all the others were bright, distinct, glowing, Liam was translucent, fading in and out.

“I’ve not yet passed into the spirit world,” Liam stated in answer to her unspoken question. “My fate has not yet been decided, so as now I hover between life and death, but until the battle is determined, I am your humble servant.”

But while there were people she knew in this other-worldly assembly, there were many, many others who she did not know, but whose faces were none the less vaguely familiar–a woman with curly graying hair and a motherly appearance. A man with a gray goatee wearing a crown on his head. A man with curly black hair standing beside a red-headed woman.

“You’re my ancestors, aren’t you?” she asked, looking around at everyone she could see.

“Aye,” Liam answered. “Yours and Killian’s. Just know that whatever happens, whatever befalls you, whatever is asked of you, we will be here until the end.”

“Swan?” Killian asked carefully. “Who are you talking to, Love?”

Before she could answer, dark purple smoke billowed, filling the entire cavern. When it cleared, Rumplestiltskin stood in its place, an evil grin firmly affixed to his face. Killian rushed forward with a feral shout, drawing his sword and preparing to do battle. Within moments, Regina joined him.

Rumplestiltskin giggled, the sound somehow both ominous and irritating, and then with a lazy wave of his hand, he knocked them both into the far wall. Shackles appeared, tethering them hand and foot.

“No!” Emma shouted. “Your beef is with me! Leave them alone!”

He giggled again. “My beef doesn’t have to be with anyone, ‘savior’.” He said the title as though it were something obscene. “You know what I want, and we both know in the end you’ll give it to me.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Ema said firmly. “This ends here and it ends now. You are done terrorizing this land.”

For a moment, anger flashed over his sparkly face, and it was terrifying to behold, but then the anger was replaced by a far more terrifying grin. “To stop me wil take a sacrifice too steep to be borne.”

And suddenly, in a flash she knew. She knew what she had to do, and she knew what it would cost her.

Everything. 

It would cost her everything–Killian, Henry, her new found family, any other children that could have been born to her and Killian. The sacrifice she must make in order to destroy the sword was her own life, for it would take every ounce of her life force to pull the darkness into the sword and destroy it.

Emma turned and locked eyes with Merlin. He nodded somberly, and any hope she’d had that her intuition was wrong was dashed. Her heart dropped and the tears sprang to her eyes. She had to do this; there was no other choice, but how could she leave Killian? How could she leave her little boy?

She closed her eyes, took two deep, calming breaths, ignoring the Dark One’s continued taunts. Finally, feeling she had mastery over herself, she turned to look one last time at Killian, who was still straining against his bonds.

“I love you, Killian,” she said, her voice not quite steady. “Always and forever, I love you.”

And then there was nothing more for it. With one more deep breath, she raised Excalibur high over her head.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“No!” The shout tore from Killian, from the very depths of his soul. He knew what that ‘I love you’ was. 

It was a goodbye.

This couldn’t be happening. Not again. He couldn’t lose the love of his life. He increased his struggles against the shackles holding him to the cavern wall, but all that accomplished was to deepen the lacerations on his wrists.

He was powerless to what was happening, and never in his life had he been so terrified.

Across the cavern, Rumplestiltskin suddenly realized what was about to happen. With a cry of rage and fear, he rushed toward Emma, but he was pushed back when he got within ten feet of her, as though she were surrounded by a protective force field.

With the sword raised in the air, Emma closed her eyes, concentrating hard, and suddenly, noxious tendrils of what looked like black smoke poured from the Dark One’s mouth and into the blade. Her arms shook, and a grimace (pain? exertion?) suffused her face, but she held the sword steady.

As the stream of darkness leaving Rumplestiltskin widened and deepened, Emma’s breathing became steadily more labored.

“Swan, please!” Killian pleaded. “Emma, don’t do this! The price is too high!”

He knew it was futile even before he uttered the words, but he had to try. Standing here watching the life drain from his beloved wife, unable to do a single bloody thing to stop it was worse than any torture the Dark One could have subjected him to.

Emma merely turned to him, gave him a sad smile, and then focused once again on the task at hand.

Killian didn’t know how long it took–likely only moments, but it felt like hours of agony. Finally the billowing smoke of evil coming from Rumplestiltskin slowed and then stopped. Emma fell hard to her knees. With one last defiant look at the erstwhile Dark One, she flung the sword into the fires of the underworld. With her task completed, Emma fell to the ground as the breath whooshed from her body.

“Swan!” Killian screamed, a cry of primal agony.

Rumplestiltskin yelled, diving head-first into the lake of fire just as Excalibur disappeared below the surface. His shrieks of agony as the fires consumed him were terrible to hear.

And then they went silent.

It was over.

Notes:

–Alright, before you start yelling, hear me out.  1. You all know I am all in with Captain Swan. 2. I’m also a fan of Outlaw Queen. 3. I’m basically allergic to any endings that are not completely happy. 4. There are still 2 chapters and an epilogue left to fix things. 5. This chapter may have hurt, but at least Rumplestiltskin also died a torturous death by fire, so that counts for something, right?  Okay, now your yelling may commence.

–Up next: Regina is given an opportunity that is almost too good to pass up.  Can she stay strong and do the right thing?  Meanwhile, the Underworld begins to crumble after the sword is destroyed, and everyone back in Misthaven knows Emma was successful.  They celebrate–until Killian returns with Emma’s body.

–The good news? I was on vacation last week, and I managed to not only finish this chapter, but also the first draft of the next chapter!  You won’t have to wait long for chapter 21–it may even drop by the end of this week!

                                                                                NEXT CHAPTER-->

[faetedwill]

12 Feet Deep || Sloane & Cass & Leah

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Beyond the Grave  PARTIES: @faetedwill @stolensiren @phoenixleah SUMMARY: Cass is lured to Beyond the Grave by Sloane’s mom for a selfish rendition of the classique banshee ritual; the activation. In the aftermath, Leah hears the scream(s) thinking it’s Regan and comes to the rescue. CONTENT WARNINGS: Allusions to emotional abuse, parental death, gore (not detailed)

Shannon sat with her back to the front entrance, fingers tapping delicately and melodically against the vinyl countertop. It would only be a matter of time before Cassidy arrived. There was a part of her that felt guilty for leading the girl astray, but all would be understood in due time. Her own daughter would learn to forgive her once she could feel the pull of fate, she just knew it. Sloane’s phone sat in front of her, the text message sent to Cassidy being as simple as meet me at Beyond The Grave. There had been no lying involved, and therefore no deep, unsettling feeling stirring about in her chest. 

It was about twenty minutes later that Cassidy walked through that Shannon turned around, smile broadened. It was a pity they would have to do this downtown of all places, and though it would be dangerous, there was a backroom that could accommodate them well. Once Sloane arrived, the door would need to be locked. “Cass, welcome.” Shannon moved from behind the counter and gestured for the young girl to follow her towards the back. “I believe Sloane stepped out for just a moment. Why don’t you help me back here until she gets back?” 

Her heart skipped a beat when Sloane texted her. Ever since that day in the other girl’s bedroom, when she’d told Cass she didn’t want to see her anymore, the siren had been plagued by a sense of grief. She missed the way Sloane’s voice made her heart skip a beat, missed the way she laughed in the kind of way that made all the bad things fall away, missed how she felt around her. More than any of it, though, she missed her friend. Sloane’s text felt like a life preserver thrown into the middle of the ocean after days of treading water. It didn’t solve everything at once, but it gave her some semblance of hope to hold onto. And she could use it to stay afloat for however long it took for a ship to come in.

Still, she was nervous as she made her way to Beyond the Grave, heart pounding in her chest. Sloane wasn’t the type to call her here just to throw salt in her wounds, but the terrified part of Cass that was so used to being left behind insisted that she might be planning on doing just that. Her hand trembled as she pushed the door open, and she faltered in the doorway as she stepped inside. There was no sign of Sloane anywhere; instead, it was Shannon who greeted her. “Uh. Hi.” It was unexpected, to be sure. Maybe Sloane had changed her mind about wanting Cass to talk to her mother? But then why not say that? Why the vague text? Hesitantly, the siren followed Sloane’s mother towards the back. “Okay. Yeah. Um, did she… tell you I was coming?”

Cassidy looked confused. It seemed as though Sloane had cut the other girl off after finding her at their home. Why her daughter was being so difficult, Shannon would never know. “She didn’t, no, but I assume you’re here for her?” With a tilt of her head, the banshee skirted around the answer to Cassidy’s question in half-truths. Technically Sloane hadn’t been the one to tell her that Cassidy would be coming. “Maybe she wanted it to be a surprise. Follow me, please.” 

Shannon didn’t give Cassidy time to decide to hang back, and instead headed into the back room where her office was. On the walls were plaques, photos, as well as a taxidermy bobcat. “You’re more than welcome to take a seat and wait.” Shannon gestured towards the plush velvet chair in the corner of the room. It was by far one of the most expensive things the Kennedy family owned, and it was only because Shannon felt it important to fit the part in their nature of business. “Would you like anything? Water?” 

“Yeah. She texted me.” Cass pulled out her phone again, opening the text as if to reassure herself that it was real. If she’d misunderstood somehow, if Sloane hadn’t wanted her to come here, her being here was only going to widen the rift that had been opened between them. Making the same mistake after Sloane had made it painfully clear how she felt about it would be the kind of move there was no hope of coming back from. But the text stared up at her, just as vague and heart-stopping as it had been when it had first lit up her screen. Cass tapped her phone screen absently, finding some relief in the message. Maybe Shannon was right — maybe Sloane had wanted this to be a surprise, somehow. 

Nodding, she followed Shannon back to her office, glancing around as she settled into the cushioned chair in the corner. It was comfortable enough to make her relax just a little, even as the nerves continued to cause her stomach to flutter. The offer of water was one that elicited another nod; she wasn’t really thirsty, but it would give her something to do with her hands besides cradling her phone, offer something to focus on that wasn’t the pounding of her heart. “Water would be great.” She almost added a thank you as a nervous habit, biting the words off at the last moment despite the fact that this was Sloane’s mother. Marina and Correy and their fae lessons were the kind of thing that stuck, after all. “Um, did Sloane say when she’d be here?” She wasn’t sure how much Sloane would want her talking to Shannon, despite the fact that she’d only come at the other girl’s invitation. After the way their last face-to-face had ended, it was easy to second-guess everything she did, easy to wonder if each move she made was right or wrong. Cass was nervous in a way she’d never been nervous with Sloane before. And that hurt a little, too.

Shannon offered Cassidy a gracious smile before she turned to the mini fridge that sat in the other corner of the room. She opened it and grabbed a water bottle, twisting the cap preemptively for the young girl before handing it over. “Oh, I’m not certain… she comes and goes, as you know.” Shannon waved a hand in the air before taking a seat at her desk, swiveling the chair around to face the younger girl. She seemed uneasy. What kind of fight she and Sloane could have had, Shannon was uncertain. It wasn’t like her daughter to quarrel. Then again, her daughter begging her to consider somebody else for their ritual was enough to convince Shannon that perhaps she did not know her daughter as well as she thought she did. 

“My daughter tends to do what she pleases, though I suppose that’s not all bad considering I believe in having agency over one’s will.” Shannon kept the smile intact as she turned towards her computer, moving her mouse around absentmindedly, clicking into her e-mail and then out, trying to find something to busy herself. It shouldn’t be this difficult, finding the words to say to somebody on the younger side. Though, she supposed the conversations she had with her daughter were far different than those she had with others who did not understand the way in which fae lived and existed. 

After a moment, the sound of the front door opening alerted Shannon to Sloane’s arrival. “Ah, here she is.” A smile, brighter than the last, pulled at her lips as she moved towards the desk drawer. Inside was the dagger that her daughter carried on her person for the last several years, and it was only fit that this be the blade to do the job. “We’re in here, darling.” 

Sloane had forgotten her phone and really, it took her way too long to realize it. It wasn’t until she was halfway to campus that she felt its absence and had to make the trip back to her mom’s shop. The pain from her run-in with Nicole was still present, making it hard to open the front door of the shop. Once inside, she took careful note of her mom’s absence, but saw her phone on the front desk. It didn’t take long for her mom to call for her, and thinking that the we meant her father, Sloane headed towards the back.

To her surprise, it wasn’t her dad who sat across from her mom. “Cass.” Sloane felt her heart drop into her stomach and she looked over to see her mom brandishing her dagger. “Cass, come on.” Sloane grabbed Cass’s hand, dragging her back towards the front entrance. 

“Sloane’s her own person,” Cass agreed, tone fond even in spite of the tension that existed between her and her friend now. It was her own fault things with Sloane had become what they had. None of it made her care about the other girl any less. It might have been easier if it had, simpler, but… Cass wasn’t built that way. She cared too much, sometimes. But she didn’t regret it, either. Not with Sloane. Regardless of how angry Sloane might be with her now, her friend deserved to have people care about her. Cass had never doubted that for a moment.

The bell above the door sounded, and Cass was ashamed to admit that she felt a flood of relief at the sound. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if Sloane hadn’t anticipated her mother being here when she’d asked Cass to meet her, thought it was a strange thought. Why wouldn’t Shannon be at her place of work in the middle of a work day? But why wouldn’t Sloane tell Shannon Cass was meeting her? The pieces didn’t fit together quite right. 

Preoccupied by Sloane’s arrival and her own flood of unspoken questions, Cass didn’t pay much attention to Shannon’s movements. Her eyes were glued to the door, and she offered Sloane a small, uncertain smile as she entered. Something was off, though. Sloane looked surprised to see her, like she hadn’t been expecting it. Uncertainly, Cass stood.

“Yeah, we can go,” she agreed, some confusion furrowing her brow. “But I don’t — Why did you ask me to meet you here if you don’t want me here? And why wouldn’t you tell…” She turned back to Shannon, trailing off when she saw the glint of the dagger in the woman’s hand. A strange thing to fiddle with mid-conversation, but this was White Crest, wasn’t it? Plenty of people had knives. Ari had, like, a billion. So why was there a pit in Cass’s stomach now? Turning back to Sloane, she let the confusion on her face ask all the questions she was afraid to put to words.

“I can explain later, but we have to go.” Sloane’s hands were clammy as she dug her fingers into Cass’s wrist. Her friend was still alive, and it would stay that way. Cass would grow old and she would die old. She wouldn’t fall apart for Sloane’s activation, Sloane refused to let that happen. She couldn’t. Not only did Sloane care about her, but there were other people who cared about her, too, and Sloane wouldn’t let those people lose her to an untimely death. This was different than those who had fallen to fate before, because this wasn’t Cass’s fate. This was a cop out by her own mom who refused to follow the nature of their rituals, and while Sloane couldn’t blame her— she didn’t want to lose her dad, it was unfair that Cass was being used as some kind of crutch. 

Sloane managed to get Cass through the door of the office out into the main room. Before she could push the other girl in front of her, the sound of heels clicking against the tile sounded, and in a flash, Cass was being ripped from her grip. “Mom, please!” Sloane turned around frantically, chest heaving as she noticed the blade at Cass’s throat. 

Shannon would not allow her daughter to throw this away. After the years of training and explanations— of the stories and promises built between them without the actual bind, she refused to allow her daughter to make a mockery of not only fate, but of her. As soon as Sloane approached, guiding Cassidy through the doorway, Shannon leapt into action. She crossed the distance easily, manicured nails digging into Cassidy’s arm as she tore the girl away from her daughter. 

The dagger was at the brunette’s throat now, and Shannon knew what she had to do. There was no other choice, and this was the only way. “I’m disappointed in you, mo leanbh.” She applied the dagger’s pressure against Cassidy’s neck, her opposite hand on the young girl’s shoulder digging into the clavicle. “You knew the cost, and I’ve waited so long for you to join me, I will not allow you to destroy everything for some crush, especially on a human, no less.” 

It was clear that Sloane was desperate, and while Cass might not understand the situation fully, she could empathize with her friend’s clear fear. She allowed Sloane to lead her out of the office, glancing nervously down to where her arm was secured in Sloane’s grip. “I’m sorry,” she said uncertainly. “I just — You texted. I thought…” That was her problem, wasn’t it? She always thought wrong. She always made the wrong choice. “I didn’t even know your mom would be here. I — I would have… Waited outside if I knew. I swear.” 

She might have said more; in fact, she probably would have. Cass had a habit of rambling when she was nervous, and she was certainly nervous now. But before she could launch into a myriad of apologies and desperate pleas, a firm grip on her shoulder was yanking her backwards. “Whoa, what —” Cool metal settled against her throat, and Cass froze. She couldn’t see it, but she knew it was the same dagger Shannon had been holding before. The one that had looked sharp and deadly. And she wondered, with her heart pounding in her chest, just what she’d stumbled into here.

Her first thought was that Shannon was a hunter. It fit well enough with her perception of them, with the experiences she’d had with them in the past. They could sense her, Metzli had said once, could tell what she was just by being around her. Could kill her for it. But if Shannon were a hunter, it would mean Sloane was one, too, and Sloane had never given Cass any reason to think that of her. 

The more Shannon spoke, the more obvious it became that the hunter theory was out the window. This was something else, something strange and new. Cass might have an easier time focusing on it if not for the blade cutting into her throat, the thin line of blood running down as she swallowed nervously against the metal. She found herself caught on two words — human and crush. The former was utterly untrue, though neither Sloane nor Shannon was aware of it. And the latter… 

Cass’s eyes flickered up to meet Sloane’s. This wasn’t really how she’d wanted to confirm that her crush was a mutual thing. There was no warmth to the realization the way there would have been without the knife against her throat, and any pleasant fluttering she felt was outweighed entirely by the icy fear that seemed to have taken over. “I don’t — I don’t understand what’s happening, but this isn’t… Sloane wasn’t going to mess anything up. We’re just friends. That’s all. You don’t have to do whatever you’re doing, please.”

Sloane didn’t know what to do. Her phone was too far away to call anyone, and even if she did manage to get ahold of Correy, Marina, or even Metzli, they’d be too late. Her mom would carry on with the plan, and though Sloane hadn’t promised that Cass wouldn’t lose her life, she might as well have had done so. She stood frozen across from them, the blood dribbling down Cass’s neck stark against her tanned skin. As much as Sloane had wanted to fall into step alongside fate, this was not how she wanted it to happen. Sloane swallowed thickly, glancing over her shoulder through the windows to see if anyone might see them. Sloane didn’t want her mom to get hurt in this, either. It was more than a difficult situation— it was terrorizing Sloane. 

“Please, mom.” Sloane’s voice left her, thick and distorted. This was unlike the stories she had heard of others’ activations. Her own mother’s hadn’t been this perverse, despite the loss of her own father. “I’m begging you. Please. Not her, I’ll— I’ll find you somebody else. Just not her.” Sloane itched to reach forward, to tear Cass out of her mom’s grip, but that could end up with the dagger lodged further into her throat. 

“I told you I refused to allow you to make a mockery of us. Of this family, of yourself. You will not stand in the way of your own purpose, Sloane.” Shannon spoke low and quick, smile spreading as she gripped Cassidy’s shoulder tighter, dagger pressed firmly against her throat with about as equal pressure of her fingers digging into her clavicle so that she couldn’t easily move from beneath her grip. 

Shannon looked from Sloane to behind her, taking note of a man across the way. Something stirred in her chest; the beginnings of a scream. What a wonderful opportunity to incapacitate Cassidy so that she wouldn’t make this harder than it needed to be. Of course, Shannon could keep hold and allow the scream to fill the young girl’s chest, but that would only further instill her daughter’s hatred towards this decision. Quick and clean, that was how it needed to be. Shannon let go of Cassidy before the scream made its way through her chest and out of her throat. The man across the way would die with a knife to his abdomen, and it would be painful. She could see it so clearly, and soon, Sloane would join her.

The scream shook the store’s foundation. Shannon had taken precautions, hopeful to protect herself, but she hadn’t thought of the way that the building might buckle beneath the pressure of her scream. The ceiling began to groan, its decades old structure unable to withstand the pressure. The light fixture directly over herself and Cassidy started to unhinge from its bolt— a forgotten project, and one that would lead to Shannon’s untimely demise. 

Sloane knew the telltale signs of a scream— had been raised staring into her mother’s darkened eyes as her skin became crackled with a midnight black. Was this scream for Cass? It couldn’t be, she thought. Sloane surged forward as soon as her mom let go of Cass, grabbing onto her hand, pulling her backwards. In the rush, she hadn’t taken notice to how unaffected Cass was by her mom’s scream. All she could think of was keeping her out of harm’s way, of getting her out the door before her mom came to. 

Instead, Sloane watched as the lighting fixture just above her mother became unhinged, its sharp edge driving itself directly into the woman’s chest, coming out through the other end. Frozen, Sloane stared at her mom as she tried to piece together what had just happened. Sloane let go of Cass’s hand, throat constricting— something stirred in her chest, her skin crawled. Everything felt hot— everything felt— no. The struggle to control the scream, to keep quiet as she’d been taught failed miserably as the scream tore its way through Sloane’s chest, splitting from her in a way that she’d been taught it would. The ceiling groaned once more, tested by the second scream— only this one lasted longer than it should have. Grief struck Sloane, and she felt herself spinning out. 

Sloane didn’t have time to move before the ceiling collapsed, rotten wooden beams falling from overhead. The opposite end of the lighting fixture snapped loose sending her mom to the ground, now covered in the rubble as the building shook beneath the aftereffects of the two screams. 

None of it made any kind of sense to Cass. Not the knife against her throat, not Sloane offering to find ‘someone else’ to fill the shoes the siren was in now, not Shannon’s frustration. Why did it have to be anyone at all? Why did Shannon — and evidently, Sloane — think that someone needed to die here? What did any of it have to do with Sloane’s purpose, as Shannon had put it? Cass had a thousand questions, and it didn’t seem as though any of them would be answered. And it felt supremely unfair to die without knowing why. It felt so cruel.

Suddenly, Shannon froze behind her and, for a moment, Cass thought that this was it. She was going to put that promised pressure on the knife in her hand, was going to spill Cass’s blood all over the pristine floor for reasons no one thought to tell her. And of all the ways Cass had thought she might die — because she had thought of it, thanks to both the nature of White Crest and the uncertainty she’d lived with all her life — this had never been one of them. She could have never seen this coming.

But that knife didn’t find a home in her throat — at least, not yet. Shannon shoved her forward, letting out a piercing scream that… oh. A piercing scream that Cass recognized. She’d heard Regan do the same thing, after all, in the woods the day they’d met Bigfoot. A banshee. Sloane’s mother was a banshee. Which must mean that Sloane was a banshee. Which filled in some gaps, maybe, but not everything. Not why it was happening. 

Sloane grabbed Cass and pulled her to safety, and the light fixture that was above them rumbled. Cass didn’t have time to call out a warning, but she wasn’t sure it would have mattered. The light fell, sharp and deadly not unlike the woman it landed on. And then… 

Another scream, from Sloane this time. Loud and mournful and powerful enough to tear the whole world apart. The ceiling began to fall, and Cass threw herself on top of Sloane, curled up with her and tried to make them both targets too small to be hit by the falling debris. It seemed an impossible task. She felt like the chicken in that old story, screaming out for anyone who would listen. The sky was falling. The sky was falling. And all Cass could do, superpowers be damned, was try to protect Sloane from the damage.

A simple walk was never just a walk in White Crest.  At least it wasn’t for Leah Ramirez.  The Autumn air was turning brisk and chilled, and normally, she loved the contrast it held against her warm skin.  People seemed jovial, for some reason, a stark contrast to the usual dim mood that White Crest’s citizens boasted.  So it made sense, then, why she was so surprised and taken off guard when she heard the tell-tale sign of a banshee scream a few blocks away.  “Regan…”, she whispered, and then took off down the street toward where the noise came from.

For some reason, the banshee screams in town were typically explained away as moose, which made even less sense than the explanations everyone tried to offer for the fish rain.  But as funny as the explanation could be, banshee screams around town always tended to place a turn in her stomach she just couldn’t solve until she knew Regan was okay.  Activation was never easy, but Regan had gone through enough in the last few years to make all her screams concerning, especially when you consider all the trauma she had associated with her species.  She had the displeasure of being in person for one of them only once, and she was feeling the effects of it, even all these weeks later.  Her chest pinched and stabbed with every inch of her run, but she didn’t care.

Leah only stopped dead in her tracks when she heard another scream, this one much louder.   Was it because she was much closer to it, now?  What kind of mess was happening in the middle of downtown that a Regan was screaming twice in the middle of the day?  She took off running again, this time at double speed.

The sight she eventually found left no doubt in her mind where the screams had taken place.  She stood staring, breathless and confused, at the collapsed building.  Surrounding buildings were void of windows, their glass littering the ground and the surrounding dented cars.  People were looking at the sight confused, and she saw some approaching to help.  Others took out their phones, but she didn’t waste time to see whether it was to document what was going on or to call for help.  She didn’t bother waiting, and instead ran right to the debris, trying to move what she could and see if she could find Regan underneath.  “Regan!”, she called, struggling under the weight of some wood.  “Where are you?!”

Sloane choked on the dust that settled overtop of her. The rotten beams had splintered overtop of the three that had succumbed to the weight of the ceiling falling through on top of them, and though she was too disoriented to tell the true damage apart from the grief that laid overtop of her like a blanket, she knew something wasn’t right. It took her longer than it should have to come to, mind moving against the reality of her situation, of their situation. 

Cass. Sloane felt somebody on top of her— she thought it was her mom until she remembered. The sharp edge of the light fixture branded in her mind as it pierced through her mom’s chest, the way she crumpled like the stuffed bear Sloane pushed in between her pillows all of those years. It spun and it spun, mocking Sloane. Fate had a funny way of playing itself out, but right now wasn’t the time to grieve. She had to get out and then she could address the feeling that stirred in her chest– the anger, the fear, the way that it felt like she was being split a thousand different ways.

“Cass,” Sloane coughed, chest heaving. She half-expected to see her with blood coming out of her ears and nose, but instead she was met with the scraped girl who hadn’t left her side despite Sloane’s urgency. “Are you—“

The voice from just inside cut off Sloane mid sentence. Regan’s name echoed across the rubble causing the banshee only confusion. At least, until it clicked. Somebody thought Regan had done this. She could hardly move, one of the larger, less deteriorated banisters hanging over herself and Cass across one of the less sturdy beams. “Over here,” Sloane managed to get out, voice hoarse. Too afraid to raise it too loud, she tried to push her hand through to the other side. She’d let whoever it was discover for herself that it wasn’t Regan. She couldn’t chance them not helping her just because she wasn’t who they were looking for. Her mind was still spinning from the chaos of it all to piece together that it was somebody she might know.

“I’m okay,” Cass said quickly, recognizing Sloane’s concern. And… she was okay, for the most part. Her chest was heaving, her throat stung where Shannon’s knife had nicked her, and she was certain she’d have some pretty wild bruises when all was said and done, but she was fine. Sure her ears were ringing a little, and there was blood on the floor where Sloane’s mother had spilled it, and her heart was pounding in her chest, but it was nothing Cass couldn’t handle. She was more worried about Sloane. 

Sloane, who had just watched her mother die, who had screamed the world to pieces with the grief of it. Cass couldn’t imagine how it must have felt. One of the few benefits, she thought, of never knowing your mother was never knowing what it would be like to lose her. And considering the closest thing she had to one now was a nymph who was sure to live another hundred years or so, it was likely that Cass would never be where Sloane was now. 

And what that meant, in this moment, was that Cass had no idea how to comfort her friend. She had no idea what to do, what to say. Nothing would be enough. Words failed, actions fell short. All Cass could do was keep her arms around Sloane and shield her from the only thing left to fall — dust.

A voice cut through the stifling quiet that came after the collapse, familiar and bringing with it a swell of relief. If anyone would know what to do, it would be Leah. Leah always knew what to do. Sloane called out, though she made no move to correct the mistaken identity. Cass wondered if all banshee screams sounded the same or if Leah just loved Regan enough to hear her voice in all of them. “Leah, we need some help!” She added her voice to the fray, hoping to help give Leah a better idea of where they were. 

Close up, the damage was even worse than Leah first surmised.  She looked at the rubble, trying to find any trace of Regan beneath, wondering if she had enough tears this time.  A voice called back, and then another, and though she recognized both of them, they were decidedly not Regan.  It gave her paused.  She had been so convinced it was Regan’s scream she heard (after all, time after time that theory had proven true), that she hadn’t even thought to consider it might be another banshee in town.  She wasn’t aware of any banshee families in the area, and least not on a first name basis.  Not since Deirdre.  

Her pause only lasted a moment, because before long she was climbing over the rubble, heading toward the direction of the voices and hoping to provide them some sort of respite.  Though she recognized them, she couldn’t quite place them, not with the adrenaline and the rubble and the worry.  She lifted up a large piece of wood, spotting the outline of a person underneath.  “Cass?”, she asked, squinting, then working in double time to remove the rubble from above her.  It was a relief, in some way, that Cass was the other voice she’d heard.  The scream wouldn’t have hurt her, not really, and so the only other being that was with them was the screamer themself.  Or, at least, she hoped that was the case.

“Who’s with you?”, she asked with desperation.  “Who… was it?  Is everyone okay?”  She couldn’t see the other figure; couldn’t make out who it was.  There was a small crowd gathering, most likely of people who had been in the area, and Leah was worried about the potential backlash of people trying to investigate what happened.  “We need to get out of here, fast.”

What had once been pain only in her shoulder and chest had begun to blossom throughout her entire body. Her throat and chest were on fire, grief and anger struggling to one up another over what had happened. Sloane was too afraid that if she managed to be dug out from beneath the rubble that she might see her mom, even if only a hand, and that it’d set her off once more. The sound of Leah’s voice was clear as day now. Leah. Sloane could trust Leah. 

The sound of something moving, and then, after what felt like eons, light. It came in small streams at first, and honestly, Sloane was too afraid to look, to even address Leah. The older woman’s questions cut like a knife through the groaning of what was left of the building. At any moment, the rest of it could come crashing down on them. “It’s— Sloane, it’s Sloane.” Sloane moved out from beneath Cass, a shaking hand positioned on the girl’s shoulder. Her hair and clothes were covered in dust and pieces of rotten wood. 

There was a pain at her back now, too, and Sloane swallowed the urge to cry out as she tried to move upwards. She was stuck underneath something, even with Cass laying over top of her. Sloane awkwardly splayed her hand backwards trying to find what it was, wincing as her hand came away wet with blood. “I’m stuck.” It hadn’t occurred to her yet that what was beneath a broken gravestone was one of her newly acquired wings. “I can’t move.“ She tried to get out from beneath it again, a sharp whine leaving her as another groan from the building echoed overhead of them. 

“It’s…” Cass glanced hesitantly down at Sloane beneath her, chest aching for reasons that had nothing at all to do with the rubble on top of her and everything to do with blood on the floor that was not her own and grief cutting the air in a way she would never understand. “It’s my friend. Sloane.” She wasn’t sure if the description was accurate anymore. Would Sloane want to be her friend, after all of this? Cass still didn’t entirely understand what had happened, but she thought it was at least partially her fault. She thought Sloane’s mother wouldn’t be dead beneath this rubble if she’d listened to Sloane from the beginning and stayed away when she was meant to.

But that wasn’t important right now. No matter how Sloane felt about her when all of this was over, Cass was going to make sure that she was okay to feel it. She shifted off Sloane when Leah lifted the rubble, moving back to crouch beside her instead. When she caught a full glimpse of her for the first time since that scream had pierced the air, her breath caught in her throat. Wings stretched out beneath Sloane, coming from her back. Thin and moth-like and beautiful unlike anything Cass had ever seen. Taking note of the way one was trapped beneath a slab of granite that didn’t yet bear a name, the siren scrambled forward and shoved the broken gravestone to the side with all her mite, just barely possessing the strength to properly move it.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said quietly, cupping Sloane’s face in her hand briefly. “It’s all right.” She glanced back to Leah, adrenaline still pumping through her. She told herself adamantly that that was what was making her hands tremble, that that was what made her breath come in quick, shuddering gasps. Not even the best con artists could fully con themselves, but Cass could sure as hell try it. “We definitely need to get out of here,” she agreed, eyes darting across the room to land, briefly, on the pile of rubble she knew Shannon lay beneath. Sloane didn’t need to see whatever state her mother’s body must be in now. Sloane didn’t need to see any of this, really.

The building gave another groan, offering another reason in favor of a quick getaway. “I — We need to get her someplace safe. Please, Leah, please, I need your help. I need her to be okay, and — and safe. And not here.” 

And maybe she needed more than that, too, but she didn’t know how to say it. She didn’t know how to explain that tightness in her chest, didn’t know how to justify the way her eyes burned and her cheeks felt wet. Cass hadn’t lost anything. She hadn’t. There was no reason why it should be this hard to breathe, no reason why she should feel this strange sense of emptiness in her chest. She was fine. The thin line on her throat probably wouldn’t even leave a scar, the worst of the bruising would be gone in a week or two. She was fine. She was. 

“Is there somewhere we can go? It should be — We need to get away from here. She needs to get away from here.”

Leah noticed Sloane, small and scared and buried underneath much more than just rubble, before she heard her verify who she was.  So Cass and Sloane were friends.  It surprised her more than it should have, but she didn’t have much time to think about it.  Not now.  Not when there was so much at risk.  And then, there wasn’t much time for Leah to question if it were Sloane who screamed, or someone else who had fled before she arrived.  Cass had shoved aside the slab of stone, and there, clear as day, was a set of beautiful, ornate, yellow and black wings.  “Sloane…”, she breathed out, although her gaze was traveling between the two girls.  She nodded at Cass, trying to be reassuring despite the terror at their situation growing in her stomach, and got back to work removing the rest of the rubble from around them as quickly as she could.

“We’ll go to the library”, she said beneath groans as she pulled the last bits of granite away.  “We have a huge basement that only my sister and I have the key to-... no one will be able to find you there.”  She stood up, reaching her hand out to Cass to help her up first, hoping they’d both be able to pull Sloane up together.  “My car is around the corner, there’s a vial of phoenix tears in the glove compartment.  Should be enough to…”  She looked to Cass’ throat, biting her lip.  Her words had been sort of a stream of consciousness until then, but the sight stopped her in her tracks.  It seemed the more she learned about whatever had gone on here, the less she knew.  Leah couldn’t let herself get caught up in the emotion of it all, not yet.  “Books, too, that might help explain what’s going on…”

Maybe it was a little ironic, having been worried that Cass might accidentally let what was happening slip if Sloane would have filled her in, especially considering the fact that half of downtown was in front of their storefront now. As much as she wanted to shrink beneath the debris, she knew she had to get up and leave. If she was found here alongside her mom, what would they think? She had a better shot coming out of this unscathed if she wasn’t on the property by the time emergency services showed up and she knew it. 

Sloane looked into Cass’s eyes as the other girl cupped her face. Her skin was warm, and maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the fact that Sloane was deathly cool now, she wasn’t certain. Sloane’s gaze lazily swept up to meet Leah’s who seemed frantic enough for all three of them. Everything felt like it was in a haze, and there was a constant vibration beneath her skin now. She wondered if this was what it would always feel like. Cass was panicking and Sloane wanted to reach out, to tell her that it would be okay, but would it? Would any of this be okay? Would they be okay after this? 

As both Leah and Cass discussed their erratically laid out plan, Sloane was left to lay beneath the rubble, feeling more helpless than she had been even prior to her activation with only a canister of bear spray in her hand. The more that slabs of stone and rotten wood were moved away, the more Sloane felt like she could breathe. Finally, she was able to move out from beneath the rubble. As Leah spoke, Sloane tried to listen, but the constant stir in her mind, as well as her chest made it almost impossible to focus. She felt dazed, like there was some kind of cloak pulled over her, but she saw all of it that much clearer, too. It was confusing. Even though Leah had mentioned phoenix tears, Sloane felt something else trigger her. 

“Wait—“ Sloane choked on the word, grabbing Cass’s hand. She felt herself stumbling even though she hadn’t yet gotten to her feet. “You’re— your ears, you—“ Sloane glanced between Cass and Leah, dark gaze searching from the injury at Cass’s throat to the way that she seemed fine, save for the trauma that Sloane couldn’t see, and maybe the couple hundred cuts that matched her own. Cass wasn’t hurt. Cass wasn’t hurt. Not by her at least. Sloane swallowed thickly and held onto Cass’s arm, her refusal to let go evident in the set of her jaw as she tried to maneuver herself up from the pile of rubble. The pain in her leg and shoulder was enough to send her back down to her knees as she tried to get up without help and she let out a low enough whine to not disturb the falling building anymore than she already had. “I’m sorry,” Sloane muttered as she grit her teeth, willing the pain to subside so that she could make it out of here— so they could make it out of here. 

The library. It had always been something of a safe space, even before Cass knew Leah as well as she did now. She nodded quickly at the suggestion, feeling some relief that they had some semblance of a plan in place. If Leah hadn’t happened along, what would she have done? What would have happened? Cass was utterly useless to Sloane like this, all trembling hands and pounding pulse. She didn’t know enough about banshees to be any kind of help, didn’t know anything more than what she’d learned from Regan and what Marina had told her. 

But Leah did. That much was obvious, given her lack of surprise at Sloane’s new wings or the way she’d come running expecting a different banshee, but a banshee all the same. Leah knew enough to have something of a plan in place and they were so lucky that she’d been here. They were so lucky that it hadn’t been left to Cass. Because when things we left to Cass…

Her eyes drifted again to the pile of rubble where, somewhere underneath, Sloane’s mother lay dead. She thought of that motel room with the dead hunter, of Jackrabbit in the woods. This was what happened, wasn’t it, when Cass tried to help people? This was what happened when she tried to solve problems. People got hurt. People got killed. And Cass was left in the aftermath, never knowing how to rebuild in any kind of way that mattered.

A cold hand grabbed hers, shocking her from her thoughts for a moment. A quick glance down showed that it was Sloane’s, and Cass wondered if she was freezing. Was this a circulation thing? God, she was so out of her depth that it hurt. She swallowed at Sloane’s question, chest constricting for a moment. It felt like she was underwater, like she was at the bottom of the ocean without Levi or any diving equipment to make it survivable. 

Sloane was apologizing to her. With her mother dead just a few feet away, with her world laying in the rubble around them. Cass tried to make sense of it and couldn’t. She shook her head quickly, kneeling down next to the injured banshee and putting Sloane’s arm over her shoulder in a silent offer to carry the physical weight for her. The physical weight wasn’t going to be the heavy part, Cass knew, but it was the only thing she could help with now. “Hey, no. You don’t have to be sorry for anything, okay? This isn’t your fault. This never would have happened if…” If Cass had listened to Sloane from the beginning. If she hadn’t decided to try to make Shannon love her, even when Sloane told her to stay away. If she were the sort of person who could just exist in a world where not everyone wanted her around all of the time. If she weren’t so stupid, so needy, so reckless. If she were someone else, Shannon would be alive and Sloane wouldn’t be hurt. Cass knew that. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sloane. I should have listened to you.” She swallowed, turning back to Leah. “Can — Will you help me? She’s hurt, I don’t… Can you help us to the car?”

Leah watched the interaction between Cass and Sloane with piqued interest as she cleared more debris.  From their closeness and the way they looked at each other, Leah had assumed they were very close, great friends or even something more, but Sloane’s fascination at Cass’ lack of physical reaction to the scream proved that they were still learning each other’s ins and outs.  Relationships in White Crest were funny that way.  With some people so desperate to keep themselves safe, you could have a friend of a lifetime and never know that they weren’t human.  

She wanted to give them their privacy.  She wanted them to be able to share whatever this was between them without interruption, but their safety was much more important.  So instead of staying out of it, Leah helped Cass lift up Sloane.  She helped them walk the few blocks to her car, and she loaded them both gently in the back seat, so they could sit by each other and share whatever they needed without a nosy onlooker.  The drive to the library wasn’t long, but it felt heavy, like the air on a rainy day.  They may have picked up all of the physical debris they could, but Leah had a feeling they had a lot more cleaning up to do.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

Chapter 31: Love Me Like You Used To

word count: 8.4k

chapter summary: Sophie tackles one of the items on her To-Do list and learns something she thought she never would

warnings: death (important but not main character), not as bad as it sounds and also not described, anxiety, I think that's it!

taglist: I’ll reblog with it! let me know if you want to be added or removed!

ao3 link here or read below

Stories loved to tease, drawing out the terror and the unease and the questions and the revelations, allowing everyone to see each and every piece of the puzzle fall into place. To give them time to try and solve it themselves, to lead themselves astray. The nature of story-telling is to engage, and Sophie couldn’t help but feel like she was being strung along, waiting in that pause as the narrator took a breath, everyone leaning closer, before the story slammed back down to elicit gasps and shrieks and fear from its audience.

How much longer did she have before her story crashed together? How much longer could their plight build and climb and construct itself?

“What do we even do now?” Linh asked, flopping back against the cushions. “There’s so much going on.”

No one had an answer yet.

Sitting in the silence, Sophie pulled her to-do list from where she’d tucked it, fiddling with the paper. Maybe looking over it would help her decide which item to tackle next, or to prioritize them, because Phoenix had just jumped very high up the list. She couldn’t leave that girl with them, but how did she get her away from all that chaos?

“What’s that?” Fits asked.

Sophie hesitated for a moment; it was meant to be just her To-Do list to keep herself organized, but there was no harm in sharing it with everyone.

“Just a list of things I need to take care of. With so much happening, things kept slipping past me until they became problems I couldn’t ignore, so I’m trying to avoid that now.”

He held out his hand in question, and she handed it over. She didn’t think any of the things she’d written there were particularly embarrassing, but who knew?

His brow furrowed as he read through each item, Keefe crowding over his shoulder to read it too in a way that had Fitz shoving at his face to get away from him.

“I’m just looking!” Keefe insisted, sticking his face right next to Fitz’s, who looked like he was about to shove Keefe off the couch and maybe drag him through some mud for good measure--there was sure to be plenty outside with the patter of the rain nonstop against the roof.

“Keefe, I swear--”

“You can check off a few things from here, Foster,” he added, and she just sighed instead of explaining that Explain what happened when I got taken and Learn what Dex found in the facility had literally just happened and she hadn’t had a chance to yet.

After another moment of watching the two fight, Marella sighed, darting forward to snatch it from Fitz’s hands, reading it aloud to the group.

Or at least, she was going to when Dex interrupted right at the beginning. “You’re going to talk to our parents? Like…all of them? Why?”

Sophie held up her hand like she was defending herself against something when really all it had been was a few perfectly reasonable questions. “Okay, hear me out. I know we left and stopped responding to their messages, but…don’t you think it’s time we reach back out? We can’t avoid them forever. One day they’re going to find us or this is all going to be over and we won’t have any justification for running away--we don’t even have a good enough reason right now! They’re our parents and we’re ignoring them like--”

“Where is this coming from, Sophie?” Tam asked quietly beside her, eyes searching her face as he worried at his lip.

“Livvy said some things,” she admitted, shifting in her bean bag chair to keep her butt from going numb; they’d been sitting there a while.

“And?” he prompted further.

Sighing, she sat on her hands so she wouldn’t tug on her eyelashes. “She asked if she could give me advice, and I said yes, and she told me to talk to my parents. Because they trust me but I’m being uncooperative and they’re worried. And they want to help, but they can’t stop me from ignoring them even though they’ve tried and it’s never going to be any easier to try and fix everything so why not try now. It bothered me how right she was, so it was one of the first things I thought of when writing the list.”

“But not the first thing,” Biana noted, looking to her in question.

“I only thought of the riddle first because I’ve been putting it off for so long, but talking to my parents should probably be the first thing. I didn’t write it in order or anything,” she said, trailing off, anxiety curling in her chest as she wound it into the reforming knot under her ribs. At this rate she’d be fully stocked up and ready to explode with emotion in no time.

Fitz shifted on the couch, jostling Keefe, who’d been resting on his shoulder. “I guess…we should also do the same,” he admitted, glancing to Biana who made a face somewhere in between a grimace and longing…and then guilt for the longing.

“Yeah my mom…is definitely not going to be happy with me,” Dex said quietly, picking at the cuticles of his nails to avoid looking at anyone. “I mean, she’ll be happy to see me I guess. But not with…all of this.”

He punctuated the statement with a wave of his hands around the room, indicating their whole lives. The way they all lived with each other and had strange not-pets like Echo--who was currently investigating Tam’s hand, much to his chagrin, the way monsters were a part of their lives and the way none of them would change that. Not all of them had monsters, but the closest they got to flat out rejection was Maruca, who only did so to protect them all from the bad ones.

But they weren’t all bad, and that was the part that didn’t sit well with everyone else; they’d come around though, she knew they would. At least the people who mattered would. The rest? They could deal with them.

Sophie tried to channel Livvy as she offered him a small smile. “Well, waiting longer isn’t going to make her happier. No time like the present, that’s why it’s the gift. That’s. The present is a gift,” she repeated once again incorrectly, frowning. “Hang on, I know the quote. I’ve got this. Today is a gift, that’s why it’s called the present,” she said, flopping back once she’d finally gotten it right, sending a mental apology to Master Oogway out into the world for the disappointment, though he’d probably forgive her.

“I…what?” Maruca asked, distracted enough that the bauble of a shield she’d been rolling in her palms flickered away. She wasn’t the only one; strange looks were coming at her from all around the circle, but she ignored the faint heat crawling up her face. Her Kung Fu Failure wasn’t important right now.

“My point,” Sophie emphasized, “is that it’s never going to get easier, so why not do it now before we nearly die trying to take down the Neverseen and Phoenix--the organization. Phoenix the girl doesn’t deserve that. We need to get her out of there, and that’s part of why we’ll probably nearly die. And maybe our parents could help, too. Not that we’d risk them up here, but they might know things or have ideas. They’ve done that before.”

“Just to be clear, I am not talking to Daddy Dearest,” Keefe added, glancing at her.

She nodded. “Okay, cool. No one else has to do anything, I’m doing this for me. But what about Ro?”

“I hate it when you make good points.”

“I just said you don’t have to do anything, though. It’s a suggestion.”

It only being a suggestion didn’t stop him from sticking his tongue out at her as he folded his arms, pouting.

Fitz grinned, hiding his own rapid heartbeat as he reached over to ruffle Keefe’s hair, who responded by swatting at him.

The conversation made her all too aware of her imparter pressed against her leg, slipped into a hidden pocket. Square and thin, that little device could change so many things if she only used it the right way. But what way was right? Should she show up knocking on their door, go back to the Underground again? Should she hail them?

What would she even say? I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you for weeks, what’s up with you? Read any good books lately?

If only there was a manual for when you got turned not entirely human--elven in her case--and ran away from home, cutting off your parents for an extended period of time as you tried to puzzle together who you were now and the mysterious past of two dangerous organizations terrorizing the planet, and now needed to apologize while also continuing to do almost all the things that caused the problems in the first place.

“Yeah, she’s not hearing a word we’re saying,” Marella’s voice sighed, cutting through Sophie’s worried thoughts and sending her crashing down to Earth more jarringly than when Silveny had thrown her from her back into a pile of glittery manure in front of the entire Council so many years ago.

Sophie’s face burned as she blinked, comprehending how spaced out she’d been only a moment later. “Sorry, were you talking to me?”

“Yep, we were asking if you had any plan on how you wanted to do that, and if it would need all of us. Or if it would be better if we all contacted our parents on our own--or someone else,” Fitz amended, gesturing vaguely towards Keefe. “If we wanted to, that is.”

Picking at the hem of her shirt to keep her from removing all of the eyelashes from her face and then some from someone else's, she thought it over for a moment. “I think…we do it on our own, if we want to. Like I said, the list was just for me. I need to talk to my parents, but I can’t tell the rest of you what to do.”

Wylie was making a face in the corner she couldn’t discern anything from, but he didn’t add to the conversation so she let it slide.

“Well…I guess I need to go make a hail,” Fitz mumbled, turning towards Biana like he was going to ask her something when Keefe jumped in.

“I think you mean we need to go make a hail, because there’s no way I’m letting you do that alone. I’d be able to feel the nerves radiating off of you from the other side of the village, Avery. Now c’mon,” he said, standing and pulling Fitz to his feet with a start, who gave a slight wince as he redistributed his weight off his bad leg.

No one said anything to interrupt them, everyone just amused to watch their banter. Sometimes they acted like an old married couple, and the teasing material they got out of it was so golden no one dared disrupt the process.

Fitz shoved at Keefe with affection. “You’re the worst, you know that right? What are--what are you even trying to do.” Despite his complaints, however, he was still allowing Keefe to drag him out of the building, where the rain had picked up.

“As your best friend for life, I’m giving you the motivation and awesomeness to do something that terrifies you! Like a best friend should.”

“I don’t think that--oh it’s so wet! Why are we out here!” His shrieks from the cold rain finally broke the silent spell over the rest of the group as Biana snorted, clapping a hand against her mouth.

Wylie was rubbing at his temples, Dex leaning back to get a good view out the window of their squabbling figures, and everyone’s lips were upturned, even Tam’s as he shook his head in exasperation.

The somber mood had lifted, the stressors of everything she’d let spill about the day before and the ominous documents Dex had summarized, everything melting into nothing, and Sophie swore she could feel Keefe’s smug smile from here. He may be an absolute pain in their asses a lot of the time, but he knew exactly what he was doing when it counted.

BRRR, Echo complained, and everyone jumped. It’d been sitting so politely and everyone had pretended it wasn’t there, but you couldn’t easily ignore the rumble that burst from its chest, vibrating through the floorboards and sending shivers up your spine, goosebumps across your flesh, unless you were very used to it--and no one but Sophie was.

“Okay seriously what is that thing,” Tam demanded, scooting back further in his beanbag. Or at least, he tried to, instead he just kinda fumbled and sunk further down, knocking a wing into a wall as he struggled.

Sophie just shrugged. “Your guess is about as good as mine, honestly.”

“I think it’s cute,” Biana said, standing up and crossing the room so she could squat down in front of Sophie, extending a hand close to Echo’s face so it could investigate her.

Echo flinched a little in surprise before curiously pushing its face closer to Biana’s fingers, and she practically melted into it, scratching the top of its head and swirling those black and white glitchy furs together as a rumbly purr permeated the room.

Sophie didn’t pay much attention to everyone else as Biana lowered herself completely to the floor, but she was vaguely aware of everyone dispersing--though there were no shrieks of surprise from the rain, which kept up a gentle patter against the windows and roof--until it was only Sophie, Biana, and Linh--and Wylie, because he lived there.

Linh had taken Tam’s beanbag, and was leaning close, watching Biana pet Echo and looking like she very badly wanted to be doing the same thing. Her eyes occasionally strayed towards the vast windows, watching the raindrops streaking down the glass with a misty longing before she drew herself back to the moment, toying with the silver ends of her hair.

“Are you…are you going to hail your parents today?” Biana finally asked into the quiet, dropping her hand from Echo’s fur and inclining her head at Linh, who immediately took her place offering her fingers.

Sophie reached up to pull on her lashes, but stopped herself half-way. “I…yeah, I think I am.”

“Can I be there?” Biana’s voice was small enough Sophie nearly thought she imagined it, but the flush creeping across her cheeks was unmistakable.

“Oh, of course, but,” Sophie trailed off, trying to figure out what she wanted to say. “Don’t you want to talk to your own parents? Why mine?”

Biana made a noise, fiddling with the hem of her shirt--a very pretty dark blue, the kind that went great with khaki--as she shrugged. “I do want to talk to them. I miss them…more than I can ever explain. But it’s been so long that I don’t even know where to start. So I want to see how you do it, and maybe it makes me a coward but if Fitz is willing to do the hard part and talk to them first and explain everything…then I’m going to let him.”

“That doesn’t make you a coward,” Linh interrupted gently, dropping her hand from Echo to look fully at her. “It’s a hard situation, of course you don’t want to deal with it. And if this makes it easier for you and everyone else is willing, why not go for it? No one is going to hold that against you or think less of you.”

Biana didn’t have a response to that, going kind of quiet as she traced a fingernail along the scars all along her body, drawing pictures of her history into her skin.

A faint bump of something in an adjacent room startled the three of them, reminding them that they weren’t alone and this was, in fact, Wylie’s house.

“Do you want to come to my place?” Sophie said in a rush, not quite sure where the words came from but meaning them all the same. “You can come, too, if you want,” she offered to Linh.

Linh gave a smile, lighting up a little from the inside.

“I’d love to, but I’m keeping this thing--” she scratched Echo’s head for emphasis--”with me. You’ve hogged it for far too long.”

“Um, excuse me? It’s not my fault you all were scared of it and Marella wanted to kill it.”

“Semantics,” Biana shrugged as she stood, and Sophie made an indignant noise as she was pulled to her feet, Linh laughing behind her as they pushed the door open.

A dome of water formed above the three of them, Linh twirling her hands with graceful skill to keep the pattering rain off their delicate insect wings and away from the not-cat curled in Biana’s arms, sightly confused by the change of events but going along with it nonetheless.

She’d never seen Echo this calm or for this long before in her life, but it felt right.

Everything was falling into place, they just had to get each other through it.

____________________

“Why is the window broken?” Biana asked, poking her finger at the rough edges, careful not to cut herself on the colors.

“Sophie just loves the open air, she couldn’t help herself,” Linh teased, sitting on the edge of Sophie’s bed as she smoothed out the blankets behind her, picking up a strand of not-cat hair, flicking it away.

“There are easier ways to open a window than breaking it.”

Rolling her eyes, Sophie crawled into the bed behind Linh, sitting in the center. “It was like that when I got here,” she said in answer to Biana’s question.

The Biana in question sank down next to Linh, setting Echo gently on the covers between the three of them. In this formation, with the two of them before Sophie, they wouldn’t be visible on the hail unless they chose to move into sight, a little precaution in case it turned out to be overwhelming.

Sophie was already overwhelmed, palms sweating and her heart beating unevenly in her chest, faint periodic buzzing coming from her wings as they worried at the air. She started to reach for an eyelash, but stopped herself.

Everything was fine. It was just her parents. Maybe they wouldn’t even pick up.

“Hey, Lady Fos-boss,” Biana interrupted before Sophie could fall too far down the panic hole, waving a hand in her face. “I know we claimed this…thing,” she looked quizzically at Echo, “but would it help if you held onto something?”

“Oh! Here,” Linh added, standing up to dart down the stairs towards the desk, snatching the neon dinosaur and bringing it back to place in Sophie’s hand. “Emotional support--aside from us, of course. You could hold us instead if you needed.”

Sophie let out a small laugh, squeezing the dinosaur before settling it in her lap, letting out a breath as she took her imparter from her pocket, ignoring the spike of dizziness, the terror crawling under her skin.

“Thanks for being here--and for the dinosaur.”

They both gave her encouraging thumbs up, though Biana’s heartbeat had started to pound nearly as much as Sophie’s. Linh placed a hand on Biana’s shoulder, offering comfort how she could as Sophie took the next step.

She held up her imparter and spoke the words before any more doubt could creep in. “Show me Edaline Ruewen.”

____________________

When Sophie was little, she’d been gifted much more independence than she probably should’ve had. Her cover story about taking the train back from the museum after Fitz had completely shattered her view of the world at only twelve years old could only work if she knew how to use the train after all.

Her human parents hadn’t been particularly fond of it, and she’d never forgotten the exact cadence of their relief every time she walked back through the door. Their thoughts flooding into a puddle in the forefront of their mind as they tried not to let it show, tried to reassure her that it wasn’t her they distrusted, that everything was okay.

But that deluge of concerns and anxieties had haunted her ever since, and it was the exact same as te tone in Edaline’s words as her face filled the small screen held unsteady in her palm.

“Sophie? Sophie! Oh it’s--” Edaline’s face turned away before she had the chance to say anything, the screen blurring as she stood, calling out Grady’s name a moment later, telling him to come there right this instant, that Sophie was hailing, that she’d finally reached out. That she’d responded. That she was there.

She tightened her grip on the dinosaur to resist the urge to tear out her eyelashes, and Linh gave her an encouraging smile.

BRRR, said Echo from Biana’s lap, in a very Echo-like fashion that allowed her to take a breath. It was okay, everything was okay. It might be a little rocky, but she was fixing things.

And then Grady’s face appeared next to Edaline’s, both of their faces lined with exhaustion and worry, hair mussed but smoothed back and skin colorless. It was as though they’d tried to hastily cover all the signs and were so close but not quite there.

“Um…hey,” she whispered, her voice suddenly gone. The sight of them, those two faces who had taken her in and loved her more than she’d ever deserved or expected…she wanted nothing more than for them to hold her close. Maybe that’s why she’d put this off for so long, because some part of her knew how badly she’d miss them if only she confronted them and she hadn’t been ready to face it.

She wasn’t even sure she was now.

“Kiddo, are you okay? Are you hurt? We know what happened with Elwin--”

“You saw Elwin?”

Edaline set the imparter down so the two of them could sit, saying, “Of course, we visited as soon as Livvy would let us after we heard. She said she patched you up a little, so we know something happened. Everyone’s okay, right?”

Sophie glanced towards Linh and Biana for a moment, who were staying silent in case she didn’t want her parents to know they were there, just carding their fingers through Echo’s fur.

Squeezing the dinosaur tighter, she answered, “Yeah, everyone’s okay. Elwin was…he was the only one home. We were all out, so no one else was hurt.” She didn’t say the rest of it, but they heard the unspoken words nevertheless; they knew her too well.

“It’s not your fault, honey,” Edaline reassured her. “We’re just so glad to hear your voice. We didn’t know if we’d ever see you again.”

What was she even supposed to say to that?

“Sorry about that, it won’t happen again,” was what she came up with after a moment of silence, watching her parents as they spoke with baited breath, as though approaching a wild animal. Like they were scared of startling her away and losing this opportunity.

“Does that mean you’ll stop ignoring us?” Grady asked, glancing between her and Edaline. “That we’ll work together again? Kiddo, we never meant to scare you away--”

Sophie waved her hand in the air, trying to push their worries away through the screen. “No no, it’s--it’s fine. I understand why you did it even if…even though the tracker was a shock at first. But what other options did you have? It’s nothing, really. I’m sorry I pushed you to a point where that was the best choice you could make.”

“Why did you, Sophie?” Edaline’s gentle voice asked after a moment, like she’d been bracing herself for the question. “What’s going on? Please don’t push us away again, whatever it was we just want you to be safe and happy and loved. We’ve had no idea what’s going on with you for weeks, you were gone so suddenly and then when Grady went to see you…talk to us, Sophie.”

Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the blurriness from her eyes, fingers digging into the dinosaur's fluffy exterior as she breathed.

Opening them, she caught Linh and Biana’s eyes, looking at them like they could tell her what to do, what to say, how to fix all this.

“Is someone there with you?” Grady asked, squinting at the screen like he could somehow break elf-physics and project himself into the room so he could see them.

Biana waved, despite not being visible, saying, “Hi, Grady!”

“We’re here for emotional support,” Linh added, coming to Sophie’s rescue as she fumbled for the right words. When she got all heated up it was all too easy to let the vitriol flow from her mouth, spewing fire onto those who pissed her off, but when it mattered like this it was so so much more difficult to find herself, to articulate herself.

Edaline’s fingers were tugging at a strand of hair that had escaped its place as she asked “Have you talked to Alden and Della?”

Biana’s face scrunched up, and she removed her fingers from Echo’s--who had remained blissfully quiet--fur to scoot next to Sophie, wings folded behind her with the colors vanished, invisible on screen.

“I haven’t yet. Fitz and Keefe are doing that; I’ll talk to them…later.” When I’m ready, were the words she didn’t say, but everyone caught nevertheless.

Linh silently came to sit on Sophie’s other side, offering no further commentary except to be there, waving a polite hello that Grady and Edaline returned with a smile. Their eyes were scanning up and down and up and down all of them, looking for injuries or marks despite Sophie assuring them everyone was okay. She couldn’t blame them, her own eyes following every piece of them to try and figure out who they’d become in the time since she’d left them.

“I’m glad you have each other,” Edaline whispered, reaching for Grady’s hand and squeezing tight.

A weight settled in Sophie’s chest, a spark burning through the fear in her mind, the hesitation. “Can we--can you give us a minute?” She blurted out, then rushed to reassure them. “I promise I’m not going to hang up or push you away, that’s why I hailed you in the first place. Livvy told me I should talk to you and she was right and it was so selfish of me to leave the way I did and I want to fix it. I know I don’t deserve it after everything I’ve put you through, but please trust me--just one minute, that’s it. Is that okay?”

“Of course we trust you, Sophie,” Grady said. “But we’re gonna hold you to that not hanging up or pushing us away anymore thing, okay?”

She hummed her agreement, nodding vigorously as she set her imparter face down on her bed, giving the three of them a little bit of privacy as she leaned back to look at them the best she could. Both Biana and Linh had equally curious expressions, and Biana opened her mouth to ask a question Sophie silenced with a wave of her hand.

Not out loud, she said into their heads, forming a little mental bubble for the three of them--actually, four, she realized when Echo made a noise into her head.

What’s this for? Linh asked, Biana inclining her head, equally curious.

Sophie briefly considered trying to approach this delicately, but she didn’t want to leave her parents waiting, so she cut to the chase. I…don’t want to talk to them like this. It feels too important to do over a hail; if I wanted to visit them in person, would you come?

Wait, like go back to the Underground? Biana’s thoughts warred between excitement and nerves, a tinge of pinks and greens coloring her thoughts.

Nodding, she explained further. You don’t have to do anything but…I think it’s what I need to do. You’ve already helped more than enough just being here right now when you didn’t have to, I’d never ask you to do something like this against your will--

Of course I’ll come, Linh interrupted, taking Sophie’s hand and holding it tight, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Whatever you need, I’m there.

Biana hesitated for a moment, then spoke. Yeah, I’ll go.

Her thoughts still squirmed with an unease, prompting Sophie to ask, Are you sure? You really don’t have to if you don’t want to.

No, no. I mean it. I want to go. Her resolve had solidified in her mind with Sophie’s question, and even though her nerves lingered she could tell her offer was genuine. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Lady Fos-Boss.

Sophie gave her a smile, letting out a breath. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted them to say yes; she never would’ve forced them to come along, but it was nice to have them at her side.

Okay, now you give me one minute, she told them, closing her eyes as she let her mind spread further and further, finding those ties she and Fitz had so carefully crafted between the ten of them.

She gave them a light tug, whispering I need you for a second, giving everyone a moment to stop what they were doing and turn their attention inwards.

You okay? Dex asked immediately, sounding like he was ready to drop everything and come sprinting for her house.

Yep, just a heads up that Biana, Linh, and I are going to go back to the Underground to talk to my parents--just them, we’ll try to stay away from everyone else to make it easier. So…yeah, just letting you all know. Is there anything you’d like us to do or say or bring while we’re there? I think it’ll be best with just the three of us right now so we don’t overwhelm them…but maybe this could be a test to see if you guys can go back soon--if you want to, she tacked on at the end, firmly biting her tongue to remind herself to stop talking.

Silence followed for a second as everyone processed, then Keefe’s voice came through.

If you see Ro…tell her that yellow really isn’t her color.

That earned a few laughs from everyone else, but no one else knew what to say. They trusted her, despite all the shit they’d been through, and if she wanted to go back, well, she’d given them advanced notice of her plans and a bit of her reasoning. They’d know where the three of them were if they never returned, and no one would find them missing in a panic the way they had with Linh.

With all that sorted, Sophie opened her eyes, wincing as her eyes adjusted to the light, Biana and Linh at her side as she picked her imparter back up, both her parents still sitting there, looking to each other and whispering in quick tones.

She could’ve picked up on the conversation if she wanted to, but that was their business; she wasn’t going to interfere.

“Sorry, that was probably more than one minute,” she said, watching their heads turn back towards her as their expressions softened, shoulders dropping and tension leaking from their limbs.

“No worries, kiddo,” Grady told her. “What was that all about?”

Taking a breath, she said, “Well, I was asking Linh and Biana if they’d…like to join me on a trip to visit you.”

____________________

“Is it just me or is the grate different?” Biana whispered, glancing around the clearing, the small open circle of clear grass and flowers bordered by craggy trees all twisting and reaching and moaning towards the sky.

So many times, creatures had roamed this area, come to try and rend the flesh from their bones. But now all she could hear was the faint air moving along the bark, the tapping of a woodpecker, the buzz of quiet, unseen life surviving.

“Well, I kinda threw it into a tree and then Marella melted it back together, so they couldn’t keep it like that,” Sophie offered, crouching down to press her fingers to the grooves, moving it with all the effort of flicking a piece of paper off a desk. She didn’t want a repeat, to keep destroying what she touched.

Her cloak scrunched uncomfortably against her wings and got caught under her foot as she stood, having successfully removed the grate, the tiny entrance into such a bursting live underground, without breaking it. They’d opted to wear them just as a precaution, in case anyone saw them, in case her parents weren’t ready to talk about something like that.

Who was she kidding? Her parents would absolutely want to talk about that. Grady had been gracious enough not to say anything about it since he’d seen, but she knew that was only because there were more pressing things. Because he didn’t want to scare her away, wanted to make sure she was held close before he ventured into those waters.

Once upon a time, he wouldn’t have had a modicum of hesitation about telling it to her straight. She was going to do what she could to get them back to that place.

Biana dropped through first, the edges of her wings visible as they wrapped close to her body to keep from scraping against the crystal edges.

Linh followed, making a slight noise of surprise as she slipped down the ladder a little, but her wings were easy to work with, covered as they were.

Then it was Sophie’s turn, and as she placed her feet on the first rungs, moving down bit by bit until she could drag the cover back over their heads, twisting it into place and shutting them inside.

It had a sense of finality as her feet touched the stone floor, the tops of the stairs leading down down down in spirals.

Biana reached out to grab her hand, an uncharacteristic tremble in her fingers as she reached for Linh too, the three of them linked together as they started the climb back Underground.

Silent footsteps kicked up dust in clouds, mixing alongside other footprints from a time long-since gone. She swore she could pick out one of her own on the steps, from when she’d first run away.

It was about half-way down that she finally peeked over the edge and saw them.

Edaline paced back and forth, the soft yellow fabric of her long sleeves falling down to her arms as she worried at her lip, glancing between the stairs and Grady.

Grady was leaning against a wall, arms rigid against his chest where he’d crossed them, hair ruffled as though he’d run his hands through it again and again. He, too, kept glancing up at the stairs, so Sophie took a step closer to the edge, so they could see her properly.

Lifting her free hand, she gave a slight wave, heart ripping itself out of her ribs as their sudden gasps echoed in her ears, both surging to action as they raced up the stairs.

“Sophie,” Edaline whispered, footsteps pounding through the stone, disappearing from sight as they started the spiral up up up towards where the three of them stood.

“C’mon!” Biana urged, pulling their chain of three down the stairs until they were moving fast enough they had to drop each other’s hands to keep from tripping, Biana and Linh leading the procession as Sophie nearly tripped, every part of her shaking.

And then the footsteps were so so close and they were on the same level and they crash crash crashed into each other, and Grady’s hand cradled the back of her head and Edaline’s fingers brushed against the back of her cloak and everything went blurry and she couldn’t see through the tears streaking down her face and her throat constricted from the effort to keep her sobs in her chest, raw and poignant.

Their arms left her for only a moment, to pull Biana and Linh in just as tight, the five of them all wrapped up and pressed close.

How long they stayed like that, silent and unmoving, Sophie lost track.

But at some point they pulled back and Grady held Sophie gently from an arm’s length, looking her over as though she’d had some secret injury she’d hidden from him over the imparter. Like he just had to make sure she was still whole.

“We’ve missed you so much, kiddo,” he whispered, pulling her close again.

“I missed you too,” she echoed after a moment, not realizing how much she meant the words until her fingers were digging into his back as she breathed in the smell of him, musky and warm and floral and dirty and--

“Why do you smell like smoke?” Alarmed, she leaned back, looking over him the same way he had as her, glancing to Edaline as well. She could feel Linh and Biana’s eyes trailing over the three of them from a few steps away, giving them space but just as concerned.

Edaline stepped forward then, placing one hand on each of their shoulders, smile more grimace than joy as she looked back at Biana and Linh. “I think…we have a lot to discuss, Sophie. But not here. Come down, come back with us. We won’t…” she trailed off, then started again. “You called us this time, we’ll follow your lead, okay?”

Sophie glanced back at Biana and Linh, who shrugged at her as if to say This was your idea. Which wasn’t the most helpful thing in the world, but it gave her the strength to turn back and nod her head, pushing all her questions to the side for the moment. She’d get her chance to ask, she’d get her answers.

And undoubtedly give a million of her own.

Dust whirled against the floor as they moved, swiftly and quietly through the halls, that warm dirt smell fogging the air. Empty empty empty, bleak, hollow and yet stuffed to the brim. That’s how it always felt. People had tried to pretend like nothing was different, like they were still aloof and alone all across the world instead of shoved undignified beneath the earth. Elves didn’t live next to each other, so they didn’t like to see each other. It was just another reminder of the reality they wanted so badly not to be real.

The door clicked shut behind them with a sort of finality, and an ache settled itself in her chest at the cramped yet homey curved walls, so familiar to her yet a lifetime ago. Their cluster had three bubbles: a small main room with a kitchen, dining, and living space, and two bedrooms bordering each side. One for her parents and one for her. Tiny, microscopic compared to Havenfields expanses, but with the three of them there it felt like home.

This couldn’t be her home anymore.

Not with the press of the earth against her consciousness, not with the cramped spaces and uncertainty, the feigned emptiness. Not with so many suffering monsters above and Phoenix stuck with those horrid people, not with everything they were learning.

She didn’t belong underground.

But she didn’t say any of that as she grabbed a chair from the small table in the eating area, dragging it towards the couch in the living area of the main room, Linh and Biana doing the same as her parents sank onto the cushions, all of them now in a circle with each other.

They each tucked their cloaks carefully against their bodies as they sat, wings pressed to their skin. Not that it mattered. Because Grady had seen. It didn’t mean he’d understood what he’d seen, but he’d seen.

In time, they’d get through all that with time; this was a test.

If everything went well, others could use the pathfinder she’d stolen from Grady what felt like a lifetime ago to come back. Everyone had the location of their Underground memorized in case of an emergency, though there’d been no cause to use it in months. Not since everyone had started to give up on the surface.

Edaline spoke first. “Sophie, before you say anything I want to apologize. For the tracker. We--I was desperate, and you weren’t responding to anything else we tried. I know it wasn’t fair to you, and I wish I hadn’t done it. I think it just drove you further away, and I’ll never be sorry enough. I want nothing more than your safety and happiness, but my actions were wrong. And for that I’m sorry.” Her fingers fiddled with the loose fabric of her sleeves pooling in her lap, and Sophie was momentarily stunned.

“I forgave you a while ago,” she said truthfully. “I’m sorry I created a situation where you thought that was all you could do.”

Edaline and Grady both smiled ruefully. “You create a lot of situations, kiddo, but we’ll always love you,” Grady told her, smile fading back into concern. “You all do--what happened yesterday? Elwin…” he trailed off, shaking himself together.

“How about we start from the beginning?” Edaline suggested, leaning forward. “You’re not running away or in a hurry right now, right? I bet it’s a long story--I’ll make tea.”

“Thank you,” Linh said, as Edaline got up, crossing the small space towards the kitchen area and pulling dried herbs and leaves from storage spaces.

Biana put a finger to her lip in thought. “When you say the beginning…”

“We mean the beginning,” Grady confirmed with a nod and a small smirk, like he wasn’t sure he could joke about it yet but trying all the same. “We were all talking about your attack on the main facility, and then you started scratching yourself and we took you straight back to Elwin and that’s the last time any of us knew what was going on. You were there, and Elwin said you didn’t want to deal with visitors, and then the next day you were gone. You’d left. What’s going on, kiddo?” His voice grew soft at the end, the faint sound of Edaline’s fingers drumming against the counter echoing through her ears.

“It was to protect you,” she said, picking at the skin around her nails to keep from tugging at her eyelashes, though both were bad.

“What do you mean? Protect us how?”

Sophie glanced back at Linh and Biana, who both gave a slight shrug--as much as they could without shifting their cloaks and creating a whole new trail of conversation--telling her that she’d been the one to come here. This was her story to tell.

“Because…we were afraid we were going to try and kill you, to kill everyone Underground,” she said, blunt words falling from her mouth and hitting the ground like stones.

After that, the story started tumbling out, disjointed and uncoordinated but complete. As complete as she could make it as she doubled back, explaining what had happened in the facility, how they’d somehow been in the wrong room and how a creature had gotten out and destroyed the shelves, bottles and vials raining down on their heads and mixing and smashing together, how that had done something to them. They thought they could just wash it off but it’d gotten into their systems, under their skin, into their lungs, something Elwin couldn’t do anything about.

How that night she’d woken, how she’d seen her back in the mirror and--wings, there had been wings growing from her back. Wings that weren’t elven, because wings belonged to monsters. And if they were growing wings, then what would stop them from taking over the rest of their bodies, from consuming them whole until they were the same mindless beasts that roamed the surface--at least, they’d thought they were mindless. Sophie knew better now.

But back then it had been enough to drive them away, the suffocating feel of all the earth pressing down around them--

“Is it bothering you now?” Edaline interrupted, hands wrapped around a cup of tea she hadn’t once touched. They were taking the news quietly, used to Sophie’s antics throughout the years, and even if this was a whole new level of strange, they’d had enough practice that their safety was still top priority in their mind over everything else they could throw at them.

Sophie paused mid-word, tongue running along her teeth as she glanced towards the ceiling, the ever present knowledge in the back of her mind that she was trapped trapped trapped--

No, she reminded herself. I can leave whenever I want. I’m not trapped. It’s just dirt. And probably a lot of worms. Could catch a lot of fish. I don’t know how to fish.

“It’s just like…an itch,” Biana supplied while Sophie was thinking about fish. “It’s nothing serious. We’ll be fine.” Linh and Sophie nodded in agreement, but her parents still frowned a little.

“We’re beyond relieved to see you again, but if it gets to be too much--”

Sophie held up a hand. “I know my limits. If it gets to be too much we’ll leave, but really it’s fine. Where was I?”

“Earth,” Grady said, taking a sip from his mug, looking at her with a mixture of something like pain, fear, and complete faith. She had to take a deep breath before she continued, but doing so had her wrinkling her nose again.

She shook her head. “Hang on, you never explained why you smell like smoke.”

Her parents glanced at each other, trying to communicate telepathically, before they sighed.

Edaline trailed a finger along the hem of her shirt, saying, “I suppose it’s only fair that after all of that we share something with you, too. We’ve been…exploring the surface. The destruction from the everblaze in that meadow after it was put out. I guess the smell has stuck despite all the showers.”

Sophie gaped at them, flinching back a little. “You’ve been on the surface? You could be killed!”

“Are you looking for something?” Linh asked at the same time, leaning forward with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Grady shook his head, responding to Linh first. “We weren’t looking for anything particular, surveying the land to see what the damage was and what would be necessary to start bringing it back, if we could do anything as restricted as we are.”

“Stop giving us that look, Sophie. You act like you’ve never done anything that stopped our hearts dead in our chests,” Edaline said, and Sophie schooled her look into something more neutral, but she couldn’t take back the horror and concern it’d just been displaying. “It’s only a few hours, not as bad as you think. It’s gotten…better, recently.”

“What does that mean?”

Edaline waved a hand in the air as if that would help her explain. “All the things up above, they haven’t been a problem. We haven’t had any encounters with anything during our visits with how scorched the area is, and even just above--where you came in--it’s like they’ve just vanished. No more attacks when we leave, no more lingering in the area. Like they never were there in the first place. Like something else is more important.”

They all went silent for a moment, and Sophie couldn’t help but feel like the change in the monsters had something to do with them. They all existed in a strange in between, not quite elves but not quite monsters, and if this change happened when Edaline said it had…didn’t that coincide with them leaving?

“So what did you learn about the area?” Linh said, finally breaking the silence. “Have you figured out how to fix it?

“Not quite yet,” Grady said, leaning back on the couch and frowning, looking towards the ceiling as though he could see to the scorched earth beyond. “We’ll need to look again more thoroughly.”

“Well what have you found out?” Sophie asked instead.

“There’s extensive damage to the area, so we’ll need to clean up the ash before we can think about reseeding and regrowing the area. Which will be more work since…the gnomes, you know.”

Biana frowned. “Wait--you said the trips are a few hours; that’s all you learned? We could’ve guessed that.”

Edaline shifted, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “It’s a process. As much as we wish we could, we can’t fix it all at once.”

Sophie wanted to believe her. She was right after all, destruction of that kind took patience and persistence to repair. Fire damage didn’t disappear overnight.

But her parents' hearts were pound pound pounding in their chests, completely contradictory to the way they leaned back on the couch, sipping from their mugs and chatting with the three of them.

“What aren’t you telling us,” she asked, voice solemn and quiet as it sliced through the air.

“Sophie, we aren’t--”

“No,” she interrupted gently. “I know you. You’re keeping something from us. I came back to reconnect with you, not to have more secrets between us.”

Grady shook his head, eyes glossing over. “It’s not pleasant and we won’t have any of the answers to the questions you’ll have. It’s more trouble than it’s worth Sophie, not with so much already going on with you.”

“Well now I’m just going to think up something totally unrealistic and scare myself with it--you really think we can’t handle whatever it is? We’ve dealt with dragons tearing apart the sky and explored abandoned facilities--I got kidnapped yesterday!! I promise it won’t be too much.”

Shock flickered on their faces followed quickly by concern as she realized she’d let slip a little more than she’d meant to. “Don’t focus on that. I want to tell you. I want to be a team again, but how can we trust you with our story if you aren’t willing to do the same?”

Edaline squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing at her temple with one hand as she sighed. “She was going to find out eventually; isn’t it better that it’s from us?” she mumbled to Grady when he seemed like he was going to continue protesting. “You’re right, that’s not all we found. And yes, the information we have about the area is limited to about what you could guess because our investigation was cut short.”

“Why? What did you find?” Biana asked, inclining her head and leaning forward.

Edaline’s hand fell into her lap and Grady squeezed it tight.

Then, she spoke. “We found Lady Gisela--or rather, her body.”

[confrontthefamiliar]

New moon in cancer

I dreamt I was being unproductive with time but in the dream, the man I work for in reality, soon revealed to me that it was apart of the timing, nodding his head.

In the past, I’ve found myself doing things I didn’t want to do or spending time with people I didn’t want to spend time with.

This has led me to good friendships but my friendship with myself is more important than with others. Doing the things I want is more important than doing things for others. And sure it’s a balance. But I think I’ll be leaning into the first one these days. Especially with the nodes moving into Aries and Libra. Especially since this yearlong detour where I decided to serve others and help them build their dreams. I want everyone else to do what they want.

We say we need each other but that wouldn’t be right. Like any healthy relationship it’s a nice to have not a need to have.

The paradox of love and friendships.

I spent the winter and spring snowboarding though I’d have rather been surfing.

But I had to make a ton of tips and I had to be in one place.

And I was supposed to go sailing.

That was the whole point of being here.

And he had the nerve to say I didn’t follow through on my word. I listened to projection after projection. I’ve heard projection after projection. It’s time to be a detective of other peoples’ logic as a matter of beforehand.

My wrath these days amuses me. I suppose it’s looping around from the last full moon in Cancer back in January.

I’m going to channel it towards movement towards my drive. My drive is coming back but it’s still pixelated.

The other thing is I quit smoking tobacco. Cigarettes keep so many emotions at bay.

At first I got a rush from the emotions flooding at me that I had smoked through all this time.

They’re telling me to cry. They’re telling me to be enraged.

I’m going through a portal of emotion.

I’ve tried quitting multiple times for the last two years. The last three men I dated were smokers. I think quitting the cigs is also quitting these kinds of men.

I want to be less anonymous and try to reveal myself more and see what happens. Maybe I’ll stop seeking intimacy in doomed situations. My shyness is peeling off. I sang on the stage at a friend’s birthday party.

I’m listening to this YouTube playlist at a Mediterranean cafe on the northwest coast of Tahoe - my favorite part of the lake. Back in Spain when I was 24, they played the same playlist at a surf hostel I worked at.

It’s that theme repeating of absolute delight, of absolute pleasure, of absolute joy. There was a song that haunted me on that playlist because I couldn’t find it for years after.

“And then she’d say, ‘It’s okay, I got lost on the way, but I’m a supergirl, and supergirls don’t cry’… she’s sowin’ seeds, she’s burnin’ trees.”

It has always been my song. I pay more attention now to songs that pop into my head. They’re messages for me.

Back in Ecuador when I was 26, I made my friend a bracelet that said viento when I didn’t know what to make it say as I was at a particularly existential point in my life and didn’t believe in anything.

But I’m back on the viento.

Who could have known the lack of meaning would become viento and in doing so become meaningful?

I never want to allow a man to lead me astray. That’s why I’ll be a captain.

If it’s not a fuck yes… I said to Cristian.

And in the meantime, while things pixelate, I realize it’s okay to do literally nothing to make money.

It’s sort of dangerous. But it’s different. A different lifestyle than I was taught.

The money remains the same but the writing flows. I collect herbs. I dry them and make teas and tinctures.

I didn’t know this would be the lesson. I didn’t know it’d suddenly be about timing and slowing down.

I didn’t know it’d be so welcoming to get back into my energy again. That I’d want to be alone so bad in the middle of summer.

At the man’s birthday whom I’m working for, his wife said, “He’s really good at closing chapters.”

That’s what I’m going to be good at.

I’m entertaining a lot of notions. There are things I want to do.

You’re waiting for the signs? Someone asked at the party last night.

I’m looking at new homes.

[celestialspecial]

These Beautiful Torments (Pt. 10)

Recovering from the fight that has left him badly wounded both physically and mentally Billy tries to piece together the parts of his past. To remember who he is, or was, but it’s never that easy is it?

Warnings: Trauma, Depression, Smut (18+), Violence, Unplanned Pregnancy- Canon? We don’t know her. (If I missed any feel free to let me know)

Billy stood in Central Park, a cool wind blowing over him, hands in his pockets, a bag slung over his shoulder filled to the brim with all the hard drives, disks and hard copied emails from the past few years. A broken man. He had been reduced to this. Shivering in the cold as a crisp breeze ruffled the leaves in the park. He’d done this. And now your life was at stake because of him.

He refused to let himself crumple in this moment, but he could feel the stinging behind his eyes, blinking rapidly, needing his wits about him. Frank had concocted a plan, he’d been unsure of it at first, not willing to risk your life should things go amiss. Standing. Waiting.

You’d hissed at the sharp pain stinging your side, sleeping on a concrete floor with your hands bound wasn’t how you wanted to spend your third trimester. A time for baby showers, sleeping in and stretchy pants had you instead bound and gagged, being man handled into a seated position in the worlds most uncomfortable metal chair. Rawlins was adjusting a laptop in front of you, pulling up a video feed playing back in black and white. Fuzzy grains flickered to life on the screen showing a view of the park then reversing to show your face reflected back.

There you sat, mid screen- god you looked awful. Dirt smudged all over your face, your makeup was smeared on the side, tired eyes with purple circles underneath, gag pulled across your mouth painfully. He walked over to you, adjusting your restraints, making sure that your arms tied behind the back of the chair were pulled taut. Your body screamed out at the sharp tug, each muscle fiber begging to be released. A few tears streamed down your face as a pathetic whimper escaped your lips.

“Awww sweetheart, don’t worry it’ll be over soon.” Rawlins taunted, a stupid smirk on his face as he moved away out of view from the video feed. You could feel movement in your belly, shifting, a few swipes and then a soft nudge on the side. A few more tears starting falling freely at this, realizing that you weren’t alone in this predicament, that it couldn’t just cost you your life, but your baby’s as well.

Billy rubbed his hands up and down his arms, praying for warmth, praying for SOMETHING to happen soon. As he was beginning to think he’d been lead astray movement came from his left, seeing Bennett and two other guards emerge from the foliage, heavily armed. Billy felt his body contract, willing himself to keep it together as he was approached by the three men.

“Russo.” Bennet smirked, it was easy to be brave when you had two armed guards on either side of you.

“Still needing your ass wiped and nose blown for you I see.” Billy quipped, sizing up the two men.

“I’d be careful with your attitude if I were you.” His face changed, no longer enjoying the playful banter it seemed, holding out his hand instead. “The drives, Russo.”

“No. I want to see her first.” Bennett sighed, amusement returning to his beady eyes.

“Fine.” Pulling out his phone, typing a few codes into the device and holding up the screen for billy to see. You were seated there, dirty, tied up and gagged. Tears rolling down the sides of your cheeks leaving streaks where the dirt and smudged makeup had been.

“You fuckin sick bastard. You said she’d go free. She’s not even here.” Billy felt himself start to panic, he’d thought they’d have you in a car nearby ready to make the drop when he handed off what he had. Rawlins walked up behind you in the frame, hands resting on your shoulders, you jumped at the contact, whimpering from the strain of movement.

“That wasn’t part of the deal. We needed you to know that if any of those drives or info has been saved or re- recorded anywhere and gets out, we’ll know where to find her.” Rawlins paused in his intimidation tactics, reaching out a hand and placing it on the prominent bump of your belly, making eye contact with the laptop screen, staring straight into Billy’s face, a taunting tactic if ever there was one, “ y’know billy I NEVER imagined you being a father. You’re far too fucked up, and yet here as I live and breathe.” Placing a demeaning pat on the round curve of you.

“You won’t be living or breathing if you don’t take your goddamn hands off of her.” Billy ground out, hand gripping tighter on the strap of the bag he was carrying, half wanting to rip it off and strangle Bennett with it just so Rawlins could watch through the screen, but he knew better than to do that. Not when that piece of shit had you right there. The psycho through the screen pulled out a large knife, tracing it over your arms, up the side of your neck and down your cheek.

Billy felt his chest tighten as he saw your eyes go wide at the cold metal stinging across your skin. You felt a roiling sensation in your stomach, squeezing your eyes shut, tears escaping the corners and running down, absorbing into the dirty material of the gag.

“Keep it up Russo and I’ll make sure you get your baby, but maybe sooner than you’d planned.” Rawlins drew the tip of the blade down your chest and rested it across your belly. You felt yourself try to recoil, to move away, feeling sick at the implications he was hinting at. The movements in  your belly had ceased, stillness instead took over. Rage flashed in Billy’s eyes, mixed with the sour tang of fear in the back of his throat.

“I have the drives, let her go.”

“Give them to him.” Rawlins responded, pressing the knife harder into your side until you made a muffled noise of pain. Billy quickly pulled off the bag, shoving it into Bennett’s waiting hands. “See now that wasn’t so bad was it?”

At that a loud crash came from behind you, your captor whipped around leaving the frame, then more sounds of chaos behind you. Trying with all your might to turn around and see what was happening. Sounds of a scuffle, something smashed into the side of your chair sending you sprawling across the floor, concrete scraped the side of your face.

You heard grunting and shouting that you could recognize as Frank’s. How the hell did he find you? Apparently that’s what the whole team of people in this basement/bunker  you were in were thinking too. Scrambling noises and more shouting followed by the popping noise of gunshots ringing out. You needed to get free, in the process of skidding across the ground the fabric gagging you had torn enough that moving your head side to side allowed your mouth finally free.

Frank was In The process of taking out two armed soldiers, pipe in hand and a few sickening crunching noises could be heard. You tugged at your restraints fruitlessly, instead focusing on hoisting your body to the side, they hadn’t tied your ankles down so your legs had mobility once again.

Maneuvering to your knees felt like daggers in your lower back, but this was the only way to get any sort of movement. Once up you heard the metallic clank of the chair falling behind you, wrists still bound but no longer attached to anything holding you back. Your eyes darted around the space, looking for something, anything sharp enough to cut through the rope binding you.

Billy could see the initial chaos break out on the screen, realizing Frank’s signal and withdrawing the concealed knife in his jacket sleeve, weaving around Bennett and nestling the sharp tip into the neck of one of his guards. Blood spurted out, spraying Bennett and half of Billy’s face. The other guard quick to draw his weapon took aim at billy, sending off a round of shots, one grazing past his ear but Billy had recognized both these men, Anvil trainees, therefore knowing their weaknesses. The man in front of him always aimed wide, and the one bleeding out in the ground in front of him- well he was always a hesitant shot.

A beeping noise emanated from the watch  billy was wearing, notifying him that Frank had found his mark and the coordinates were being sent through. A blinding pain as the other guard made contact with the back of Billy’s head, the butt of the gun stinging across his flesh. Whipping around to grab the handle, stomping on the offenders foot in the process, as he cried out his grip loosened and the weapon was easily ripped from his hand to Billy’s.

2 shots and he was put down. Bennett was backing away, his own gun shooting wildly towards billy. Ducking and weaving as best he could but hissing as one bullet made contact with his upper arm, tearing through his jacket and his flesh, blood gushed out , warm and impeding his grip on the weapon. A few more shots streaked past him until he could level the gun himself and take a shot, whizzing through the air and striking Bennett right in the lower back.

A sound of struggle as he hit the ground, attempting to drag himself away as Billy walked over. Hovering above the mangled man beneath him.

“You can’t kill me. If you kill me and Rawlins doesn’t hear back, your little girlfriend is dead-“

Another resounding beep from Billy’s watch. The holding area frank had found and infiltrated was less than two blocks away- idiots. They might’ve been in charge of the operations but the grunts beneath them were far smarter and always four steps ahead.

It took one shot to take out Bennett, if time wasn’t of the essence billy would’ve killed him slowly, made him truly pay for what this man had done, but unfortunately he had time constraints. Grabbing the bag off of Bennett’s body, securing the strap around his chest as he bolted as fast as he could down the side roads and alleyways following the ping frank had sent.

You’d found a shard of metal sticking out from a weight bearing pole nearby, legs carrying you as fast as they could, lining up with the piece and sawing at the ropes. You hissed as the shard tore into your skin when you missed the rope the first time around, using the best of your senses behind your back to match up better this time. After another sawing motion you heard the satisfying snapping of the material, using all your strength to pull your arms apart.

The bindings fell to the ground, your hands were bleeding where you had misdirected your first swipe, but not fully able to take in the chaos going on around you. Guards lay dead or bleeding on the floor, off to the sides of the hidden hallways and alcoves you’d never seen, or hadn’t been conscious enough to take in. Sounds of further struggle we’re coming down a long hall, Rawlins screaming at his soldiers to “just shoot castle”.

You took off down a hall that had less noise, where a few guards were groaning, clutching their wounds. You barely had time to register the brutality of the situation , Frank…your friend Frank, who’d sent you flowers for your birthday once and looked at your friend Karen with the softest of eyes, who was the strong and silent type, you knew in your head he and billy were capable of acts like this, but seeing it now in front of you left you feeling sick with shock and honestly…a little awe.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” You flung around to meet eye to eye with a gun leveled at your chest, heart seizing and there on the other end of it was your favorite person- Billy’s therapist.

Krista stood there, anger in her eyes, like you’d only seen in brief flashes previously. Holding your hands up, showing you weren’t armed, even though deep down you knew she didn’t care.

“We don’t have to do this.” You were proud that your voice wasn’t shaking from how scared you actually felt.

“No see…we do. I had a plan, and the only thing that was ever in the way of it was you.” You were backing up, but she followed each of your movements, gun trained on you. “I had a good thing going with Billy, cut a deal with Rawlins, I was home free.”

“Except the small fact that he already had people that cared about him.” She huffed at that.

“You? he couldn’t even remember you, you were in the goddamn way. I just had to make sure he didn’t get his full memory back, woo him enough to find out where the drives were and then let everything else run it’s proper course.”

“You’re a sick piece of shit, Krista.” You managed, to say, feeling a little light headed from your blood loss, it shouldn’t have been making you this woozy but you couldn’t remember the last time you ate either.

She only laughed, the barrel following you as you leaned against the wall, bracing yourself, realizing this was about to be like shooting fish in a barrel. “I may be, but now I have the upper hand, all you had to do was walk away. Stop visiting him, forget about him but then there was this-“ gesturing to the large bump under your shirt, you instinctively placed a protective hand over the front, knowing it’d do nothing against a bullet but you felt compelled nonetheless. “THIS has been a problem, the one thing that would prevent you from moving on.”

You clutched at a metal table nearby, the sounds of frank fighting seemed so distant now, the saliva  in your mouth felt like cement.

“I guess you’ve never truly loved or been in love, yes this happened,” you gestured downwards, “but even if it hadn’t I’d still have gone to visit him everyday. I’d still read to him whenever I could. Even if he hadn’t woken up from his coma I would have been there, holding his hand, until he drew his last breath.” You felt tears stinging your eyes, realizing that this might actually….be it. That you might not make it out of this basement.

Krista just glared back at you, frustration of her “easy” plan not being so easy, and you had just enough fight in you that maybe if you were meant to go down, you’d go down fighting. Hand wrapping around a large chain that was set on the table you wear clinging to, tossing it in kristas direction, the heavy links clanked and met with her jaw in a sickening crunch. She screamed, one hand releasing her gun to grab at her face, giving you enough time to bolt, moving further down the hallway as fast as your adrenaline fueled body could carry you.

You could hear her steps following you, screams of frustration echoing behind. Dodging around a corner you heard-

“Duck!” Without thinking you dove as Ungracefully as possible, protecting your belly in the process before you heard a shot ring out and the sound of someone falling behind you. Looking back you saw Krista in a heap on the floor, still alive but critically wounded, her own gun fallen by the wayside a pool of blood seeping around her.

Turning back you saw a large hand reaching down for you. Taking it you felt yourself carefully hauled up to your feet, eyes looking up to see your rescuer.

Billy. Barely realizing this wasn’t the time you threw your arms around him, squeezing him as hard as you could. Feeling him respond in kind, pressing his face into your hair, breathing in deeply the scent of you, dying to lose himself in you, but it wasn’t safe yet.

He pulled back to take you in. “Follow me, I need to get you out of here then find Frank.” You could only nod in response, his grip on your arm leading you deftly around another corner and another until a cascade of stairs was in front of you. “Karen is right outside in the car waiting. Go with her.” He leaned forward pressing his lips to yours, you deepened the kiss, tugging on sleeves of his jacket, hearing him hiss. When you pulled away your hand had blood on it, his one sleeve was completely covered in it.

“Billy! You’re hurt.” You made to reach for him again, but he only kissed your forehead once more, rubbing an open palm over the front of your bump, a responding flurry of motion bubbling underneath his hand.

“I’m going to be fine, but only if you go outside and leave, get as far away as possible. Frank and I will catch up.” You cradled his face in your hands, terrified to leave him, to follow his instructions out to Karen.

“I can’t lose you again.” You whimpered, hot tears re-emerging and falling in burning steaks down your face. Pinned under his obsidian gaze, clutching at him for dear life, knowing you had to go for both your and the baby’s safety but not bearing the thought of leaving him behind, uncertain of what awaited him. His one hand raised to cup the side of your face, his thumb wiping away at one of the newly formed tears threatening to fall.

“You won’t. I promise.” When you hesitated another moment, he gently pushed your lower back towards the exit. “Please y/n…” nodding one last time you turned, trudging up the stairs, looking back to see Billy staring up at you, his eyes wide, watching to make sure you didn’t follow him. His look the same one you’d seen a hundred times before, full of love and unsaid words. Sucking in a weak breath continuing on and out into the night.

Karen was there, relief flooded her eyes when she saw you walk out, motioning for you to move fast. Once in the car she was off before you could even buckle your seat belt, staring into the side view mirrors behind you, wanting to see billy walk out with Frank close behind him. Obviously that didn’t happen, and then the car turned a corner and the view was gone from your sight.

“Thank fuckin god you’re ok. I tried to get to you, to-to help…” her voice was shaking as she drive, white knuckles in the steering wheel, eyes darting to each of her mirrors every few seconds.

“Hey, hey calm down, it’s ok-“

“It’s not! It’s not ok y/n” her lower lip trembled and you felt her sadness come off in waves, regret and maybe a healthy dose of anger. “It’s my fault that you went back when it wasn’t safe, that I couldn’t get to you in time, that-“

“Couldn’t get to me in time? Karen I’m right here, I’m alive, you did all you could do.” She paused in her panic, stopping at a red light and having a moment to look over at you. “If you constantly beat yourself over what could’ve happened, not realizing I’m here and safe, you’re gonna drive yourself mad.” You placed a reassuring hand over hers on the wheel before the light changed and you both were off again.

Karen nodded in agreement, letting your words sink in better. The car wound up and around a few other streets then pulled onto entrance to the bridge.

“We’re leaving the city?” You asked, staring out the window at the lights of the city, beginning to fade in the distance as you moved along.

“Frank has a place for us. He told us to get out as far as we could go and to wait to hear from them.” You swallowed thickly, trying not to wonder if you would actually hear from them. If they would make it through the night. When you closed your eyes all you could see was Billy’s face watching you ascend those stairs , leaving him behind. No. Begging you to leave him behind.

You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him for real this time, tears sprung to your eyes. You didn’t try to fight them this time, letting the droplets of hot water slide down your cheeks. A few shifts of movement rippled under your shirt, letting your hand drift down to rest comfortingly on the round swell of your belly. You were worried about Billy. You both were.