#‘Noah’s manager is always with him. watching over him like a dark shadows’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slothgiirl · 3 years ago

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take a deep breath [baby]

Noah Marshall x MC. 11k. Noah figures out how to make things right.

Noah comes out of the ruins shaking and sobbing.

The bright lights the cops have held in hand blind him and a second later Stacey’s lunging at him, “this was your fault,” she spits her knuckles colliding with the side of his face. He’s still in too much shock to respond. Noah’s hollow and dead eyed and she’s right. This is all his fault.

You’re dead.

You’re dead and it’s all his fault.

That’s where things get even more fucked up than they already are.

“Was anyone else down there,” the EMTs ask.

The cops jostle them all, “how did you get down there?” They ask, ignoring how pale and trembling Lily is, as they press, “where’s the entrance?”

Noah looks at them like they’re stupid because the entrance is right there! Ava’s yelling at them, all angry fire because you’re still down there. . .only, Noah looks at the trees and knows you’re not. He knows you’re dead.

Dead.

There are worse things than being dead.

The police invade the hospital to ask questions.

No one’s recovered your body and Noah still can’t manage to say a word, cold and shaken and the fear still running through his veins. It’s like someone’s blown out the candle. You’re dead. And now he’s alive but not there. Not here.

He obliges as the nurse looks him over and prescribes a cup of lukewarm coffee he just holds in his hands, soaking in the warmth. Everyone’s parents descend, closing curtains and yelling at the detective’s to back off. Noah’s not surprised when his mom doesn’t show up. He’s not surprised when your parents don’t show up.

So Noah sits there and gets interogated because he has no one. He’s back to being alone. There’s no one there to protect him and send the detectives packing.

“What were you doing in the woods?”

“What happened?”

“Whose blood is that?”

“Why were you in the woods?”

Next thing he knows he’s suspected for your murder. Suspected because they never find your body. Lily won’t even meet his gaze. Noah hasn’t seen Dan at all.

He sits on the curb, smoking a stolen cigarette from his mom, and coughing at the bitter smoke trapped in his throat. There’s nothing for him left in Westchester. You’re dead and no one will even talk to him.

His mom has gone from yelling at him, picking at every little thing, for not washing the dishes to washing the dishes wrong, to not even talking to him. He’s a suspect in a murder investigation, in a missing persons investigation. He won’t turn eighteen until August. Noah hasn’t even gone to school all week.

If the school called, his mom said nothing.

He watches the cigarette smoke drift off into the wind.

You’re dead.

Noah looks out into the woods where even at noon, the shadows are too thick to be natural. He can’t see past the first few trees. The woods of Westchester were a black hole.

They’d taken everything from him.

Jane was gone. For good this time. Which is both a relief and a bitter pill to swallow because she’s gone and she’s been dead for years but his sister has cast a long shadow over his life.

Noah tosses the cigarette on the pavement and decides to be as terrible as his father when he’d left. He doesn’t have a lot of options.

The house is empty.

His mom is at work.

Noah goes to her room right to the drawer she hides her money and jewelry in. It’s all in the same cheap wood box from Michaels that had been a mother’s day present years ago now, back when things were less shit than they are now. He doesn’t really remember a time when his family was happy, just when he was.

It was always him and Jane staying out past when all the neighborhood kids were allowed to play. It was dark before they made their way back home, wanting to escape the awful fights their parents would have for hours, screaming matches that could be set off because of a sock on the floor.

They’d play on the lawn or backyard. Jane had been the one to go a bit further every time, further into the woods, further down the street, leaving Noah with no choice but to follow after her. He couldn’t just leave her alone in the world. Then she met you and-

Noah sucks in a breath, counting out more money than he’s ever seen in his life. Fuck. Was he really doing this?

He just didn’t see a way where he didn't end up in jail for something he-

He pictures your face right when you realized what he’d done, the horror and betrayal. You’d looked at him with such heartbreaking sorrow it nearly killed him to think about how he was the one to cause you such pain. Noah hadn’t meant. . .he wanted to free Jane. He’d never meant for anyone to die.

Especially not you.

Noah dumps out his backpack. Pencils and notebooks go flying. He’s never had to pack, so he’s not exactly sure what to take. . .or where he’s going. Taking his phone charger is obvious enough. Things like toothpaste and soap get thrown in with a change of clothes. There’s-

he looks around his room. There’s band posters on the wall from middle school when all he’d done was come home from school and listen to the CD of The Black Parade until it scratched. The books are all mandatory reading from school. All are second hand from goodwill.

His bed isn’t made and. . .its harder to leave than he’d thought. There’s seventeen years of his life here. He’s never known anything else.

Noah takes the photograph of your birthday. Everyone had changed so much. And you were dead.

He folds up the photo and tucks it into his wallet. Shoving the money and valuables, he leaves home for the last time.

There was only one more thing to do before catching the first bus out of here.

He steps foot in the woods for the first time in over a month. There’s been no animal attacks. Nothing to make him suspect the power.

But, the woods are silent.

There’s no natural background noise of squirrels or birds flying around. The woods of Westchester are cursed. Noah contemplates lighting a cigarette and watching it all burn.

He calls out your name. It’s a whisper. In the dead silence of the woods, it sounds like a yell. Too harsh for the still trees.

The hair on the back of his neck stands on edge. Noah whirls around, half expecting Jane (Redfield) to appear with glowing hot coals for eyes. There’s nothing. There’s no one.”

“Are you out here,” he asks the shadows. “Do you remember. . .” Me, Noah wants to ask. Only he was sure you hated him now, like everyone else.

“I meant it. I’m going to fix this.” He swallows. Were you even still here? Pritch had been attached to the power, but her spirit hadn’t remained after her death.

Maybe you had moved on.

It would be for the best.

Noah isn’t selfish. The last thing he wishes is for you to be trapped as some monster, confined to the woods, a mere shadow of who you’d been in life, or worse, a twisted version of yourself. The way Jane had hurt people in some bid of friendship. . .it was his fault too. He’d left his sister alone for years in those ruins.

“Somehow,” he states, glancing around. The woods set his nerves on edge.

Everything is too dark. It’s too quiet. He feels watched. He’s half convinced some awful bone creatures going to attack.

“I promise.”

If he’s being honest, he’s hoping to see you. He knows something of you is here, left behind in Jane’s place. There’s no telling how much of you was here. Would you still be his same friend who’d spent a party trying to cheer him up as if he actually had a future? Or would that look of betrayal be the only thing left?

What Jane had become as some shadow thing had only been a hurt shadow that hurt others. It had been less his sister, he can admit now, that the haunting of his sister. A last impression that didn’t capture half of her complexity.

What would you be?

Burning furry at your avoidable death if only. . .

But nothing appears.

And he wants to leave.

Noah hates the woods.

So he walks through the woods out to the edge of two where the bus station is.

He buys a ticket out of Pennsylvania and up to New York State. There’s something amusing to him about leaving Westchester for Rochester. Getting out of the state is probably a good idea too.

He is running from the police.

Noah lets out a sharp exhale. Murder. He was wanted for murder.

They don’t ask him for an ID or anything to verify his name. He just gives the first one that comes to mind, “Malcolm,” and tries not to think about how he’s not just leaving his ghost behind, but himself too. Noah Marshall is nothing. He’ll disappear like you.

He’ll die along with you, like he should have.

It should have been him.

It always comes back to that. His mother was right. He was trash. He should’ve died instead of Jane.

He should’ve taken Jane’s place. Not you. Never you.

The back of the bus calls to him. He slumps into the seat, letting his hair fall into his eyes, clutching his backpack against his body as the other passengers get on. There’s two black women, a mother and daughter chatting easily. A man with a ton of wrinkles talks on the phone as he takes a seat. Two older men in matching uniforms get on, half asleep from their work. An old lady with almond eyes and a cloud of white hair sits down, resting her cane against the seat next to her.

Noah curls into himself, looking out the window as the bus departs and he leaves behind all he’s ever known. He can’t keep his promise to you from prison. He can’t save you from the power if he’s locked up. This still feels too much like abandoning you.

He looks out the window and spots a glowing pair of blue eyes.

---

He decides that he might as well see Niagara Falls. It’s spring break so there’s tons of people to lose himself around.

Noah gets a cheap motel room with bedding that hasn’t been changed since the 70s. The free breakfast is a bagel and cream cheese and he spends the day sitting by the waterfall getting covered in mist. It soaks his hair, the weather much too warm for hats. Maybe he should get a haircut to throw people off.

Paranoid, he leaves his jean jacket in his backpack and wears an old red sweater. It’s april, but the northeast still gets chilly.

He wakes up and finds his phone has been disconnected. His mom didn’t lose time.

It’s for the best.

One less way for him to be tracked.

“Hey, can you take a picture of us,” a middle aged blonde woman asks. Her children don’t look up from their phones. Her husband looks annoyed.

“Sure,” he says, because why not. Why anything anymore. Noah takes her iphone, lets them scoot together and watches as the kids put their phones down, everyone smiles and for a second they look like the perfect family. He takes a few, hoping at least one comes out well.

His family never took vacations.

“Thank you,” the mom says before herding her family onward.

He walks the trails around the falls and counts how much money he has left. Ten thousand dollars and change. Its more than he knows what to do with and yet it won’t last long. He needs a job.

He needs an actual place to live.

He walks through the tourist trails around the falls, the constant sound of water falling like a storm reminding him these weren’t those woods. Civilization peeks out from in between the trees no matter how long the trail is. Unlike Westchester, these woods don’t swallow him up. His hometown seems small.

Rochester was huge in comparison.

Maybe he should slip into Canada.

Toronto was huge. He could disappear there indefinitely. Only, that was too far. He was already hours away and every mile between him and the ruins felt like a step towards abandoning you.

Noah finds a rock to sit on and lets himself rest. He lives in the moment without ghosts haunting him for once, without the terror like a lump in his throat. He listens to people walking by. A couple argues about which way to go, “you said it was only three miles,” the man bickers to the woman in lululemon.

“It is three miles Paul,” she insists, “it's not my fault you can't walk three miles!”

He sits on the bench and tries to come up with a plan. Noah needed to get research somehow. If he brought you back. . .if he stopped the power or found some way to let you move on without sacrificing anyone else. . .then the rest didn’t matter. They hadn’t found your body. That was a bad sign.

That was the power.

Noah listens to the waterfalls.

He zips up his sweater. The first thing he has to do is settle down. He needs a base if he’s going to start digging around. He needs to establish himself as someone who is not Noah Marshall. He’s out of Pennsylvania. He doesn’t want to go too far. Maybe Toronto is his best shot?

He’s on the run but no cop has looked at him twice. No tourist around looks at him twice. Like in high school, he’s invisible.

It comes back to Toronto feeling wrong.

He walks back through the trails. Noah has to get back before the sunsets. He doesn’t like being out after dark. It’s too much like romping through the woods with only a single flashlight to look for Dan. Sleep is infuriating. . .he wakes up, sweat soaking his back with a dread that never fully goes away when he wakes.

The dark reminds him of the shadows swallowing you up.

With the sun starting to set, another wave of tourists drop by for golden hour.

Noah pulls his hood up.

No matter where he went, he was always alone.

Hands on the railing, he peers over the edge, one last look at the plunging cliffside. It would have been easier to take its place. He’s more lost than ever now. How is he, the ultimate fuckup, supposed to fix things?

You could do it.

He. . .he doesn’t even know where to start. All of Pritch's research is in Westchester--with Ava.

“Fuck,” he huffs out, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Fuck.” Which was the running theme of his life. Fuck the fact Jane and you had found that stupid house.

Tears fill his eyes, stinging as his vision blurs.

He was just so tired.

Sss Aaaaah d

Noah jerks his head up, looking around wildly.

Was he hearing this now?

The dying sunlight sets the falls on fire, painting the water in crimson and orange. There’s still people milling around.

He looks down at the water, it free falls thousands of feet below him. “Are. . .are you there?” The cascades create rainbows. Mist fills the air. The rockface. . .like shadows. . .

It could be a trick of the water. But Noah swallows thickly, watching as one shadow stuck out, more like smoke in the air than the play of light. Blue lights. . .blue eyes.

It could be a trick of the water.

There’s just no way you followed him here-is there?

Noah calls out your name. “It's me, Noah,” he utters like a wish made on a lonesome star holding out against the light pollution.

He blinks.

And you’re gone.

Like you were never even there.

Noah rubs his eyes, looks around. But there’s nothing. He has to be imagining you. There’s no way. You can’t be here. The power is in the woods of Westchester. This is hours away. Jane had been bound to the town. So how were you here?

Great.

Now he was going crazy.

---

He gets a job at a diner in Buffalo. It’s a stone’s throw from the border, if he needs to run, and also cheap compared to the more touristic areas.

His first week he gets so many burns from the hot oil his forearms are all patchy and pink. The older mexican man training him shakes his head, and tells him he needs to be more careful, then shows him a grizzly scar where a knife had gone down to the bone.

Another week and he’s flipping burgers in the back listening to the two waitresses chat. One is still in high school, her homework propped up on a shelf right underneath the cash register. Tuesday nights are slow. Katrina reads through her US history textbook with an enthusiasm that reminds him of Lucas before the stress had eaten away at the joy his friend had for learning.

“Going to college Katrina,” the older chinese woman nudges her, looking up from her phone where facebook is open. “That’s very good.” Her accent is thick. She makes Katrina answer the phone. Shu casts a glance over at him, giving him an appraising eye, “you should too Malcolm. You don’t want to be old still doing this.”

Noah rolls his eyes. What’s he supposed to say? If he’s still doing this in ten years that’s a good thing. He’s a murder suspect. He’s on the run. He has to keep his head down.

Katrina glares at him for being rude to Shu. “Hopefully. Community college first though. . .it’s cheaper.”

Noah takes it on the chin. It was better if he didn’t get close to anyone. People close to him usually ended up hurt or worse, dead.

The last wind of customers blows through around eight. All the people are regulars in this suburb of Buffalo. Most are other service workers like him, picking up a burger after work, too tired to cook. Some are parents passing through for a family meal, four burgers, four fries, and four sodas.

He grabs a stack of meat patties throwing them on the grill. He glances at the tickets and plays three card monte with the patties, figuring out which had cheese and which were well cooked. It’s the only time he’s not thinking. Sweat runs down his back as he flips, add more to the grill, and tosses the patty onto a bun, quickly slapping the toppings on. Plain is easy. Second easiest is when they have everything.

The mistakes go to a pile they share or take home throughout the day.

Noah imagined more Anthony Bourdain than this diner that could be in any city in American. There was one in Westchester with an identical menu. There were dozens in the streets around Niagara falls tucked between strip malls that had seen better days, across the streets from Mcdonalds and Starbucks.

The grease sticks to his hair like a second skin. The smell of burnt oil permeates his clothes.

There’s more bumps on his face, around his chin and near the corners of his lips, than when he was thirteen.

The tickets get hung out before he’s done with the last one. The burgers get piled up as Shu takes orders and bags them without losing a customer. It’s an impressive dance. She manages it with a smile even as people demand extras with a sneer. Katrina dumps an entire bag of frozen fries into the fryer. She bags fries. She tosses in chicken strips and looks miserable.

He doubts this was how she pictured spending her Tuesday night.

The orders ease up.

The clock hits 9:30 and Noah begins wrapping things up for the night, turning off the burners in the hot plates. He stocks up the front for the morning.

“I hate this job,” Katrina mutters in a tone so similar to Lily’s resigned mumblings when being the last stragglers left to partner.

For a second, Noah’s lips twitch up. He misses Lily. She was always sweet and kind even in the shittiest circumstances. Her enduring strength, like a weed growing through cracked concrete. He wonders what she’s doing right now.

For a crazy second, he thinks about texting her with a phone that no longer has cell service.

Then, Katrina catches his gaze and smiles shamelessly. “What’s got you smiling Malcolm?”

“Nothing.”

She rolls her eyes, carrying the soup into the backroom walk in, “happy to see the last ones go? Fuck I hate customers. All of them.”

Noah let's her talk. Like Shu, she can make conversation with anything. But she gets more and more sour as the day goes on. He gets it. People are annoying.

If it wasn’t for his ability to compartmentalize, to live in his head and drift off with his thoughts, he would be more annoyed at getting yelled at by entitled assholes. That’s another downside of the whole food business he never considered.

Shu locks the place down.

Katrina’s parents are already outside waiting for her. The black girl bounces off, waving goodbye even when she’s already turned around.

He lights his last cigarette up. They were his mom’s stache, all gone now, the same way he’d taken her money. It was more habit than taste. The may air is warm enough for him to walk home without having to bundle up.

“Don’t smoke near me,” Shu shoots him a tired look, sitting on the curb to wait for her daughter to pick her up.

“I’m not,” he protests, taking a step away from her all the same. Noah still wasn’t comfortable holding a cigarette, so he rolls it around his fingers. He takes a drag.

Shu’s daughter pulls into the parking lot.

He exhales. “Night.”

Noah walks home. It was a little over half an hour walk the direction further into the suburbs.

The streetlights keep the dark at bay.

His feet hurt from working for the last five days. Tomorrow was his sole day off. At this rate, he barely had enough energy to move come morning, let alone spend his only day off in the library. Noah was a slow reader. And where was he even supposed to find how to free a ghost? Or was it some zombie resurrection he was after?

He should’ve paid more attention to Ava’s occult leanings.

The magic shops had been nonsense. All pretty crystals and herbs that were worthless. Noah may not have been able to conjure up beasts like Pritch, but he had grown attuned to the shift in the air when the power was active. He hadn’t felt that since Westchester. . . .since that day in the falls.

Maybe he should look into newspapers from Pritch’s time.

The smoke curls up and soon he’s down to the filter.

His fingers itch for another one.

Nooo Oh

Noah looks around the empty streets. He looks out into the shadows beyond the lighting of the streetlights. “Are you there? Do you remember me?”

The shadow. . .you materialize.

Like a drop of water hitting wet ink, smudging around, just beyond him. Even like this, you were just beyond his reach.

There’s no recognition in your glowing blue eyes.

He utters your name, “you’ve got to remember at least that,” he says with a broken voice. “Please?”

You draw closer.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, “I’m so sorry.”

You’re smoke in the wind. He can’t-he, “please remember. You can’t. . .you have to try and hold on.” Noah reaches out a hand. He never reached out when he should have. There had been years of bitterness and resentment that these past few months had cast in a different light.

They had all been kids. You had all been kids. Grief hit you all hard. Noah realizes too late that it had not just been him, but everyone who suffered.

He should have reached out.

He should have. . .there’s a thousand things he should have done. It's too late now.

Noah has no family. He has no friends or a shiny future with culinary school. There’s only one thing that matters now, helping you.

Recognition lights your eyes, red flaring like the eye of sauron.

One second, Noah is reaching towards you. The next, he goes flying backwards, hitting the concrete with a bone whacking smack.

“Wait,” he tries as you approach, more demon and less. . .you. “Wait. Im sorry. I-I want to make things right.” This is it, he thinks, a moment of truth. Either you are you, or there's not enough left of you, just a pale shade of who you had been in life corroded away by the power.

You flare, black hole darkness, and Noah flinches, transfixed by you.

You deflate. The blue returns.

Nooo AH

For the first time since that night, he smiles. “Unfortunately,” he says with something like a laugh.

----

You fill the space of his room. The empty walls don’t matter when you paint them like a shadow, casting whatever it is you are around, coiling around like a snake as you watch him pour over cheap library copies of the last attacks in Westchester that sound like something that might be related to the power.

It’s not all silence.

The words that come, come out stilted. Noah is too used to being alone. Sharing, talking in a one sided conversation, does not come easy to him, but for you he is willing to try. He’s terrified that you’ll forget. So he tells you everything that comes to mind no matter how painful it is to look back on all he might have had, all he’s lost. (No one has lost more than you.)

“Do you remember Ava’s birthday party?” He asks, watching the shadows that are as familiar to him as the customers. He knows which old ladies like their burger cut in half and which families have burgers on wednesday after school.

You watch, unmoved.

“It was halloweentown themed,” he snorts. “Ava’s birthday was in February. But her parents made it happen. Jane shoved Ava into the cake and Ava threw her drink at her. You ignored them and went for the cake.” It was the last year Jane was alive. “We shared a smushed slice while Ava’s mom cleaned them up. Stacey refused to eat germy cake. Lucas cried because of the mess and ruined table. . .” He looks over at you, wondering if any of it was connecting. Noah wondered if you even remembered them. “Andy scrapped the frosting off the table and ate it.” If he keeps going, maybe you’ll show a sign.

You have before.

It’s usually anger.

He gets it. He’s used to eliciting that response out of people. Noah Marshall isn’t someone people are happy to see.

Sometimes, he thinks it would be easier just to embrace being Malcolm: no past, no last name, no shadow monster living in his room.

Haa g szszzzzzs

“Yeah. Hags,” his mouth curves up in a smile because this is the height of socializing he gets. He wouldn’t trade it for anything except maybe letting you have peace. Noah will settle for anchoring you. “Yeah that’s what you and Jane went as and Jane wanted me to be a frog but I went as a mummy because it was easy to make. . .and we had just found the VHS tape of the mummy in your house and we all watched it. Jane had nightmares for like a week and kept sneaking into my room and calling you in the middle or the night.”

Dan had refused to watch it a second time until Andy bribed him with hot cheetos and Noah warned him when there was a scary part coming up. Dan had always had a sensitive streak that had only grown as he became more empathetic to those around him. In high school they’d shared biology and it had been like old times for them.

Lily had watched from behind her hands covering her eyes.

You draw closer, coalescing into a distinct humanoid shape.

Noah smiles softly. “You’re still you right? You know that. Freaking monster powers included, you’re still the same.”

You tilt your head.

The shadows on the wall shift.

He wonders if you even know you’re dead. Maybe you don’t remember having been human; the memories meshing with the present.

Jane certainly hadn’t been aware that her form of gifts had been more stressful for everyone involved than helpful. Jane hadn’t- he hadn’t been there for Jane. Noah was here now. He wouldn make sure you remembered and kept remembering.

The shadow that is you grows smaller, mimicking his shape laying on the bed. The lights that are your eyes grow dull.

He takes that as a good sign.

It was sort of like you being calm. Noah imagined you with a tired yet happy smile on your well formed mouth that had more often than not known exactly what to say to make him feel better. You’d known how to calm Ava down, how to cheer Lily up when she was down.

That kind of verbal encouragement was difficult for him. He could barely make himself utter his own feelings out loud let alone comfort others.

Frrrr en dszzzz

“So you didn’t just get freaky shadow powers,” he jokes, setting his latest research papers down, “you got a ghost lisp too.”

juh-j errrr K

Noah snorts.

It was so like you.

It really was you. You weren’t some washed out version of yourself like Jane. He could do it. He would save you.

Noah does what he wishes he had earlier, once he knew you didn’t hate him, knowing you didn’t hare him now even though he deserved it, was still wanted for murder the next state over, he reaches out for your shadowy form. His shoulders tense. The skin of his palm goes sticky with nerves at such a small movement with such intimate meaning.

He’s not used to being given, let alone asking for, the comfort of another person. Noah remembers how you’d clung to him in the woods, the warmth of your body jolting hin out of the shock that threatened to freeze him in place. He remembers you squeezing his hand in school, such a small gesture that meant the world to him, having you in his corner, before you’d told him he’d been brave.

He reaches for you.

The blue comes back to life. It’s as much acknowledgement as he’s starting to expect from you.

He’ll get the hang out reading you in this form.

You meet his hand with your own shadowy limb that tries to form fingers but ends up with digits, not quite five fingers, but it’s close enough and Noah finds himself smiling like a dumbass. The act is a balm on his worn heart.

-----

He keeps a tab open on the ancient computer he gets from Shu’s son for a bargain since the battery no longer holds charge: it’s only usable plugged in. Its the news from Westchester. His senior year picture, the one where they’d made him take off his beanie and he’d ended up with terrible hair in it, greets him. Has anyone seen this man?

Man?

He doesn’t feel any older than he had during high school. Noah didn’t feel like an adult. He was worse off than he had been a year ago. There were no leads.

He closes the tab.

The thing about google occult stuff: 99% is bullshit. He has no way of knowing what is real. There’s so many stories about ghost sightings to shift through.

That’s not even touching on the millions of random subreddits and websites on page 26 of google on necromancy and resurrection. If he googles necromancy the results tend to be far out game of thrones theories from 2017; neo-pagan spells hosted on websites using wordart where Noah is pretty sure the necromancy is a metaphor and hopes they don’t mean actual cat skulls; and a surprising amount of links to youtube videos.

Resurrection is worse.

It’s all religious christian nonsense: the second coming, strange fringe cults, nothing useful.

Noah sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “Fuck,” he utters into the dark of the room.

He was pretty sure they thought he came in hungover in the morning. Nothing could be further from the truth. He was exhausted. Hitting brick walls was soul breaking.

“Fuck.”

A shadow falls over the room, plunging the small square Noah called home into cave darkness: the kind of darkness where he couldn’t see his own hand right in front of him. There was only the blue glow of the computer. It matches your eyes.

Noah, looks up.

A knot forms in his chest, anxiety building up the longer you're gone. What if this was it? What if you finally lost yourself to the power?

“Hey,” he manages, shoving his hair out of his face and turning off the computer. He was tapping out for the night.

His fingers itched for a cigarette.

You don’t answer. Unsurprising, but your eyes brighten, more white blue than just blue, in recognition. He misses your actual eyes.

The shadows coalesce into an ink splatter on the wall. You no longer blot out everything else in the room. Not that he minded. You didn’t scare him.

It was stupid.

You should.

Noah was aware that you had a tentative grasp on your previous life. You recognised him, but memories came and went.

He would fix this.

“Hey,” he utters softly, shutting his eyes and stretching his back. God, he needed an actual chair if he didn’t want to have a permanent hunchback from hunching over the computer on his mattress. “Did I ever tell you about the spanish project me and Lily worked on? I still can’t believe Lily took spanish. She already knew Spanish!”

It was weird.

Noah didn’t know how to fill up the silence of the room. But there was so little he could do for you. So he talked.

He wasn’t used to being listened to, or anyone sticking around.

But the shadow that you’ve become lingers in the air.

He’s pretty sure it’s mostly you. You’re not angry or twisted; he thinks you were just scared in the beginning.

He recognizes your presence even abstracted. It's more salt in the wound.

You are you, just not enough.

Not enough.

Noah reaches for a cigarette.

He flicks the lighter, “we got store bought salsa from the deli. You know, chips and salsa, pretty easy right,” still telling his story. You had to remember Lily.

You blow out the flame from his lighter before Noah can light his cigarette.

“Hey, cut it out.” If he acted like this was normal, like there wasn’t something supernatural about your current condition, maybe you would never realize, maybe you would never become more monster than ghost like the others.

He thinks of Jane.

Noah puts down the cigarette.

____

“Excuse me.”

Noah when someone taps his shoulder while he waits for his turn at the cash register. While he tried, he couldn’t live entirely off food from his job. He had days off, and midnight cravings.

He could eat chips right out of the bag.

No one was going to stop him.

Well, you could. . .but that energy was geared towards his smoking habit (which he could stop anytime he wanted to, it was just one cigarette it wasn’t a big deal!)

“Uh, yeah,” Noah asks, surprised that anyone was talking to him. No one here knew him. He had no friends. He only ever spent time with his coworkers and you who didn’t really count as a ghost-shadow-monster thing. Hell, he only spoke to his landlord on rent day.

“I hope it’s not bother,” the old woman says, dressed in sweats and a sweater with handprints proclaiming Bowling Potluck 2012 on it, white hair cropped close to her head like a cloud.

“Mm.”

“But has anything strange ever happened to you?”

Yeah. A lot. Pretty much everything that had happened started with the power. Noah had spent so much time wondering what his life might have been like if Jane and you had never wandered into the ruins, if he had put his foot down about playing with a shadow so far into the woods.

He’s not really sure anything would have kept Jane away forever.

She had been stubborn, his sister.

“Ugh,” Noah stammers, not really sure how to answer. No one would believe him. Fuck, he could hardly believe it himself.

He should have-

It should have been him.

He had the chance to make things right, with you, with Jane and he’d fucked it up. He was always fucking everything up.

His knuckles tighten as he holds the shopping basket.

“Like what? Aliens.” He never means to be such a little shit, it just happens. He looks away from the sweet old lady who might have been anyone’s grandmother.

“Oh, don’t mind me then.” She takes a step back and it’s like he can breathe again.

Noah doesn’t know how to exist in the world anymore. He’s scrubbed himself from the world, taking up as little space as possible. It wasn’t fair that he was alive when you were-

He pays for the snacks, all empty calories and sugary drinks.

It’s day.

You never materialize when there’s people around.

He pauses outside the grocery store and lights up a cigarette.

The old woman from the store comes outside, waiting for her ride.

He pretends not to notice her.

He was never great with people.

The streetlight is off. It still explodes not three steps from him; the light turning on for a second, blue as yours had become.

“Really,” Noah hisses.

He takes a drag of his cigarette. You were just as persistent as ever.

“Are you sure nothing strange has ever happened,” the woman asks again.

He exhales smoke, looking away, shoulders hunched. It had been months. Sometimes he dreamed of holding you and this time there wasn’t any blood: this time there were no monsters and there was just time to be two teenagers.

No one knew what had happened.

Your body laid in the ruins.

No one had wanted to hear it from him.

“Well-” and it all comes out.

His hand shakes as the cigarette burns out in his hand.

——————

“Do you sense anything,” Grace asks in a pink cardigan juxtaposed greatly with the reason for this home visit, a suspected haunting. They were in the living room where the couple claimed to hear their son clicking through the TV.

The couple hovered in the demarcation of the living room and kitchen.

Noah glances around.

Fall had set in, a year since it had started, half since that day at the ruins. He missed you. You were there, but it wasn’t all you, like seeing you through a one way mirror.

He shakes his head.

Noah had sensed things in other places. The power had done more than destroy all the lives it came into contact with: it had left him the ability to sense other things even if he couldn’t put a name to any of it.

Noah lingers behind Grace as she finishes her home visit.

“How did you know,” Noah asks Grace after. The cameras were set up, hear readings and motion sensors he still had half a mind to make fun of.

“Your shadow?”

“Yeah.”

“Exactly.”

“You can give me straight answers,” Noah utters snidely, “I’m not some grieving mom.”

Grace shakes her head, patiently repeating, “no. I literally mean your shadow. Sometimes you have two shadows. But one isn’t entirely. . .”

“Oh.” He feels dumb.

He wonders how that even works, pressing his mouth into a thin line. The power was in Westchester, yet you were here, with him.

You’d promised not to leave him again once.

You were still here.

He could still save you.

“Have too much fun with a ouija board,” she asks dryly. It would’ve been nice to have her as a grandmother.

He rolls his eyes, “you know that’s not how any of it works.” A board game was just a board game. Nothing would happen if there wasn’t already a spirit present. (Is that what you were? A spirit?)

“Well, do go on dear?”

Rain pounds on the car as Grace drives at a snail's pace.

“It’s like I told you,” Noah goes on, pulling down his sweater over his hands, fidgeting in the passenger’s seat, “she just-she’s here. For some reason. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he huffs, sitting up, “we were surprised it could even leave the woods. I’m not mad about it, it just doesn’t make any sense.” None of this did. Magic, ghosts, monsters: none of it was supposed to be real.

“It seems to me like you’re haunted.” Grace points out, not taking her eyes off the road as she waits for the light to turn green.

“You got that from Insidious,” Noah complains.

“So what if I did,” she waves off, “I’m right.”

He snorts. Yeah, of course he’d be haunted. That was just his luck. “I don’t think that’s giving her enough credit.”

“You think she subconsciously followed you here?”

“Or consciously,” he states though he doubts that. You only recognized him half the time. “It was all my fault.”

Grace sighs.

Which he takes as confirmation. You were dead. It was his fault. He should’ve taken your place. It should’ve been him. Instead he was wanted for murder.

“Some shadow-power in the woods, I doubt anyone would've known how to handle that,” Grace counters. “You were just kids.”

Noah slumps in his seat.

“I’m going to play bingo at the library if you want to come.”

He shakes his head.

“I know it’s hard, but Noah,” the only person who knows him here, who could collect that 10,000 information reward out in Westchester, “your life isn’t over.”

“I know,” he lies so she’ll get off his back.

______

Snow flurries fall from the sky. The sun is out but there’s no warmth.

Noah stuffs his hands in his pockets, walking through the regional park for privacy. The things he did.

“It’s walking the dog day,” he utters, wishing the air wasn’t so frigid right now. Noah looks over at the shadow by his side. He was tired and not at all in the mood to move after working twelve hours yesterday, but here he was.

Nooooo ah

He snickers, swearing he could hear the exasperation in your tone. Noah wonders what you would say if you weren’t stuck to monosyllables.

“Do you remember Dan,” he asks. It had all snowballed from there. They’d shared enough classes that Noah could talk about him for hours. He might have to, depending on how much you remembered tonight. “He actually liked eating celery with raisins and peanut butter.”

The shadow beside him, faint like soft charcoal in the weak winter light, makes a rasping sound right out of a horror movie.

Noah grins, looking over at you. “He still has shit taste. Who eats pineapple on pizza?” You did. He’d eat a slice just to see you again: the only person to stick by him, to go out of their way for him and fuck, he’d paid you back terribly. He was a fuckup. His mom was right.

Your eyes flare from cool blue to an electric white-blue, the tip of a flame.

He snorts, drawing out a cigarette. He’d have to get another pack soon. They seemed to last less and less. Maybe they would last longer if you didn’t keep smacking them out of his hand or eating them.

“Tell you what,” Noah offers, “I’ll make you pineapple pizza myself. Get a fancy pizza stone, cut the pineapple, none of that canned shit.”

OO oh KaaaaAAAy

He smiles.

He wonders if you're smiling, if you would if you could.

But you can’t and it’s all his fault.

“Deal.” He looks down at his shoes. The ground had gone muddy, melted snow, more ice and dirt than anything else. He wishes you were here, really here, this time when you’d talk about your nightmare and Dan and when you were shaking after saving your friend he’d do more. . .he’d-

NOOO ah

He looks up at you, where you float like a lazy haze above, in the air.

nOOh sssssaAhd

“I won’t be if you leave my cigarette alone,” he jokes dryly.

No aAaaH

You sound like you’re rolling your eyes.

“Hey, I could’ve taken up vaping. That’s the real asshole move.” He was getting better at it, talking. It drew you out: made you more you. Noah didn’t love the sound of his voice droning on and on but it was almost like talking to you again.

The scene at the party plays out again in his head: you and him. Nothing else had mattered for a few minutes. The problems had gone away and it hurt, how good it felt, to have all of your attention, to see how much you cared in your irises, leaning towards him, smiling. You always smiled with your teeth, unapologetic about being happy despite everything.

He wishes he could be that brave.

“And they always think people can’t see they’re vaping indoors-fuck am I old! I got pissed when kids giggling like morons were vaping in target.” It surprises him. Catches Noah off guard: things had changed.

He’d become as much of a shadow as you had, in the world, but the sun stopped for no man, changing the shadows as it moved through the sky. As the hunk of rock they lived on hurtled through space.

You laugh.

The birds scare off, flying into the sky.

Noah laughs too.

The rock in his chest that was slowly grinding him to pieces lightened when you were happy.

————

grace does seance. reader takes on a more human form, finding out she is in control of the power (the power does not control her)

“It’s okay,” Noah says out loud, feeling like an idiot talking to the empty room. Sure, he could sense you there, just beyond what he could see, like you were tucked away in some sliver of shadow cast by the lights, “you can come out.”

Fuck, Grace is going to think he’s crazy.

She’s going to think he’s just some lunatic murderer and call the cops and-

One moment the room is empty.

The next, glowing blue eyes open, an entire wall consumed by black tendrils of fire. You.

Grace inhales sharply sitting next to him. He had warned her.

Noah’s mouth curves into a smile. “Hey, you know me right?”

Your eyes turn red for a moment, a spectral rolling of the eyes, yyye sS

“Just checking,” he shrugs, not feeling sorry at all. It seemed like you were holding onto more and more, though verbalization was still incredibly limited. Who cares. He was getting good at reading you, even in this form.

He no longer jumped when you appeared, fully formed like a creature from a horror movie. Noah liked having you around. Hopefully tonight would give some answers.

If Ava ever talked to him again, she would be so jealous.

There were enough candles lit to become a fire hazard. Grace had placed a crystal ball in the middle of the table for what she admitted was more ambiance than any real use. There were stones with sigils placed at the five points of her star, drawn in chalk, and a bowl of salt. Some of it Grace claimed actually worked.

Noah wasn’t sure what did work.

Was it a case by case basis?

Maybe he shouldn’t have written of Pritch so easily.

Maybe he should have asked Pritch for help.

He gets up and pulls out a chair for you, “sit down. We’re going to try something-don’t laugh, it’s a seance.”

Grace looks over at him with a knowing smile.

When you laugh, she jumps, the sound still as creepy as ever, but desensitization or whatever.

You were you. And he was Noah. That meant something. Otherwise why would you have followed him here?

You and him, connected by endless amounts of trauma and a power that should have never existed, connected by Jane, connected by a game. . .you dying in his arms.

He swallows thickly.

“So how does this work again,” he asks Grace.

“Well, if I am right, which an old woman always is,” she explains, her gaze captivated by the shadow monster sitting near her: you had sat as best you could which was closer to hovering, “and you two are connected, I should be able to use that connection for communication, maybe get some answers on how to go from here.” How to fix things.

How Noah could finally put things right once and for all.

You shouldn’t have died at all; it was worse to leave you here, as this, trapped in a form not your own, bonded to a power beyond understanding.

Noah wanted to free you.

This time, no one would have to die. Then he’d destroy the ruins, bury the power under rubble so this never happened again.

“We’re going to hold hands,” Grace reaches out to him, reaches out to you, “and think of each other.” She closes her eyes like a yogi meditating. He’d seen the photographs in magazines of National Geographic. They only cost a quarter at the library, old editions from years ago.

Noah nods, looks over at Grace, then grins at you, feeling silly. His life was an episode of Supernatural, he still didn’t know if this would work. He felt dumb trying it. He closes his eyes and think of how you looked in the Limo.

You’d asked Conner.

He thinks of the shitty instant coffee you’d made, splitting it with him while waiting for the ambulance to come pick Dan up. Neither of you could drink, throats too dry, rattled, your leg against his while sitting on the curb, Dan’s head cradled on your lap. You’d kept it together.

You’d made up some story to tell the cops.

The cup had slipped out of your hands.

It was something warm to hold.

He should’ve comforted you then.

A thousand things he should have done differently.

And it all comes back to you.

Your shadowy limb grows defined in his hand, almost tangible like a gust of suspended air.

He opens his eyes.

You smile, tilting your head, “hey you.”

His throat goes dry. Something squeezes his heart, “hey.”

“Still rocking the beanie I see,” you say with such a smirk that the teasing makes him flush in embarrassment and smile at the fondness in your voice.

You laugh at him.

Grace clears her throat, “do not break the circle.”

“So you are getting all this from insidious,” Noah jokes.

She ignores him, “Now,” she focuses her attention on you, “what do you remember?”

You frown.

If this wasn’t so crucial, Noah would stop this. He didn’t want to dreg up bad memories. There were already so many of those.

“I-there was darkness. And. . .it was so fucking cold,” the pressure in his hand builds, air thickening but he still can’t feel your hand in his, you’re still a ghost, a spirit, dead. “Not all at once, but like falling asleep in the snow.” Your frown deepens, “I think I’m still cold.” For a moment, your ghostly image wavers, the outline of your form leeching shadows, before you solidify into a more humanoid appearance.

“It. . .the power isn’t like us. It was. . .it was crushing me, mindlessly, it’s-I think it’s alive but not-the way a brainless jellyfish is alive. I was there, so it was crushing me and then-I. . .I didn’t want to-” you look at him with eyes like bullet holes, “I didn’t-I was so angry and exhausted. All of our lives, everything because of it and it would go on doing the same again and again because no one learns and-I just wanted it to stop! Why won’t it stop! IMGOINGTOSTOPIT!”

The candles go out.

Picture frames rattle on the wall.

Grace’s hand tightens it’s grip on Noah.

Right, don’t let go. Don’t break the circle.

“Yeah,” Noah speaks up, trying to calm you down, “you are. You’re going to stop it because you won’t be like them. You’re not going to let it do anything else. I know you. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“why. . .Noah, why am I so cold,” you voice cracks.

“Shh.” He wishes he could hold you, make you feel safer. He would’ve gone to rescue Dan alone if he had to but having you there. . .the way you made him feel safe and love and like someone worthwhile. . .he just wants to give you that feeling too.

“And then what,” Grace asks gently.

“And. . .and. . .I was angry. I was pissed. I rage and burn,” your eyes turn red though your human form holds, “I-I. . .I pushed back. . .I-I-I,” you look confused, the confusion gives way to agitation and the crystal ball cracks in half, your gaze flickering wildly as you look down at the table, “I think I might have. . .I-I,” you pull away. “ITSME!”

“No,” Noah shouts, reaching for you.

But your form disintegrate.

There’s nothing.

Not a shadow.

Not a flickering or lights as Noah calls after you, shouting your name like a mantra. He pulls on the feeling, on the sixth sense, like a scar in his psyche from the power, on the hole in his life where you should be, reaching out.

A twin heart beat to his, you. There. Far, but there.

It burns his mind.

He flinches back, crumbling, falling out of the chair. You hadn’t meant to. The power was hard to control, he understood the intention, leaving so you wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Sh,” Grace stokes his head, “it’s okay. I’m here Noah.”

He lost count of how many times Noah wished his own mother would comfort him after Jane had died.

He’d only had his tears in the room they’d shared, counting down the days until dad finally cleared out the home gym so they’d each have a room.

His dad had cleared out alright. Left completely.

And-

He relaxes into Grace, and lets himself mourn what might have been.

—————

It was fourth of july.

He was a high school dropout wanted for murder.

Noah was going back to Westchester.

“This is a terrible idea,” you point out flippantly. You had gotten better at holding a more traditional ghostly form, wearing the clothes you’d favored when alive.

“No one’s going to recognize me.” Noah felt strange, running a hand through his hair. He’d cut it short again, into an undercut that Shu’s cousin who worked in a hair salon had done. Shu always knew someone.

What felt stranger than hair, which would always grow back, was the lack of hat on his head.

“You can’t clark kent,” you frown.

The car was a piece of junk.

Noah was sure it would leave him fucked on the side of the road. That hadn’t happened yet, but the squeal of the breaks when he came to a red light was not a great sign.

“No one’s going to know. Besides, I’m not stopping in town.”

“That plan’s stupid to. I don’t think it’s tied to that place. Not anymore if what Grace and I talked about is true.”

“Calm down Casper,” Noah retorts, smiling fondly as he checks the side mirror, before switching lanes and passing a car that drove slower than Grace, a feat in of itself, “it’s like, symbolic or some shit. I don’t know. I hated English.”

“If anything,” you say archly, going hazy, “it looks worse that you have a trunk full of fireworks.”

Noah ignores you, his mouth drawing into a thin line. He knew exactly what he hoped to do by blowing the last stone walls of that awful place up. Like therapy, he hoped you’d be able to take on whatever form you wished, without the shadow of that place lingering over the bth of you.

It was closing that chapter.

Hell, maybe it would be enough to let you move on.

Part of it had collapsed when Jane-

When he’d last been there.

Your body was never found.

You sigh, a reflex. You didn’t actually need to breath, feet on the dashboard.

Without thinking, Noah reaches over, his hand going to your knee-

Where it passes through without resistance.

Right.

“Sorry,” he says instantly.

You look over at him, a pinched expression, a glassiness to your eyes before you look away. You turn your head, looking out the window and in the split second he blinks, you’re gone.

He had to fix this.

This quasi-existance sucked.

What would happen to you when he died? You’d be all alone. He-He had to make things right. Noah loved you too much to be selfish: to keep you trapped here, connected to him for the rest of his life. You deserved to move on to whatever came next. . .if anything.

After all he’d seen, Noah wasn’t about to dismiss afterlives and reincarnation.

He drives past town.

Noah pulls into the tiny parking lot on the edge of the National Forest. He’d missed home. There were some good memories here.

You don’t reappear.

But he can feel you in the back of his head, mulling things over.

Noah doesn’t bother you, stepping into the woods with a flashlight and bag crammed full of fireworks, the easiest explosives he could think to get. It was noon. But the weight of the flashlight made him feel safer.

You’d once bought him a flashlight.

He wonders if your house sits abandoned, covered in dust, waiting for you.

He wouldn’t put it past your parents to show the property the same level of neglect they’d shown you.

He gets to the clearing without trouble.

You step out from the treeline, standing next to him, glowing faintly blue. “You can hear the birds.”

“Hm?” Noah tilts his head, listening. The woods of Westchester were full of nature again. Crickets and birds and the breeze through the tree: maybe you were right about this whole venture being pointless.

Still. It was worth a shot.

You laugh, spinning around in a circle. The sound of your laughter doesn’t frighten the animals away, Noah could almost pretend that you really were here. . .with him.

He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, forcing impossible thought away.

You were here.

You were dead.

He drops his backpack to the ground. All the big expensive fireworks, perfectly lost among all the other fireworks on this holiday. Hell, people have started setting them off since yesterday. Walking is a hazard when the wide streets are used to set them off.

It lands with a thud.

Noah reaches to fidget with his beanie that isn’t there.

“Let’s see if you can light fireworks as well as you can light a cigarette,” you say with a grin that hurts because Noah knows you and he can almost fool himself into believing you’re more than-but the colors wrong and how can he even think that you might ever reach for him again after everything that’s happened.

Lost chances.

Hindsight.

He snorts, feeling hollow.

“Hey, look at me,” you call out, vanishing from one spot to stand next to him. “It’s this town isn’t it?”

You peer into the woods, away from the ruins, away from the elephant in the room.

Noah looks over at you.

“Yeah, it sort of sucks.”

You laugh, “Fuck. I could not wait to get out of here. Like, the nearest Target is forty minutes away!”

“Remember when you and Jane wanted to take your dolls camping and-”

“And lit toilet paper on fire! Fuck,” you laugh, “we’re so lucky we didn’t burn ourselves or the woods down.”

“Eh-,” Noah shrugs, looking around. With time, being here and knowing with a bone deep certainty that the power is, might be asleep. It’s wishful thinking to think something like that would just be gone. “I wouldn’t complain if these woods burned.”

“Noah!”

He finds himself grinning, “what? California doesn’t have a monopoly on forest fires.”

“Don’t be such an asshole.” But you’re laughing and there’s tears in the corners of your eyes and you're so close to him. It’s moments like these where he can almost forget.

It’s just ashes on the wind.

Soon these will be gone. You’ll be gone: gone and free.

“We could go further than Buffalo. Serve all those silicon valley assholes a sprig of dill for a hundred dollars.” It’s selfish. Noah’s gotten so used to having you around, having you to himself.

“I don’t know that I’m a big city girl,” you admit.

You’d both seen Toronto from across the water, but Noah had never made it out that far. He-he didn’t feel like he should. That would be truly going on the lam. . .right?

Noah had always wanted to leave, but he never thought of where.

He should learn to think things through.

He’d have nothing after you were free.

His chest constricts.

“You got me. I’m all out of ideas.”

“Throw darts at the map,” you ask playfully. “I’ve always wanted to visit New Orleans.”

“Done.” And he means it. Nothing ties him anywhere.

You shake your head, “just like that?”

“Just like that.” He nods.

For some reason he remembers all the fights in the car his parents had, before his dad finally took off. All the times they pulled over so his parents could scream at each other on the side of the highway.

Noah should have thought things through. He places the fireworks in a bulk just on the inside of the doorway, the scratches reading redfield still there, and sets them off-

Everything explodes like a roar of thunder in his ears for a second before the world goes black.

The air is frigid and dead. Gooseflesh rises on his nape. Noah tries opening his eyes- but he can’t. He can’t move. Why-panic sets in.

“It’s okay,” you tell him from somewhere. Your voice sounds distant, your attention caught somewhere else. “Noah. It’s okay.”

He tries to speak, but his ribs hurt, pain radiating from his center out. It’s the sharp burning pain where everything else blots out from how much it all hurts.

“It’s going to be okay,” you repeat, and now he can feel your hand in his. “but you’re going to have to let go now. I’ve got it from here.”

No.

He can’t.

Noah won’t fuck up again.

“Noah,” you say gently, “I’m already gone. You can let go.”

He grips your hand tighter through the pain that bangs inside his brain like a hammer driving a nail into concrete.

“I-it wasn't your fault. Noah. It’s okay. I love you. But you have to let me go.”

“No, not again.”

“I made the choice. And I don’t regret it,” you utter.

Then he blacks out for good.

_____

The police station is almost entirely empty on the fourth of July.

Noah looks over at you sipping on a large coke from mcdonalds because the attempts at solid food had gone terribly. You’d managed one chicken nugget before gagging. Returning back from being a spirit thing had been yet another trauma to add to the pile.

“So that’s what happened,” you shrug to the bewildered officer taking down your statement, “I ran away.” Your hand keeps squeezing his arm, like you’re checking that you’re still solid, still here, really here. He doesn’t understand it.

But none of it has ever made much sense and he’s not going to complain about you.

Noah’s never been lucky before.

The officer still doesn’t look like they know what to do, glancing between the photos on file and the two teenagers sitting there in the station.

Noah snorts.

You smirk.

The officer nods, “I’ll. . .pass this information on. Can I get your contact information?”

You scribble down his phone number, one of those cheap monthly plans that basically comes without any data.

“Right.” The officer is still gawking.

“Cool.” You get up on shaking legs, a baby giraffe.

Noah wraps an arm around your waist, “let’s not end up in the ER.”

“If anyone has a concussion it’s you.”

He rolls his eyes, smiling.

You sit down in the car. The engine’s on.

“I can still feel it,” you utter quietly.

“What?”

“It. The power, whatever you want to call it.” You stare out the window.

Noah swallows. It’s not like he could go on WebMD for this. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll figure it out.”

You turn, meeting his warm brown eyes. “Yeah-no, actually. It’s. . .a part of me now. It’s not,” you wave your hand, gesturing outside, “it’s not there anymore.” You chew your bottom lip, not sure how to explain the certainty you felt about how things would go. “But it’s better this way.” It wouldn’t be like last time. You were in control.

A hot flash of anger crosses Noah’s features, “how is that any better!”

Your hand grips his arm, reminding yourself you were really real. A real girl. “Because no one will ever be hurt by the power again.”

Noah presses his mouth into a line. It was always beyond him. Nothing he did was ever enough.

“Hey,” you mutter, shifting closer. “It’ll be okay. I promised I wouldn’t leave again.”

He glances over at you with a small smile, unused to feeling hopeful. Things rarely worked out, and yet. . .

Here you were.

“Can I get that in writing?”

“Noah,” you laugh. It’s the best sound he’s heard in ages.

#it lives in the woods #noah marshall #ilitw noah #noah x mc #mine #noahs thoughts tend to spiral more and hes way guilty #but he gets to have nice things too #ending is bly manor inspired #but they get their happy years together

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pheonixfire4015 · 4 years ago

Text

Peace in the Midst of the Storm By Eowyn38

Note: I have not written in a very long time and I didn’t have time to have someone review any mistakes. Its not my best, I am tired, so please forgive any kinks I didn’t work out. I couldn’t focus on homework so instead I wrote this. These people are fictional but often times a person will see similarities in character or circumstances with their real life that makes the fictional real. Having Elliot back has given me something to look forward to every week again. At the end of the day I just want these two to find some peace. We always get to see the trauma that does happen, but we have yet to get resolution in how an individual even begins to unravel pain and trauma. I wrote this because I guess it’s what I hope a real conversation will be between Elliot and Olivia on their journey towards healing. Its a start in the right direction, as they both have been dealing with pain and trauma in the same way. Surviving trauma is easier than dealing with the devastation it leaves in its wake. I know that based on my own trauma. Hope you enjoy.

Elliot and Olivia Reunion Post Episodes:

Rated: PG

Its 3:35 on a Friday night. Olivia is staring at the white speckled ceiling as it changes shape and color before her eyes the longer she stares. The emotions and thoughts leaving her unable to do anything else but lay there still. No amount of thinking or feeling ever seems to lead to any resolution or relief. There comes a point in life where the pain and emotions become too much and the human brain in its defense turns everything else to a numb gray haze just to continue to function and cope. It took years perfecting and working to keep her emotions in appropriate tightly locked boxes. For the job, for her mother, for the people who depend on her. Elliot was her partner and best friend, but somewhere down the line he became, well, everything. There was this sense of shame felt every time she allowed a trickle of vulnerability, need, love and longing to spill over. Elliot and all he meant was something she had wrestled with for longer than she can even recall anymore. She often would spend time thinking when and where it all began to unravel. Learning to live with the gaping hole his presence had left, comparing every man to his shadow had become an everyday battle. With each traumatic situation the desperate desire to see him come through the door to save and protect yet again was something she wished she could crush completely. But she had learned to live with it. Having him back, hearing his voice, holding him…. Had become a dream and a nightmare Liv was not prepared to deal with. Seeing him had been like a magnet snapping back to where it’s supposed to be, It was like feeling apart of herself breathe again, a part of herself she forced to become dorment.

Olivia rubbed her hands over her face to ease the dry ache of her eyes and turned on her side while letting out a sigh, longing for some relief from the weight of it all. The range of emotions she didn’t want to feel came in waves, all she wanted was to sleep to escape, but with each wave it left unending hopelessness in its wake as to how to navigate it all, wanting at times to sink into a numb haze instead. She spent her whole existence learning to live with these types of emotions. Seeing the look in her mother’s eyes knowing she was the product of rape. As one of very few females on the job seeing the male cops look at her with distrust and disrespect- having to constantly prove your worth. Coming home to an empty void of a home all thoughts of motherhood and family and connection a far-away dream. Trauma from the job, by this time... well... she had simply stopped counting the numbers of wounds left. Noah… had become the one touchstone, the one rock she could pour herself into. The one truly good thing in her life.

Elliot’s words rang in her head bringing with them questions she didn’t want to ask. He was in an emotional war desperately grasping onto any lifeline and madly pushing away at the same time. She knew and understood the signs. Watching him navigate this made her flip flop from anger, to frustration, to desperation, to love, to guilt, and then sinking into numbness. While in the same breath realizing the irony in it all. She too was drowning and unsure how to navigate her way out. His letter was clear, there was something he needed to share but in the right moment. What could he share she didn’t know, or did she know? Could she trust him... his emotions, his words? Could she trust he would not push her away, walk away yet again, leaving her with less than she had before?

“I love you…. You mean the world to me….”

Rang over and over, threatening to undo the delicate balance she had created to manage the daily raging war of emotions and thoughts. She kept telling herself all the rationale reasons to keep the inappropriate emotions at bay. Inappropriate was the only word that could summarize the emotions she had shoved to the deepest part of herself, what other word was there for these emotions, for falling in love? Elliot was her partner, a man who had been married, had a family, a wife who just recently died, a woman Liv loved and respected. She repeated the words over and over willing her rationale mind to win over irrational emotions. Elliot had called 4 times today. She should answer, she should call him, she should talk over what he found in Kathy’s investigation, but she feared if she did the delicate balance she was struggling to hold together would collapse. Was she really that close to the edge, all because of one person?

Knock… knock…

She turned her head to the noise she heard in the other room. Again… Knock…. After determining it was not the neighbors, Noah, or an intruder… she collapsed into her pillow with a sigh…. Elliot. It took all she had left to walk to the door knowing who she would see on the other end of the peep hole. There he stood, head down, dejected, tired…. With a sigh, she batten-down the hatches within and opened the door.

“Elliot… its 3am…”

“I know…” he shook his head… she could see the motors working in his mind… but the words just fell flat to silence. For a few moments their eyes just did the talking and the communicating.

With a sign she stepped aside and let him in. She pointed to Noah’s room letting Elliot know they needed to remain quiet. He nodded wordlessly. She stood watching as he paced… back and forth… back and forth… restless, rubbing his hands over his face and head. Olivia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and walked over, placing a hand on his forearm, blocking his restless movements.

“Elliot… sit… please.”

He looked at her with wild red eyes, hooded in darkness. He nodded. Liv sat on the couch. He sat on the edge of a chair on the other side of the room. His leg moving uncontrollably. For an uncomfortable amount of time there was just silence.

“Look… I know the last thing you want right now is me here. I feel like I keep saying I am sorry, like they are these empty words that don’t mean anything anymore. I keep letting all of you down. I also know you have your own battles Olivia” Elliot’s leg stops moving for a moment as she watched him try to find the words to articulate, trying to detangle the balled-up twine of emotions. She allowed the silence to stretch, allowing him the space and time.

“I don’t know what to do with all of this Liv, and I don’t even know where to start unpacking this. I keep wanting to do what I have always done, what has always worked.”

At that she spoke… “Has it worked Elliot?” Her voice has a twinge of hardness she didn’t intend, or had she? Maybe the anger she felt was not just his struggle but her own inability to fix herself.

Again, silence stretched.

He signed deeply…. “No… It hasn’t worked, but it’s what has been easier to manage to prevent from becoming a burden to all of you.”

She spoke again… “Have you managed it, has it been easier for everyone else around you to manage?”

With that she watched his face drop… confused and deflated. His head fell. His leg resumed their restless bounce.

In that moment she regretted her questions and tone knowing her own struggled had tainted her emotions. She prepared for him to spring up red faced and leave.

“Well, I guess if I was better at this, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

Olivia shook her head… “Look Elliot, I am sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I am exhausted. I am here if you need to talk. But you are pushing me away, your kids away, and right now more than anything they need you and you need them. You’re not the only one going through this... this hell.”

Elliot’s hands came up again, rugging his face, wishing… wishing this was easier.

“You’re right. I don’t know what that means or what I am going to do… but you’re right.”

At this Liv’s face and body poster changed, relaxed. Some things had changed, evolved.

“You read the letter?”

Liv shook her head… “Elliot, we don’t have to do this right now. There’s….Its not the right…” But the words were just lost.

“Look Liv, your right. The timing is off. It’s always been off. But I think it’s the only way we can move forward. You’re right, I need to make amends with my kids, to Kathy, but if I am to move on from all of this I need to make amends to you as well.”

At that Liv had no arguments left, 3 am or not, right time or not.

“I don’t even know how to start this….. You know the job is the job. It comes with its battles. Talking over things that we saw with Kathy was just never anything I ever considered. I did my job and I came home and dealt with it. I don’t know when it happened but a time came where I just wasn’t... managing anymore. All I wanted was solitude. Over time the connection I had with you Liv, what we went through, was unlike any relationship I had had before.”

Liv shook her head, understanding without needing anything more…

“Let’s face it, it was me shutting down and the repercussions, that caused me to lose my family the first time and I almost lost you. And it’s the same mistake I am making now…”

There was silent reflection for a good minute before he continued.

“When Kathy and I divorced. I failed in my marriage, I failed in caring for my kids who were a wreck, and I was unraveling. My feelings… for you…”

Elliot shook his head, unsure how to fully articulate.

“They went deeper than I really know how to express. I felt it was a weakness. You took up so much of my thoughts, so much of my world. The worry, the care, the guilt, wanting better for you…. I felt I was losing my ability to do the one thing I was good at and that was the job and having your back. I resented you for emotions I didn’t know what to do with. Those feelings then changed into something more, into something different…”

Elliot looked up, to scan Olivia’s brown eyes. She shook her head… the depth of her knowing exactly what he meant… while her brain remained a blank mess.

“Ok…. I loved you Liv. I fell... in love with you.” With that said Elliots heard dropped. “There was a part of me that wanted to reach out, wanted to be honest with you because I felt this shift. I felt like the same battle I was fighting; you were also fighting.”

He paused, letting the heaviness of that sink in. He watched as tears began to brim in those eyes he knew so well. His restlessness ceased, and with a new determination he stood. He sat down gingerly in front of her on the coffee table.

“I knew the implications if we were honest with each other, and all the risks we would be taking. The thought of losing you. I was drowning, as I am now, and I went back to what was comfortable. What was easier. Kathy got pregnant. I knew in that moment what I had done was unfair to her and unfair to you. It was selfish. I went back to my family, but it didn’t stop what I was feeling… from getting harder, harder to compartmentalize, harder to ignore.”

The tears that had been pooling finally spilled in a steady stream onto Liv’s cheek. In an involuntary response he reached out, and stroked it away. Liv’s eyes widened. He pulled his hand away and lay them back in his lap, looking down at the damp of her tears on the tips of his fingers.

“The job had worn me down, I was scared of ruining… everything Liv… if I stayed. What type of man had I become? I knew there would be a time I would no longer be able to be who I should be to my wife and be who I wanted to be…. For you. So, instead of being honest, I was a coward Liv, I walked away. I justified in my head, I felt if I left it would give you the ability to move on and give me the ability to devote myself fully to my family…. And give me the time to work on becoming a better man, a better dad, a better husband.”

He ranched across the short divide to grab her hand, which were balled tightly together in her lap. She looked down at his outstretched hand, a peace offering. She undid her hands that had become white from the pressure, and rest her own in his. They were ice cold. For a moment they just looked down, at the connection between them. He began gently rubbing the life back into her cold hands.

Without looking up she said, “If you had been honest with me, even if I told you I felt the same, I would have never allowed you to, I would never expect….”

Liv's head shook adamantly but not knowing how else to articulate her thoughts.

He looked up, “I know Liv. Unfortunately, I can’t say...” Elliots head hung unsure if he should say what he really felt...”I can't say I would have been strong enough to be that honorable. I knew seeing you, hearing your voice, would knock down any resolve I had left….”

She looked up, realization rolling over her in waves. He loved her, she had not been alone in her slow descending battle of emotions. She shook her head, tears falling this time without stopping. All she had done to survive, all the emotions and battles, all the coping mechanisms, they were being undone.

“Funny thing is, I went to the other side of the world. And The first thing I thought of when I woke up and the last thing I thought about when I went to bed…. Was you. I loved my wife Liv please hear that, but I also loved you. Both of those loves were so vastly different.”

With that Liv groaned and the tears came stronger, she grasped tightly to his hand. Something in her that felt lost and abandoned desperately needed to hear… every… word… of this.

“Should I reach out, how would you react, had I destroyed everything, If I called would I cave and come home, what if you had been able to move on and I ruined that delicate balance? So, days just turned into years. But…. When I saw you that night Liv. I felt like a missing part of myself was found again. With all of this…. Seeing you again… Losing Kathy… I just don’t know what to do with…” He motioned with his hands… “all of this.”

With that silence filled the room once again. Liv had nothing… no words… nothing to give. His words hurt, they healed, they explained, they gave hope, they were the end of one journey and the beginning of a new one. They sat there, both hands now intertwined in her lap. She lifted his hand to her face, nuzzling into their warmth, and looked deeply into his eyes. She planted a small kiss to the inside of his palm. It’s all she had to give in that moment. He moved closer and stoked her cheek, trying to wipe dry every tear he may have caused, and shook his head. He understood. She had forgotten how easy it could be between them, this silent communication.

“Look, this is a lot.. too much… I don’t know how long this is going to take. I don’t know if I have ruined this. I just hope…. We can maybe start over, start clean. I’d love to get to know Noah. I’d love to get my best friend back. I just need… time.”

In that moment Liv felt lighter than she had in a long time, she shook her ahead again wordlessly.

Elliot’s hand dropped back down to her lap… “Can I stay?” She looked at him unsure. “I’m just… so tired Liv… so tired…” Without hesitation Liv moved over and Elliot crossed to sit on the couch next to her. He laid down allowing his head to rest in her lap. He let out a sigh he didn’t even realize he had been holding. Her arms came up around him, cradling his head.

“You have my word I’ll be gone before Noah wakes up.” She stared down at him, smiling, grateful for his understanding even in her need to protect her son, stroking the hair behind his neck.

“Thank you, now rest.”

In minutes, his beathing became long and even. His body relaxed and the restlessness ceased, the waging war stilled if only for a little while. She looked down taking in words she never thought she would hear. At some point she would have to unpack them, figure out what they meant, but for now, this was enough. They both had a long way to go and a lot of work to do. She leaned her head back to rest on the cushion of the couch, staring again at the white speckled ceiling, looking with new eyes, and soon sleep took over. In the eye of the storm, Silent, peaceful, still.

#elliot and olivia #law and order svu #svu fic #olivia benson #elliot stabler #bensler #dick wolf #nbc

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neocity-sarai · 4 years ago

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NCT/ Hunger Games Crossover

☁ hunger games! au (assorted scenes: all films) reader x mark (as peeta mellark), reader x jaehyun (as gale hawthorne) , mentions of jungwoo (as primrose everdeen) and johnny (as finnick odair)

☁ alerts: angst, blood, violence, language, kissing, death

☁ song rec: i know places by taylor swift | exile by bon iver ft. taylor swift | carry you by ruelle ft. fleurie | the end of everything by noah cyrus

☁ this are choppy scenes that I found most encaptivating within the books/ films, make sure to go check out the series by Suzanne Collins! (for non-readers/ viewers, this might be hard to follow, so sorry!)

☁ thank you once again to @regularhuhhh for all the encouragement and inspo ily :)

+Scene 0: Introduction:

In the world you live in, Panem is a society that has been governed by the elitist families of the capitol and the district generals. Public disturbances are handled by peacekeepers- soldiers from the capitol sent by President Snow. There are 12 districts each known for mining, agriculture, and necessities that provide for the classes of those who sit on top of the caste system. Therefore, people in the lower districts didn’t have much. They survived on food scraps and flea market trades. Even so, every year, a boy and girl tribute would be selected to participate in the hunger games. A gruesome war game involving death, bloodshed, and violence all for the sake of entertainment for the elitists. It’s a cruel thing, to force children as young as 13 to compete in this killing game in order to please an audience of people they don’t belong in themselves. But that’s the order of President Snow. Everyone must do as he says, or death comes knocking on your door.

+Scene 1: INTERIOR. DARK CAVE -- NIGHT (74th HUNGER GAMES): “Stay”

Mark grunts back in pain, blood gushing from the wound that cuts the skin of his thigh. You help him scoot back to the wall of the cave, cutting away the loose fabric of his pants. His brows are scrunched in from the sting of his injury, hands fisting the dirt.

You grip your bow even tighter, snapping your dark eyes up at him, “Mark, I’m going out. You stay here, okay?”

Though he’s injured, Mark grabs hold of your arms, his grip tight, “No! You’re not going back out there!”

You freeze from Mark’s raised voice, eyes piercing the fire that burns an imprint into your soul. Then you shout, “You would do it for me! I’m not letting you die here.”

You take one good look at Mark. Mud is smeared all over his face, his black hair matted down on his forehead from his sweat and the humidity of the cave. Yet, his eyes still look warm. They remind you of the warm meadows back home, the view of the bright sun rising over district 12.

Mark’s eyes soften, his busted lips pursed, “Come here.”

You eye him skeptically, “Mark, I have to go. I saw some medicine by the cornucopia.”

Mark pleads to you, “Just..please stay. Stay with me.”

Giving up, you sigh. You set down your bow the prop against the cave wall, the smell of mildew and rainwater filling your nose. You search Mark for answers, only to find his hand tapping his chest, beckoning for you to come over. You lie down, placing your head onto Mark’s chest, your hand resting on his stomach. You feel him melt against you, his chin rested on your head.

He whispers lowly, “If I don’t make it-”

You clutch his shirt, gritting your teeth, “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

Mark stares up at the ceiling, halting his words. He doesn’t finish his sentence.

Waiting after 20 minutes, you check to make sure that Mark is sound asleep. Snores rumble from his chest, stirring when his wound pulses with soreness. Carefully, you raise your head off his body as you make way towards your bow. You’re off. You promised yourself that you’d keep Mark alive. You were going to survive until the end. You had managed to retrieve the medicine though you had run into Clove, an aggressive tribute from district 1. She managed to slice your cheek open with her dagger, right before you had shot her heart with your silver arrow.You never got used to that feeling- the loss of life. Death is always a reminder that humans are mere mortal, not godly beings who have the power to stay young forever.

Making your way back to the cave, you let out a sigh of relief when you push away the curtain of leaves to reveal Mark’s body slumped on the side of the cave, his eyes peacefully shut. His lashes extend over his eyes, casting shadows on his soiled cheeks. It looks like he hasn’t eaten in days. He spent all his time hiding from the other tributes or pretending to join them so he could protect you. He spent so long stalling Cato and Pepper, two aggressive tributes from district 2. They wanted to kill you off from the start, hungry for victory. You set down your bow again, screwing off the container lid of the antibiotic gel from the sponsors. Mark’s obsidian eyes flash open to the sound, eyes darting to the container of medicine you hold in your hands.

“You promised me you wouldn’t go! Agh-”

Mark winces from his sudden movement, causing you to push him back down lightly. You kneel beside him biting your chewed over lip, “I’m fine! I got the medicine.”

Mark leans back, eyes somber when he sees the bloody cut on your cheek, “You don’t look fine!”

You frown, swiping your fingers on your cut, “It’s just a scratch. I ran into Clove.”

Mark lets out a pained yelp in effort to move closer to you, his wound stopping him. He leans back on the cool surface of the cave wall again, gritting his teeth, “Why are you doing this when you can just save yourself?”

You stare at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. You’ve always been one to think with your head, not your heart. Logic over emotion. That’s how it’s always been. You gaze at him, the boy who had thrown you a loaf of bread, the one who shyly stole glances at you during choir class. You put a hair behind your ear, “Mark.. I just don’t want you to get hurt is all..”

Mark sniffles, moving closer to you despite the pain that shoots up his leg, leaving the cave wall so that he’s only millimeters away from your lips. He glances down at them, using his hand to caress your jaw before flicking his eyes up at you. You are in shock, heart beating faster than a million volts zapping through a telephone wire. In a quiet whisper, hushed, Mark swipes a tender thumb over your cheek, “Just kiss me, y/n.”

So you do. You kiss Mark like you mean it. You kiss him like you want him to live. He kisses you even though his leg is hurting but he can’t let go of you. He’s scared in his heart that he’ll watch you climb up to the cave entrance and you’ll be killed by some bloodthirsty tribute who he doesn’t know. He can’t bear to watch you leave that cave. He pulls you closer, your hands weaving through his matted locks and surprisingly, you don’t mind the earthy taste on Mark’s dry lips.

When Mark pulls away, he catches his breath.

You say, grasping the fabric of his shirt, “What was that for?”

He leans his forehead against yours, “I meant what I said during the interview. I’ve always liked you, just from afar. I just wasn’t ballsy enough to tell you.”

In confirmation, you peck Mark’s soft lips again, before taking one good look at him.

Mark takes your hand in his, his forehead rested on yours, “Don’t go out alone. Okay?”

You nod, “Let me help you. We don’t want your wound getting infected.”

You apply the ointment to his wound, causing his muscles to relax from the cooling sensation. He stares at you while you do it, memorizing every movement and every feature. He wants to know what it’s like to braid your hair and touch your face, how your eyes glint and darken in the shadows. He clears his throat, “You need some of that too.”

You shake your head, “I’m okay. I don’t need it.”

Mark doesn’t stop pressing, taking the container out of your hands without warning, “Let me then.”

You narrow your eyes at him, nearing close to him as he dips his fingers into the gel, swiping it on your cheek so that it glistens. You shut your eyes from the feeling, the feeling of Mark’s warm fingers on your skin. It sends shivers down your spine, opening your eyes to the sensation of Mark kissing the corner of your lip, “I know what you’re thinking. I can see it in your eyes. Don’t leave without me, okay?”

You nod, settling back down into Mark’s chest, sleep threatening to take your minds over.

+scene 2: EXTERIOR. 74TH HUNGER GAMES -- DAY: “Together”

You place your sharpened dagger into the palm of Mark’s hand, molding your fingers over his, “You have to kill me, Mark. You have to do it.”

Mark’s eyes widen as large as saucers, pupils darting back and forth between you and the weapon in his palm.

Mark shouts, “Y/n! Are you fucking insane?!”

Your legs tremble, your fingers shaking, “Don’t you see?! Only one of us can make it out of here alive! Only one of us can win!”

Mark cards his smudged hands through his hair, refusing violently, “You can’t ask me that y/n. I’m not killing you. You need to survive.”

The air feels suffocating, tears threatening to spill out from your eyes, “Don’t make this hard. I’ve already decided. It’s okay.”

Mark turns his back to you, throwing the dagger to the ground in anger. He raises his voice and it makes you stand where you are, words caught in your throat. He won’t give up. He can’t see that you’re trying to save him. If anyone’s going to live, it has to be Mark. It has to be him.

Mark looks over his shoulder at you, stepping closer. He nears you cautiously, calloused hands moving up to grip the side of your arms. You stare back at him, Mark’s eyes boring into yours. He uses his fingers to move a hair out of your face, scanning you for some sort of protest- some kind of sign.

Choking out, you whisper, trying to silence your sob, “Mark..”

He wastes no time pulling your body close to him, arms wrapped around your waist. His lips graze the shell of your ear, “Y/n, I’m not letting you die here.”

Your palm moves to the pad of your pocket, something firm in the depths of it. You dip your fingers into the pocket, pulling out small round balls that sit in your palm. Nightlock berries. Poisonous. Your mind flashes back to Fox’s dead body in the woods near the nightlock bushes, the purple juice smeared on her lips. Mark pulls away confusedly to look at your palm, his eyes blinking to register what it is. He hates the idea. You know because he scrunches his nose and narrows his eyes. But, it’s the only way.

“Don’t tell me…”

You split the cluster of berries in half, placing the other half into Mark’s palm.

He looks up at you with concerned eyes, “Y/n, there’s another way. We don’t have to do this and you don’t have to die. I can-”

“No! No, Mark. It’s both of us or none of us. I’m not killing you. This is our best option.”

Defeated, he sighs, playing with the berries with the pad of his thumb. Finally, he doesn’t argue with you. It’s because he knows the capitol won’t stop until one of you is dead. You wrap your fingers around his free hand, squeezing it, “Together, okay?”

Mark bites his lip, “Are you sure?”

You nod in confirmation, “On 3.”

Mark shudders under your touch, holding the berries up to his lips, “Together.”

In your heads, you count from 1.. Then 2.. And when you’re about to toss your heads back, the canon in the sky booms and it makes you and Mark snap your heads up.

“Tributes from district 12! Stop!”

+scene 3: INTERIOR. DISTRICT 13-- DAY (JOHNNY’S WEDDING): “Family”

District 13. The rebels have resided here ever since the Capital issued war on the districts. They burnt 12 to the ground. They killed everyone and destroyed your home with fire bombs, nothing left but ashes and death. President Snow. God, you hated the man. He kills everyone and everything that teems with life, making them suffer a slow and torturous death. To punish you, he turned Mark into a weapon. He took Mark from you during the quarter quell and hijacked him so that whenever he sees your face, he goes rabid. The fear in his mind takes him over every time, there is no soft, innocent glow anymore. The boy you see in that medical cubicle is not the real Mark. He is not the one who you love.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you’re transported back to Johnny and Annie’s wedding. Silly, isn’t it? To have a wedding during a war. It unifies people in the midst of the chaos yet the comfortability doesn't last long when you know Snow is alive. He will not stop at anything. You catch your mother and Jungwoo, your older brother dancing in the middle of the floor under the canopy that’s full of fresh flowers and foliage.

Jungwoo motions you over, a smile slashed on his lips as his bright, blond hair bounces whenever he twirls your mother around. She’s laughing too, she looks so happy that it pains you to know that you’re planning to leave. You have to make Snow pay for all the people he’s hurt. This meant Mark. He stripped Mark of his identity and altered his memories and it made you seethe in anger. Still, you enter the dance floor as you answer Jungwoo's call, taking his warm hand in yours.

You always thought that Jungwoo’s eyes are kind. Out of both of you, Jungwoo had always been the bright one. You always protected him. Your mother joined a circle with the other women, spinning their skirts in a circular motion to the beat of the claps and violin notes. Jungwoo sways with you, teeth gleaming between his pink lips, “What are you thinking about, y/n?”

You shake your head, faking him a small smile, “Nothing, Woo. Just, tired.”

“You should really get some rest. We have time before Coin mobilizes.”

You squeeze his hand, intertwining your fingers, “Woo, could I tell you something?”

Jungwoo raises an eyebrow, his voice floating out in a sing-songy tune, “What is it, y/n?”

Your eyes fall to the prim rose that is pinned to his simple suit, the ivory on the petals matching his hair.

You look at him, closing the gap to hug him, “I love you, you know? I need you.”

Jungwoo laughs, rubbing his hand down your back and patting your head innocently, “What’s gotten into you? Did someone put herbs in your drink?”

You snuggle deeper into the Jungwoo, holding him tight, “You’re my brother. I care about you. I just need you to know.”

Jungwoo giggles nodding, “You’re my baby sister. I’ll always protect you, you know that. Is something wrong?”

You muster a small smile, “Not at all. Not at all.”

Little did Jungwoo know, you’d be leaving him for the front lines in the morning.

+scene 4: INTERIOR. DISTRICT 13 --NIGHT: “Lies”

It’s the first time you’ve seen Mark since district 13 has taken you, Johnny, and Jaehyun. The capitol poached Mark, Johanna, and Annie like burglars, sabotaging a rebel plan to undermine their precious President. The last thing you remember is being told that Jaehyun volunteered to rescue Mark with 3 other soldiers from the rebel side. He was doing it for you. You knew that. You spot Jaehyun leaning by a wooden door, your heart pounding out of your chest.

Breathless, you inhale, “Oh my god, you’re okay.”

Jaehyun wraps his arms around you, embracing you tightly. You’re sure he presses a light kiss to the crown of your hair, “He’s inside.”

You detach from him, rubbing your thumb over the knuckle of his hand, “Thank you.”

He nods. When you leave him, he almost looks sad. He looks wilted. You rush down the hall, thanking the other soldiers who rescued the remaining victors. To your left, you spot Annie running to Johnny as he picks her up to kiss her. Johanna sits on her hospital bed, scoffing when you pass by. She looks different. She looks thinner, scars run lines all over her skin. What did the capitol do to them? You finally arrive at the last door of the hallway. There’s something in the pit of your belly that shakes your nerves. You’re hesitant. Is Mark really here in district 13? A soldier nods at you, opening the door for you to enter. It’s a glass window, space to view into the hospital room. That’s when you see him. Your heart absolutely drops. Mark sits on his hospital bed. His black hair is streaked with grey. His neck is inhumanely bruised with purple slashes. The dark circles around his eyes make it seem like he hasn’t slept in years. He’s different because the capitol tortured information out of him. And it breaks your heart. He’s hurting. Haymitch eyes you, your mentor ever since the first games.

“We’re lucky that Jaehyun got Mark out when he did. Otherwise, they would’ve all been dead.”

Mark sees you through the transparent glass, his onyx eyes absent of the boy who was once your friend, your partner- the part you loved. Gingerly, dressed in a hospital gown, Mark gets up. He treads on his toes, staring right back at you through the glass. You press your hand to the viewing window, hoping that Mark will smile and reassure you it’s alright. You want him to be alright. He doesn’t. He unleashes it all from within him. He screams at the top of his lungs, beating the glass with his fists. The fiber glass doesn’t break. But Mark’s changes scare you, causing you to flinch and trip backwards. Mark’s eyes are rimmed red, and spit is flying out of his mouth from his shouting. You had never seen him so angry. You’re so shocked you can’t register the words that shoot out of his mouth. Haymitch stands next to you, arms crossed. He doesn’t look surprised.

Haymitch sighs, “The capitol used tracker jacker venom on him. They used you as the image of fear to extract information and brainwash him.”

And you feel as if all the noise in district 13 fades into white static. All you can tune in is to Mark’s violent words. He’s screaming to you that you’re a liar and you’re a mutt- meant to kill for district 13. He screams how you’ll end up hurting Jungwoo and Jaehyun, and all the people you love. You take off running. Haymitch calls for you, but you can't hear his voice through the sear. It’s all in slow motion, and you can hear how your heart cracks inside of you.

At night, Mark’s taunts haunt you whenever you close your eyes. You sit up in your bed, unable to sleep. You want to see Mark’s face. You want to look him in the eyes. You’re desperate for any sign he still exists. Jungwoo seems to hear your rustling from the frame of the bunkbed, your mother sleeping in the bed next to you.

“You awake?”

You freeze at the sound of Jungwoo’s voice, tense.

“Yeah. Going to see him.”

Jungwoo sits up too, rubbing his eyes, “Mark?”

You sigh, “Yeah.”

Jungwoo watches you lace your shoes.

“I’m coming with you.”

You bite your lip, “Are you sure?”

“I can’t sleep either. Mind as well.”

“Okay.”

Jungwoo climbs down the ladder, putting on his own shoes. You’re both careful not to wake your mother, slinking through the empty halls of district 13. Jungwoo keeps pace with you as you glance at the empty hospital cubicles. It looks all too eerie. Finally you arrive at the last door one again. The corridor is lit by blue lights, casting a light blue glow on the tiles. Mark lies in his hospital bed, strapped down with leather belts. He stays unmoving, empty eyes pointed to the ceiling. And all you can do is watch him. Jungwoo watches him too.

“They must’ve really messed him up. I feel bad for him.”

You try to stop yourself from crying, “I know.”

Jungwoo sighs, “The doctors said they’re working on conditioning him. So that he gets better. He’s not gone forever.”

Jungwoo wraps a protective arm around you, allowing you to rest your cheek against his shoulder.

“I miss him. I miss Mark.”

Jungwoo rubs your shoulder with his thumb, just like he always does, “I’m sure he misses you too.”

You both watch Mark begin to struggle against his restraints, his cries of frustration reverberating against the white walls of the room.

+scene 5: INTERIOR. BELOW THE CAPITAL-- NIGHT: “Johnny’s Sacrifice”

---START OF FLASHBACK

Back in the quarter quell, meeting Johnny was unique to say the least. He was the tallest among the victors. Handsome, cocky, and his eyes always burned with a glare, a fire that is never stoked. He always glanced with a smirk on his pink lips, golden hair slicked in suave waves. Gleaming golden boy of the capita-- heartthrob from the violent, malicious hunger games. He was untouchable. Everyone showered him with praise and gold costumes, a trident that was fit for poseidon.

“Well, look who it is.. the infamous y/n. What an honor.”

You turn to face the man who stands behind you, his voice smooth like butter. You almost detest it.

“What do you want Johnny?”

Johnny moves his bang out of his eye, raising his eyebrow, “Nothing, darling. Just came over to pay my respects.”

You scoff at him, “I don’t think that’s the real reason why you’re here.”

You hear Johnny chew something, a sugar cube resting between the pad of his index fingers. He hums in delight, “You know, these sugar cubes are supposed to be for the horses but, they’re sweet on my tongue. Would you like one?”

Johnny hold out a sugar cube to you, his tongue swiping his lips. You mutter, “Stay out of my way, Johnny.”

“Hmm. You’ll regret not taking that sugar cube my dear. It’s a different playing field now.”

You adjust the itchy harness on your costume, watching Johnny toss you a knowing look over his shoulder, a sinister smile on his lips.

After the quarter quell, you had gotten time to know Johnny for who he is. His partner, Mags, an elderly woman, volunteered for Annie during the selection. Surprisingly, Mags had made it quite far. Johnny was always on his toes, eyes darting in between the trees, trident searing through the fallen foliage on the ground. He guarded her like her life depended on it, which it did. The killing games were no place for an elderly woman, especially one who couldn’t defend herself. When you and Mark had run into Johnny and Mags in the forest, a thick, musty white fog crept along the trees like a blanket of foggy acid- burning everything and everyone it could reach. But you didn’t know that until you reached out your hand. It was only until your skin started to bubble and you realized you were screaming in pain, it felt like you were being burnt alive. Johnny screamed at Mags to get on his back, her calloused hands wrapped around his neck and his shoulders. Mark ran behind you, his hand guiding along the small of your bag to almost push you to run faster. The fog was quickly catching up. You heard Johnny scream Mag’s name, crying out for her as you looked back behind you to see what was happening. You couldn’t believe it. Willingly, she walked into the fog herself- knowing there was no chance she could make it out of the games alive. She was slowing Johnny down and she loved him too much to do that. He crouched on a mound of soil, hands cradling his head as he cried. His sobs morphed into screams as the fog was beginning to consume him. You tear back in his direction, Mark begging you to wait but you don’t. Instead, with all your might, you drag Johnny eleven though his weight is too heavy. He lifts himself up with you, stumbling over his feet as the fog begins to burn the neck of your skin. You scream, tears forming in your eyes and it’s like you want to claw off the blistering texture but you can’t because it’s so painful. Mark comes bounding for you both, the fog burning his skin too. He lets out a pained sound, struggling to haul both of you.

With your last bit of strength, you, Mark, and Johnny attempt to bound through the forest, tripping over each other as you collapse onto the ground. The soil irritates your burns, causing you to grit your teeth. Luckily, the invisible barrier starts to glow white, the misty fog hitting against the barrier, blocking it from reaching you. You had crossed the border in time. You would’ve been dead. Still, it feels like your skin is being torched off and there's no end to the pain. That is until you see a glimmer of a reflection in front of you. Water. You drag your body, telling Mark and Johnny to do the same. The water begins to cool your skin and it makes you sigh, relief to the sear of the burns. You, Mark, and Johnny got lucky. You managed to survive.

---END OF FLASHBACK

In current time, the rebels have issued a plan to besiege the capitol. The game-makers run the capitol like it’s their own chess board, except it's another game of death. You, Johnny, Mark, and the others decided to move underground to be less visible and less chances of being attacked. Though, you should have known the game-makers would catch on quickly. Snow would stop at nothing to kill the mockingjay’s allies.

The underground chambers of the capital are basically the sewer system. You, Johnny, Mark, Jaehyun, and the others trudge in the darkness, reaching for the walls of the sewer chambers for balance. The air reeked of muddy water and mold, and whatever sludge that stuck to the bottom of your shoes. You lead the pack, Jaehyun hot on your tail and the others follow behind. That’s when you hear Cressida’s scream. You whip your head back, your eyes widened to the sight of Cressida firing into the darkness, sewer mutts launching themselves forward in waves.

She screams, “Go! Go! Go!”

You wade through the water as fast as you can, moving your legs with force. Your heart is thundering in your ears. You feel dizzy and your grip on your bow tightens. You hear someone else scream, Pollux’s brother is dragged by a sewer mutt, the smell of blood and garbage is making you sick. You keep running, Johnny trying to stay behind to help the man. It’s too late. Cressida urges Johnny to keep moving forward, he pushes Mark to move even faster. You scream at the top of your lungs, “Where the fuck are we going?!”

Jaehyun urges you on, “Don’t stop running! Just keep going!”

Your legs are starting to betray you. Still, you painfully dodge through a series of sewer tunnels, hoping that the game makers don’t send sewer mutts down your path. Finally, there is an exit chamber in the center lobby of the tunnels. The only problem is, sewer mutts pour in through each opening. They look like rabid dogs with no faces, just sharp, pointy teeth. You spot the middle platform that secures a ladder up to the exit hatch. Before you can even start grabbing the rungs, sewer mutts surround you. You load your arrow into your bow, shooting off fire bombs at the mutts. Some fall into the water with a screech. From your side view, Jaehyun is firing at them with his crossbow and Johnny’s busy using his trident to skewer their bodies. But where is Mark? You see Mark’s body is half submerged in water in an attempt to roll the mutt off him. In an immediate instinct, you make a running start and tackle the mutt off him, your body crashing into a current of sewer water. A mutt in the murks screeches underwater, grabbing ahold of your foot. You try to shake it off, running out of breath. It doesn’t budge. You reach behind you to grab your last spear arrow, driving it into the chest of the mutt as hard as you can muster. When it loosens its grip, sinking to the bottom of the trench, you feel a pair of strong arms lift you up. The arms drag you back onto the platform, it’s Mark. Before Mark can say anything, a mutt attacks him from behind, causing him to shout.

You scream, “No!”

You grab an arrow from your canister that’s strapped to your back, shooting a specialized arrow at the mutt, causing it to drop dead on the platform.

Mark sits up, shaking his head from the dizziness of being dragged around. He presses his hands to his eyes, gaining his breath. To your left, Cressida’s firing magazines at more mutts. There’s not time, there’s too many.

“Jaehyun, get out of here! Grab Mark! Cressida you too!”

Johnny yells to Cressida and Jaehyun, “I’ll cover for you!”

Jaehyun and Cressida waste no time. Cressida starts to climb the ladder upwards, Jaehyun picks Mark up with ease. Mark protests, “We can’t leave y/n here! Y/n!”

You scream back, fending more mutts, “Just go! I’ll be right behind you!”

You hear Jaehyun urge Mark to follow Cressida. He does. You motion to Jaehyun, “Keep going! We’ll be there!”

Jaehyun gives you a somber look, biting his lip. He follows after Mark, clipping his bow onto his back. While you watch Jaehyun and Mark, you don’t realize it when a mutt chokeholds you from behind, dragging with such strong force. You scream, causing Johnny to whip around.

“Y/n! I’m coming!”

Johnny swings his trident in a masterful move, injuring every mutt that comes from his left and right. Finally, he reaches you and stabs the mutt in the chest, lifting you before you can be submerged in the water again.

“Y/n! Are you okay?”

You gain your breath, “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Water wets Johnny’s blonde hair, his trident in his hand. He extends a hand to you, “Go with the others. I’ll be right there.”

You’re surprised that the mutts haven’t attacked during your whole conversation. Instead, they're beginning to encircle both of you in a slow, surround formation. There’s no time to argue. You make your way to the ladder, glancing back at Johnny. He nods. He continues to swing his trident at the mutts that surround him. When you’re high enough, you call out for Johnny. He backs up into the ladder as he starts to make his way up. But then, a mutt pounces on him, causing him to lose his purchase on the ladder.

“Johnny! Johnny!” You scream, reaching your hand out to him. It’s too late. He falls into the water again, screaming your name. A swarm of mutts begin to swallow him up like a raging storm, you’re witnessing your friend be eaten alive. His scream is so violent, so painful. You cry out, screaming Johnny’s name over and over again. That’s when you remember the bomb that was built in case of emergencies. You unlock it, you say, “Nightlock. Nightlock. Nightlock.”

Dropping it down, It falls back down the ladder, fire exploding the platform and the pile of mutts that consume Johnny. You wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer. What will you tell Annie? How will you tell her that her husband, her child’s father is now dead? You climb up the ladder as tears stream down your cheeks, it makes your nose runny. Soon, Jaehyun lifts you out of the narrow shaft.

+scene 6: INTERIOR. DISTRICT 13 BUNKER -- NIGHT: “Drunken Kiss”

You lean your head against the sidebar of the ladder on your shared bunk bed. Air strikes continue to boom over district 13, causing people to murmur in worry. The capitol had launched a surprise attack on district 13. Luckily, Mark had warned Coin in time, though he’ll get punished for it. You yearn for his warm, calloused hand. You yearn for the crack in his voice, innocent and soft. His laugh reminds you of the summer time and his eyes are deep, just like you could fall into them. Your thoughts are disrupted by Jaehyun. The man plops onto the mattress next to you, his ears and cheeks reddened. He smells of liquor.

“Jae, have you been drinking?”

Jaehyun hiccups a little, a frown scribbled on his face, “What if I told you I was? Just a little. I was off duty.”

You playfully punch him in the shoulder, “We’re hiding in a bunker with all these people and you decided to drink now?”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes, running a hand through his hair, “Can you blame me? You’re being distant. It’s because he isn’t here, right?”

You freeze at his words, turning towards him, “Jaehyun..”

Jaehyun shakes his head, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I sound so bitter.”

You watch him rub a hand over his eyes as if that will wake him up a little more. You scoot closer to him. He searches you for answers, he doesn’t find any. You take it upon yourself. You need a distraction. You grab his face forcefully, kissing him with faux fervor. Jaehyun scrunches his eyebrows, reciprocating the kiss before pulling you onto his lap. You feel him fold his lips over your bottom lip, hot hands running through your hair. Jaehyun moans into the kiss before detaching from you, shaking his head, “This is wrong.”

He knows you so well, he senses it. You swipe your hand to wipe your lips. Jaehyun sighs, “I’m the one who’s drunk but why does it feel like I’m sober?”

“What do you mean? I told you how I felt about you. I love you Jae, I just-”

Jaehyun’s eyes are disappointed but expectant, “You love Mark more. I felt it on your lips. It didn’t feel real.”

You’re taken aback by Jaehyun’s words. Yet at the same time, he knows. He knows. Tears begin to well up in your eyes, “I’m sorry. I do mean it, I care about you. I really love you.”

Jaehyun places his hand over yours before squeezing, “I know. It’s okay.”

Jaehyun lets go, cold air hitting your skin, “I should help Coin with night watch.”

And just like that, Jaehyun’s gone. Mark isn’t here. Jungwoo sits next to you instead, coming back from where your mother sits. He doesn’t say a word. He uses his hand to usher you to rest your head on his lap. It’s like somehow without saying, he knows. The bombs continue to shake the arsenal, and the lights start to dim in and out.

+scene 7: INTERIOR. SNOW’S MANSION-- DAY (AFTER THE ATTACK ON THE CAPITAL): “Goodbye Jaehyun”

“You never came to see me.”

You sit in your leather chair, your hands discarded in your lap. Everything runs through your mind in a series of black and white reels, the siege on the Capitol. You remember people dying in front of your eyes, bombs of fire exploding down from the sky. You remember seeing Jungwoo, your older brother as he tried to heave people away from the fires and the wreckage. His eyes looked so soft then. His hair blew in the smoke, ashes dusted on his cheeks. And then the blast happened. Everything became white, your eardrums bled with white noise. It made the bile in your stomach rise, your head shaking from the impact. Then, you woke up in Snow’s mansion.

Jaehyun enters the room, still dressed in his rebellion uniform. His head hangs low, eyes stuck on the carpet. He looks like he’s going to be sick.

He mumbles, tears forming in his eyes, “I wanted to. Trust me.”

“So, why didn’t you? Where were you?”

Jaehyun’s biting his lip so hard it bleeds red. He sniffles through his nose, tears running down his cheeks, “I.. couldn’t… I failed. I promised I would protect your family and I couldn’t do that.”

When you look at Jaehyun, the boy you’ve grown up with your entire life, you see him. You see your older brother’s face and it makes the knot in your stomach tangle itself even further. You see Jungwoo’s figure being consumed in the flames, unable to run- unable to escape.

You grip the armrest, nails digging into the leather fabric, “Were they ours? The bombs. Tell me Coin didn’t give the order. Tell me it was the Capitol. Tell me it was Snow.”

Jaehyun is silent. His eyes don’t meet yours. He plants his feet, not coming anywhere near to you. It’s enough to confirm his answer.

You ask, “Was it you?”

“I’m s-sorry. I-I’m so sorry.”

You remember Snow’s voice echoing in your head, Coin had manipulated district 13 into bombing capitol children to cause more deaths- unnecessary deaths. Jungwoo’s death. All the medics who were sent out to help civilians are dead too.

You scrape your nails along the leather, boiling with anger as tears threaten to spill out of the dam, “Goodbye Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun doesn’t hesitate to leave. He turns heel quickly, sniffling from his tears. Shutting the cedar wood door behind him, you’re left alone in the cold air of Snow’s desolate mansion.

+scene 8: EXTERIOR. DISTRICT 12 VICTOR’S VILLAGE -- DAY: “I’m Here”

Now that the war is over, Snow and Coin are dead. Two people who craved power, now killed by the mark of the people- it’s a sign of freedom. It’s a symbol for the breaking of the chains that dictatorship has placed upon Panem. There was only one thing left to do. You didn’t want to stay in the Capitol, not to live a rich life now that you’ve lost your brother. You’ve lost Mark and Jaehyun. Effie and your mother promised they would help the other council members rebuild. So, you and Haymitch took the train home. Or, at least whatever was left of district 12. Haymitch takes the house next to the victors’ manor, just as he had during the games. No flowers grow in the garden anymore, the dirt mixed in with ash and soot. The sky is grey and it makes your heart all the more heavy. You must clear your head. You grab your canister of arrows and your bow, heading off to the meadow by the woods. It’s different, walking the path alone. The sun sets over the horizon just above the tip of the mountains. The world is so vast, you can’t but help wonder what’s out there.

Running among the trees, foliage brushing your skin makes you feel free. The light shines through the leaves, it’s warm. It’s like Mark. It feels like your brother’s smile. It feels like Jaehyun’s touch. You run as far as your legs can take you, your grip tight on your bow. At the bottom of the hill, you spot a stag along with a baby deer grazing on overgrown grass. You sit on a rock for a while, watching the stag and the baby. You have no intention of hunting it. It hasn’t done anything to harm you, there’s no reason to take it’s life. You’re tired of it, watching death. The tears just come bursting like a dam. You scream for your brother, you miss Jungwoo the most. You miss his gummy smile and the way he’d cling to you, the way he’d comfort you when things have gone bad. The more you think of Mark’s name in your head, it causes you to break even farther. Grief is a sad, bone-crushing weight. The stag and the baby deer are long gone.

Walking the dirt path out of the woods is lonely. The sky thunders a little, it might rain. There’s nothing but trees, grass, and daisies that grow on little stems in between the rocks. By the time you make it back to the victors’ village, you assume Haymitch is either in the shower or sleeping. But that’s when you stop. A figure is hunched over by the garden, a figure whose back is turned to you. Black hair shines under the gold sun. It can’t be. You drop your bow and your canister of arrows to the ground.

“Mark?”

And he’s right there. Mark turns around, slapping his soil-covered hands together. He stands up, eye-level to you. And he smiles so much that his teeth show, “Y/n.”

You waste no time pulling him in for an embrace, inhaling his mint scent. You feel like you could cry, thinking you had lost him forever. Mark keeps his hold on you, “I’m here now. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”

You shake your head, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Mark detaches from you, wiping your tears with his thumb, “I’ll be right with you. I just need your help to remember, yeah?”

You nod, understanding that Mark hasn’t fully recovered from the tracker jacker venom. Mark takes hold of your hand, ushering to crouch beside him. He places your hands on top of a dirt mound, using his own hands to press it down.

He smiles, “I found some yellow daisies by the forest. Jungwoo really liked these, right?”

You stare back at him, eyes widened. You nod in confirmation. You waste no time to press a chaste peck to Mark’s dirt covered cheek, “Thank you.”

Mark giggles, his cheeks moving upwards as he grins.

The next few months are peaceful. You, Mark, and Haymitch eat dinner together every night in the manor. When there are rainy days, you open the front door, your back against one side of the door frame and Mark on the other. The glow of the rain illuminates the shine in Mark’s eyes, laughing as he sticks his hand out in the rain. The sound of Haymitch playing the piano thrums in the background as you continue to watch Mark smile at the rain, flicking some water at you. In the night, you toss over and over in your bed. So, you grab your candle holder and tread in the quiet of the dark to Mark’s room. He lies on the mattress spread out, eyes peacefully closed. The sight makes your heart beat slow. You set down the candle on the night stand, removing the covers so you’re able to slip in by Mark. Automatically, he wraps an arm around you, a small noise slips from his lips. Half asleep, Mark asks, “You love me, real or not real?”

You answer him, softly, “Real.”

It causes Mark to face you, rolling over, eyes fully open. He reaches his hand up to caress your cheek, only illuminated by the soft light of the candle, “I love you, y/n.”

“I know Mark. I know.”

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khxpresh · 3 years ago

Text

// This is an updated version of my old post, in regards to the main big differences between Yami Seto Au and the normal DM stuff. This is also a quick run down of the timeline.

The very first duel: Set wasn’t aware that the pharaoh had returned, he was blinded by a mix of his and Seto’s ego as well as pride. Because of this, he enabled and further fed into Kaiba’s plans of kidnapping Yugi’s grandpa. Set “remembers” of his original mission, when they are defeated and Yami Yugi “shatters their mind”. It’s important to highlight that Set has been sharing Seto’s body, years prior to the serie’s events.

Read more due to the length

Duelists kingdom arc

Because Seto is the wielder of the millennium rod, there is an even bigger motivation for Pegasus to try take over KC. The stakes are even higher here, than compared to DM;

They still go through with all the pre-DM stuff that ties them to Pegasus, however Set always remains well hidden within the back of Kaiba’s mind whenever they are in his presence. He always feels an odd sensation, while in the presence of illusion industrial president. The spirit isn’t aware that the man is in possession of the millennium eye.

The next big change happens in the duel against Pegasus. At some point during it, Set realises that their opponent has Aknadin’s item and tries to banter with Seto for them to swap places. After all he knows how the eye works, but due to their current situation, everything they had previously gone through against Yugi not too long ago and Seto’s insistence that he will save Mokuba by himself prevents Set from even attempting the minds swapping strategy. The duel’s outcome is the same, Kaiba is defeated and his soul is stolen. Leaving Set behind all by himself, in his body. This is the first time, his existence is revealed to everyone;

Both Yugi and Yami Yugi, have only had the slightest bit of clue from the existence of the other face (Set). Until this point.

Set is taken hostage, and can’t do anything but wait within his jail cell. By the end of it, he is reunited with both Seto and Mokuba;

Before they find Mokuba however, they have a brief encounter with Shadi. Who investigates their soul rooms, in search of the eye’s thief. It’s here that Set learns about Pegasus’ fate (he is quick to assume that Bakura must have had something to do with it), as well as how it has become impossible to traverse/get inside of Kaiba’s soul room.

Prior to the start of DM’s events, Kaiba and Set have a run in with Y!Bakura who comes close to stealing the rod. (Post going into more details about this event, will come soon).

The dark RPG arc

The game is still something Seto has been working on for a long time. Set has been a helping hand, in testing the VR technology. Thanks to the programming, he and Seto can co-exist with separate bodies;

Seto is kidnapped leaving Set try to get to him, all by himself. However, as imagined he can’t get to him due to lacking a party to take on the game’s late quests;

When Yugi’s party catches up to Set, he and Mokuba try to pass him off as some sort of NPC;

Mokuba still is the one who frees Seto, Set is working alongside Yugi’s party and following their pace.

Battle city:

Malik still is the main antagonist of this arc, however he doesn’t wield the rod. Likely has another millennium item, in his possession;

Set also maintains his presence/existence a secret from the Ishtars. He, alongside with Ishizu, convince Kaiba to start the tournament;

While he may have contributed to the start of BC, there is a huge debacle between him and Seto in regards to the use of the Obelisk in duels. Set refuses to use the God card, out of fear of angering the deities (this is in reference to when he was a pharaoh. He never used the God Kas, during his reign). Whereas Seto, obviously couldn’t care anyway less about the spirit’s concerns in regards to it, and clearly takes immense pelasure out of using its power;

Set participates in the following duels:

The double duel agains the rare hunters, in Atem’s side. vs. Ishizu, that is when he reveals himself to the Ishtars.

Up until Ishizu’s duel, Malik’s primary target was Atem. However, it changes to Set when he reveals himself to be the pharaoh responsible for the creation of the tombkeepers;

Set reveals himself to be someone with far greater knowledge, and control over shadow games than both y!Malik and Bakura. AT some point, they try taking on him, but their attempts prove themselves to be in vain. He is keeping Kaiba and Mokuba safe, from them;

They have another brief run in with Shadi. Seto doesn’t learn how to read hieroglyphs, since Set is there to do that for him. Set also feels y!Bakura being erradicated by y!Malik;

Virtual world:

Set has heard of Seto and Mokuba’s story a dozen of times, but not the thing in its entirety. Not only that, Seto has never learned what happened in his early memory loss episodes when Set woke up. It is here, that the truth is brought to light.

At the start, Set only saw Seto, as nothing more than a vessel for him to fulfill his duty of serving/helping Atem in the present time. And he would speak of him in such manner, with Gozaburo. Needless to say, but learning such things is bound to put a damper in the brothers’ trust on Set.

Unlike in the Dark RPG arc, Set is bound to Kaiba’s body. It appears that no one outside of Gozaburo, are aware of his existence in the first place. Which catches Noah by surprise, when they finally come face to face;

Set is the one who initiates the duel against Noah, under the justification that he was the one responsible for Gozaburo’s death and not Seto. However, he has to swap places with Seto once Noah starts using Mokuba as a meat shield. They are unable to continue, and are turned into stone as a result;

From the duel against Gozaburo, all the way to their escape Set and Seto are in complete sync with one another, in the same way that Yugi and Atem are always seen.

By the end of the duel with Gozaburo, Set finishes what he began all those years ago, the ritual to feed the man’s soul to his BEWD ka. His punishment for all the crimes, against him.

BC’s finals

There aren’t any major differences between them. Set and Y!Malik exchange a few words, mostly just so he can both taunt him and send him after Atem. By the end of the tournament, Set finally gets the confirmation that his pharaoh is indeed back.

Pyramid of Light

Again, there aren’t any major differences between them. Set picks up on the sudden shift in Kaiba’s behavior, he is mostly there as an observer. He gets sucked into the millennium puzzle, when the pyramid of light is played, that is where he stays for remainder of duel/story. He returns to Kaiba as soon as he is fred from the puzzle, and takes over the body while the other is recovering.

In relation to Anubis and the fake relic: Set had yet to be promoted into his high priest position, however he was around to witness Aknadin punish him. He wasn’t aware of the fake relic’s existence, and simply saw the sentence as just another of his mentor’s lessons. But, he recognizes Anubis.

Waking the dragons

The first duel against Amelda: Kaiba still is the one dueling, however Critias is unable to interfere in the duel. Leading to him being defeated, but Set manages to take over the body in time so his soul is the one taken by the orichalcos seal instead. He doesn’t return until the Leviathan is defeated, by the end of this arc;

Seto is trying to recover Set, while attempting to salvage what is left of his company. He doesn’t relate at all to Atem’s situation, even though at first glance they seem to be on similar grounds.

KC Grand prix

Once more, there aren’t any major differences between them. Set is aware of Ziegfried’s existence, but he really doesn’t get to do anything or much of relevance throughout this arc’s events.

He also mocks Ziegfried’s hair & mannerisms, in a similar way that Kaiba does. The other is unable to tell both apart.

Memory world

They travel to Egypt in order to join Yugi and his crew, this means that Kaiba participates in the MW’s events a lot sooner. At first, he is tasked by Set to look for any clues to Atem’s name. There is a fallout between them, when Seto becomes aware that Set isn’t trying to change the course of events, even though he knows what is coming/about to happen;

It should be worth reminding that: Set remembers most things about his life, with the exception of most memories assosciated to Atem’s existence, he doesn’t remember his name neither why he erased it from existence or anything that could possibly lead/hint to learning the name prematurely.

Set is saved from Aknadin’s control with the help of Kisara, Seto and Atem;

Seto and Set are the last ones to leave the MW, because there is one more portion of this story that is exclusively meant for Kaiba to see. Which is the aftermath, of Zorc’s battle. When Set regained consciousness and found himself all alone with the puzzle.

Ceremonial duel

They split up during the ceremonial duel, just like Yugi and Atem and watch over it like that.

DSoD

Taking place about 1 year after the end of DM. Kaiba’s goal is to meet with Set, one more time. Even though, everyone around him seems to just assume, he is after Atem.

At some point, he recovers the millennium rod and keeps it to himself, even though it has no power. What Yugi says about the spirits being gone, is true. He also can’t feel Set’s presence in his relic. The rod vanishes when Atem returns to his realm.

Kaiba and Set duel each other, Kaiba is the winner and safely returns to his realm.

#ooc /#[ AU 04: Yami!Seto : priest set ]#| セト • priest set • headcanon |#this got lONG BUT IT IS HERE FINALLY

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crystalgirl259 · 3 years ago

Text

Guilty Pleasures Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Noah’s Ark

It would be over three thousand years before Zane met the strange demon known as Kai again. In those years the human race had grown at a rapid rate and had taken over pretty much the entire planet. Zane couldn't help but wonder if the human's sudden growth was always part of the plan or if the weapons he and Kai had gifted Adam and Eve had had a hand with it and aided in their expansion. Zane shuddered as he thought about the weapons from Heaven and Hell.

After he had sealed the Garden of Eden, the Almighty had only asked him once where the shurikens were and thankfully he managed to convince them that they were in the garden somewhere.

He had tried to find the two weapons in later years but it seemed that they had been lost to time. The angel was standing among a large crowd, watching as Noah finished building his ark. Noah's family had begun to lead the pairs of animals on board. While most of the crowd laughed and jeered at the man, Zane was just barely managing to keep the bile down, knowing what was coming. He wanted so desperately to warn the people, to tell them Noah was telling the truth and that they needed to find boats.

But at the same time, he knew that they wouldn't listen and that it was too late anyway.

Before they finished even a small boat the flood would come and wash them all away. As the angel wrestled with his thoughts, he suddenly felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned to see Kai standing beside him with a big grin on his face. The demon hadn't changed at all since Zane had last seen him. The only different thing was the brunette's missing wings that had been hidden, much like Zane's own wings.

"Hello, Zane." Kai greeted warmly and Zane wondered what had drawn the demon here.

"Kai," Zane replied awkwardly. He still didn't know how to properly interact with a demon, even if this one didn't come off as a threat right away.

"So, giving the mortals a flaming sword and icy shurikens, how do you think that worked out for us?" Kai asked with what Zane could swear was a mischievous purr.

"The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again." He replied, trying to keep his attention on the boat.

"Probably a good thing." He shrugged as he looked around at the crowd and back at the boat. "So what's all this about? Build a big boat and fill it with a traveling zoo?" He asked and Zane had took swallow the lump in his throat as he thought of a response.

"From what I hear, God's a bit tetchy and is wiping out the human race... with a big storm." He stammered, catching the demon off-guard.

"All of them?"

"Just the locals." Zane tried to smile, but it was so strained even Kai could see through it. "I don't believe the Almighty's upset with the Chinese, or the Native Americans, or the Australians."

"Yet."

"And God's not going to wipe out all the locals; I mean, Noah, up there, his family, and his sons, their wives, they're all going to be fine." He tried to reassure, but it had little to no effect on the brunette.

"But they're drowning everybody else?" He scoffed as he looked around at the crowd who were ignorant to their impending doom. His eyes widened when he saw a small group of kids running and playing in the crowd. "You can't kill children." He gasped in horror when Zane reluctantly nodded, snake eyes wide open. Not even a demon would kill a child. Why kill something when they wouldn't go to hell, anyway? Something that couldn't defend itself.

It wasn't logical.

It wasn't fair either, he thought. But only very quietly to himself. Zane had looked so helpless, but he hadn't agreed with the demon. At least he hadn't said it out loud. Although something had been in the angels' beautiful eyes. Kai liked to imagine that it was doubt. Still, he knew that having exactly that could be extremely dangerous. One doesn't simply doubt the great plan. Kai wanted to save the children. He did. The reason why he wanted to do that was far apart from any comprehension.

It couldn't be that wrong or right or whatever.

Only that way the children could grow old and be bad and ultimately go to hell, and that should be hells' only concern, anyway. He observed the Ark from every side. It was huge. Much bigger than a house, and much bigger than a dune, and much bigger than any animal climbing aboard. There should be more than enough space for everything and more. Also, the other unicorn was still missing. Kai wasn't too concerned, they still had the other one.

An idea started to form, as he observed the Ark.

There were a lot of animals and no one was paying as much attention to them as they should. A unicorn had already gotten away, anyway. Maybe, just maybe, this could also work the other way around. There should be enough space...

****************

Zane felt bad. He felt as bad as he never did before. He felt even too bad to listen to his conscience, which tried to tell him something. It couldn't be that important, though. The fresh air didn't make it better. The angel was the first one to discover seasickness. On the third evening, Zane sat outside between a flamingo and a gazelle and tried to keep the contents of his dinner where they belonged.

"Snowflake, are you ok?" Kai asked, suddenly standing between him and the flamingo. The flamingo watched him suspiciously with his head tilted.

"Oh, I'm fine," Zane answered bravely.

"Are you sure? The light makes you look a bit greenish." He said and the angel tried not to stare at the demon's long and probably soft hair in the wind and falling into his eyes.

"Maybe a bit tired." He said, clinging onto the railing.

"Tired?"

"Tired." He repeated. Kai had never seen an angel getting sick before. Maybe it was Gods' anger that made it that way. Maybe it was something entirely different. Either way, the demon was worried. It was a huge ark. There were near to no waves at all. Which meant, the floor was practically not shaking any bit. Zane glanced at him, help to seek. The angel sighed dramatically once more.

"I'll make you some ginger tea." The demon finally said.

"I'll feel miserable till the end of-"

"You'll be fine in two or three days, trust me." The demon assured him. Zane took a step forward, then let himself fall against the railing again and got even greener if possible. "What did you eat?" Kai asked as he took the angel carefully by the arm.

"Some tuna I think," Zane admitted reluctantly.

"Bad idea." He sighed as he shook his head. Zane flinched at the word bad. "Let's go inside, ok?" The demon suggested as he half carried him inside. His hands felt hot, but also his touch was strangely calming, and maybe just a little bit nice. "What do you usually do to calm yourself down, angel?" He asked reluctantly. This made the angel jump a bit. Then he looked to the ceiling with a pinch of guilt, as they slowly walked down the stairs and deeper into the Ark.

"I read or write something."

"You should stop that."

"I will do no such thing!" Zane cried as he ripped his arm away and a moment later he grabbed for Kai again because he almost fell over a big rat.

"I mean you should stop that as long as you feel bad." Kai chuckled lightly as he brought the angel back to his cabin which he shared with different breeds of pigeon and two friendly brown chickens.

"Will you read something for me? Please?" Zane asked as he snuggled into a blanket. Kai hesitated for a moment, but then he grabbed a scroll that was lying next to Zane's bed. How could he say no? The angel looked at him expectantly. The scroll was made of dried leaves and the tiny symbols looked like they were written with blood. Since the demon couldn't read, he had to improvise. He sat down next to the angel, not too close but not too far, opened the scroll from the wrong side, and began to tell a story.

Zane closed his eyes and smiled so sweetly that it made Kai almost forget how words work.

But he took a deep breath and continued his story bravely. Kai kept talking quietly over the singing of some budgies, the yawning tiger, the cheeping degu until Zane calmed down enough to not sleep but dream. After he had made sure that Zane was feeling better, the demon left him alone, although he desperately wanted to stay. But he had other things to do...

****************

Zane had rested for hours and was now refreshed. The angel felt much stronger, although still shaky. But now he was bored and he had been thinking about Kai for a while now. For some reason he couldn't explain, he just wanted to see him again. Preferably sooner than later.

"Kai? Where are you? Could you... Could you read me another story, please?" He shouted as loud as he dared, which wasn't very loud, as he approached the section where there were zebras, some apes, and a few butterflies. It was quite dark. Only a few candles lit this section. There he found Kai, but the demon didn't look pleased to see him.

"Wait a moment, Snowflake; don't come here." He said, sounding nervous.

"Is something wrong, my dear?" Zane asked and went there, anyway. Just then, a young girl that had been hiding in the shadows and he had almost walked into ran and hid behind Kai. He stared at a terrifying demon surrounded by small children, mouth agape. Two were holding his hands and one was sitting on his shoulders, badly braiding his long hair with tiny and probably not very clean fingers. In the background, they heard a hog making some unhappy sounds.

"What did you do?!" Zane almost hissed.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Kai said, trying to act innocent.

"I'm talking about the children! Where do they come from?"

"Oh.. hey... I haven't even noticed them."

"Kai." Zane scowled as he crossed his arms. He uncrossed them again, however, because he needed them for stability. He felt himself getting sick again. Was the floor getting shakier?

"You can't kill children." The demon finally said softly.

"WE CAN'T- can't keep them here." He insisted, trying to keep his tone down as the small girl sitting on Kai's shoulders started crying.

"What do you intend to do? Throw them overboard? Does the ineffable plan tell you to do that?" Kai snarled and for a moment their eyes were locked. Zane then sighed and fixed his gaze on the floorboards as the demon glared at him.

"What now, angel?"

"No, I don't –Do you even know how to take care of children?"

"Do you?" Kai asked sarcastically.

"No, I don't…"

"Me neither." The demon sighed. Zane watched the kids held Kai's hands and hid behind him. He quickly realized that they were afraid of the angel. After a moment of careful consideration, ha decided that he didn't want them to fear an angel. He was supposed to be the good one. "Do you think about snitching?" Kai asked, his voice sounded somehow hurt.

"No, I- I thought, that we both don't know how to take care of children, but maybe we could learn it together." He offered awkwardly. At first, the demon felt like he was petrified, but then he sighed.

"If you want to, yeah, whatever; you look for something to feed them and maybe a bit of clean water and Ava over there wants to see the unicorn so I'll go with her and show her if you keep an eye on the others for a while because I can't take all of them there because Amon over there is scared of horses and I don't know how he will react to a unicorn." He shrugged and Zane nodded. They had never taken care of living beings, before. Okay, not really.

But they learned quickly and all the children survived.

Kai in his snake form would curl around the children to keep them warm. Zane would cook something nutritious for them to eat. He would eat most of it, but they're also would be more than enough for the children. After that, they would talk. Tell stories on a stormy night to calm everyone down. Mostly the angel, because the shaking of the ark didn't make him feel good. Still, his stomach would get upset from time to time.

"I'm glad, you were there," Zane said one night quietly, as they watched over the children sleeping. Kai didn't answer. He picked up a beautiful feather of a parakeet and gently put it in Zane's hair.

"I gave the Mammoths' ration to the children; I mean... it's a huge animal, so it should be fine without one dinner." He said casually after a while. Then the angel wondered, when the last time was, that he fed the mammoths. It couldn't be this long ago. The Ark would have a little fewer passengers when it arrived than when it started sailing. But the children would all survive and grow to be adults. Raised by an angel and a demon, all of them got to be fundamentally human.

Lurking between the goats, there was a second demon which none of the other beings noticed.

Even then he had smelled bad, but to be completely honest, everywhere on the Ark it smelled pretty bad. Between lurking sessions, he enjoyed scaring the birds. There were a few penguins that he didn't like. One had bitten his hand when he tried to pet it. Therefore Morro made the penguin stop flying. All the other birds hated him for that. Sometimes he also scared some children. But weren't there more than there were supposed to be? One time he saw the demon Kai holding the hand of a small girl as she cried.

After a while, she stopped crying as he talked to her calmingly and fell asleep in Kai's arms.

This confused Morro. Why would he do that? This was the first time when Morro suspected something. He didn't like it. Something was going on, something fishy, and it wasn't the fish. He couldn't prove it though, not just yet. He didn't know how to yet. But he was lurking in the shadows, ready to strike. Still, he was new to the job, but he gave his best and already could do an impressive amount of lurking in a day or preferably at night...

#ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago zane #oppositeshipping #guilty pleasures #ninjago morro #ninjago fanfiction

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offtopicoverload · 4 years ago

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Hope Dumps Noah

I have no logical explanation for what this is, but @bubblybabynailpolish had an anon bring up Noah + Hope = Jade + Beck from Victorious a while ago, and it’s been living rent free in my head for weeks so here’s some bullshit. It’s loosely based on that one episode where Jade gets Tori to win back Beck except gayer and more litg and exists purely to appease the gremlin that is early 2010s me yelling in the back of my mind. And thanks to Anne for answering my weird asks, this is what they were for lmao

T Rating (fluff and angst, some elements of the show kinda? i tried at least)

Hope x MC (Rosie)

~10k (got super carried away but didnt wanna make multiple parts so take it as you will. on the bright side, it'd be longer if i edited properly but im tired so no)

Rosie’s front door shakes on its hinges, a pounding, thundering sound echoing from the other side, berating the wood as it quivers and quivers. Her head flies up in surprise, half expecting an army to spill into her flat, battering ram in hand as they shout orders. But no such event occurs, and she leaps up from the sofa in the corner, pocketing her phone and hurrying across the room before yanking the door open. She immediately freezes in place, meeting bewildered, watery eyes standing on the other side of the threshold.

Tears are streaming down splotchy cheeks, a throat bobbing as it fights to maintain some sort of composure, even as bones tremble beneath skin, shivering regardless of the heat of the building. “Um, uh, hey?” Rosie tries awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot in the doorway and gripping the knob with pale knuckles.

“Can I come in?” the words waver as they leave messy, tear-muddied, brightly stained lips, pouring out like broken shards, creating their own trail alongside tears. Red eyes glance down the hallway, paranoid as they search for something, even in the late night, “I don’t - I don’t want to be out here where -” a sniffle “- where people can see.”

Rosie blinks a few times, her mind still slowly working to process the situation that’s just presented itself to her. But dark eyes are glimmering with shed and unshed tears, pleading beneath lashes and shadows from poor corridor lighting, and she startles into action, “Yeah! Yeah, er, yeah,” she mumbles, moving aside and holding the door open in invitation.

The threshold’s crossed, hurrying inside the flat with arms crossed, making a beeline for the upholstered sofa backed against the wall and dropping down onto it. Rosie closes the door, locking it carefully, neurotically, slowly, just to give herself time to think, to make sense of what to do with one of the last people she ever expected inside her flat: Hope.

Hope’s sitting on her sofa, curled in on herself to take up as little space as possible, cheeks covered in the remnants of despair that Rosie can’t even explain, let alone prepare herself for. Hope’s sniffling in her living room, palms running up and down her biceps to calm herself, her throat struggling to stifle sobs she’s ashamed of. Hope’s crying in her flat, gaze pinned to the floor to avoid the world, makeup streaked and smudged on all of her features, features wracked with inexplicable pain.

Rosie turns from the door, brushing her clammy palms on her sweatpants over and over again, a distractionary stimuli to calm the nerves slowly bubbling beneath her skin. Nerves she hasn’t felt in months, and was determined to never feel again, not after weeks and weeks of the constant feeling of insects crawling beneath her skin, burrowing and biting and squirming. She glances up, finding Hope’s eyes trained on her, hesitant and terrified from across the room, the flat’s lights reflecting in them, her damp cheeks shimmering in the warm colours.

Rosie forces her lips to curl in a tiny smile as she approaches, somewhat slow and cautious, until she can fall into the cushions beside Hope, bloodshot eyes never straying from her movement. Rosie risks a hand on her back, gently skating up and down her spine, an attempt at comfort she doesn’t have a reason to provide. But she provides it anyway, praying it’ll help, it’ll keep the tears from dripping down Hope’s jaw and dampening her top.

Only it doesn’t, only Hope begins to crumble, falling against her and burying her face against Rosie’s shoulder, sobs shaking her shoulders, trembling like the door on its hinges. Rosie wraps her arms around the quaking body clinging to her, murmuring a few quiet assurances, an offer of a lifesaver in the raging sea drowning her. Her hands draw circles on Hope’s vulnerable back, shapes to distract herself with, to ground herself with.

Hope bawls and whimpers and sobs and shakes for what feels like forever to Rosie, a forever that’s odd and uncomfortable, a forever that she doesn’t know what to make of. It’s not that she’s necessarily upset with it - she’s done this for girl friends in the past, she knows how to help a heartbroken woman - it’s just who she’s helping. She hasn’t seen Hope since the finale, since she walked away with her hand clasped in Noah’s, since Rosie split the money with Arjun, just to appease the audience.

He was sweet, sure, but they just didn’t fit. She didn’t feel like he was her other half, her perfect match, a missing piece in the puzzle that constructs her life. She didn’t see herself sacrificing things for him, didn’t see herself working for her relationship with him, didn’t see herself with him, point blank. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.

Which is exactly why she has no idea what to make of the woman dampening and wrinkling her sweater, face pressed to her shoulder and hands fisted in her shirt. “Hey, it’s okay,” she murmurs against Hope’s head, her breath hot where it brushes skin, a shiver running through Hope at the exhale.

This is unfamiliar territory to Rosie, unknown ground as she slowly steps into no man’s land, wary of land mines sitting beneath the dirt. Land mines of glares and scoffs and dismissals, land mines that sat in every corner of the Villa. Maybe in another life this would be normal, be commonplace, but not in this one.

Not in the world where Rosie kissed Noah in the Villa’s lounge that fateful day, that day that she’s regretted ever since. It wasn’t meant to mean anything, it was only supposed to help Priya and Bobby. It wasn’t supposed to cause the end of the world or hurt Hope as much as it did. It wasn’t supposed to confuse Noah as much as it did or leave him dragging things on for ages. It wasn’t supposed to be anything at all, anything but a blatant mistake.

But it was, it was so much, and now here they are, months and months later. Hope hasn’t spoken to Rosie since the finale, and Rosie didn’t even mind. She’s barely kept in touch with anyone, the only people she speaks to being Chelsea and Priya, since they’re always first to reach out. Even in the Villa, Hope would barely speak to her, and it hurt for a while. It hurt that they had been so close and were suddenly so far, but she always forced that hurt away. It was her own fault, it was her actions that led to Hope hating her guts.

Except, maybe she doesn’t hate Rosie’s guts. Maybe she doesn’t want her dead or wish she was never born. Maybe she still thinks about when they were friends like Rosie does. Maybe there’s a reason she’s crying in Rosie’s arms in this moment, that she showed up at Rosie’s door, that she sought out something only Rosie could presumably offer.

Hope swallows thickly, her head turning until her cheek’s resting against Rosie. “We broke up,” Hope croaks, stifling another sob as she forces her voice out again, “I - I dumped Noah.”

“Oh, um…” Rosie fumbles, her hand tracing the length of Hope’s spine beneath her heavy, navy, patterned sweater, “I’m sorry,” she whispers, the words still warm as they settle on Hope’s skin.

“It’s my fault,” she whimpers, turning her face back to Rosie as another tremble courses through her, a barely suppressed noise of anguish dying in her throat.

Rosie resumes her reassurances, her small whispers into Hope’s scalp, her tight hold on Hope’s quivering body. She cycles through every calming technique or phrase she can think of what must be a hundred times over, until Hope quiets, until Rosie stops feeling tears on her neck, until steady, even breathing fills the flat.

She swallows to stabilise herself before asking the all important question, one she’s a little nervous to hear the answer to, “Can I - Can I ask why you’re here? And, uh, so upset? If it was your decision?” she trips over her words, a flower of nerves blossoming in her stomach, and she wants to stamp it out, to stop it from pulling her in once more.

Hope pulls away from, her face set in malleable stone even with tears glistening on her cheekbones, sparkling in the overhead lights Rosie had on, diamonds tumbling down her skin, soft enough not to cut. “I didn’t know who else to go to. I - I didn’t know what to do,” she confesses, her head bowing and eyes staring into her lap.

“Okay,” Rosie nods, a palm still skating up and down the length of Hope’s upper arm, “That’s okay. You don’t have to know. You can just stay here if you want?” she offers uneasily, shifting awkwardly in her spot.

Hope’s eyes flicker up to meet Rosie’s, a cautious hopefulness in them, “I can? It’s not, like, weird?” she mumbles, averting her gaze once more.

“Not if you don’t think it is,” Rosie counters as coolly as she can manage.

Hope shakes her head adamantly, “No, no, I’d… I’d rather not be on my own right now.”

Rosie smiles in what she hopes comes across as encouraging, “That’s cool. You want me to stay out here? We can watch a movie?” she proposes with pinched brows and squinted eyes.

A gentle, hesitant smile quirks Hope’s mouth, “Yeah.” She pauses, contemplative and nodding distractedly, “That’d be great, thanks.”

Rosie rises from the sofa, crossing the living room to flip off the lights and grab the remote and a pile of blankets sitting in the corner. She drops them beside Hope in a heap, crashing onto the opposite side of the sofa a second later. She flicks through streaming services until Hope points out some random romcom, Rosie turning it on as Hope relaxes into the sofa with one of the blankets.

Rosie doesn’t pay much attention to the film, playing with her box braids distractedly and only having a loose grasp on the cheesy plot, but she notices every time Hope laughs, the sound becoming more and more relaxed as time goes on. Rosie sinks into the cushions, her legs folded and arms wrapped around her torso, head lolled against the back of the sofa.

It’s hard to tell when her eyelids fall shut, or when the movie ends, or when Hope moves, but Rosie wakes up to a dark screen flickering through backgrounds and ads for streaming exclusives. She wakes up to Hope’s head resting on her shoulder and a blanket splayed across her lap, as if Hope was worried she’d be cold without it.

She blinks a few times in the dark, taking in the scene around her and slowly processing what her night has become. She only wanted to sit on her phone before going to bed early after her long day at work. She didn’t expect a crying woman to show up at her doorstep or to watch a bad movie until too early in the morning, or to fall asleep in the living room. A sigh shakes her chest, and she reaches for the remote, turning off the telly and settling back into the sofa, Hope shifting beside her with the adjustment.

---

Rosie wakes up to sunlight pouring into her flat and a deserted sofa, blankets the only remnants of Hope’s night spent in the living room. She slumps forward, head in her hands as she adjusts to the too-bright sun and the noise of London already filtering inside, honks of car horns and a hum of people on the streets providing a familiar soundtrack to her wake up.

“I want to get him back,” a voice declares, the words wavering slightly as they fall from lips set in a frown.

“Hmm?” Rosie hums groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she lifts her head, blinking to clear her vision. She finds Hope standing across the room, arms crossed and expression determined as she meets Rosie’s gaze.

“I want to get Noah back, I want to tell him I’m sorry for the breakup,” Hope repeats, her voice sturdier now.

Rosie nods, her mind still foggy but the haze slowly clearing, “Okay. That’s good,” she rationalises slowly, rising from the sofa and stretching her muscles; she’s made a point to avoid sleeping on the sofa normally. She stalks into the kitchen, falling into her usual morning routine easily.

Hope follows behind her, eyes widening, “It is?” she sounds surprised, stopping a ways away from Rosie, feet on the wood.

“Yeah, if you were happy together,” Rosie nods again, turning to her kitchen appliances. She starts with coffee, collecting beans and supplies meticulously as always, setting them out in a particular pattern beside the fridge.

Hope crashes into a barstool at the counter behind Rosie, her voice coming out softer now, “We were,” she confirms.

“Okay,” Rosie shrugs. “So go get him back,” she turns, forearms dropping to the counter beneath her to support her weight. She watches Hope curiously, expecting some explanation or excitement or something of the like, but Hope’s gone silent, her lip slipping between her teeth to worry the skin. Her gaze is trained on the pale countertop, hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Hope?” Rosie asks gently.

Dark eyes fly up to meet her own, snapping up too quickly, “Yeah?”

“You okay?” Concern wells in Rosie’s gaze before she can prevent it, her upper body unconsciously leaning forward to inspect Hope and find what’s suddenly irking her.

“Yeah,” Hope nods.

Rosie isn’t quite convinced, her brows knitting together, “You sure?”

Hope’s eyes flicker around the kitchen for a minute to avoid the deep eyes watching her before her shoulders slump, defeated and exhausted, “No,” she mumbles dejectedly.

“What’s wrong?”

A heavy sigh lifts Hope’s shoulders, twitching them lightly “I don’t think he’ll talk to me, not after yesterday.”

Rosie pauses. She hadn’t really considered that, just assumed Noah would be as torn up about the breakup as Hope had been, that he’d been jumping in place if Hope said it was a mistake. Her fingernails tap at the counter as she considers, weighing her options before diving right in, “Do you want me to try?”

Hope’s eyes dart to Rosie again, still just as surprised as earlier, as if everything Rosie does is entirely unbelievable, “You’d do that?”

“I guess?” Rosie gives an awkward shrug, averting her eyes and turning around to continue making coffee. She grabs milk from the fridge before finishing the process, pouring everything into a mug, “Yeah, sure,” she mumbles when she faces Hope again, swirling the dark liquid in a whirlpool.

It’s a long, almost painful amount of time before either of them utter another word. “Thank you,” Hope whispers the words, a tiny break in the quiet of the flat, of the bubble that’s formed in the kitchen.

---

The next day, long after Hope leaves her flat, long after Rosie made eggs and coffee for the both of them, long after Hope gave Rosie a quick hug in thanks, Rosie grabs an Uber to the other side of the city, to the library Noah works at. She strides into the building with her hands knotted in the pockets of her jacket, nerves clamming her palms as she scans the open area she’s found herself in. It’s relatively empty, only a few people sitting and working or browsing shelves idly in the middle of the day.

She searches a few aisles, glancing down empty passageways and passing shelf after shelf loaded with books. A few patrons give her odd looks, some outright glaring at her for her behaviour, but she eventually finds Noah in a back corner, restocking a few shelves in practiced motions, a cart loaded with books parked beside him.

“Hey,” she greets from down the aisle, waving slightly with an uneasy smile when he glances at her in surprise.

He adds the books in his hands to the shelf before turning to face her properly, his expression slightly stunned, “Hey,” he greets back, his tone puzzled as one hand falls to the book cart to lean against.

Rosie ventures further into the aisle, her eyes darting around as she attempts to figure out how to broach the tender subject of a breakup from only two days ago. She stops before him, folding her arms and rolling up and down on her toes, “So…” she starts, looking up at him from beneath her lashes in hopes that he’ll understand what she’s getting at.

He doesn’t, only blinking as he looks at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation for her presence. She sighs, one hand fiddling with the tips of her braids nervously, rolling them between the pads of her fingers, “You and Hope broke up?” she eventually asks, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as she can muster.

His eyes go wide, his jaw falling open, “Um, yeah, but I - Look, you’re really amazing but I think I need a little time, you know, and if you’ll wait, that’s great, but I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything, but again, you’re amazing, I just…” he trails off as he takes in the confusion on her face, a blush growing on his cheeks.

Then it clicks, “Oh!” she startles. “No, no, I - mate, I didn’t come to hit on you,” she clarifies, somewhat taken aback by the conclusion he so quickly jumped to. “I’m not here to ask you out, no,” she reiterates.

He nods swiftly, muttering a few apologies under his breath before clearing his throat. “So, um, why are you here then?” he asks, careful and wary of saying something else wrong.

Rosie shifts on her feet, hands falling back to fidget in her jacket pocket’s, “Well… I kinda got the impression that Hope regrets the way things went down and wants to try again,” she forces, drawing herself to her full height, still a few inches shorter than the man before her.

Confusion flickers on his face, “How’d you get that impression?”

“I talked to her.”

The confusion grows, a crease splitting his eyebrows, “She talked to you?”

“She showed up at my flat,” Rosie answers casually.

“Why?”

She shrugs, mumbling out an “I dunno” in response.

“And you’re fine with that? And you’re helping her?” his arms cross over his chest as he asks, staring down at her intently, intimidatingly.

“Yeah,” she shrinks under his gaze, drawing her jacket tighter to block out the sudden chill coursing down her spine.

Noah’s lips twist, though in frustration or anger or upset, Rosie can’t tell. “Why?” he repeats.

Rosie sighs, shrugging again at the lack of a better answer, offering her best explanation, “She was really torn up about it.”

“She dumped me,” he states calmly, matter-of-factly, dismissively.

“I know.”

He watches Rosie carefully for a moment, taking in her appearance as she shuffles on her feet, unable to conceive of where this conversation is going next. “Do you know why?” he finally asks, Rosie stilling at the question.

“No,” she admits reluctantly.

“I got lunch with Priya, alone.”

“Well, yeah, that’s not great,” sarcasm soaks her words, coating her throat as the syllables escape.

Noah blinks at her, still stern and calm, “Because Ibrahim and Marisol had to cancel.”

“Oh,” Rosie freezes, her body tensing uncomfortably. That changes things. She swallows thickly, eyebrows raising and curving together, “Does she know that?”

“I tried to tell her.”

“Maybe she’ll listen now.”

“She never does,” Noah shrugs, his demeanor unchanged and unaffected.

She looks to him in disbelief, “That can’t be true.”

He heaves a heavy sigh, his guard finally cracking as his arms fall back to his sides, disappointment radiating from him like warmth from a fire, “For my birthday she got me The Old Man and the Sea,” he looks at Rosie as if he expects her to understand what that means.

“Okay…” she squints. She knows enough about literature to know it’s a classic, that most students have to read it at one point, herself included. “Why’s that bad? You’re a librarian.”

Noah’s lips curve in a slight frown as he straightens impossibly taller, “I hate Hemingway,” he nearly spits the name, a frown splitting Rosie’s own lips at his obvious displeasure.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

---

Hope shows up at Rosie’s flat again that night, her features fraught as she hurries in, hugging herself tight with her coat. She drops onto the sofa after she enters, Rosie following a beat behind and folding her legs on the cushions, Hope nearly vibrating in her skin as she watches Rosie expectantly.

When Rosie only meets her gaze, she sighs exasperatedly, “Well? What’d he say? He didn’t text me or anything,” she leans forward, eager to learn.

Rosie shifts under the excitement presented to her, excitement she knows is about to die, “He, uh, he wasn’t really on board with you guys getting back together,” she mumbles, avoiding shining eyes.

Hope visibly deflates in only a heartbeat, her bottom lip poking out as tears well in her eyes, every part of her depressed and hurt, “He wasn’t?” Her voice is small, painfully so to Rosie’s ears.

She forces herself not to cringe at the tone, at the way Hope’s fighting tears once more, “No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, you’ve done a lot,” Hope sniffles, wiping at her nose and blinking back tears to calm herself, to prevent another onslaught of sobs on Rosie’s sofa. “You’ve done a lot,” she repeats, eyes trained on the fabric of the cushions beneath them, staring intently just to have something to focus her energy on. “Did he say why?” she finally asks after a minute, breaking the brief silence that had settled over them.

“Er -” Rosie squirms, fidgeting nervously, “He said he didn’t think you really listened to him,” she draws out the words, not wanting to speak them.

Hope is absolutely appalled, her jaw falling open in horror, “That’s - That’s not true!” she eventually manages the words, her mouth fumbling them.

“I know, but -”

“I listen!” she insists, hands flying up to grip Rosie’s forearm desperately, in search of confirmation that she’s a good person, a good partner, “Why would he say that, Rosie?” she’s panicked as her grasp tightens, falling away only a second later, “Why would he say that?” she repeats, softer now, a whisper.

“He said for his birthday you got him a Hemingway book,” Rosie chances.

Hope’s arms fold over her chest protectively, “He didn’t have any Hemingway.”

“‘Cause he hates Hemingway,” Rosie explains as gently as she can, Hope immediately slumping again, any retorts or defences forgotten.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet, Hope staring at nothing and Rosie staring at Hope, waiting for something to change, waiting for her to get sad or angry or maybe just leave all together. But she doesn’t, meeting Rosie’s eyes with a fire inside her own, “I need something else.” She’s determined as she sinks into the cushions, thinking raptly of some solution. “What if I get him a gift?” a lightbulb seems to explode above her head as she sits up again.

Rosie blinks at the quick change in mood, taken aback at the grin sitting on Hope’s lips. “Like what?”

“He likes Greyhounds?” Hope proposes with a tilt of her head and a quirk of an eyebrow, “He always said he’d love to have one.”

“You’re gonna buy him an entire dog?” Rosie asks in shock, her tone stunted and sharp.

Hope scowls at her in irritation, “He likes them!” she defends, “He’s talked about them a lot, and it’ll show I listen, right?”

“I guess?”

“What do you mean you guess?”

Hands fly up in self-defence and attempted placation, “This is your relationship, I don’t know him or what goes,” Rosie gestures in the air separating her from Hope, working to diffuse the tension.

Hope huffs, crossing her arms and collapsing into the cushions behind her, “Fine.”

---

Hope spends the next few days looking up shelters and breeders, trying to decide on a puppy or an adult or even an elderly dog, researching proper care for a Greyhound and what they need. Rosie doesn’t see or hear from Hope until her phone’s ringing incessantly as she gets out of the shower, scrambling to answer it and silence the buzzing, “Hello?” she asks without even reading the Caller ID, fumbling to turn on speakerphone.

“Hey!” Hope’s voice crackles through the speaker, bright and energetic. “I found one!” she announces, clearly pleased with herself and her findings.

“Hmm?” Rosie questions distractedly, tightening her towel wrapped around her body and grabbing skin and hair products to set them on the bathroom sink.

“I found a dog! I went to a shelter!”

Rosie nods, only realising afterwards that Hope can’t see her, sighing as she coats her face in moisturiser. “That’s great,” she hums again.

“Can you come over tonight? And we bring him to Noah’s flat? Please?” her voice is begging as it rings through the phone, Rosie glancing to it as Hope draws out the vowels of her plea.

“Uh, yeah, I think I’m free,” she mumbles, her mouth twisting as she applies products.

She’s reaching for the end call button after a long silence when a quiet murmur surprises her, “Thank you,” Hope whispers into her phone from the other side of the line.

A small smile curves Rosie’s mouth, “No problem.”

---

“You’re the worst,” Hope groans as she tugs on a leash, glaring at Rosie and her amused smile beside her.

“Says the one that dragged me into this,” Rosie grins, popping her eyebrows for effect. She’s refused to assist with the dog the entire time, forcing Hope to try and wrangle the full grown animal.

It darts forward down the street, yanking Hope along, “Hey!” she chastises, Rosie laughing unabashedly from behind her, jogging to catch up. “You could help, you know! He listened to you earlier!”

Rosie smirks, “Oh, I know. This is much more fun, though,” she teases, falling into another fit of laughter as Hope digs her heels into the pavement, working to pull the dog back.

He doesn’t listen, carrying on in the direction of the library. Noah wasn’t at his flat, so they’ve been forced to take a short detour to find him without waiting. “At least he knows where he’s going,” Rosie comments, still grinning.

Hope shoots her a scowl, “How lucky,” she spits through gritted teeth, her jaw tight as she uses all her strength to keep the dog from running off into London’s streets.

Rosie sighs as Hope nearly trips over her own feet, crouching down and whistling sharply. The dog turns, bolting for her, nearly tackling her to the ground until she grips his fur to keep upright, cooing over him the entire time. Hope’s gaze is a mix of disappointed, annoyed, and mildly impressed as Rosie grins up at her, scratching the dog behind his ears.

She pops back to her feet, stealing the leash from Hope in one smooth motion, “You’re welcome,” she hums, setting back off on their path, the dog following obediently on her heels.

She hears Hope groaning about it behind her until she catches up, muttering a ‘thanks’ under her breath, much to Rosie’s enjoyment. The rest of the walk is relatively quiet, only a few good natured ribbings from Rosie or complaints from Hope filling the space as they work their way to the library, street lamps illuminating much of their path in the dark evening.

Noah spots them before they spot him, the pair distracted as Rosie laughs at Hope’s grumbling, Rosie nearly walking into a post as she struggles to stay upright. “Stop it!” Hope chides, slapping her shoulder, which only makes Rosie laugh even harder.

“Um, hi?” Noah calls out to them, earning their gazes simultaneously. Hope stiffens, Rosie sobers, and the dog slobbers onto the pavement beneath their feet.

Rosie passes the leash back to Hope, taking a step back and away from their reunion, much to Noah’s confusion. “Hi,” Hope greets back, his eyes settling back on her.

“What are you guys doing out here?” he asks, his tone slipping into something adjacent to wariness, maybe light caution.

A bright smile curves Hope’s mouth and she sticks her hand out, offering the leash and the dog attached to it, “I got you a dog!” she announces eagerly, “I know how much you’ve always wanted one, so…” she trails off at his expression.

His eyebrows are drawn tight, lips working to form some words, “You got me a dog?!” he balks, his expression soon slipping into anger, almost a snarl, with his eyes blazing. Hope taking a step away from him, blinking rapidly as her mind audibly whirs.

“You always said you wanted one!” she explains, a spark igniting in her own dark eyes, threatening to start a fight.

“That doesn’t - What were you thinking?!”

Hope’s jaw sets tight, but it’s not enough to hide the shimmer in her eyes, “You like them, I know you do! And you don’t think I listen, but I do, so I’m proving that to you!” she counters, her voice raising.

Noah looks baffled, his hands flying and mouth opening and closing as he searches for words, “He won’t fit in my flat, Hope! He’s big and - and has a ton of energy!” he gestures wildly to the dog that’s found his way to Rosie, sitting in front of her as she scratches behind his ear.

“I thought that’s what you liked about them!” Hope’s own arms are waving, in both exasperation and irritation. One hand rises to fidget with her braids, tugging on and fiddling with a few.

“Yeah, for when I’m in a house, not a tiny flat!” Noah shouts back, “I can’t have him! I don’t want him!”

Any fire that had been blazing in Hope’s dark eyes dies out at that, at the way Noah’s glaring at her, at the way he’s dismissed her peace offering, her attempt to fix things between them. “But -”

“You can’t just -” he huffs sharply before trying to school his expression into something calmer, “You can’t just do these things without asking, it’s like you don’t even care what I think.”

Hope looks horrified, like her world is turning to ash right before her, and maybe it is, maybe this is the end of everything for her, “That’s not - I care! This is how I care! I - I pay attention and try and do things for you!”

“I don’t want you to do things for me!” Noah counters, hands balling into angry fists at his sides.

“Why not?” Hope asks indignantly, head tilted back to meet Noah’s gaze directly, her chest puffed out in a show of confidence.

Noah flounders, his jaw snapping shut, visibly rolling with tension as he searches for a reason, exploding when he can’t find one, “I just don’t! I can do things myself, Hope, I don’t need you railroading me like you always do! I’m tired of it, it’s not worth it!” he accuses, his last words effectively severing any chance at reconciliation.

Hope slumps, her shoulders sagging and face drooping, every muscle in her body going lax, as if she’s melting from heartache. Noah exhales sharply, his own shoulders dropping, losing some of the tension keeping them upright as he drags a hand through his hair, playing with it to calm himself further.

Rosie keeps to the side, not sure of her place, not sure if she’s meant to intervene, and only watches Hope stand with her head turned to the ground, braids blocking her face from view as she remains frozen, unmoving, her feet stuck to the ground and her body tense. “I’m sorry.” The words are barely audible, fractures of the typical strength in her voice, before she turns on her heel, dropping the dog’s leash and running away with tears in her eyes.

Noah deflates as she leaves, his hands balled up tight to steady himself, his face scrunched up in thought and frustration and likely a dozen other emotions as he struggles to process them. He slumps forward, his previous fight and irritation dissipating into the air, the dog still sitting at Rosie’s feet, tongue lolling and a whine echoing from him.

All the while, Rosie struggles for words, for a reaction, for something appropriate, but all she can think about is the way Hope collapsed before him, like the sight is imprinted on her mind. “Come on, mate,” she finally breaks the quiet, “You didn’t have to be that harsh,” she comments, deep creases in her own forehead and between her brows.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Noah mumbles, head down in shame as he stares at the ground, blank and empty save for the rise of his chest with each breath.

Rosie steps closer as the silence drags on, scooping up the abandoned leash and glancing over her shoulder and finding Hope long gone as she does. Her hand rises to his shoulder, gripping it loosely, “I know,” she shrugs weakly, squeezing the muscles beneath her palm. “Sorry about the dog,” she offers.

Noah laughs a little, but it’s splintered on the edges and lacking any real joy or amusement, “It’s fine. My mum’ll love him, I’m sure.”

Rosie nods sagely, retracting her hand carefully before gesturing over her shoulder, “I’m gonna, uh, go after her,” she mutters, turning on her heel and hurrying after Hope.

She finds her slumped against a wall half a block away, staring at nothing with tears streaming down her face as her lip quivers with barely restrained sobs. Rosie skids to a stop beside her, earning Hope’s attention momentarily, before she turns back to staring at nothing. She’s hollow, her gaze empty, barely there as she drifts through her mind and the storm that must be filling it like a hurricane. Rosie doesn’t say anything, only leans against the wall beside the destitute woman, eyes trained on the glimmers coating her cheeks, lit by street lamps around them.

“I just,” Hope finally begins after a long, painstakingly silent moment, “I don’t get it.” She sniffles, “I - I know we weren’t perfect, but I just… I thought we meant more than we must have.” Her voice falls apart on the last few words, cracking and splintering into a tiny, fragile whisper.

Rosie nods in understanding, pulling Hope into her arms without uttering a single word, holding her close and letting her fall apart once more, shaking under the weight of Rosie’s arms around her, burying her face in her shoulder. Her hands fist in the fabric of Rosie’s shirt, an anchor to attach herself to as the hurricane blows and wrecks and destroys her insides.

Hope’s tired of letting go, of giving in or giving up, of letting her world dissolve in her hands because fighting’s too much of a risk, a hazard, a danger to her. She’s tired of ignoring the things that rub her the wrong way, that send a cold chill down her spine, that fill her skull with a swirling mass of dark and awful thoughts. She’s tired of all the hurt and the fighting, of the way her skin turns a sickly green every time someone gets too close, of the headaches and nausea that accompany one of his unbothered shrugs.

She’s tired of it, she’s done with it, she’s not going to fight anymore, not when he doesn’t fight for her. Not when Rosie is the one she’s been leaning on, not when Rosie is the one that’s been consoling her, not when Rosie is the one that’s been nice, and caring, and sweet, and gentle, and there.

Hope shifts, freeing her face from Rosie’s top as the tears come to a stop, but keeping her head resting against her shoulder. “Why couldn’t it have been like this?” she whispers into the air, a quiet pondering that’s directed more to herself than the woman wrapped around her.

“Hmm?” Rosie hums, pulling back to look down at Hope, finding her gaze distant as she stares into the space before her, eyes piercing into the street stretching before them. “What do you mean?” Rosie murmurs down to her, finally drawing dark eyes to her own.

They’re averted just as quickly, Hope pressing her cheek even further into Rosie’s shoulder, and Rosie swears she sees some colour rush to Hope’s face. “I dunno,” she mumbles, gaze trained on nothing in particular. “It’s just… easier. Comforting. You let me do this and you’re sweet about it.”

“Noah seems pretty sweet,” Rosie mumbles awkwardly, still unsure where the line is, how Hope feels about him, how she wants to feel about him and their relationship.

Her shoulders raise in a miniscule, half-hearted shrug, “Yeah, but he doesn’t really get it. He doesn’t get it when I’m upset or mad. He’s too calm,” her lips twist at the statement, displeased at the memories.

Rosie snorts, above her, Hope’s eyes darting upwards, “What, and I’m a raving madwoman, is that?” she grins, the tension of the moment falling away with ease.

Hope’s mouth curves at the edges as she slips from Rosie’s grasp just enough to slap her arm, a common reaction to the older woman’s antics, Rosie feigning pain and rubbing at the spot instantly. “No!” Hope chides, “But you get it,” she settles back against Rosie, “Or at least you get what to do. Noah would try and fix it or tell me to ignore it or whatever, but you just let me be.”

Rosie shrugs, some heat rising to her cheeks as she glances towards the empty street beside them, fumbling for a response. She defaults to finding somewhere that will bring Hope some sort of solace, “Okay, let’s get you home,” she sighs, ignoring the heat on the back of her neck to the best of her ability.

Hope removes herself from Rosie’s hold entirely this time, stepping back and folding her arms while shifting from foot to foot. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” she asks with a twist of her lips, looking to Rosie from beneath her lashes.

“Sure,” Rosie grins, slinging her arm over Hope’s shoulders to guide her through the streets to her car, Hope leaning into her with ease as they trade some small conversation.

---

A day later and there’s a knock on Rosie’s door from across the flat, a short, sharp knock. She sighs, grabbing a dish towel and dusting off her hands before exiting the kitchen and the mess of ingredients within it. Another knock sounds on the wood, impatient as it continues on and on, Rosie hurrying to reach the door.

She jerks it open to find Hope on the other side of the threshold, beaming with her fist still poised in the air and a bottle of wine in her other hand. “Hi!” she greets, stepping past Rosie into the flat and scanning the open area curiously.

“Hey?” Rosie tries, shutting the door behind Hope and leaning against it, arms crossed and towel in hand. “Should I have been expecting you?” she asks, cycling through her day in her mind to double-check.

“Nope!” Hope turns, still grinning, “But I brought wine!” she offers the bottle proudly, swinging it for emphasis.

Rosie nods, one brow raised, “I can see that.”

Hope’s smile dims, slowly falling away as Rosie doesn’t say anything more, evidently a sign of annoyance. “Sorry,” she bows her head. “I shouldn’t have come, should I? I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to do tonight,” she confesses, her words rushing in a hurry to explain herself.

Rosie pushes herself upright from the door, stepping away from the threshold and closer to Hope, “I take it you usually spend evenings with Noah?”

Hope only nods in response, head still down in embarrassment and resignation. Her arms are slack at her side, the wine bottle dangling loosely in her grasp as she awaits Rosie’s harsh words telling her to leave and not come back.

“Well, I’m making dinner right now and I always make too much,” Rosie states, no edge in her voice, no malice in her words, “Take your shoes off and it’ll be done in about a half hour.” Rosie turns, striding back into the kitchen and leaving Hope to collect herself.

She joins Rosie a few minutes later in her socks, her smile repaired as she drops into a barstool across from Rosie, placing the wine bottle on the counter, a glimmer in her eyes as she presents it, pushing it across the counter. Rosie laughs in response, nicking it and pulling out wine glasses. She pours a drink for each of them, Hope draining hers rather quickly as she talks about her day, Rosie stealing a few sips as she cooks.

Rosie presents the finished dinner with a flourish to Hope, earning a laugh as she takes the plate. Rosie rounds the kitchen, dropping into the stool beside Hope and taking a swig of her wine. “So what’d you do today?” Hope prompts curiously, cutting into the chicken Rosie made and taking a bite.

“Usual stuff. Trained today, the new player’s are adjusting pretty well, and then ran a few errands. Usual stuff,” she shrugs, taking a bite of asparagus.

“That’s fun,” Hope hums encouragingly, smiling wide when Rosie glances to her. She nearly chokes on her food at the sight, coughing and laughing at the same time as Hope watches in confusion and concern, “What’s happening? Are you okay?” she turns in her seat to face Rosie directly, hands hovering, unsure of where to land.

Rosie waves her off, still working to catch her breath and stop laughing, something made infinitely more difficult by Hope hitting her on the back to presumably help her dislodge something. “I’m fine!” she croaks, working to suck in deep breaths.

“Are you sure? What happened?” Hope asks again, hand on the back of Rosie’s seat, just in case.

Rosie chuckles briefly before pressing her lips together, forcing neutrality that barely holds together, “You were just very serious in your excitement over groceries.” She bites her tongue to keep from laughing again.

“Is that really it?” Rosie nods to confirm, suppressing more giggles. Hope’s eyes roll, a groan escaping from her throat, “You’re the worst.”

Now Rosie can barely hold it back, dissolving into giggles as Hope scowls, picking at her meal as Rosie struggles to find air. “Says the one eating my food,” she grins when she finally catches her breath.

“What’s that mean?” Hope turns with a glare.

Rosie draws herself taller, even sitting down she’s got some height on Hope, “It means you showed up at my door unannounced and stole all my hard work,” she accuses coolly.

“I brought you wine!” Hope frowns, gesturing to the bottle in her defence.

Rosie raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile on her lips, “Who’s the one drinking it all?”

That shuts Hope up, Rosie earning a scowl as they turn back to their dinners, Hope staying quiet until Rosie brings up her job. Then she’s beaming and telling every detail of her workplace she can think of, every coworker that’s weird or mean or nice or funny, every aspect of career that she loves.

The conversation flows alongside the wine, until the bottle’s empty and the pair’s slouched on the sofa, facing each other on opposite ends. Hope fumbles for her phone, pulling it out and wincing at the time, “I need to go home.” She turns, standing up what must be too quickly because she drops back to the cushions.

Rosie shifts forward too, folding her legs before her, “Did you drive here?”

Braids jangle as Hope nods, her eyes falling shut as she slowly leans back into the cushions again. Rosie sighs, finding it much easier to stand than Hope, and grabs a blanket, draping it across her lap, “Just stay here.

Hope’s eyes squint open, looking up at Rosie with dilated pupils, “You sure?” she mumbles, her words slurring together from the alcohol that had coated her tongue.

“Yeah, you’re not getting in a wreck on my watch,” Rosie hums, collecting their glasses and the empty bottle before striding into the kitchen. She puts the glasses in the sink and the bottle on the counter beside it to deal with tomorrow, then retraces her steps to the living room.

Hope’s curled up on the sofa already, the blanket tucked under her chin, and Rosie smiles at the sight and absurdity of a drunk Hope asleep in her flat. She shakes her head, turning to her bedroom and stalking inside, collapsing on the bed as soon as she can, passing out as soon as her head hits the pillow.

---

Hope continues coming to Rosie’s flat a few times a week, sometimes with an offering of wine or takeaway in hand, sometimes with nothing more than herself. They watch movies and talk and laugh about stupid things from the Villa or stories from their lives until their tired from long days or it’s three in the morning and they still don’t stop talking.

Sometimes Hope sits in an armchair and responds to emails while Rosie paces the length of the flat with her phone pressed to her ear, talking down one of her players or fighting with managers. Sometimes there’s not a single word spoken between them, sometimes all they do is talk, sometimes Rosie makes dinner, sometimes it’s late enough that they’ve both already eaten, sometimes Hope shows up after Rosie has already gone to bed, sometimes Hope even beats her home in the afternoon.

There’s no pattern to any of it, there’s no rhythm, nothing concrete to Hope’s appearances, but Rosie soon finds that she doesn’t even mind. It’s actually kind of nice, to have someone around without any expectations. It’s kind of nice that Hope brings her soup when she gets a cold, or how Hope somehow always has wine on hand for when they need it, or how Hope tidies the flat when she’s especially busy.

It’s a casual night tonight, popcorn and drinks sitting on the coffee table as a movie plays across from them in the dark. Rosie picked tonight, a drama about a hockey team one of her players always recommends, since she couldn’t think of anything else but was not definitely not watching another of Hope’s romcoms twice in a row. They’d been snacking all night, splitting a pizza in the evening as Hope worked on some project and Rosie scrolled her phone, a silence seeping into the flat.

Rosie watches the film in a similar silence now, watches the flickering of light as it reflects and refracts off every available surface in the room. A contented sigh vibrates in her throat as she settles further into the sofa, pulling the blanket she’s enthralled within tighter. She sinks into the cushions, shifting her legs and letting her knees brush against Hope’s thighs.

Speaking of, she can see the other woman watching her in the dark, eyes trained on Rosie’s features, inspecting them carefully as blues and yellows and reds and dozens of other hues play in her dark irises, glinting off and mixing with them. Rosie glances over, finding a crease between Hope’s brows as she stares at something below Rosie’s eyes that she can’t quite place. She smiles softly in the dim lighting, teasingly, “What?” she asks, “Something on my face?”

Only she doesn’t get the chance to ask the second question, because suddenly there is absolutely something on her face, something that she doesn’t think should be there and was not at all anticipating, but honestly doesn’t entirely mind. Hope’s lips are on hers, soft and nice and there.

Hope’s kissing her. Hope’s kissing her, and it’s tentative and cautious and careful, like Hope’s gaze was a moment ago, and it all makes sense in an instant. She blinks, stunned and shocked, until her lashes flutter shut and she’s kissing Hope back. She melts into her, a hand rising to cup Hope’s cheek and draw her closer, a hand fisting in the front of her shirt to close the space between them.

When they finally break for air, a sigh slips past Hope’s lips as their lips separate, still brushing against each other, their breath mingling in the small gap. “Um, what…?” Rosie whispers against the lips on hers, unable to find a conclusion to the question.

“I - I don’t know,” Hope whispers, just as quiet, “Sorry,” she murmurs, pulling back.

Rosie watches her go, hurt welling inside her gut at the regret evident on Hope’s face, “Why?”

Hope shakes her head, like she’s frustrated with something, though Rosie doesn’t know what. “Didn’t ask,” is all she says, leaning away and turning back to the film still playing.

Rosie’s following her retreat without even realising, chasing after Hope unconsciously. “Didn’t mind.”

“Really?” Hope’s eyes snap to her, wide with clear surprise at the admission.

“I mean, maybe a little warning next time, but…” Rosie shrugs, unbothered.

Dark eyes glimmer, lit by the films rainbow of lighting, “Next time?”

“If you want.”

Hope shifts, facing Rosie head on, “Do you want a next time?” she asks carefully, emphasising the importance of the question with wide eyes.

A smirk lifts the corner of Rosie’s mouth, “First time was pretty good, so yeah.”

“Only ‘pretty good’?” Hope teases, leaning closer again, close enough for Rosie to see faint specks sparkling in her irises.

“Yep,” Rosie nods, resolute as her face solidifies into sharp stone. “Not about to stroke your ego.”

Hope groans, “You’re the worst.”

“Says the one that kissed me first,” Rosie teases right back, her smirk only growing at Hope’s annoyance, however played up it may be.

“Shut up,” Hope whines.

“No thanks,” Rosie grins, ready to start a spiel about everything she’s learned annoys Hope in the past few months, everything that earns a groan or a sigh or an eye roll, everything that makes her glare or scowl or slap Rosie’s arm even though it doesn’t hurt. “I think I’m -”

Hope’s kissing her again, only this time it’s deeper, filled with fire as Hope’s hands slip around to cup the back of her head, pulling Rosie ever closer and holding her there. Rosie’s own hands slide along Hope’s body, landing on her thighs and tugging her forward on the cushions, until their bodies are pressed together, with lips locked together. A groan slips from Hope’s throat, Rosie humming at the noise and sending her hands exploring in search of more sounds, palms grazing Hope’s exposed navel, muscles twitching beneath skin.

Hope splits them apart, her forehead pressing against Rosie’s gently, her panting breaths sending a shiver down Rosie’s spine. “What are we now?” her words only amplifying the effect.

“Whatever you want us to be,” Rosie answers easily, the question seeming unnecessary, “You’re kinda taking the reins here.”

Hope pauses, her hands clasped behind Rosie’s neck and thumbs brushing her skin idly. “Are we already dating?” she asks after a long moment.

“What do you mean?”

“We do a lot of coupley stuff,” Hope shrugs a bit, her lips twisting in contemplation, “We hang out all the time and I stay over and you make dinner and we watch movies,” she lists off.

Rosie pulls away, putting enough space between them to take in all of Hope, “Do you wanna carry on like this?”

Hope blinks, like she wasn’t expecting that question, “Yeah,” she answers, a little indignantly.

“Okay,” Rosie nods along, “Do you wanna call it dating?”

Hope stalls, eyes falling away as she considers, her voice coming out smaller than before when it finally does, “...Yeah.”

“Then we’re dating,” Rosie smiles sweetly at her, Hope’s expression softening at the sight.

Until it sharpens quickly, determination building in her eyes, “We have to go on a date,” she states evenly, matter-of-factly.

“Does that make it official?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Rosie shrugs, falling back against the arm of the sofa casually, a wicked grin splitting her lips, “But you’re taking me out,” she warns.

Hope’s brow furrows at the declaration, the surety of it, “What? Why?”

“You started this, now it’s your problem,” Rosie smirks as Hope frowns, her eyes narrowing into a glare in the dark of the flat.

“You’re the absolute worst.”

“Says the one taking me on a date,” Rosie wiggles in her spot, falling back further and slipping her feet into Hope’s lap, Hope harrumphing and shoving them off with a scowl, much to Rosie’s amusement.

---

Hope drags Rosie out to a cafe in the morning, grinning the entire time she avoids telling Rosie where they’re even going, laughing at all of Rosie’s off-base guesses and humming ‘warmer’ when she gets something right.

She holds Rosie’s hand the entire time, occasionally swinging their interlocked digits between them or fiddling with Rosie’s fingers, as if they’re the most fascinating thing Hope can conceive of. And maybe they are. Maybe the way their hands fit together is strange, maybe the way they’re so close in size is odd, maybe the way Rosie squeezes her hand or traces circles along her knuckles idly is puzzling.

She pulls Rosie to a stop at the mouth of an alley, earning a confused expression in turn as Rosie looks around, “What are we doing here?” she spins in a slow circle, taking in the desolate street around them, a backroad with a small boutique, a pawn shop, and an auto body place. “Are you going to mug me?” she asks with twisted lips when she faces Hope again.

A laugh bubbles out of Hope and she swats at Rosie’s arm, a pleased smile curving Rosie’s mouth. “No!” Hope chastises, before pausing, her jaw clamping shut. “Close your eyes,” she demands a beat later.

“Okay, you’re definitely mugging me.”

“Just do it,” Hope whines. “Please?” she smiles, sweet as candy, Rosie immediately giving in with a roll of her eyes. “Perfect,” Hope squeezes Rosie’s hand tight, gently tugging her further into the alley.

“This is a very elaborate ruse to mug me, you know,” Rosie comments, eyes still squeezed shut, a hand on her lower back leading her.

Hope huffs exasperatedly, “Would you stop it?”

“Just saying. You already know where I live and when I have work, you don’t have to mug me.”

“Stop it or I really am gonna mug you.”

Rosie grins victoriously, reveling in the way she doesn’t even have to see Hope’s face to know how irritated she is, that she can tell from voice alone, “Knew it.”

“Shut. Up,” Hope’s teeth are gritted as she glares at Rosie with her dopey smile and closed eyes.

“Fine, fine,” Rosie concedes, “Just leave my money alone.”

“Just your money?”

Rosie faces Hope regardless of sight, “What’s that meant to mean? You want my phone, too?”

“Just checking if you’re available then,” Hope teases playfully, still gently leading.

Rosie pauses to consider, “Depends,” she finally lands on.

“On what?” Hope challenges.

“What you want out of me,” Rosie answers carefully, “I’m not mugging people with you.”

Hope barely suppresses an eye roll, “You’re the worst.”

“Aw, you really care,” Rosie coos, her hands clasping above her heart dramatically.

“I care about your money.”

Another victorious smile, “Knew it. Golddigger.”

“Arsehole.”

“Says the mugger.”

A sigh’s Rosie’s only response as they come to a stop somewhere, Hope’s arms draping around Rosie’s shoulders and her lips pecking Rosie’s. Her hands instinctively land on Hope’s hips, “Okay, open your eyes,” Hope hums.

Rosie obliges, blinking a few times to adjust to the sunlight, smiling down at Hope as her vision clears. “This it? Lotta theatrics. Coulda just stayed in for this view,” she teases.

Hope shakes her head exasperatedly, but it’s not enough to hide the smile on her lips, “Look around.”

She does, lifting her head away from Hope and finding them on a busier street the alley emptied onto. There’s a little café right in front of her, somewhat secluded from the rest of the street, with fogged windows and blurs of colour inside. No one’s moving in or out of the building, and it’s small enough that only a few patrons could possibly be inside.

Rosie’s eyes fall back to Hope and her smile, “What is this place?” she asks softly, bewonderment lessening the edge of her tongue at the quiet little escape she’s been led to.

“My favourite café. It’s really small and has the same regulars and everyone’s super nice and wonderful.” Hope bites her lip, as if she’s hesitating or nervous about something, “I found it after the show, when there was so much attention everywhere I went, and no one even knew me, so I started coming all the time.”

Rosie nods along, staring into Hope’s eyes intently to ground her, to show she understands. And she really does. She understands how hard it was with the editing and the pressure of the show. She understands how bad the backlash online was at times, when people would shit on them for anything. She understands how necessary it was to find a place to withdraw, to have people that didn’t care and just let her continue on with her job.

“Well, let’s go,” Hope’s arms retract from around Rosie’s shoulders, hands sliding down to grip Rosie’s and pull her along to the café. She swings the door open with a grin, a bell ringing above their heads. Not a single patron glances their way, most typing away at laptops or scrolling their phones as they sip drinks and slowly pick at food.

Only an employee takes notice, waving at Hope with a welcoming smile as he wipes down a countertop. She gently leads Rosie to the till, immediately falling into a conversation with the man as Rosie scans the menu and the shop. There’s booths on one wall, most empty, small tables filling the front, and a mural of different climates and natural environments on the wall opposite the booths.

“What do you want?” Hope asks, turning to Rosie as the employee stands waiting, his hands on his hips and a slight smile curling his mouth.

She smiles back before glancing at the menu and the dozens of items written across it. “Um,” her eyes scan over drink after drink, the letters whirring together. “Iced vanilla latte for now?” she tries, meeting the employees eyes.

“Ooh, me too!” Hope chimes, squeezing Rosie’s hand excitedly.

The employee - Chris, on his name tag - smiles even brighter, “Coming right up.”

Hope tugs Rosie away before Chris has even turned all the way around, pulling her along to a booth and collapsing into one side. Rosie follows, settling across from her, their hands still loosely linked together on the table, Hope’s thumb tracing the lines of Rosie’s palm.

Something sparks in the back of Rosie’s mind at the contact, in the pit of her stomach, in the thump of her heart, and she can’t quite place it, but she knows she likes it. She knows she likes this moment, too, the way Hope looks so at ease and relaxed, the way Hope brought her to her hidden spot, the way Hope tried to make breakfast before opting for the café. She likes the way this is going, they way they work together, even from before they realised there was something more to them than platonic movie nights. She likes how casual it was, how easy it came about, how relaxed she is as long as Hope’s there.

And she likes the way they just fit. They fit like one another’s other half, their perfect match, the missing pieces in the puzzles that construct their lives. And she can see herself sacrificing things for the woman sitting across from her, can see herself working for this relationship and all its inevitable flaws, can see herself in this moment forever, without a doubt in her mind. And Rosie doesn’t do things she can’t see, can’t envision, can’t rationalise.

But she can see Hope’s smile, can envision countless Sunday mornings spent at this little café, can rationalise the way her heart flutters at every laugh. This makes perfect sense, every detail and every second is reasonable and real and means so much more than Rosie ever thought they’d mean.

#litg fanfic #litg hope #litg noah #hdn #hopefully this shuts the gremlin up #that bastard #but deadass that anons a genius #id also like to make it very clear that i have no problem with noah he seems chill its just hard to write a breakup without making someone #seem like the bad guy #yknow?

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noirrest · 3 years ago

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the swiping motion of the knife had become muscle memory as mariette chops up the deviled devil's dill. they hardly think as they bring the knife up level to their rib and swipe down diagonally so the edge of the blade pushes past the cutting board.

she thinks back to when she had first arrived in devildom— or, more specifically— what she was doing prior to being teleported.

another attempt, that was all. another attempt to end her life.

being alive for so long would never be as fun as one would think. they'd never be able to feel the confort of death's hand, gently caressing their soul as she lead them to whatever afterlife was destined for a being such as them.

watching nations rise and fall became more depressing the more times she saw it. watching as the people inhabiting the land lose themselves to war. greed. famine. money.

being able to say: "oh! i watched as noah's arc sailed across the great earth, the conditions were shoddy, but at least it got the job done!" was never something they were able to take pride in.

watching as past lovers lived and fell was never something she took pride in either. she watched as they contracted diseases that easily could have been cured should she have felt like it. she watched as they were hunted at the stake. she watched from afar as they grew old.

they always buried that lover of the century in an attempt to make up for their lack of genuine feelings. they paid the highest dollar with money they had saved up and made sure to get the best priest of their religion.

thinking back on it, maybe this is where she got her infatuation with death. she'd watched too many people have the luxury of something she could never afford.

mariette zones back into the vegetable in front of them once they feel the end of the herb. "oh," they murmur, picking up the thumb that has accidentally been chopped off. they blink and hold it in front of their eyes, examining it as the digit began wiggling around at their command.

there was no blood spurting from her hand or thumb. just a void of black that lead to the rest of her body. a sign of my divinity, she thinks. my lack of humanity.

they reattach the thumb, watching as large stitches began wrapping themselves over the cut from under their skin.

mariette is disappointed belphegor's attempt on her life didn't work. she remembers the look of demented joy on his face when he supposedly snapped her neck. how mammon almost cried upon seeing the bone pop out from the side.

their body work on autopilot as they scoop the dill onto the knife and into the boiling pot of food. they pick up a laddle and begin stirring before moving into the meat.

she remembers teleporting herself to the top of the staircase, replacing the body in mammon's arms with some excess of her body that resides in the shadows of the mansion. she remembers grimacing over how she messed up one of the details on her so called corpse.

watching the disbelief on the brothers face as they sucked their tongue in disappointment, shifting their body away to look like the wings of an angel before they began flying away.

to be truthful with herself, she's disappointed belphegor wasn't able to follow through with his plan. of course, she would never be able to show that disappointment lest the brothers and angels show their never-ending concern and love.

mariette shakes themselves out of their thoughts, taking a deep breath as they continue hammering the large slab of bull meat. they can see beelzebub's hand out of the corner of their eye as he looks at the food from over their shoulder.

"i'll curse you if you try it, beel," she warns, kicking one of her legs back into his shin playfully.

the demon shakes his head and stops their pounding, grabbing hold of their reattached thumb. "what's this?" he asks, closely examining the stitch-work. "you hurt yourself." beel then says, much more firmly.

"no." mariette states pulling their hand away to pick at the now needless body part. "just some macaroni bits i cut up and glued on. forgot to take them off." they pull it all off and throw it to the floor, stomping on it to cover up the fact that it crawls up their leg.

beel hears the crunch sound and doesn't to question it any further, only pouting when he realized he wouldn't be able to eat it.

"is the food almost ready?"

mariette shakes her head and gestures to the meat. beel's pout deepens and his eyebrows furrow. "i'll help then. this is to big for you anyways. you could hit your hand."

".. send someone else down," they respond, snatching the mallet out of his hand. they push his shoulder to try and turn him and then push on his back to try and get him out the kitchen. "you'll only eat the food."

she knew beel's needless concern was coming from a good place, but it still managed to fluster her.

beel nods, trudging out of the kitchen and into the library to look for satan. he then turns on his heel and peeps his head back into the kitchen. "why'd you do that?"

"was bored." mariette answers without missing a beat or lifting their head. "saw it on devilgram and wanted to try it."

the demon hums and finally leaves.

mariette is alone with her thoughts once more, picking up the hammer in order to flatten it. she places her hand on top of the meat without much of a second thought. she brings the tenderizer up, hovering over the slab of meat that her hand left unoccupied.

it must have been a spur of the moment thing when they slammed the tenderizer onto their hand, watching as the skin began to turn a dark purple. "fuck." they mutter as they bring it into the light, a scowl covering their face.

"mariette?" satan voices, turning around the corner and into the kitchen. "are you alright? that slam was awfully loud."

she brings her hand down and into the pocket of the hoodie she had stolen from levi. she places the other inside with it, just to be safe. "mhm, just a close call." mariette answers, brushing past the blond so she can move to the bathroom. "i'll be right back. can you take over for me? i'll only be a couple minutes."

satan hesitantly nods, briefly glancing at their pockets before replacing their position at the bull meat.

mariette makes a hum of approval as they jog to the restroom, bringing their hands out and making sure they were covered by the sleeved of the hoodie.

#// lesson 16 spoilers #// mariette is suicidal. but they're not really suicidal thoughts #// attempted murder #// mariette cuts off her thumb then reattaches it #// there isnt blood but a heads up #// then they slam their hand with a meat tenderizer but doesnt react as one usually would #🙈 — the forgotten god #my writing #if you see me refer to the stitchs as a body part.. that's bc she made them out of her body #death is a woman #she told me #mariette switches pronouns everytime i refer to them #what if i just #made them a god #and a hu tao kinnie #originally this was supposed to end when beel left but i love fucking with me ocs

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ellewritesathing · 4 years ago

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So Close - S.S. XLI

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 41

Word-count: 6.7k+

A/N: not to like shamelessly self-promote but like. you guys might like this prompt i did for stiles 👀

You couldn’t sleep. Even with your friends safely back in your life and Stiles asleep next to you, you couldn’t sleep. Eventually, you rolled onto your side and watched the rise and fall of Stiles’ chest as he snored. You smiled and reached over to play with his hair. His heartbeat slowed after a little while and his snoring became a bit softer.

Taking your hand back after a while and lying down again, you pulled up your shirt and ran your hand along where the bullet hole should have been. It was freaky; your skin was perfect. You’d been injured internally plenty of times and healed but this was the first time you’d had a proper external wound. It healed slowly at first, better than a human but nothing to write home about, and then Deaton gave you blood. It made you feel sick. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

“Hey,” Stiles said softly. When did he wake up? He yawned and moved closer, putting his hand on top of the one you had on your stomach. His thumb grazed where the wound should have been. “You know I didn’t mean what I said earlier, right? My mouth kinda moves before my brain does sometimes.”

You smiled. “Yeah, I know.” You squeezed his hand before turning back onto your side to face him. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, though. I mean, it is pretty weird.”

“You could never be weird to me,” Stiles said. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “That was, like, ridiculously lame. I’m sorry. I just meant … you know. I’m usually the one being maimed, not you.”

“Yeah and it hurts like a bitch,” you said with a sharp exhale and a roll of your eyes.

Stiles laughed and lifted his hand to your face. “Yeah, the worrying isn’t that great either. You wanna trade back?”

“Kind of wish we could give up both,” you said with a small smile.

Stiles shifted and pulled you into his arms. He kissed the top of your head and sighed. “At least, for now, we’re both safe. Neither maimed nor worried.”

“I like the sound of that.” You found his hand again. “Almost as much as your use of ‘nor.’”

“You liked that, huh?”

“Yeah, it really distracted from the blatant lie that neither of us is worried right now.”

Stiles laughed and then it was quiet for a moment. You could hear Noah’s heart beating in his sleep down the hall, but Stiles’ beat louder. His fingers drummed your arms in the silence. You didn’t want to ruin the moment, but you had to tell him what happened.

“Theo wants me in his pack,” you said. No use sugar-coating it. Stiles’ drumming stopped. “He called me the shadow wolf. Said that I was more like them than I was like you guys.”

“He’s wrong,” Stiles said instantly. You could almost hear him frowning. “You know that, right?”

“The thing is … I don’t think he is wrong,” you said quietly. “With all the chimeras - even before we knew they weren’t like us - I felt bound to them. Like whatever they’re made of … maybe I am too. I- I’m not going to join them. I hate Theo. And even if I didn’t, I could never leave you or Scott.”

Stiles was quiet, working hard to choose the right words. As much as you loved him for it, if he didn’t say something soon, you were going to throw up. When he did speak, he didn't start asking the questions you knew were bouncing around in his head. All he said was: “You promise you’re not gonna leave?”

“I promise. No matter what.”

With that out of the way, Stiles relaxed. Still, you waited for him to say something. To ask what you meant, maybe even what it felt like to 'be bound' to the chimeras. But he was quiet, so quiet that you thought he’d actually gone to sleep until he said, “I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“Can I shoot him first? I’m still pretty pissed off about that.”

“Of course. Then you can hold him down while I kick him in the-”

With that colorful image in mind, you went to sleep with a smile on your face. Unaware of Stiles lying awake and anxious next to you.

---

Usually, after half of your group got injured and while you were making plans, things were at least a bit quieter for a few days. Unfortunately, the Dread Doctors weren’t so kind as your other foes; you’d only been shot yesterday and now you were racing down the highway with Scott and Stiles, chasing after the Beast behind a group of police.

“Unit Five heading northwest on Crescent reporting an incredibly large … something,” Clark said over the radio.

Another deputy responded, “Unit Nine to Dispatch, I think I’ve got eyes on the same thing. Some kind of rabid animal.”

“Unit Five to Nine, trust me: That’s no animal,” Clark said.

You laughed and unbuckled, leaning forward to poke your head between Scott and Stiles in the front. “She’s not wrong.”

“Yeah, but-”

Scott was cut off by Strauss coming in over the radio. “Unit Six to Dispatch, we have a situation downtown. Multiple fatalities.”

The voice of the dispatcher sounded cold compared to the overwhelmed officers. “Copy, medics on the way. Do you have a perp insight, Unit Six?”

“Negative,” Strauss said. He sounded overwhelmed. You guessed as weird as Beacon Hills was, not many people knew how to react after a werewolf attack. “Looks like a 10-91E. Animal attack.”

“10-4, can you say what kind of animal?” the dispatcher asked.

Stiles pulled out his radio before Strauss could answer. He also pumped the accelerator and you held onto Scott to keep from sliding back into your seat. “All units stay back. Do not engage,” Stiles said. “I repeat, do not engage.”

“Stiles, get off the radio,” Noah snapped. You almost laughed as Stiles handed you the radio to put back. Still, Noah added, “All unit alert: Wait for back-up. Repeat: No one goes near this thing.”

“Unit Five reporting a sighting on Hill Road southbound.”

“Unit Nine. I’ve got it turning off Oakridge, southbound on Beachwood.”

“All units, this is Dispatch. We’ve got a 911 call with an additional sighting on Mitchell.”

“Wait a second? Beachwood to Mitchell?” Stiles asked.

“It’s headed back for the hospital,” Scott said.

“Mom’s working tonight,” you said. “I’ll call her. Stiles, you gotta tell your dad.”

Stiles grabbed the radio instantly. “It’s headed to the hospital. Dad-”

“Stiles, get off this channel,” Noah said.

Stiles started arguing with his dad and you bounced your leg as you waited for your mom to answer her phone. The first call rang out so you texted her and tried again.

Melissa sounded tired when she answered. “Hey, honey, we’re pretty swamped at the-”

“Mom, you’ve gotta evacuate the hospital,” you rushed out. She started arguing but you talked over her. “Whatever the Beast is, it’s heading towards the hospital. And it’s going to kill people.”

You fell back into your seat as Stiles changed course towards Beacon Memorial. He was going as fast as the Jeep could manage, but the drive felt agonizingly slow. It was made worse by the constant updates from the police radio. The latest being a man on fire running into Beacon Memorial.

When you eventually did get to the hospital, it felt abandoned and eerily similar to that night with the durach and a dying Cora Hale. You shoved those thoughts aside when a gun cocked behind you, overridden by your instinct to pull Stiles behind you.

“Jesus Christ.” You let out a breath when you realized the threat was only Noah. He held his index finger to his mouth and shushed you.

As much as you loved Noah, you could have strangled him right there. Once again, you shoved those thoughts aside when the lights flickered and snarling rose in the distance.

“Fourth floor,” Scott said.

You all nodded and headed up as quickly as you could. Noah took the lead, followed by Scott and then Stiles - you’d insisted on taking the rear in case anything snuck up on you guys.

The fourth floor was ruined. Almost none of the lights still worked (luckily, not a problem for you and Scott), the electricity crackled through torn-open wires, and parts of the ruins were on fire. You wandered around the dark halls until something flew down the hallway in front of you. Since you noticed it first, you pulled Stiles into you and Scott pulled Noah back just before the fireball roared past.

It hit some partitioning and the flames went out. That wasn’t a random fireball; that was Parrish. Cut, charred, and disoriented Parrish. Parrish with glowing eyes.

His eyes extinguished as Noah made his way over to him, but you couldn’t focus on their reunion. Something had thrown Parrish across the fourth floor. Something big.

Scott walked ahead of you, but soon you found a paw print in the dust. The two of you didn’t need to say anything to know that you were going to follow the trail. The paw prints started changing, turning into something smaller and more human. Eventually, you found a sneaker print.

It struck you as odd that it would be a shoe print and not a footprint. Parrish was made out of fire and completely naked when you found him, and the Beast was made out of shadows. Maybe it was just different. Parrish wasn’t a chimera. At least you didn’t think he was.

“Scott …” You weren’t sure what you were going to say.

“I know,” he said with a sigh.

---

Once again, you and your friends were gathered around the island in your kitchen talking through the logistics of a crazy plan. The only thing that made this time different from all the others was the fact that Lydia was missing.

“We get into Eichen, we get into the Closed Unit, we get Lydia, and we get out,” Stiles said, summarizing his (already very long, very detailed) explanation.

“And we have to do it all of this while getting past orderlies, guards, electric door locks, and a Mountain Ash barrier,” Scott said.

“You guys have a plan for all that?” Malia asked.

Stiles pulled out a keycard. “I stole this off an orderly when I visited Lydia.” He paused, looking over at the card. “But it’s useless ‘cause they reset the codes each night.”

“So why did you take it?” Kira asked.

“He’s building up to that,” you said quietly, taking your eyes of Stiles to look at Kira.

“The only way to get Lydia out of Eichen is to make that keycard work again,” Scott said.

“And how are you going to do that?” Liam asked. You held back a smile.

Stiles held out a hand. “We’re getting to that, okay? Just listen.” He spun the laptop around to show you guys a data table. “I pulled all the history off the keycard. Two weeks ago, there was a brownout and the security system rebooted. During a reboot, all of the keycards revert back to a default code. So, if we trigger a reboot …”

“The card goes back to the default code,” you said. “All the keycards work again.”

“But how are we going to cause a brownout?” Kira asked.

“That’s your part,” Scott said with a hopeful smile. “You’re going to draw power from the mainline, but only enough to cause the brownout.”

That’s where Stiles jumped in to ruin their moment. “But not a blackout. If you do that, you send Eichen into lockdown which would be bad. Very, very bad.”

You touched Stiles’ arm lightly to get his attention. He was freaking Kira out. Stiles looked at you with an expression that said he was sorry, and you gave him an encouraging smile. He got a little carried away sometimes but he always meant well.

Scott, forever oblivious, kept talking and tapped on the blueprints that covered the island. “There’s an electrical room behind the reception counter,” he said. “The main power line goes into two breakers that run power to all of Eichen.”

“Okay, slight problem,” Kira said, looking ready to have a panic attack. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“That’s okay, you have time to practice,” Scott said with another trademarked hopeful smile.

“Let’s say all this goes perfectly,” Malia started in a voice that said she expected none of this to go perfectly. “How does the brownout get us into the Closed Unit of Eichen?”

“The system takes five minutes to reboot.” Stiles looked over at Malia. “In those five minutes, all the alarms will be turned off. And the keycard should work-”

“And then Liam, you, me, and Y/N get Stiles to the gate of the Closed Unit,” Scott said.

“After that, Stiles is on his own,” you said. Stiles reached for your hand under the table. “He’s the only one of us who can get through the mountain ash barrier.”

“And when we’re gone, all anyone’s going to think is that there was a reboot of the security system caused by a brownout,” Scott finished.

“So, uh … any questions?” Stiles asked.

They all started talking at the same time. From Liam: How do we get into Eichen House in the first place. Malia wanted to know what the worst-case scenario was. Kira asked what happened if she couldn’t trigger the brownout.

“Okay, admittedly, a lot could go wrong,” Stiles said, holding up his free hand in surrender.

“Everything could go wrong,” Liam said.

Stiles' open hand turned into a fist as you tilted your head. “Biscuit,” you said softly. Liam shrugged and started defending himself when Scott started talking.

“Guys, if we don’t do this, we lose Lydia,” Scott said. “She’s going to die in there tonight. And she might take a lot of innocent people with her.”

“We can do this,” you said. Your friends didn’t look convinced. “Okay, we’ve done a lot worse. At least this time we have a plan.”

---

Eichen House still freaked you out, but you could only imagine what it felt like to Stiles. So many bad things had happened to him here, and you had the feeling that more bad things were still going to happen. Then again, maybe the paranoia was coming from the fact that you were inside a body bag and lying next to an actual dead body.

Parrish was surprisingly good under pressure; when the guard made him open the bags, he was completely calm. Your heart spiked at the sound of the first zip being undone, but then Parrish started opening yours and you got ready for a fight. The fight never came. The guard valued his dinner too much.

Once you were in the morgue, you had to wait a few minutes before any of you could do anything. Stiles' heart was beating out of his chest. Admittedly, so was yours. You tore the bag open without waiting for the others, but they didn’t need any more encouragement after they heard you breaking out.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said between gasps of air. “Never again.”

“How much time do we have?” you asked as you got to your feet. Liam was closest, so you helped him out of his bag and to his feet. He mumbled a thank you as you waited for an answer.

Scott checked his phone. “Fifteen minutes, starting now.”

“Then let’s get started!” Stiles started fumbling to get out of his bag and fell to the floor. “Ow! Jesus.”

You hurried over to help Stiles up. He muttered obscenities the whole time but he accepted your help nonetheless. Scott got out of his bag safely, and then you just had to wait for the orderlies to leave the hallway. As soon as they were gone, you were on the move.

You wanted Scott to take the lead but Stiles knew this place better than any of you did, and personal knowledge trumped an hour spent studying floor plans any day. The best you could do was follow behind him and keep a careful watch for anything that might be a threat.

The orderlies blocking your way to the closed unit were definitely a threat.

You pulled Stiles back and Scott grabbed Liam. The four of you pressed yourselves against the wall in an attempt to hide, and the memory of doing something similar with Isaac, Erica, and Stiles popped into your mind. That felt like such a long time ago.

“What are they doing here?” Scott whispered.

“I don’t know,” Stiles said, stealing a glance down the hall. “Their rounds should’ve ended five minutes ago.”

Liam was decidedly less subtle with his look at the orderlies. “I can take them,” he said.

Both Stiles and Scott glared at him for a moment. “No one’s taking anyone,” Scott said.

“How much time?” Stiles asked, cutting Scott's alpha moment short.

Scott checked his phone and sighed. “Three minutes.”

“I’ll just knock them out and hide the bodies,” Liam said. He was adorably oblivious.

Stiles looked so close to slapping him that you instinctively reached for his hand to calm him down. “Oh my god, please stop,” he said.

One of the patients banged on the glass and scared you all out of your mini-argument. “Did you talk to the doctor?” he asked.

“What?” Liam whispered.

“Did you talk to the doctor?” he repeated. You looked over at Stiles uncertainly. “I haven’t had my medication. I need ten milligrams at 8am, 15 milligrams at 1pm, and no more than 20 at dinner.”

“We’ll get the doctor,” Scott said.

“Doctor Fenris?” the patient asked. Another beat of silence and you hoped that your nod was enough to calm him. “Doctor Fenris.” Then he started crying. He hit the glass as he said, “They took Doctor Fenris.”

“Guys-” You flinched when he hit the glass again. “He’s going to blow our cover. I can take the blame and get the orderlies out of here.”

“No way, you’re not going anywhere,” Stiles said. “Scott, do something.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Scott whispered.

The patient stopped banging on the glass, but he was still distressed. “I haven’t had my medication. I need to see the doctor.” Stiles looked down the hallway. The orderlies were coming closer. “They took Doctor Fenris.”

“Somebody shut him up,” Stiles said.

“I need to see the doctor!”

“Shut him up.”

You pulled your hand away from Stiles before he could argue and stepped into the hallway. “I told you: I don’t know where the doctor is, alright?” you said to the patient. “I’m just looking for my brother- nurses, could you help me? This place is like a freaking maze.”

“How did you get here?” one of the orderlies asked, roughly grabbing hold of your arm.

“I was looking for my brother. They said he was moved to another unit and that they’d take me to see him but no one ever came.” You shook your head and gave them a very clueless smile. “I’m sorry. Is this area, like, restricted or something?”

The orderly that had your arm looked ready to bite your head off but the other one just shook his head and gave you a tired smile. Either he wasn't paid enough or people wandering around the halls was a common occurrence.

“Let’s take you back to the reception area, okay?” he said. “They can sign you in and track down your brother. You can come to see him during visiting hours tomorrow.”

You forced a laugh and started following them down the stairs not too far away from the gate that your friends would need to break through in a few seconds. “You’re the nicest person I’ve run into all night,” you told him, careful to smile at the grumpy one too.

You carried on with your charade all the way back to the reception area, and then you gave them an annoyingly over-the-top thank you. They smiled and told you to wait for the nurse behind the counter to come back. You did not. As soon as they were out of sight, you made a b-line for the electrical room.

Malia immediately grabbed you and threw you against the wall as soon as you opened the door. She looked confused to see you but still held onto you.

“Relax, it’s just me,” you said, holding your hands up defensively.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. "You're supposed to be with Scott and Stiles."

“The dummies almost got busted,” you said with a small shrug. “I fixed it and came to check on you guys. Hey, Kira. How’s it going?”

Kira looked away from her small opening in the door and gave you a small smile. “Could be better. I don’t know if these guards are supposed to be here. How are we going to get out?”

Malia let go of you and the two of you walked over to check out the guards. “We don’t want to set off any alarms until Lydia is out,” she said.

“You’re right. Maybe we could-”

You stopped talking when one of the guards came in over the radio. The perimeter guard hadn’t checked in. You looked at Malia when the two guards rushed out to see what caused the delay. She shrugged and closed the door.

"Not our problem," she said.

Kira leaned against the door to get a better listen, but you and Malia didn’t need to. You heard the nurse loud and clear when he told someone that visiting hours were over, and then you heard Tracy tell him that they weren’t there to visit.

“Shit,” you whispered.

They pulled the nurse across the counter and slammed him to the ground. Tracy wanted to finish him off, but Theo said they were on a schedule and it was better to leave him. You, Kira, and Malia held a collective breath until the chimeras left.

Malia was the first one out the door and she slapped the nurse to get him to wake up. It didn’t work but at least his heart was beating.

“It’s started,” Kira said, looking down at her electrified hands.

“Then we need to get you out of here,” you said. You reached out to grab her arm but stopped when you remembered how she fried Scott. “Let’s go.”

“But what about the others?” Kira asked.

“They should already be back at the morgue,” Malia said. “We need to go.”

Kira took a second to decide and then jumped over the nurse and the three of you made a run for the morgue before Kira messed up Eichen’s frequency again. The others weren’t there, so you hoped they’d gone to the van instead. The alarm started blaring before you could share your theory.

You grabbed the sides of your head and collapsed in on yourself. Malia grabbed your arm to pull you out and reached for the doorknob, but it was electrified and both of you got electrocuted as a result. To top it off, the alarm still made your ears bleed.

Malia took a deep breath once she got back to her feet. “Lockdown,” she said.

You were still cringing on the ground when Scott started roaring. When your body got to its feet, it felt like being possessed again; you weren’t the one who moved your body. But once the brief discomfort was over, your head was clear and the alarm didn’t hurt so much anymore.

“Something’s wrong,” you rushed out. “I need to go help them.”

“No,” Malia argued, turning back to the door as the lights went out. “We need to get out of here.”

You were still arguing when Kira started lighting up again. The buzzing of the electricity didn’t freak you out so much as how worried she looked. She was terrified of messing things up again.

“I don’t know how long I’m going to last,” Kira said.

“How did you stop it before?” Malia asked.

“Scott carried me outside, which almost killed him,” Kira said.

“I’ve already died. It’s not so bad,” you said. You shrugged. “I can take you out.”

“Maybe we could try grounding her to something,” Malia said. “Lydia was teaching me about circuits before-”

You tackled Malia as a bolt of electricity shot out from Kira and hit the door where Malia had been. You held onto her as Kira’s lightning struck every metal surface it could find.

“You guys have to get out of here!” she yelled.

“We’re not leaving you,” you told her.

Kira hit one of the body holds as she turned her back to you. You and Malia got to your feet as Kira cried, “I should’ve stayed in the desert with the Skinwalkers. I can’t control this. I’m never going to be able to.”

“Kira, it worked,” Malia said. “You saw it work. You controlled it enough to cause the brownout. You can stop it.”

“I can’t!” Kira turned to glare at you and her eyes glowed an angry golden color. “Go!”

Even if you wanted to, an escape wasn’t possible because Kira electrified the entirety of her side of the room. Malia pulled you closer to her again and you both waited for the electrical storm to pass, careful not to touch anything conductive.

The storm passed as quickly as it started.

“Kira?”

Slowly, you both got to your feet, but then you had to pull Malia back from grabbing Kira’s unconscious body. She argued with you but you shook your head.

“She’ll kill you,” you said.

“She’s right,” Josh said. You both pulled away from Kira to focus on him. “Electricity is still coming off your friend. I can feel it from here. But I can help her.”

“Why?” Malia asked.

“Because I need your help.” Josh stepped away from the door and revealed Corey bleeding out in the hallway. “With him.”

“Oh my god, Corey.” You started forward when Malia caught your arm. She didn’t trust them; you didn’t blame her. “Mal, we’ve gotta help him.”

Malia let go and you rushed over to Corey. You tried to lift him but he was in too much pain. Josh took Corey’s other side and looked over at you. “I knew you’d help,” he said.

You didn’t know what to say, so you just hurried to get Corey on one of the exam tables. He was in so much pain. Almost his entire body was charred. He must have gotten caught up with Parrish.

“Why isn’t he healing?” Josh asked.

“Maybe he can’t. Maybe it’s too much,” Malia said.

“He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Josh asked.

“His heartbeat is getting slower,” you said. “But I can try to take away his pain. It could help.”

“It might even get him to start healing,” Malia said generously. “But we’ll only do it if you help Kira.” More sparks flew and you all ducked. “You said you could help!”

“Yeah, but it’s not like taking voltage from a car battery,” Josh argued. “She’s got a lot more power than that.” Corey groaned on the table. “Are you two going to do something or not?”

“Mal-”

“After you help her. I don’t trust you,” Malia said.

“I don’t trust you either!”

“Josh, do you trust me?” you asked. You’d never been close before, but you were something else now. “You said you knew I’d help him. I will, I promise.”

More sparks.

“We go at the same time,” Malia said, snapping his attention back to her. “Deal?”

Josh nodded reluctantly and walked over to Kira. You and Malia held each of Corey’s arms as Josh knelt over Kira. “On three?” he asked. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

The lights started flickering as Josh absorbed Kira’s electricity, but it was the least of your concerns after only a second of taking Corey’s pain. Until now, you’d never understood the phrase ‘blinding pain’ but with your vision blurring and your entire body burning, it had new meaning.

But Corey’s heart started beating again. Rapidly. He was breathing. Kira gasped for air on the floor but it was almost impossible to hear over Josh’s screams.

Between you and Malia, Corey’s pain faded after a minute. Josh managed to get Kira conscious and not electrified. You stayed with him but Malia went to check on Kira and Josh came back to Corey.

“Anybody know how we’re supposed to get out of here?” Corey asked, sounding scared and hurt.

“This place is still in lockdown,” Malia said.

“But it’s not just locked,” Kira said after shooting a look at the door.

“Yeah, I can feel it, too,” Josh said.

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Corey asked. “Just wait here?”

“We had a backup plan,” you said. Malia didn’t look like she wanted you to tell them, but you did anyway. “Mason is supposed to reset the transformer.”

“How’s he gonna do that?” Josh asked, at the same time that Corey asked if you meant his Mason.

“He’s got the blueprints of the building,” Kira said. “And he has the full map of Eichen’s electrical system. All he has to do is get into the transformer shed behind the building.”

“Don’t worry. Mason knows exactly what he’s doing,” Malia said.

You had to smile to yourself. Thinking back to your first few weeks with Malia when you couldn’t stand her and she said that she would leave you in the desert, you almost couldn’t believe how much she’d grown.

Malia and Kira kept huddled by the body holds while Josh rushed to the door to wait. Everyone was healing now, but you still felt ready to throw up. Taking away Corey’s pain had taken it out of you and if you didn’t drink some blood soon then you weren’t going to be much of a help to anyone. Surprisingly, Corey stayed with you by the exam tables. You heard the shutters on the windows roll back and then Josh pushed the door open.

“He did it!” Josh said.

“We gotta get to the Jeep,” you said, hopping off the table and running out with Kira and Malia.

It didn’t take long to get to the parking lot, and even less time to get to the front and pick up the guys and Lydia. You tossed the keys to Scott as you got out and asked if Lydia was okay.

“No, and we need to go,” Scott said. “We need to get Lydia out of here.”

Before he could get very far, Parrish collapsed onto the Jeep’s hood with claw marks all over his back. “Sorry, but she’s coming with me,” Tracy said. She held onto Lydia, no doubt paralyzing her as she did.

“Okay, Tracy. Just wait,” Scott said. “You don’t know what’s about to happen.”

“I’m taking her. That’s what’s happening,” Tracy said. “And none of you are going to do a thing-”

Electricity crackled and Tracy collapsed. Natalie stood behind her with one of the guard’s nightsticks in her hands. You and Stiles reached out to catch Lydia, but you faltered and he caught her.

“Could somebody please get my daughter out of this hellhole?” Natalie asked.

You helped get Lydia into the car with Stiles in the back. She looked awful, and you could smell the dried blood and gore in her hair. It was nothing on her fear though, nothing on Stiles’ fear either.

Scott drove as fast as he could, but Lydia’s heart was beating too quickly. Without any warning, she let out a scream that burst your eardrum closest to her. Heightened senses meant you were weaker when it came to loud noises like that, and Lydia's scream wasn't like any other loud noise. Stiles started bleeding and the mirrors cracked. You yelled at Scott to drive faster.

Even though the drive to the animal clinic was stressful, helping Deaton treat Lydia was even worse. Your brain was addled by the scream, and she kept screaming until Deaton injected her with mistletoe, straight into the spot where she’d been trepanned. Her final scream shattered all the windows in the clinic but you reacted too slowly.

Scott protected Lydia but Stiles tackled you to the ground, bits of glass sinking into his back.

“Stiles,” you said softly, hands reaching up to his face. The side of his face was still bloody from Lydia’s screams. “What are you-”

“Someone has to take care of you,” he said quietly.

You were both snapped out of your moment by Scott trying and failing to wake Lydia up again. You held onto Stiles’ hand as the two of you joined the others by the table. You couldn’t even hear her heartbeat.

She let out a low moan as her heart started again. Lydia looked terrified when she opened her eyes again but she held onto Stiles’ other hand when he reached for her.

“Are you okay?” he asked. She held onto him and nodded quickly. “You’re okay.” He took a deep breath. “Do you want to try to sit up?”

Stiles helped Lydia sit up, wincing slightly from the glass, and she looked around slowly. Her eyes landed on Natalie in the doorway. “Mom?”

“Oh, honey.” Natalie rushed over to Lydia and pulled her into a hug. She looked relieved for the first time in weeks.

“They saved me,” Lydia said weakly. “Stiles saved me.”

Natalie looked up from Lydia to make eye contact with Stiles. “Thank you,” she said. After her blow up the day before, you knew it meant a lot to him for her to apologize.

Stiles smiled at her to let her know that everything was fine, but then he winced again and ruined his heroic image. He still looked pretty heroic to you, but Natalie was a mother and all she saw was a broken boy covered in glass.

“Let’s get you home, huh?” Natalie flattened Lydia’s hair and kissed her head. She looked ready to cry when she touched Lyd’s trepanation wound. “You can take a bath and we can watch The Notebook. Hmm?”

“I can come with, if you want,” Scott offered with a smile.

Lydia nodded, not bothering to hide the tears in her eyes. She thanked you on her way out and soon it was just you, Stiles, and an awful lot of broken glass.

“Sit with me,” you said gently, tugging on Stiles’ arm to bring him to the exam table. It was so reckless of him to shield you like that but you couldn’t be mad at him. Not when he'd gotten hurt protecting you. “Do you want me to take your pain while I take the glass out?”

“And here I was thinking you wanted to makeout with me to say thank you for saving you from all that glass,” Stiles said with a lazy smile as he watched you get Deaton’s tweezers. You gave him a look and he laughed. “No, I can handle it.”

“You sure?”

Stiles nodded and you bit your lip. You weren’t sure if you had it in you to take his pain away, but still. Taking out all this glass was going to take a while and it was going to hurt.

You started with the shards furthest away from his spine, doing your best to ignore his wincing. The closer you got to his spine, the worse his pain got. You put your hand on his shoulder and tried to take his pain away like you did with Corey, but you pulled your hand away when it started burning.

Thankfully, Stiles was too wrapped up to notice your blunder, but it was pretty hard not to when your hand started shaking. The glass clattered into the metal dish with the other shards and you took a deep breath.

“Hey, you okay?” Stiles asked, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Yeah, just-” You took a breath and squeezed your eyes shut. “Just a bit light-headed. It’s been a while since I’ve had anything to drink.”

“Oh,” Stiles said softly. He looked down for a second and then used his hands to turn on the table to face you, no doubt opening some fresh wounds in the process. “You know you could do it if you wanted to.”

You frowned. “Do what?”

“Drink my blood,” Stiles said. God, when did this become your life? “If you can’t wait until we get home … you could do it.”

“No. No, I couldn’t,” you said. You took a step back. “Stiles, I would kill you. And even if I could control it - which I can’t - I could never ask you to do that.”

“But you didn’t ask, I offered.” Stiles reached for your hand and you felt so guilty for putting him through this.

“I know, but I- I can’t risk hurting you,” you said.

Stiles was quiet for a second. He looked down and drummed on the table for a second. “Malia told me you don’t heal without it.”

Snitch.

“Yeah, but I’m not the one that’s hurt right now.” You sighed and took a step forward to press your forehead to his, your hand holding onto his neck. Your thumb ran across his neck. “Let’s just get you cleaned up, alright?”

Stiles was so still, but eventually, he took a breath and nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. He kissed your hand before you pulled away to finish cleaning him up. He took in a sharp breath when you pulled out the largest (and, thankfully, the last) piece of glass. You apologized repeatedly but it just made Stiles laugh and then wince. “Hey, at least it's over now,” Stiles said in an attempt to comfort you.

You laughed and put the tweezers down. “Close. We still have to clean the cuts if you don’t want an infection.”

“Maybe I want an infection. I could get superpowers,” Stiles said between yawns. You walked around the table and he pulled you into a hug. His face was in your hair when he mumbled, “Do you think it’ll scar?”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” you said. You pulled back and ran a hand through his hair. “This part will be quick, okay? Can I take your shirt off?”

“You can take my shirt off any time, babe.” Stiles leaned back and gave you a lazy grin which made you laugh despite the horrible night you’d had.

“Slow down, Stilinski. Let’s finish this first.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed the open button-up off his shoulders so he could take his arms out of the sleeves. You lifted the bottom of his gray t-shirt and threw it at him when he made another flirty joke.

Cleaning and bandaging the cuts went a lot faster, which was a relief because you were exhausted and Stiles must have been freezing. When the last of the bandages were on his back, you leaned in and wrapped your hands around him.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said softly. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Let’s go home. Do you have a shirt in the Jeep that I can bring you?”

“What’s wrong with my other shirt?” Stiles asked.

“It’s torn and covered in blood,” you said as you pulled away.

Stiles shrugged and pushed himself off the table. “You just want to see me walk around shirtless for a while.”

“You know me well, Stilinski.” You took his hand in yours and lifted it to kiss him again. Stiles rolled his eyes but he pulled you closer anyway, only letting go so you could lock up the animal clinic and then to pull on a sweatshirt.

Exhausted and worn out from the night, you fell asleep almost immediately as Stiles drove home. You weren’t sure what it was about the Jeep that did that to you; maybe the familiarly worn seats or how Stiles pumped the heat all the way up, or maybe just the way Stiles would drum on the steering wheel and play his favorite song on repeat. He was one of the only people who you trusted, and the Jeep was one of the only places you still felt safe.

Part 42

Tagged: @ietss @used-avocado

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #stiles stilinksi imagine #so close #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite #mccall!reader

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serenlyss · 5 years ago

Text

Into Hell Chapter 1

Fandom: Astral Chain Rating: T (violence, hospitalization, near death experiences, injury, amputation) Relationships: Akira & Amane (PC), Amane & Brenda & Hal Summary: Akira is alive. She has no idea how she did it. She’d given one look to the sight of her brother’s body protruding from the body of that thing, and the next thing she remembers is rushing forward, faster than she’d thought possible, the Sword Legion on her chain. And it'd worked. Crossposted to AO3: Chapter 1

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Akira is alive.

She has no idea how she did it. She’d given one look to the sight of her brother’s body protruding from the body of that thing, and the next thing she remembers is rushing forward, faster than she’d thought possible, the Sword Legion on her chain. She doesn’t know if it’d been her own instincts guiding her, or if maybe her Legion had taken pity on her and guided her, but in that moment, she’d known exactly what she’d needed to do. She’d seen them, faintly, the strings that had connected Akira to the monster who used to be Yoseph.

She’d never felt more in sync with her Legion than when they’d moved, then, the Legion’s bladed arm severing those tiny threads at the same moment she’d lunged forward to spear her X-baton through Noah’s center and shattered its core. She’d bargained everything--her own life, Akira’s, those of every other human still left living on the Ark--in a desperate bid to save the only family she has left. And it’d worked.

He’s not standing, not really. His entire body flickers with red corruption, and though his body above his waist still appears intact, his legs seem to disappear into shifting pixels. They remind Amane far too much of the flickering red shadows she’s seen on occasion within the Astral Plane, and the thought makes her stomach turn so abruptly that she thinks she might vomit. He stares at her in disbelief, having narrowly escaped his own self-assigned death only by the grace of his twin sister’s stubbornness.

Amane’s own legs feel like jelly. The longer she stands in the middle of the ARI’s roof, sucking in exhausted breath after exhausted breath, the more she can feel the numbness creeping up her legs and arms. She takes a few fumbling steps toward Akira at the same time he moves toward her, neither one of them able to stay on their feet for long.

It’s Akira who collapses first, stumbling on his corrupted legs, and Amane barely manages to get her arms around him before she falters herself, and both of them collapse to their knees in a messy heap. Amane clings to him tightly, and for the first time in a long time, she cries.

“You idiot!” She sobs, holding Akira’s head to her shoulder and burying her face in his neck. “How dare you try to die and leave me behind? You don’t get to sacrifice yourself for me, do you understand? And don’t ever make me choose between you and my job again.” She clings to him tightly, scared that if she loosens her grip, he’ll be corrupted entirely and go to a place beyond her reach, leaving only his shadow behind. Even now, she can feel the corruption from his body prodding at her, spreading, infecting her and the area around them, but she ignores it. She’s not going to let something as stupid as this separate them, not after everything they’ve been through.

Akira grips her back weakly, managing a quiet chuckle in the face of her chastising words. “M’sorry,” he manages, but he’s barely clinging to consciousness, and after another few seconds his arms fall limp and his head lulls against his sister’s shoulder. He doesn’t disappear, though, and Amane can feel his shallow breathing against her neck where it’s exposed by her high uniform collar. She continues to hold him close, even as her own body begs for rest.

She doesn’t know how long she sits like this, curled around Akira’s unconscious form, but eventually she’s snapped out of her thoughts by the crackling of her radio, which starts up abruptly after hours of radio silence. The voice on the other end cuts in and out with unintelligible words, and she instinctively reaches a hand up to the radio to answer the call. It takes a few seconds for the audio to clear, but when it does, she hears Olive’s concerned voice come from it.

“...hear me? Am I getting through? If you can hear this message, please respond.” Amane can hear the desperation in Olive’s voice, though the sound is nearly drowned out by the electric noise of the helicopters that land atop the ARI roof all around her.

“I’m here,” Amane rasps, her hand shaking against the radio’s smooth plastic. “Akira’s with me.”

“Oh, thank god!” The relief in Olive’s voice is palpable, the words coming as a sigh of relief. “We lost sight of you in the chaos. Our radios were scrambled and there was too much noise for the radar or biosensors to pick up anything concrete. We only just got the radios working again, but I’ve already sent a medical squad and a cleanup crew to your location.” There’s a pause on Olive’s end, and the sound of muffled words being spoken, and then she adds, “We’re gonna get you out of there, both of you.”

The signal goes quiet, and Amane lets her hand fall from the radio as, all around her, helicopters close in on her location and land on the roof of the ARI. She winces at the noise, gritting her teeth as the doors to the helicopters fall open and the rooftop is filled suddenly with shouting and footsteps and barked orders. Her vision is fuzzy, and she can no longer feel her legs at all, but she clings stubbornly to Akira despite the way her body fights her every move. She’s vaguely aware of being surrounded, and then Brenda’s voice sounds in front of her, drawing her attention.

“Amane? Oh, good, you’re still awake,” she says, brows furrowed in determination as she gives both her and Akira a quick once-over. “Listen carefully to me. Everything’s going to be okay, but we need to get Akira proper medical attention, alright? I need you to let him go so we can help him.”

Amane hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding Akira, but she realizes now that the medics surrounding her are trying, carefully, to separate them so they can move Akira onto a stretcher. She blinks, her hazy mind finally catching up to her, and she reluctantly loosens her grip on his half-corrupted form. She has to stop herself from reaching out for him as the medics lift him as delicately as possible and move him a few paces to where the stretcher is waiting. “Is he going to be okay?” she asks, desperation leaking into her voice and making her sound small.

Brenda offers her a small, tense smile. “We’re going to do everything we can, I promise,” she replies, but Amane can read the doubt that underlies her words. “I’m going to go with them, but my team will take care of you in the meantime. I need you to relax, okay? You got pretty roughed up, and I’m worried about your corruption levels, but you’re going to be fine. Just take it easy, everything’s going to be okay.” She continues to murmur soothing words to Amane as she grasps her by both shoulders and slowly pushes her down onto the ground, and dimly, Amane realizes that she’s being laid out on a stretcher of her own. She stares blankly up into the faces of the medics that lean over her, making sure she’s safely in the stretcher before they lift her up.

She feels heavy, dragged down by an invisible weight that lays over her like a thick blanket. She can barely think, and as voices reach her ears, their words turn into garbled, staticy nonsense in her brain. She lets her eyes fall closed, too tired now to even keep them open. The last thing she sees before she loses consciousness is the sky, dark, clear, and dotted with stars she wasn’t sure she’d ever see again.

---

Before shes even fully awake, Amane can hear the voices of people speaking quietly nearby, and the rhythmic beeping of machinery all around her. It’s a gradual reawakening, and it takes several minutes of listening to the muffled noise around her before she finally attempts to open her eyes.

She doesn’t get far. The lights above her head are bright, blinding, and she can’t help the pained groan that escapes her. Her hand twitches, attempting to move so it can cover her eyes and block out the light, but her arm is too heavy.

Immediately, the talking stops, and Amane hears the shuffling of feet on the floor. The lights above her head dim considerably, enough that she can squint against it without feeling like she might go blind. Brenda leans over her, watching her closely. A smile blooms on her face, relief flooding her expression. “Hey, kiddo,” she greets softly. “Take it easy, alright? You were asleep for six days, so it might take a little while for you to catch up to the rest of us. How do you feel?”

Testingly, Amane wiggles her fingers under the thin blanket draped over her. “Tired,” she responds, her voice rough and scratchy from disuse. “Confused. Where am I?”

“You’re in intensive care, at the ARI. You were pretty badly hurt after the Commander went on his… rampage, and you picked up some of Akira’s corruption, too, so we had to be careful to keep that contained and make sure your injuries were taken care of,” Brenda explains. She reaches toward the bed with one hand, and hesitates for just a moment before smoothing Amane’s hair away from her eyes. The gesture is surprisingly tender, coming from the typically no-nonsense Brenda. “Everyone’s been really worried about you, but you’ve always been a sturdy one. Guess it runs in the family.”

The mention of her brother sends Amane’s heart racing with adrenaline, and she bends her arm underneath her in an attempt to sit up. “Where’s Akira? Is he okay?” she demands, but just the motion of lifting her torso off the ground has her head spinning, and she pitches suddenly forward, unable to maintain her balance.

“Woah! Careful, you’re gonna give yourself a concussion on top of the one you already have,” chides an energetic voice, and cold hands steady her by her shoulders before she can tip out of her bed entirely. Amane lifts her head, searching for the source of the voice, and finds herself staring into Hal’s face, his eyes hidden behind his vizor. He’s smiling, though, partly amused and partly relieved. “If you wanted to sit up, you could’ve just asked, you know.”

Amane blinks. “Hal?” she says, surprised. She’s only ever known him to be famously reclusive, so to see him here, in person, is enough to confuse her all over again.

Brenda comes to Amane’s other side, and she and Hal manage to help Amane into a sitting position with her back against the bed’s soft pillows. “Akira’s doing alright,” she assures, offering Amane a small smile. “He was touch and go for a few days while we got the redshift under control, but he’s stable now. He had his surgery this morning, and now he just needs to rest and let his body do the rest until he’s ready to wake up. It’ll be a while still before either of you are back on your feet, but you’ll both recover, with time.”

“Surgery?” Amane echoes, worry creeping into her voice. Her gaze flicks from Brenda to Hal and back again, questioning.

It’s Hal who answers her question. “The corruption on Akira wasn’t… normal. It didn’t turn him into an Aberration like it does with most people, but his Legion didn’t blueshift it like it usually does, either,” he explains. “We were able to clear most of it using Yoseph’s machinery, but we weren’t able to save his legs. They had to be… I guess ‘amputated’ isn’t really the right word? Um, they had to be removed. The corruption there was just too strong.” He shakes his head, pursing his lips into a thin line. “Brenda called me out in person to help build him some prosthetics. Just like mine, you know?” With a grin, he lifts his arm and flexes the robotic limb as he might a real one. “That’s what the surgery was for. He’ll have to do a lot of physical therapy to get used to ‘em, but with time he’ll be running around like nothing ever happened.”

“He’s very lucky to still be alive,” Brenda adds. “I’ve never seen that kind of corruption on someone before. By all accounts, he shouldn’t have survived. Maybe it’s because he’s a legionis, or maybe it’s due to the treatment Yoseph put him through after his fight with Jena. Or, maybe he’s just that stubborn.” She grins at this, amusement in her eyes.

Amane manages a shaky smile in return, and a quiet, raspy laugh. Her eyes start to water, and she lifts a shaky hand to wipe away her tears before they can fall. “I’m so glad,” she whispers. “Thank you for saving him. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost him, too.”

“Of course,” Hal says. “I still owe you for Zone 09, after all, and even if I didn’t, this was one call I couldn’t sit out for. As soon as I got the call from Brenda, I came as soon as I could.”

Brenda’s smile morphs into a hint of a smirk, and she leans forward, holding a hand up to the side of her mouth conspiratorially. “It’s the first time I’ve seen him actually come down from wherever he likes to hide. You and your brother must be pretty special to get him to come out of hiding,” she adds, much to Hal’s embarrassment.

“Hey! I come down sometimes! I just… don’t usually need to! I can code from my own home, you know,” he insists, and a hint of red flush creeps out from underneath his vizor.

Amane stifles a giggle behind her hand, a hint of her grin peeking out from between her fingers. She turns her gaze from Hal to Brenda. “Can I… see him?” she asks, somewhat hesitant.

The mood in the room quickly sobers, and Amane watches as Brenda exchanges a hesitant glance with Hal before turning back to her. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a little longer to rest?” she asks. “You’ve only just woken up. A lot’s happened to you that you haven’t really had time to process; I don’t want you to overwhelm yourself.”

Amane winces, tearing her gaze away from Brenda and looking down at her hands, clasped in her lap overtop of the clean white bedsheets. It’s true, she hasn’t had a moment to really sit and just think since they’d all gone to infiltrate the ARI. Maybe Brenda’s right, and it would be better to wait, but she knows she won’t be able to rest properly until she sees him with her own eyes. “It’s okay, I can handle it,” she assures, determination outweighing any apprehension she might feel. “I’d just really like to see him myself, if that’s alright.”

Brenda contemplates this for a few seconds, then lets out a sigh. “Okay, I suppose it should be alright, if you’re sure,” she relents. “Just be careful, okay? Take it slowly, you haven’t been on your feet in nearly a week.” Turning to Hal, she quickly adds, “Hal, you’re good to go rest up for a bit. I’ll call you when it’s time to run a checkup on Akira’s prosthetics.”

“Sure thing, doctor,” Hal agrees, giving a shy little salute. To Amane, he says, “Feel better soon, okay? The whole crew’s anxious to have you back. See you around.” Then, he takes his leave of the room, the automatic door sliding open and shut to accommodate him.

Amane moves her legs testingly, slipping them off of the bed so she can sit on its edge. Brenda holds out her hands, a silent offer of assistance, and Amane puts her pride to the side for the time being and reaches out to grab onto Brenda for support. Experimentally, she pushes herself to her feet, careful to watch her balance as Brenda works to steady her. For a few seconds, she sways, feeling a brief rush of dizziness wash over her that quickly passes; it feels like getting out of bed too fast, her limbs still heavy and weary from resting for so long. Still, she stays on her feet, and after the initial dizziness passes and she starts to feel more secure with keeping herself upright, Brenda drops her hands and smiles.

“That’s the way. Come on, I’ll take you to Akira’s room. He’s not far from here, so you should be fine to walk there,” she explains, leading the way out of the little hospital room and taking a casual pace down the empty white hallways. Unlike how Amane had seen before, the data corruption that had caused the blocky growths from the astral plane to fill the halls less than a week prior are gone, and the Institute looks clean and sterile again. Brenda must catch her looking around, because she explains, “We had to hack our way through all those rocky clumps when we first came back here, but the ICU was mostly untouched, thank goodness. A lot of the corruption was centered on the upper floors, where Doctor Calvert did the brunt of his research, so we were able to get you and Akira set up in here right away. The cleanup crew came and finished with the rest afterward, but a lot of the upper floors are still heavily corrupted. They’ve been cordoned off until they can be properly sterilized.”

Amane half-listens as Brenda continues to babble off updates on the situation at the Ark, the adjustments being made in Yoseph’s absence, and the mundane day-to-day trappings of the other Neuron officers now that the largest of the danger is past. Eventually, Brenda pauses outside the door to a room that’s been sectioned off for post-operative care, holding her key card out to undo the digital lock so the door slides easily open. “You’re clear to go inside, just… know that he looks way worse than he really is.” She casts Amane an apologetic glance. “Oh, and watch out for his legs, try not to jostle him too much. It’s going to be a month or two before they’ve fully healed, so for the next few weeks, he’s on strict bedrest. I need to check up on Akira’s charts and take down a few notes for later, so I’ll be keeping an eye on you from the observation room next door. Just shout if you need anything.” That said, she steps out of the way and gestures with one arm for Amane to go inside.

Despite having requested this in the first place, Amane finds herself suddenly frightened of what she might see. Surely it can’t be worse than when he’d been here last, after recovering from Jena’s stab wound? But all of Brenda’s warnings are starting to give her second thoughts, and she hesitates outside the door, hugging her arms to her chest in a self-protective gesture. She casts Brenda an apprehensive glance, then swallows down her fears and forces herself to take those few steps forward until the electronic door slides shut behind her with a soft whooshing noise.

Akira’s room, much like her own, is composed of white floors and white walls with a single window at the front of the room and a viewing wall to her left, presumably for the doctors. Against the opposite wall is Akira’s bed, which is surrounded by machines depicting several different monitors that track his heart rate, blood pressure, hydration, and more that she can’t make sense of. Half a dozen wires connect Akira to the medical equipment that surrounds him, many attached to the IV in his right arm, some directing oxygen to the mask that covers his nose and mouth. Brenda had been right to warn her; he looks terrible, and it isn’t just the machinery. The skin on his face and arms, exposed by his crisp hospital clothes, are mottled with dark, angry bruises and bandaged lacerations, and his left arm is contained in a sling that keeps it held snugly against his chest. There are stitches in his right cheek under his eye, and the cut, while healing, is purply-red and bruised all the way around it. The sight of it turns her stomach when she first sees it, but she’s quick to compose herself, taking a few more steps into the room until she can approach the end of his bed.

There are blankets folded into a neat stack at the foot of the bed, likely for use overnight, but for now they’ve been removed, which means Amane has an unobstructed view of Akira’s legs, or at least, his legs from the knees down, where they poke out from under his gown. She draws a sharp breath at the sight of the robotic legs, an amalgamation of long tubes and thick plates of metal held together by bolts and joints. She recognizes Hal’s work immediately; they look quite a bit like Hal’s own legs, if a bit newer and cleaner, and Amane feels simultaneously amazed and horrified that this is her brother’s new reality. Akira’s in for a rude awakening, she knows, once his body recovers enough for him to wake up.

Still, all she can do is wait until that happens, so for the time being, she pulls up a nearby chair to sit near the top of Akira’s bed and reaches tentatively for his unbound hand. It feels colder than she remembers, but then again, it’s been a very long time since she’s held his hand like this. Not since they were children, in fact. She squeezes that cold hand tightly in both of hers, as though trying to make up for all the times she’s passed it up before, and swallows back the lump that forms in her throat. “Hey,” she murmurs, speaking softly to ensure that no one can overhear. She’s acutely aware of Brenda on the other side of the observation window, checking monitors and casting them the occasional glance, but she can tell the doctor is doing her best not to interrupt, only supervise. Amane bites her bottom lip. She has no idea if Akira can even hear her, but the silence feels somehow louder than her own voice, so she drowns out her thoughts with whatever comes to her mind. “Looks like we both made it out in one piece, huh? Well, mostly.” She casts another glance at Akira’s healing prosthetics, then pulls her gaze quickly away. “Everything still feels like a dream. Yoseph, Noah, waking up in the hospital… part of me keeps asking when I’m going to wake up, back home in our apartment by the headquarters, even though I’m sure that I’m already awake. Maybe I just need a little more time.” She lets out a sigh, lowering her gaze to Akira’s hand, clasped in hers. She rubs her thumb over his knuckles softly, a nervous gesture meant to help soothe her own anxieties, just to remind herself that he’s still alive. If she focuses, she can feel his heartbeat pulsing in his fingers to the rhythm of his heart monitor, and she lets the steadiness of it lull her into a more relaxed state.

“You really scared me, you know? Saying all that nonsense about how sacrificing you was the only way. You’ve always had a terrible martyr complex. One of these days, I’m scared you’ll really go through with it.” She purses her lips with worry. “I hope you know that if you ever do that again, I’ll be the one putting you in the hospital this time.” The threat is as empty as it can possibly be, but part of her hopes that, somehow, Akira will hear it and take it to heart, if only so she can stop being so damn worried about him all the time. She falls quiet, half-hoping for Akira to banter back to her in the snarky, sarcastic way he’s known for, but all she hears is the steady, quiet beeping of machinery. Against her will, her hands start to quiver, just a little, and she feels her chest tightening with a sudden wave of grief and regret. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” she whispers. “I wish I could do more to help. You’re a reckless, stupid, bastard of a brother, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Reaching up with one hand, she dabs away the tears the form in her eyes before they have the chance to fall, stubbornly refusing to cry out here in the open. She continues to clutch Akira’s hand in hers, comforted by his steady presence at her side and the gentle thrum of his heart under his skin, dutifully keeping him alive.

She falls quiet, untrusting of herself to speak out loud any further, and lets the beeping of the machinery around her drown out her thoughts. She sits for several minutes like this, unmoving, until Brenda comes to rejoin her and let her know that her allotted visiting hours are almost up. Amane can see the sympathy in her gaze as she leans against the doorframe and patiently waits for her to join her, and the sight of it agitates her pride against her better judgment. It’s uncomfortable, having someone feel so sorry for you, but part of her is grateful for Brenda’s constant, understanding presence. Standing up, she drops Akira’s hand and reaches out to brush his long bangs from his eyes, his skin cold and clammy under her touch. Then, reluctantly, she goes to join Brenda by the door.

“Technically, this ward is off limits to visitors entirely,” Brenda explains as she walks Amane back to her room, “but just between the two of us, I’m already making plans for Jin and Alicia to come see you both. They can hardly leave me alone when I’m back at HQ, you know. Constantly pestering me, wanting updates on how you’re doing… they haven’t been the same since you were hospitalized. They’re probably just stressed out, not being able to see you guys in person. I have a feeling that some time away from HQ will do them both some good.”

“Are they really that upset?” Amane questions with a faint smile.

“Of course,” Brenda confirms immediately. “Those two think of you like family, you know. They were your father’s best friends, and they’ve seen you both grow up over the years. I think they like to think of themselves as your aunt and uncle, something like that.” She pauses, frowning thoughtfully. “Well, the way Alicia herds you two around and scolds you, she acts more like your mother than anything else, I think.”

Amane feels her face flushing pink at the implications, quickly shaking her head. “Come on, Brenda, you’re reading too much into it,” she insists, turning her back to the doctor to hide her embarrassment.

She can practically sense Brenda’s amused smirk. “If you insist,” she replies. “In any case, I’ll fill them in when I go back to HQ tonight, let them know you’re both doing alright, and I’ll try to bring them by tomorrow, if time permits.” She tucks her clipboard under her arm and pulls a Neuron radio from her pocket. Amane quickly recognizes it as her own, and Brenda sets it on the bedside table for her. “In any case, you should get some rest. You can visit Akira again tomorrow, if you want. I’ve given you clearance to his room as a family member, just be careful, and use your radio if you need to contact me for any reason.”

After promising Brenda that she’ll do just that, Brenda leaves, looking satisfied with their arrangement, and leaves Amane to her own devices. Glancing at the clock on her bedside table, she knows that it’s only been a few hours since she’d woken up, but as she sits on the edge of her bed and lets the events of the day sink in, she feels inexplicably exhausted. It’s only to be expected, she thinks, after pushing her body so hard for so long before her hospitalization, but it’s frustrating nonetheless to be so weak when there’s still so much to be done. Still, it isn’t like she has much else to do, so after a minute or two of internal turmoil, she resigns herself to getting the rest Brenda’s asked of her, and crawls under the thin hospital blanket to get some sleep.

#astral chain #serendipitousfics #akira howard #brenda moreno #hal clark #harold clark #how do u tag the player character #injury #amputation #hospitalization #pc is named amane just so i have a name to refer to her as #also pc is female bc thats how i played the game the first time thru #idc if the male pc is canon or not #anyway enjoy this self-indulgant fix it fic

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blindhim · 4 years ago

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TEEN WOLF VERSE ARCS

Cosmo’s current default verse is set after he has graduated from university. He works at an independent Cyber Security firm but uses his online alias g1itch to supply supernatural creatures with new identities and cover stories when they need to move locations due to imposing dangers. He remains in contact with Scott and every now and again is willing to work as a consultant or partner into supernatural investigations, but only if he’s asked to by a close friend or ally.

ARC I, SEASON 1 : Cosmo was recently admitted to Eichen House where he was placed within the care of Josephine Vickers, a professional psychiatrist who would diagnose Cosmo with behavioral and mental health issues including but not limited to, antisocial, borderline and avoidant personality disorders. Josephine would mold much of Cosmo’s personal feelings towards himself, convincing him of several notions that remain within him into adulthood. Cosmo is released from Eichen House soon after Kate Argent and Peter Hale are found responsible for the murders occurring around Beacon Hills.

ARC II, SEASON 2 : Cosmo has made an effort to focus on his studies and returning to a normal life after his time spent in Eichen House but finds this extremely difficult when he continues to See monsters around every corner. In an effort to cope with his “hallucinations”, Cosmo begins to self-medicate with alcohol, behaving impulsively and with little regard to his own wellbeing. After the attack at Jungle, Cosmo demands answers from Stiles but remains in the dark about the existence of the supernatural until he has a harrowing confrontation with Gerard Argent.

ARC III, SEASON 3A : As Cosmo’s visions continued to plague him, he begins investigating the existence of the supernatural in secret. However, with Jennifer Blake appearing as a scarred cloaked figure in class and Lydia Martin being followed by the dead, things come to a tipping point when Noah is taken hostage by the Darach. The twins work together to find the location of where Noah, Melissa and Chris were being kept.

Stiles finally admits the existence of werewolves and the supernatural world to Cosmo who later learns from Deaton that he is what is known as a Seer. A rare being that is able to perceive and witness the true forms of supernaturals and see through the veil which separates supernatural imprints and occurrences from the eyes of normal people.

ARC IV, SEASON 3B : Cosmo spends much of his break studying and researching Seer’s and with his brother's help and discovers a way to turn off his Sight allowing him to go days without seeing visions of monsters and worlds beyond their own. His triumph however does not last as Stiles’ nightmares become more frequent and frightening. Upon Stiles’ possession, the Nogitsune returns home to where Cosmo confronts it.

The Nogitsune, believing that Cosmo’s death would break Stiles’ spirit and allow it complete control over his host, attacks Cosmo. However, with the use of his Sight, Cosmo manages to grasp a hold of the spirit itself and attempts to tear it from Stiles’ body. The Nogitsune is forced to flee but the ordeal causes Cosmo immense pain, eyes hemorrhaging and suffering a seizure that hospitalizes him.

ARC V, SEASON 4 : Cosmo was one of the names on the Deadpool list, worth 20 million like Lydia Martin due to his being a Seer. He found himself periodically being shadowed by his brother and friends in an effort to keep an eye on him, but when he was inevitably attacked by several would-be assassins, he was able to defend himself. However, Cosmo’s tendency for extreme violence has him facing several uncomfortable questions from family and allies as he fails to recognize when he crosses the line from self-defense, to attempted murder.

While Cosmo attempts to reevaluate his stance on the use of extreme violence, he aids in the investigation into those responsible for the Deadpool and has become an active participant with the McCall pack.

ARC VI, SEASON 5A : The Dread Doctors cause Cosmo’s Seer abilities to fluctuate and overwhelm him. He finds himself reliving the massacre of the Seer’s, watching and experiencing how they were hunted to extinction because of their abilities to tear open doorways in the fabric of reality and to pass between worlds as Travelers. Cosmo even watches as a Seer ripped a shifters animal from their body, making them human and killing their animal in the process. Cosmo begins to experiment with his growing abilities and finds that overexertion results in bleeding from his eyes, intense migraines, possible aneurysm in the frontal lobe of his brain and even death.

He is eventually designated plan B if Lydia was unable to break Mason out of Beast mode.

ARC VII, SEASON 5B : Cosmo’s abilities as a Seer makes him immune to the Ghost Rider’s ability to cause amnesia in those left behind by their hunt. As such he was neutralized when the Ghost Riders manipulated a series of events and memories events to have Cosmo readmitted into Eichen House. As Cosmo was dependent upon Stiles’ presence not only for his own sanity but because Stiles acted as his emotional tether, he became erratic, easily provoked and borderline manic.

Cosmo spends the majority of his time in Eichen House honing his Seer abilities and is eventually able to break out of Eichen House by tearing open a doorway into a mirror realm. He reunites with Scott and the others as they began to realize that they had forgotten someone important but Cosmo is difficult to work with as he has a hard time reconnecting with his friends when Stiles was always their common link.

ARC VIII, COLLEGE : Cosmo leaves Beacon Hills upon graduating High School with Honors and enrolls at the University of San Francisco. He’s working on a double major in Engineering and Computer Science, he’s working as a summer internship for Applied Physics and designs his own app which has monopolized income that Cosmo has begun investing as well as using to pay off his father’s debts with Eichen House, their mortgage and has begun saving to eventually renovate his childhood home.

He only lives in the university dorms for his first year before he moves into a loft apartment and hopes to have a more challenging career in Physics Science. He is still in touch with the majority of the McCall pack and stays in Beacon Hills with his father for the holidays as well as visiting his brother as often as he can.

ARC IX, POST COLLEGE : Cosmo has graduated university with a Bachelor of Engineering Technology, majoring in Engineering and Computer Science with a minor in Electrical Engineering. Officially, Cosmo works as a Software Engineer for an independent cyber security firm. The work is interesting and challenging as some of the firm's clients require elite security services. Unofficially, Cosmo works under his alias g1itch, supplying supernatural creatures with new identities and cover stories when they need to move locations due to imposing dangers.

Cosmo works largely as an anonymous figure, rarely meeting his clients face-to-face and almost exclusively aiding those who are recommended to him through either his brother, or Scott McCall. Cosmo has since created a large network of contacts, both supernatural and human. As such, he is usually the middleman and thus has been targeted by hunters and other violent and dangerous creatures attempting to use him as a way of garnering other victims.

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spn-meanttobe · 4 years ago

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Summaries Part One [1-50]

Claiming Info -- FAQs/Rules The first Claims post will be a separate post going up on Saturday, November 7th at 12 pm EST. The second Claims post will be a separate post going up on Sunday, November 8th at 12 pm EST.

1. A Cowboy's Touch Abigail Jones intends to spend just one summer in middle-of-nowhere Montana with her Aunt Lucy. Time away from her job is just what Abigail needs to reassess her life. The slow pace has her breathing deeply for the first time in years. And the majestic scenery encourages her to get reacquainted with herself... and God. What she didn't count on was the handsome widowed cowboy who owns the ranch where her aunt lives. When the rancher loses his daughter's nanny, Abigail decides to lend a hand for the summer. Wade Ryan can't help being attracted to Abigail. But he's given up everything to protect his daughter, and he's not about to risk it all on a pretty face. 2. A Different Kind of Man Emalea LeBlanc is a different kind of woman. Nicknamed "Doc" by the locals, she's a psychologist, a member of the volunteer search and rescue team and an avid motorcycle enthusiast. But she's haunted by memories of an abusive father and relationships with men who haven't been much better. What she needs is a different kind of man. Someone she can trust. Someone who won't hurt her. Jackson Cooper is the new investigator in Cypress Landing, and Emalea believes she knows his type – big, strong, overbearing. Dangerous. But Jackson has a tragic past of his own. And he's not exactly the kind of man he appears to be…. 3. A Forever Kind of Cowboy She wasn't the kind of woman who would spend the night with a stranger, yet runaway bride Lori Ashford shared one night and so much more with sexy Cord McVane. The innocent beauty had only come to Cord's isolated cabin seeking shelter, but when her rugged protector showed her a passion like no other, she was lost. For Lori had long dreamed of sharing her heart with a strong, honorable man – a man like Cord. And now that she was carrying his child, she hoped this brooding loner could forget his painful past and be her forever man. 4. A Little Christmas Romance There's no such thing as second chances, and Brooke would know. This Christmas will be spent alone and uncelebrated, same as the last. It doesn't matter that she's a disgruntled mall elf, standing next to a chimney-scented Santa with the most annoying co-worker ever. It doesn't make Christmas more magical. It's just another day to endure, and the holiday can't pass fast enough. That is, until her old flame, Chris, spots her. After taking a picture with Brooke in her elf costume, things take an unexpected turn. Maybe getting through the night won't be so difficult after all. 5. A Voice in the Dark No one knew what Noah Graydon looked like, but they'd all heard the rumors. How he'd been broken, even scarred, on his last case. How he never showed his face…until the day he took an overwhelming interest in one very special agent. Angel Carter would have been a serial killer's next victim if not for Noah. The rescue gave her a glimpse into his world of shadows – yet she dared to want more. To really know if the passion between them was real. They would have to come face-to-face if the killer was to be caught – and Noah could only conceal his body from Angel for so long... 6. Abby and the Bachelor Cop Bride-to-be Abigail Callahan has her life mapped out. Good career, wealthy fiancé – it's perfect... too perfect. Then sexy bad-boy-turned-cop Raff Finn reenters Abby's life, landing her with an adorable homeless dog called Kleppy and a whole lot of trouble... Raff's teenage recklessness once broke them apart, but he's not about to let his childhood sweetheart marry the wrong guy. With help from Kleppy and some Banksia Bay magic, Raff plans to reawaken the Abby he's always loved. 7. After Dark When a shocking scandal exposes southern secrets... As the blazing heat of summer gives way to sultry September, a shroud of suspicion settles over Noble's Crossing, a sleepy Alabama town. Nothing is as it seems--and never will be again. Lane Noble Graham stands accused of murdering her ex-husband. And the one man who can help, Johnny Mack Cahill, vowed never to return to the town that scorned him--or the woman whose love he knew he didn't deserve. ...No one is safe from cold-blooded murder. From the rusted-out trailers on the wrong side of the river to the stately pillared mansions along Magnolia Avenue, everybody has something to hide--but one secret could make Lane and Johnny Mack the next targets of a twisted killer, who's struck once and is bent on striking again... 8. Alena The wild heart of a warrior beat in the breast of Alena, daughter to a queen and mother to a king. A Celtic princess, she resolved never to bend to Roman rule. But how could she foresee that the iron fist of Rome would stoke her soul with the velvet glove of passion. Marcus Valerius, Prefect of the Seventh Legion, had proven himself many times over in combat. Now newly come to Britannia, he would ensure the peace – despite the wiles of a tall, tawny-haired barbarian goddess with witchcraft in her lips! 9. Bayou Whispers Plagued by nightmares and fractured memories, Laura Larame returns to her childhood home in the Louisiana bayou, where her mother vanished and she almost drowned. She searches for answers with the handsome Creole who saved her once before. A man who holds the dark magic that isn't finished with her yet. Since childhood, Drew Michel has seen death and the spirits who walk the halls of his family’s ancestral home, and they are warning him—Laura will die. Deep in the swamp, an ancient ritualistic clan is planning to claim her life. Can he defeat the evil that demands her blood and save the woman he has grown to love, or will the bayou claim them both in a demon’s ultimate sacrifice? 10. Big Girls Don't Cry Thanks to a devastating revelation about her husband, Reenie Holbrook's once-perfect marriage is over. For eleven years she had the life she wanted--and now it's gone. Reenie decides that the first step in recovering from her ordeal is to find work; after all, she has three young children to support. She's thrilled when she lands a job at Dundee High teaching history--until Isaac Russell, the man who triggered the unraveling of her marriage, accepts a temporary position teaching science. Then she's tempted to quit. Reenie doesn't care if the whole town admires Isaac... and she won't admit that, secretly, she admires him, too. She doesn't want to see him or his sister in "her" town. But a friendship with the most unlikely woman leads to a relationship with the most unlikely man.. 11. Boss Man The permanent temporary... Blake Kemp was a man who knew his own mind and was as stubborn as the day is long in Jacobsville, Texas. As the town's leading lawyer, he had a reputation to uphold, and he didn't want the tender ministrations of his assistant to get in his way -- even if he desperately needed her, since those big boots of his did have a tendency to step on toes... So, of course, the boss man blew up at pretty, gentle Violet, for having the nerve to, of all things, step on his toes, causing her to leave him in a cloud of Texas dust. But being a smart as well as hardheaded man, Blake could soon see that without his guiding light, his life would be in darkness. Only one thing to do -- hire her back and make sure that business didn't mess with matters of the heart...on or off the job! 12. Bound to the Sicilian's Bed Rocco's outrageous proposition: His estranged wife will spend one final weekend in his bed! When Rocco's runaway wife asks for a divorce, the Sicilian billionaire seizes his chance! They've never discussed their painful past, but this is the perfect opportunity to get Nicole out of his system for good. He offers her a deal: if Nicole wants to move on with her life, she will be his one last time! 13. Brothers Without Borders For Avery Grey, life wasn't easy. He was smaller than most guys and nerdy, a real prize winner. And, as if this wasn't enough, he was gay and in love with the one person he knew it was wrong to desire. Rather than deal with the heartbreak, he chose to dedicate himself to medical school. Hunter Grey, the tough guy athlete tried to focus on everything other than the one person who caused the ache inside his heart. For years, he had managed to keep his secret locked up inside him. Although some of his teammates didn't know he was gay, this was the least of his worries. His biggest secret haunted him and had him waking up in the middle of the night soaked to the bone in sweat. The guilt and disgust within him tore him apart each day. When secrets are exposed, how will an unconventional love between brothers change the lives of these two men? Can their bond and love for each other survive and flourish, or will it ultimately rip them apart? 14. Claimed by a Vampire Beautiful and independent, writer Yvonne Dupuis is used to taking care of herself. But when she moves into her new apartment and senses a demon watching her every move, stalking her at every turn, she has no choice but to put her life in the hands of a dangerously sexy vampire. From the first whiff of Yvonne's intoxicating scent, Investigator Creed Preston knows his client has something to fear. Under Creed's protection, she will be drawn irresistibly in by his secrets and experience the sheer force of immortal desire. And not a moment too soon. For the evil hunting her isn't acting alone – and he won't stop until he claims her for his very own…. 15. Closer Encounters To Drew "The Riever" McDowell, this seemed like a fairly straightforward assignment: track down Tracy Brandt and find out her connection to a top secret mission. But when Drew finds her, he realizes Tracy has a mission of her own – solving the sixty-year-old murder of Trixie Halston, a mysterious, mesmerizing singer of the 1940s. In fact, Tracy's obsession with Trixie goes beyond interest – at times she actually seems to become Trixie. She goes from demure but contemporary woman to the brazen big band singer on a dime. And the scary thing is – Drew is falling hard. For both of them… 16. Club Arcana: Operation Janus Beneath librarian Angus McAslan's respectable demeanor thrums the heart of an adventurer. He dreams of traversing the globe, exploring ancient ruins, and discovering amazing scientific breakthroughs. And unbeknownst to even his dear devoted mother, he's just put the finishing touches on his own epic novel about a swashbuckler on Venus-- complete with illustrations! But after inadvertently reciting a summoning spell, Angus finds himself thrust into an adventure beyond even his own wildest imaginings. Suddenly, demon-possessed pupils try to kill him. Half-human creatures stalk him. His mother reveals herself as a witch, and his wizard uncle proclaims it high time Angus joins the family business. Complicating matters: the exquisitely handsome young man--bearing an uncanny resemblance to the aforementioned Venusian swashbuckler--sent by his uncle to collect Angus, and the suave, aristocratic warlock who materializes with dire warnings of a resurrected Elder God called Janus. 17. Dark Descent For each, there could be only one. They came from the darkest places: secluded monasteries, the Carpathian mountains, galaxies under siege. They were men with the blackest pasts--warriors, vampire monks, leaders of armies--but whose passions burned like dying stars. They had one purpose: to find those women who fulfilled them, completed them, and made them rage with a fire both holy and profane. They sought soul mates whose touch consumed them with desire, yet whose kisses refreshed like the coolest rain. And each man knew that for him there was only one true love--and in finding her, he would find salvation. 18. Dark Temptation Had special-effects genius Jason McLain really murdered his wife, as the tabloids claimed? Valerie Wiggins approached his spooky old house, hoping to convince him to help make their Halloween charity event truly frightening. But when he opened the door, her heart raced not with fright but sizzling arousal. Jason feared caring for Val would put her in danger, but could helping him face his demons silence her own? 19. Deadly Gamble Mojo's got an uncanny knack for winning at slots, but her home sweet home is Bad-Ass Bert's Biker Saloon. She'd love to go undercover with an irresistibly hot cop, but he's got baggage as big as his biceps. Mojo survived a mysterious childhood tragedy, but she's never quite figured out who she really is or how to get on with her life. Now the wisecracking Mojo is seeing ghosts – the ectoplasmic kind – and turning up baffling clues to her real identity. And she'll need all her savvy and strange new talent to keep someone from burying her – and the truth – for keeps. 20. Decadent Club Casablanca – an exclusive gentlemen's club where exotic hostesses cater to the every need of high-stakes gamblers, politicians and big-business execs. No rules apply. And no unescorted women are allowed. Ever. But Ally Danner has to get in – to rescue her sister from the club's obsessive owner, Jason Aragon. And undercover FBI agent Sam Sinclair is just the man to help her. In return she'll use her inside knowledge to get Sam the evidence he needs to put Jason away. Only, once they get caught up in the club's hedonistic allure, the only favors they end up trading are sensual…. 21. Deception Cove In the world of Harmony, Rainshadow Island is home to a mysterious preserve, secrets that have been kept for centuries, and a treasure worth killing for... As a light-talent, Alice North has the rare ability to make things disappear, including herself--a gift that comes in handy during her magic act with her dust bunny Houdini. Business mogul Drake Sebastian is day-blind, since his sight was nearly destroyed in a lab accident. But he's the one man who can see Alice when she disappears--and he needs her. On Rainshadow Island, two dangerous Old World crystals are missing, igniting a paranormal storm. Drake thinks Alice is the key to finding them, and proposes they head there, but only after a Marriage of Convenience. Alice's honeymoon on Rainshadow is guaranteed to be memorable, as the island--and the passion between her and Drake--is about to explode... 22. Defender Dragon Lucas is a prince and a dragon shifter who left his country to become a bodyguard at Protection, Inc., an all-shifter private security company. Then his past caught up with him, forcing him home for an arranged marriage to a princess who isn't his mate. Neither of them wants the match, but they can't escape it… unless one of them finds their true mate first. Journey Jacobson is a free-spirited backpacker traveling the world. When she runs out of money, it looks like her adventuring days have come to an end. Then she attends a lavish ball to celebrate the upcoming engagement of Prince Lucas. Sparks fly between Lucas and Journey until she flees at midnight, leaving behind nothing but a shoe. Lucas sets out to find his mate, but that's just the beginning of his quest. Can he protect her from the mysterious assassins trying to kill her? And can restless Journey and lonely Lucas take the biggest risk of their adventurous lives, and open their wounded hearts to love? 23. Delicious Cal Buchanan needs a top-flight chef to take over his failing Seattle restaurant, The Waterfront. He can afford to hire the best in town – the only problem is that the best happens to be his ex-wife, Penny Jackson. Penny really needs this opportunity, but she doesn't need the distraction of working with her ex. She's sworn off romance – she's even having a baby on her own. But before she knows it, the heat is on…and the attraction between her and Cal moves from a low simmer to a full boil! The rest should be easy as pie, but a secret from Cal's past could spoil everything. Maybe it's true that too many cooks spoil the broth – or maybe two is enough to make it irresistible. 24. Double Jeopardy Ellie Landau couldn't pass up the invitation to a murder mystery weekend. It was even harder to pass up fellow player Jed Thorpe. Only Jed was the "killer," and Ellie wound up fighting for her life. Back in the real world, Ellie was the management consultant for Cludds Haberdashers, a simple enough job until she realized that something was terribly wrong there - and that Jed was intimately involved. Then someone tried to kill her for real. Ellie was in double jeopardy. Was she falling in love with the one man who could save her life - or end it? 25. Dream Man Detective Dane Hollister of the Orlando police department has never met anyone quite like Marlie Keen. While he has doubts about her supposed clairvoyant powers, she sees crimes as they're being committed, there is no doubt about how much he desires her. To Marlie, Dane is all heat and hard muscle, and he makes her body come alive as it never has before. But not even she can foresee that their passion will lead them on a dangerous journey into the twisted mind of a madman who will threaten their happiness and their lives. 26. Exposed Beautiful, sophisticated, and engaged to the son of a Senator, Evie Masterson has the perfect life. Except for one thing: it's all based on a lie. Five years ago, she created a new identity for herself and cut all ties to her criminal past. But she can't run forever, because something she witnessed years ago comes back to haunt her. And the only person there to help is the man she thought she left behind forever-the one man she's never been able to forget. Devastatingly gorgeous and just as ruthless, Riley Everett is the criminal for hire who once stole Evie's heart. Years have gone by, but he's never been able to forget her either. Now her life is in jeopardy, and even after all this time, he'd still do anything to protect her, even if that means breaking into her mansion and stealing her away. As they hide from the world, their long-lost passion reignites. But despite their undeniable chemistry, Evie can't give up the perfect life she's been working toward... and Riley has no part in it. 27. Fancy Pants They're caviar and beer. Kerosene on fire. They're going to fall in love. She was the most beautiful British bauble in Europe's jet-set playgrounds. Now she's broke, furious, and limping down a backwoods road in an ugly pink Southern Belle gown... He was tall, lean and All-American gorgeous. He liked his brews cold and women loved to keep him warm. Why in hell is he stopping his car for this woebegone, surly Scarlett? 28. Find Me Investigative reporter Sarah Newton debunks supernatural myths, and forces the truth to light whether people want to hear it or not. Now, with a popular teenager found tortured and murdered – and another girl missing – Sarah's out to prove it's not the work of an ancient curse, but a cold-blooded killer. She'll expose one Maine village's darkest secrets …while keeping the truth about her own past hidden from view. As Youngstown's newest councilman, Kale Conner's unofficial job is to minimize the bad publicity from Sarah's stories and, if possible, to keep her in line. But with time running out, and his own family at stake, Kale's finding his neighbors' terrible deeds might be too deadly to sweep under the rug…and he and Sarah are headed toward a heated endgame with only one shocking way out... 29. Groomed for Murder Brooke Palmer's exclusive doggie spa, Pawlish, is sued when a client's pampered champion gets a bad poodle cut. The client's lawyer is drop-dead gorgeous Drew Hudson, but Brooke won't be wooed by a corporate shark in a sharp suit. This frivolous lawsuit is Drew's chance to advance to partner, but things get complicated when he finds that the side he's rooting for isn't the side he's fighting for. 30. Her Favorite Rival A new meaning for office politics: Audrey Mathews has worked hard to get here. Now she's up for a promotion and nothing will stand in her way – including Zach Black. He's hot, smart and the competition. When they're assigned to the same project, she's shocked at how much she actually likes about him…and how much she misjudged him. Before long Audrey is seriously falling for Zach – and indulging in an affair that's against company policy. And the stakes rise when it's clear only one of them can get ahead. So where do they draw the line between competition and love? Especially when she doesn't want to lose either the promotion or the guy…. 31. Hero Special Forces soldier, Haze Welch, is military born and raised. Serving the country is what the Welch men do, and all Haze has ever wanted. But during an 18-month tour overseas, his world shatters in an instant. Haze gets injured and is not able to return to active duty. Unable to face the thought of spending the rest of his life behind a desk, he accepts a job offer as a personal bodyguard in Los Angeles for the flighty heiress Leighton Machus. After all, one spoiled little girl would be a piece of cake compared to everything else I've been through, right? Little does Haze Welch know, he's about to get a rude awakening. 32. Hissy Fit The night before her wedding, in the middle of an oh-so-smart rehearsal dinner, interior decorator Keeley Murdock chances upon her fiancé and maid of honor in flaming flagrante delicto. Keeley throws the hissy fit to end all hissy fits and storms out. The next day, though, she has to deal not only personally with a broken engagement but also with her business being shut out by folks in a town financially obligated to her ex. Rescue comes in the form of the new owner of the local bra plant. This guy is a hunk but he's also a teensy bit weird, since he hires Keeley to redo the broken-down antebellum mansion he's bought for the woman of his dreams. The trouble is, he's never met said woman. So Keeley dives in and finds that true love can come even to those who throw humdinger hissy fits. 33. Hold Your Breath Lou's new to the Rockies, intent on escaping her oh-so-controlling ex, and she's determined to make it on her own terms...no matter how tempting new ice dive captain Callum Cook may be. But when a routine training exercise unearths a body, Lou and Callum find themselves thrust into a game of cat and mouse with a killer who'll stop at nothing to silence Lou—and prove that not even her faithful Search and Rescue brotherhood can keep her safe forever. Lou is a hurricane. A walking disaster. Perfect chaos in every way. And with her, Callum's never felt more alive...even if keeping her safe may just kill him. 34. Home to Seaview Key Falling for a handsome stranger on the very morning they meet is hardly what recently divorced Abby Miller planned for her return to Seaview Key. Hoping to mend an old friendship and to give back to the community she loves, Abby's definitely not looking for love. For ex-soldier Seth Landry, Seaview Key seems like the perfect place to heal a broken heart…eventually. And when he rescues a beautiful woman on the beach, his nightmares about the past are eclipsed by daydreams about the future. Neither Abby nor Seth are looking for forever, but powerful love has its own timetable. And taking a chance on the future will test their courage in ways neither of them could possibly have anticipated. 35. How the Cowboy Was Won Ember Alzate is a fantastic matchmaker with one big problem: she can't find the perfect mate for herself! Alzate family legend says that when she kisses "the One" she'll hear a mysterious humming in her head. Well, Ember's kissed a lot of guys and she's never heard a thing. Now, instead of searching for herself, she vows to find her best friend, Ranger Lockhart, a bride. It's clear this smart, sexy man just needs to meet the right gal. Ranger's returned home to Cupid with marriage on his mind, but he's not interested in the parade of women Ember pushes under his nose. His thoughts keep returning to his best friend -- with her combustible combination of curves and sass. No one compares to Ember, but what's it going to take to convince her she's the woman for him? 36. How to Date an Alien High school senior Alex Bianchi's estranged father gets her an internship at Circe Operations Center to pad her college applications. But Circe isn't your typical military base. It's an alien-run operation center and not all of the aliens are friendly, especially the one that tries to kill Alex on her first day. When Ace, a dark-eyed Caltian, enters and saves the day, she can't help but be drawn to him. Can these star-crossed lovers survive when they're on the brink of intergalactic war? 37. How to Kill Your Boss When Tatum's daydreams of murder become a reality, all fingers point to her. In Tatum Wood's opinion, murdering her boss on a daily basis within the safety of her thoughts is better than therapy. Until he takes a swan dive off a building and all evidence points to her. Thank goodness she has Franklin Reed. Her mysterious, overprotective and drop-dead gorgeous coworker is all too eager to play hero. With two attacks in her building and her stalker with a penchant for roses, Franklin's injection into her life couldn't have come at a better time. As Tatum and Franklin scramble to discover who's behind the murder, secrets are unearthed that question his motives…as well as his identity. 38. How to Marry a Marquis She’s trying to follow the rules… When Elizabeth Hotchkiss stumbles upon a copy of How to Marry a Marquis in her employer’s library, she’s convinced someone is playing a cruel joke. With three younger siblings to support, she knows she has to marry for money, but who might have guessed how desperate she’s become? A guidebook to seduction might be just the thing she needs—and what harm could there be in taking a little peek? …But he’s making his own. James Sidwell, the Marquis of Riverdale, has been summoned to rescue his aunt from a blackmailer, a task that requires him to pose as the new estate manager, and his primary suspect is his aunt’s companion, Elizabeth. Intrigued by the alluring young woman with the curious little rulebook, he gallantly offers to help her find a husband… by practicing her wiles on him. But when practice becomes all too perfect, James decides that there is only one rule worth following—that Elizabeth marry her marquis. 39. Howling in the Darkness Danger! Undercover agent Jonah Ries couldn't explain to the stunning woman who'd mistaken him for her blind date exactly how he knew someone was trying to harm her. But evil stalked Moriah's Landing, and Katherine Ridgemont was its target. When she learned of Jonah's deep secret, Kat might not give him the time of day. Only that wouldn't stop Jonah from watching over the vulnerable beauty after dark. As the anniversary of Kat's mother's mysterious death approached, the instinct to protect became a fire in Jonah's blood. A fire matched by his determination to save the woman he loved from the unknown forces that haunted the night... 40. In the Groove She wouldn't know a NASCAR star if he hit her with his car... and he just did. Sarah was a kindergarten teacher until a sleazy ex-boyfriend got her fired. Now the only job she can find is driving the motor coach for racing star Lance Cooper. She doesn't know a thing about NASCAR – and she's off to a rocky start when she doesn't recognize her ultra-famous boss. Lance can't help but notice Sarah's sweet smile – and how seriously unimpressed she is with his fame. Her reaction piques his interest – and he's convinced she's a good-luck charm. But Sarah has no interest in Lance's jet-setting life; she'd rather deal with spitballs than one super-sexy race car driver. Too bad whenever he comes near her she turns hot as race fuel. Soon things begin to heat up on the track, and Sarah begins to wonder if she might be able to teach one famous race car driver a few lessons about love 41. Into the Night Sheltered in the shadows of the Smoky Mountains is the suspect who's summoned FBI agent Macey Night's fears to the surface. Every day that the "Profiler," a vigilante serial killer, escapes justice is another day she's reminded of what it is to be a ruthless predator's prey. Capturing him is a craving deeper than anything she's felt in a long time. But Agent Bowen Murphy, equal parts sexy and volatile, seems hell-bent on changing that. Working together—needing, living and breathing each other—they're entwined to distraction. Bowen's used to operating on impulse: act, don't feel. Now Macey and the controlled terror behind her beautiful eyes have him rethinking everything, including his rule to never get close to a colleague. He's willing to fight for a future with Macey, but the consequences of love could be deadly. 42. Killjoy Her razor-sharp mind and ability to decipher evidence have made Avery Delaney an expert crime analyst for the FBI. Now she will have to use every one of her skills on a case that hits painfully close to home. Avery's beloved aunt Carolyn was on her way to a posh spa in the Colorado mountains. But she never arrived. Now, with scant clues and fewer resources, Avery must track down Carolyn -- and outmaneuver a brilliant killer named Monk who is part of an elaborate plot of madness and lethal vengeance. 43. Lawless Five years ago, Judd Dunn, a hard-edged Texas Ranger, put Christabel Gaines's father behind bars – where he belonged. But Judd's involvement in Crissy's life was far from over. With their jointly owned ranch on the verge of bankruptcy, Judd wed her in name only, vowing to save their land, and vowing to ignore the sexual tension between them. Now, just when Judd decides to release Crissy from their sham of a marriage, he is blindsided by a bloodthirsty foe who is setting the stage for unspeakable evil by preying upon Judd's greatest weakness – his wife. No longer a starry-eyed schoolgirl, Crissy's a smart, fearless woman with unfulfilled desires. And she will do anything in the name of love – including taking a bullet for her husband. With their very lives at stake, Crissy and Judd must confront their darkest demons, their new rivals and their deepest desires – and face up to a mutual destiny they cannot outrun. 44. Lone Star Santa Kristen Zaleski is home for the holidays... indefinitely. Her acting career hasn't taken off -- in fact, it hasn't gone anywhere. So now she's spending her days helping out at her dad's P.I. office. Until Mitch Donner comes by and lights up her life. Sort of... Mitch is back at his parents' place, too. As a successful accountant who'd been set up to take the fall in a money-laundering scheme, Mitch isn't quite sure what to do. So he takes a job installing Christmas lights... and gets an early present when he runs into Kristen. Especially when she offers her newly acquired P.I. skills to help him get his life back. Working together, they plot an elaborate sting operation, one that will take a miracle to pull off. Then again, anything is possible at Christmas -- especially if it involves mistletoe! 45. Long, Hot Texas Summer A sassy redhead with an axe to grind… After catching her husband kissing another woman in the barn, Loretta Sullivan Bailey left Lonesome Canyon Ranch and swore she'd never come back. But when her daughter threatens to drop out of college to become a rancher's wife, Loretta refuses to let her baby make the same mistake she did. She returns to the ranch, determined to get her daughter back in school by the summer's end…and resolute on ignoring her feelings for her ex-husband. A bullheaded but oh so sexy cowboy… A cowboy from his hat to his boots, ruggedly handsome rancher Jackson Bailey is none too pleased that his feisty -- and gorgeous -- ex-wife has suddenly shown up seventeen years after their divorce. But despite all their fighting and fussing, the two stubborn former lovers soon discover that old flames burn the hottest. Can they finally put aside their differences and find happiness together…forever? 46. Looking for Laura Sally Driver is a widow trying to move on with her life when she finds a stack of perfume-scented love letters from her late husband, Paul, had received from a mysterious woman named Laura. Todd Sloane was Paul's best friend and he feels betrayed that his friend would keep such a secret from him. Together Sally and Todd go looking for Laura, but with luck on their side, they may just find something more meaningful along the way... 47. Making Him Sweat Round 1: In this corner is admittedly romantic Jenna Wilinski, who's inherited a rather seedy boxing gym from her estranged father. With it, she can realize her dream of launching an upscale matchmaking business…provided she can take on the very intimidating – and wickedly hot – boxer who stands in her way! Round 2: In the far corner is former pro boxer Mercer Rowley. He's the only one who can protect his "home" – even if it is a little run-down – from his determined and feisty little opponent. But man, once the gloves come off, his hands just want to touch her everywhere… Round 3: This matchup is too close to call. But no matter which contender comes out on top, the other is sure to enjoy every minute of it…. 48. Marry Me at Christmas To bridal boutique owner Madeline Krug, organizing a Christmas wedding sounds like a joy - until she finds out she'll be working closely with the gorgeous brother of the bride, movie star Jonny Blaze. How will a small-town girl like her keep from falling for the world's sexiest guy? Especially with mistletoe lurking around every corner! Jonny came to Fool's Gold looking for normal, not for love. Happily-ever-after only happens in the movies. Still, nothing about this quirky town is quite what he expected, and "ordinary" Madeline is the most extraordinary woman he's ever met. Refreshingly honest, disarmingly sweet. Achingly beautiful. Planning the perfect wedding leads to candlelit dinners and strolls through snow-covered streets. And Madeline finds Jonny in real life even more captivating than her celebrity crush. But will the action star be brave enough to risk his heart and step into the role of a lifetime? 49. Mischief Imogen Waterstone needed a man, and not just any man: one with an implacable will and nerves of iron. That's why she invited Matthias Marshall, the Earl of Colchester, to her home. For who better than the legendary explorer to help her lure a ruthless enemy to ruin. Yet when Imogen urges Matthias to masquerade as her spellbound suitor -- and let it be known that she possesses a priceless treasure map -- she never anticipates his electrifying response -- or her own. Suddenly, the unconventional lady is in the thrall of true passion... and vulnerable to a malevolent threat that emerges from the labyrinth of London society. 50. My Front Page Scandal Brooke Winfield is the devoted and dependable daughter of one of Boston's oldest families. So what is she doing on the back of a motorcycle in the middle of the night with sexy bad-boy ballplayer David Carrera? Elated by that recklessness, Brooke decides she's ready to take a Martini dare--and what a dare! Her performance at a posh strip club lands her back in David's arms for another unforgettable night... and in the tabloids the next morning.

#mod post #summaries 2020 #spn meant to be #spn meanttobe

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pheonixfire4015 · 4 years ago

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Peace In the Midst of the Storm By: Eowyn38

I have not written in a very long time and I didn’t have time to have someone review any mistakes. Its not my best, I am tired, so please forgive any kinks I didn’t work out. I couldn’t focus on homework so instead I wrote this. I guess its what I hope a real conversation will be between Elliot and Olivia on their journey towards healing. Hope you enjoy.

Elliot and Olivia Post Episode:

Its 3:35 on a Friday night. Olivia is staring at the white speckled ceiling as it changes shape and color before her eyes the longer she stared. The emotions and thoughts leaving her unable to do anything else but lay there still. There comes a point in life where the pain and emotions become too much and the human brain in its defense turns everything else to a numb gray haze. It took years perfecting and working to keep her emotions in appropriate tightly locked boxes. For the job, for her mother. Elliot was her partner and best friend, but somewhere down the line he became, well, everything. There was this sense of shame Liv felt every time she allowed a trickle of love and longing to spill over. Elliot and all he meant was something she had wrestled with for longer than she can even recall. Learning to live with the hole he left in her when he left, comparing every man to his shadow had become an everyday battle. But she had learned to live with it. Having him back, hearing his voice, holding him…. Had become a dream and a nightmare Liv was not prepared to deal with. Seeing him had been like a magnet snapping back to where it’s supposed to be, It was like feeling apart of herself breathe again, a part of herself she felt had long died.

Olivia rubbed her hands over her face to ease the dry ache of her eyes and turned on her side with a sigh. The range of emotions she didn’t want to feel came in waves, all she wanted was sot sleep, with each wave it left unending hopelessness in its wake as to how to navigate it all, wanting at times to sink into a numb haze instead. She spent her whole existence learning to live with these types of emotions. Seeing the look in her mother’s eyes knowing she was the product of rape. As one of very few females on the job seeing the male cops look at her with distrust and disrespect- having to constantly prove your worth. Coming home to an empty void of a home all thoughts of motherhood and family a far-away dream. Trauma from the job. Noah… had become the one touchstone, the one rock she could pour herself into. The one truly good thing in her life.

Elliot’s words rang in her head bringing with them questions she didn’t want to ask. He was in an emotional war desperately grasping onto any lifeline and madly pushing away at the same time. She knew and understood the signs. Watching him navigate this made her flip flop from anger, to frustration, to desperation, to love, to guilt, and then sinking into numbness. His letter was clear, there was something he needed to share but in the right moment. What could he share she didn’t know, or did she know? Could she trust his emotions, his words? Could she trust he would not push her away, walk away yet again, leaving her with less than she had before?

“I love you…. You mean the world to me….”

Rang over and over, threatening to undo the delicate balance she had created to manage the daily raging war of emotions and thoughts. She kept telling herself all the rationale reasons to keep the inappropriate emotions at bay. Inappropriate was the only word that could summarize the emotions she had shoved to the deepest part of herself, what other word was there for these emotions? Elliot was her partner, a man who had been married, had a family, a wife who just recently died, a woman she loved and respected. She repeated the words over and over willing her rationale mind to win over irrational emotions. Elliot had called 4 times today. She should answer, she should call him, she should talk over what he found in Kathy’s investigation, but she feared if she did the delicate balance she was struggling to hold together would collapse. Was she really that close to the edge, all because of one person?

Knock… knock…

“Elliot… its 3am…”

“I know…” he shook his head… she could see the motors working in his mind… but the words just fell to silence. For a few moments their eyes just did the talking and the reading.

With a sign she stepped aside and let him in. She pointed to Noah’s room letting Elliot know they needed to remain quiet. He nodded wordlessly. She stood watching as he paced… back and forth… back and forth… restless, rubbing his hands over his face and head. Olivia closed her eyes and walked over, placing a hand on his forearm, blocking his restless movements.

“Elliot… sit… please.”

“Look… I know the last thing you want right now is me here. I feel like I keep saying I am sorry, like they are these empty words that don’t mean anything anymore. I keep letting all of you down.” Elliot’s leg stops moving for a moment as she watched him try to find the words to articulate, trying to detangle the balled-up twine of emotions. She allowed the silence to stretch, allowing him the space and time.

“I don’t know what to do with all of this Liv, and I don’t even know where to start unpacking this. I keep wanting to do what I have always done, what has always worked.”

At that she spoke… “Has it worked Elliot?” Her voice has a twinge of hardness she didn’t intend, or had she?

Again, silence stretched.

He signed deeply…. “No… It hasn’t worked, but it’s what has been easier to manage.”

She spoke again… “Have you managed it, has it been easier for everyone else around you to manage?”

With that she watched his face drop… confused and deflated. His head fell.

In that moment she regretted her questions and tone. She waited for him to spring up red faced and leave.

“Well, I guess if I was better at this, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

Olivia shook her head… “Look Elliot, I am sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I am here if you need to talk. But you are pushing me away, your kids away, and right now more than anything they need you and you need them. You’re not the only one going through this right now.”

Elliot’s hands came up again, rugging his face, wishing… wishing this was easier.

“You’re right. I don’t know what that means or what I am going to do… but you’re right.”

At this Liv’s face and body poster changed, relaxed.

“You read the letter?”

Liv shook her head… “Elliot, we don’t have to do this right now. There’s….Its not the right…” But the words were just lost.

“Look Liv, your right. The time is off. It’s always been off. But I think it’s the only way we can move forward. Your right I need to make amends with my kids, to Kathy, but if I am to move on from all of this I need to make amends to you as well.”

At that Liv had no arguments left, 3am or not, right time or not.

“I don’t even know how to start this….. You know the job is the job. It comes with its battles. Talking over things that we saw with Kathy was just never anything I ever considered. I did my job and I came home and dealt with it. Over time the connection I had with you Liv, what we went through, was unlike any relationship I had had before.”

Liv shook her head, understanding without needing anything more…

“Let’s face it, it was me shutting down and the repercussions, that caused me to lose my family the first time and I almost lost you. And it’s the same mistake I am making now…”

There was silent reflection for a good minute before he continued.

“When Kathy and I divorced. I failed in my marriage, I failed in caring for my kids who were a wreck, and I was unraveling. My feelings… for you...”

Elliot shook his head, unsure how to fully articulate.

“They went deeper than I really know how to express. I felt it was a weakness. You took up so much of my thoughts, so much of my world. The worry, the care, wanting better for you…. I felt I was losing my ability to do the one thing I was good at and that was the job and having your back. I resented you for emotions I didn’t know what to do with. Those feelings then changed into something more, into something different…”

Elliot looked up, to scan Olivia’s brown eyes. She shook her head… the depth of her knowing… her brain a blank mess.

“Ok…. I loved you Liv. I love you. There was a part of me that wanted to reach out because I felt this shift. I felt like the same battle I was fighting; you were also fighting.”

He paused, letting the heaviness of that sink in. He watched as tears began to brim in those eyes he knew so well. His restlessness ceases, and he stood. He sat down gingerly in front of her on the coffee table.

“I knew the implications if we were honest with each other, and all the risks we would be taking. I was drowning, as I am now, and I went back to what was comfortable. What was easier. Kathy got pregnant. I knew in that moment what I had done was unfair to her and unfair to you. It was selfish. I went back to my family, but it didn’t stop what I was feeling… from getting harder, harder to compartmentalize, harder to ignore.”

“The job had worn me down, I was scared of ruining… everything Liv… if I stayed. I knew there would be a time I would no longer be able to be who I should be to my wife and be who I wanted to be…. For you. So, instead of being honest, I was a coward Liv. I felt if I left it would give you the ability to move on and give me the ability to devote myself fully to my family…. And maybe make myself a better man.”

He ranched across the short divide to grab her hand, which were balled tightly together in her lap. She looked down at his outstretched hand, a peace offering. She undid her hands that had become white from the pressure, and rest her own in his. For a moment they just looked down, at the connection between them.

Without looking up she said, “If you had been honest with me, even if I had felt the same, I would have never have allowed you to, I would never….”

He looked up, “I know Liv. Unfortunately, I can’t say I would have been able to be as honorable. I knew seeing you, hearing your voice, would knock down any resolve I had left….”

With that Liv groaned and the tears came stronger, she grasped tightly to his hand. Something in her that felt lost and abandoned desperately needed to hear… every… word… of this.

“Should I reach out, how would you react, had I destroyed everything, would I cave and come home, what if you had been able to move on and I ruined that delicate balance? So, days just turned into years. But…. When I saw you that night Liv. I felt like a missing part of myself was found again. With all of this…. Seeing you again… Losing Kathy… I just don’t know what to do with…” He motioned with his hands… “all of this.”

With that silence filled the room once again. Liv had nothing… no words… nothing to give. The words hurt, they healed, they explained, they gave hope, they were the end of one journey and aa beginning of a new one. They sat there, both hands now intertwined in her lap. She lifted his hand to her face, nuzzling into their warmth, and looked deeply into his eyes. It’s all she had to give in that moment. He moved closer and stoked her cheek, trying to wipe dry every tear he may have caused, and shook his head. He understood. She had forgotten how easy it could be between them, this silent communication.

“Look, this is a lot.. too much… I don’t know how long this is going to take. I just hope…. We can maybe start over, start clean. I’d love to get to know Noah. I’d love to get my best friend back. I just need… time.”

In that moment Liv felt lighter than she had in a long time, she shook her ahead again wordlessly.

Elliot’s hand dropped back down to her lap… “Can I stay?” She looked at him unsure. “I’m… just so tired Liv… so tired…” Without hesitation Liv moved over and Elliot crossed to sit on the couch next to her. He laid down allowing his head to rest in her lap. He let out a sigh he didn’t even realize he had been holding. Her arms came up around him, cradling his head.

“You have my word I’ll be gone before Noah wakes up.” She stared down at him, smiling, grateful for his understand even in her need to protect her son, stroking the hair behind his neck.

“Thank you, now rest.”

In minutes, his beathing became long and even. His body relaxed and the restlessness ceased, the waging war stilled if only for a little while. She looked down taking in words she never thought she would hear. At some point she would have to unpack them, figure out what they meant, but for now, this was enough. She leaned her head back to rest on the cushion of the couch, staring again at the white speckled ceiling, looking with new eyes, and soon sleep took over. Silent, peaceful, still.

#elliot and olivia

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isaac-d-buchanan · 4 years ago

Text

where: right outside WWN who: Isaac Buchanan and Aila Johnson ( @ailajohnson ) why: ( x )

(tw: attempted murder)

Isaac Buchanan

For the past couple of weeks, Isaac had watched Aila from afar, silently observing her routine when he could. By the third day, he had already memorized what time she leaves her house to get to work, the times she goes on breaks, whether she leaves her building or not, and the times she usually leaves the WWN to go home. By then, Isaac could already plan his attack on the broadcaster. Where and when he could strike... what could he do to take her out... It could be so easy. Still, Isaac struggled.

He didn't want to do this at all. But Isaac already stalled as much as he could, incurring another visit from Noah who reminded him just what was at stake if he failed to do his task. This time, he was no longer subtle regarding the consequences that would fall on him should he fail. It was Rosalind's life, his love, at stake. As well as the lives of his father and his father's girlfriend.

After two weeks of keeping himself close to Aila, Isaac decided that it was now or never. He had to act now or else he'll never do it. And that would mean there's going to be a lot more blood in his hands.

On that night, Isaac wore the signature mask of a Death Eater. It hid his identity but he was sure it didn't hide his shame and guilt. Bile threatened to rise from his stomach as he waited in the alley near the Wizarding Wireless Network. What he was supposed to do next was the complete opposite of what Hit-Wizards swore to do. But Isaac was suffocating between a rock and a hard place. And three souls of loved ones felt far heavier than one stranger's. That's exactly why he's waiting for Aila to be alone and off guard.

When she finally appeared, all Isaac had to do was bring his wand up. He'll utter the Unforgivable Spell, causing a bright green light to erupt from the tip of his wand and hit the unsuspecting witch, and all of Noah's threats would go away.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Instead, Isaac just stood there without a sound until finally the witch saw him and the chance to catch her unawares was gone forever.

Aila Johnson

She had heard rumors that Rodolphus was looking for a co-host for her show. It might have been bullshit. She hoped it was bullshit, because if the message of her show changed she was out. Maybe Fabian could help her find a nice job in print. Or maybe she'd say fuck it all and go work with Rosmerta. She could make a damn good vodka soda. A dash of soda and a whole lot of vodka -- it was easy. Fuck, now she wanted a drink.

She turned to walk in the other direction, but she hesitated when her eyes caught sight of something in the alley. It took a moment for them to adjust, but as soon as she caught sight of the familiar mask, peering out at her from the darkness, she immediately reached for her wand. This sucked -- dueling had never been her strength. Sure, she could fire a thousand hexes off at this... man... judging by the figure under the robes. But unless he was a real idiot he could probably take her. Was he a Pureblood? Probably -- sometimes that meant they weren't ready for a fistfight... maybe she could take him by surprise.

"What the fuck do you want?" She called, far too loudly. Hopefully she could catch the attention of someone who was still inside.

Isaac Buchanan

Isaac gripped his wand tighter. It was already half raised, ready to take aim at Aila at any second if she chooses to cast the first spell. A part of him did want her to do so. At least then, Isaac would only be defending himself.

Maybe Aila could even injure herself with her own magic. That was some foolish thinking but Isaac couldn't help himself. Panic rose from his chest when she called out. "Keep your voice down," he hissed. The urgency in his voice made up for Isaac's hesitation to sound more intimidating. "Or else," he added as he took a step forward. "I wouldn't do anything stupid, if I were you..." Talking to his victim wasn't making it any easier for him to do the deed but Isaac can't get himself to do it. Not just yet.

As for her question, what did he want? He didn't want to kill Aila. He didn't want to kill anyone. But he wanted Rosalind and his father to be safe above all. "I just want to talk," he lied. Even if he sounded convincing, surely Aila wouldn't believe that, but he didn't know what else to say and he wanted to stall.

Aila Johnson

She had seen a death eater before. Maybe two or three, even. But it had been from a distance and there had been other people to back her up. But from what she remembered they hadn't seemed quite as jumpy as this fucker. Maybe he was a new one? Or just bad at his job -- he had to be bad at his job if they sent him after her. She wasn't anyone important.

When he told her to quiet down she laughed outloud. "What?" She shouted, speaking far louder than necessary. "What are you saying? Talk louder?" She wasn't stupid -- she knew she'd lose in a fight. Her best chance was to piss him off so he acted stupidly or to get the attention of somewhere else.

“Oh?" She shifted her tone into a false politeness. "Oh, is that all? Well, why didn't you say so? Lovely weather we're having, isn't it? Don't be a fucking moron. If you want to talk take the mask off -- if you don't want to talk then get on with whatever it was you were sent here to do." Her wand was raised, but she didn't toss any of the hexes that were racing through her mind in his direction. What was the point?

Isaac Buchanan

"Stop shouting," he hissed, raising his wand even higher and pointing it directly at the broadcaster. He was the one who said that they should talk but immediately, he was already regretting his decision. Her voice was so loud that he was sure that she would attract someone's attention any moment now. And if she did... Isaac would be fucked.

Talking, Isaac realized, was the wrong thing to do. Given that it's precisely why she was being targeted in the first place, Aila could run her mouth as if her life depended on it. And it did. Plus, her voice grated on him, making it harder for him to think. Maybe if she just shut her mouth, things will start to make sense. Maybe if he can finally hear himself think, he'll know what he had to do.

Without any warning, he flicked his wand and aimed a Silencing Charm directly at her.

Aila Johnson

Did he think she was just going to take this silently? Let him pull a wand out on her without a word spoken in protest? That made no sense. "I know you and all your mates are a bit dim, but even you have to be smart enough to see that I'm not going to let you pull a wand out on me and not respond? Come off it." She had a big mouth, but she made sure to speak louder than necessary.

It wasn't hard to dodge the first spell. She had been looking at him, waiting for him to move. She stepped aside, the flash of light barely missing her. Without really even bothering to aim she shot a nonverbal stunning spell back at him. This was going to go however he wanted it to go. "There a few choices here, far as I'm concerned. You can walk the fuck away and I don't say a word. Or I can scream my head off before you manage to do whatever it is you think you're going to do and you can walk away hoping I didn't attract enough attention. Up to you, mate."

Isaac Buchanan

Did he really expect that Aila wasn't going to fight back? No. But he at least thought that maybe fear and uncertainty would be on his side. Her insults rolled off of him like they were nothing. His focus wasn't exactly on what she was saying rather on the unthinkable task that he had to do.

Muscle memory from years of training allowed him to counter the spell that she threw on his own. In the process of dodging, Isaac managed to step closer to Aila. "I can't. I can't walk away." Even with his voice muffled behind the mask, his desperation, panic, and despair were palpable. He had no doubt that Aila heard it too. But he can't have her screaming too. He'll have to find another way to silence her.

In just a few seconds, Aila's loud voice did manage to attract someone. From behind he could hear urgent footsteps, In a few moments, they wouldn't be alone and Isaac wouldn't be able to do what he's been sent out to do. Or worse... He'll have to make sure that the newcomer wouldn't be able to talk too.

Curse the newcomer... or curse Aila. Given that Aila hasn't thrown more spells, Isaac assumed that she would be easier to handle. But the person turning towards them now? Isaac wouldn't know how good they were at dueling. It was probably best to use the element of surprise on his side and stop the stranger now before he saw anything.

Isaac took a step back. His eyes kept shifting from Aila and the corner of the alley where a shadow on the ground was steadily growing. When the figure finally emerged from the corner, Isaac turned to cause a bright explosion somewhere towards the stranger, supposedly blinding them temporarily.

Aila Johnson

She was hardly the most sensitive person, and she wouldn't try to pretend otherwise. But the emotion in his voice had her pausing. He didn't sound like the murder-happy Death Eaters of her imagination. But rather, he sounded upset. "Don't know who you've been talking to, but you don't have to do anything you don't want to do." Her voice was quieter as she said that.

She hadn't realized another person had joined them, had been attracted to the sound of her yelling, until he set a spell over her shoulder. She wanted to turn, to check that they were okay, but in the split second the Death Eater's eyes were off of her she flicked her wand in his direction. She had always liked to yell her spells. The dramatic flair tricking herself at least into feeling more confident. But silence was important here. Accio mask she thought to herself, shocked as it worked and the mask flew off his head and into her hand.

"I know you..." she trailed off searching for his name as she took in his face. "You were a few years above me, right? Isaac..."

Isaac Buchanan

For a brief moment, Aila almost sounded sympathetic. She dropped her usual bravado for something more cautious. Placating even. Maybe if he had responded with words, things would have turned out differently. Better. But it was too late. Someone was coming and Isaac acted in a way he thought he should have. The spell he cast to create a small explosion turned out to be successful. However, the distraction created an opportunity for Aila to summon his mask to her hand, causing it to fly away and reveal exactly who he was.

When she mentioned his name he knew that it was all over. There was no chance that he could kill her now. Not when she knew who he was. Not when she knew that this wasn't him. Isaac was far from perfect and never in his life did he ever think of himself as a saint. But Merlin knows that he would never even think of ending someone's life under his own volition.

He opened his mouth to speak without knowing what to say. Should he apologize? Attempt to explain? Warn her that people might be after her? Even if he did manage to choose what to say, his throat wouldn't cooperate with him. Isaac felt like he was choking on air. He already knew that both of them were walking out alive in this situation. Which meant that soon, he and his loved ones won't be. His only chance was to get them before they can. And then flee. Somewhere where they will never find them. They have to leave everything and everyone they ever knew and never look back.

With a wave of his wand, Isaac began his attempt to disapparate. There was one thing - and only one thing - left on his mind. Rosalind. For the first time in months, Isaac's head was clear. He knew exactly what to do. He needed to get to her and save her as soon as he could. Nothing else mattered.

Isaac's mind was already conditioned to brace for the push and the pull of apparating into a whole different place. What he didn't expect was for the stranger to tag along. While he was stunned after Aila summoned his mask and revealed his identity, the man managed to sneak up behind him and wrap his arms around his neck. Isaac tried to wriggle himself free but it was already too late. His apparition had already begun. They struggled in the alley for the briefest of moments before they disappeared into the air, leaving Aila alone.

#aila ( what makes blood thicker than water ) || connections #aila ( every uttered word is closer to the last ) || interaction #aila001

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