#Kate if you are reading this I am still crying

[elizabeth-mitchells]

JUST FINISHED WATCHING THE JULIET BURKE SCENES COMPILATION!!!! CRIED!!!!!!!

[k8martins]

guilty as sin ୨୧

summary: teammate!reader and kate are urged to stop crushing on each other because it interferes with their gameplay, leading to tension

warnings: angst, fluff towards the end

a/n: based on the song guilty as sin by tswift! i don’t listen to her so i hope i did this right lmfao

ever since coach bluder sat you down and chatted with you about kate, you hadn’t been speaking to her very much. before the mandatory meeting with bluder, you and kate had undoubtedly been feverishly crushing on each other to the point of it interfering with how both girls played; in and out of practice. plays being disrupted, catching fouls, and missing shots had all been a result of being too focused on kate. she was the only girl on your mind, and you were dedicated to being near each other all the time. you were told to either get it together, or forget the idea of being romantically involved with her. it was obvious the connection was still there, but you both agreed with bluder and ended up not interacting as much besides being on the court.

one specific moment in the locker room confirmed your distance from kate. you had arrived late to practice and was already irritated, when kate came in for a bathroom break. just you two in the room, she tried to negotiate the separation.

“you know…” she started out cautiously, “we don’t have to listen to coach bluder if we don’t wan-“

“kate please just let it go,” you urged, as if bluder was listening. it was hard enough to say that, but kate persisted.

“i’m serious, i still really like you.”

she was making it harder and harder. you helplessly dropped your arms to your sides, uncomfortable with the confrontation, but wanted to make yourself clear.

“i still like you too. so much. i really wanted it to work but bluder and the other coaches are right. so are our teammates,” you began. a drawn out pause followed your words, and you continued.

“i mean, everyone has seen how this is just getting in the way of how we play, kate. we can’t get anything done because we’re too focused on each other,” you said, exasperated and voice trembling with emotion. kate gazed at you with the same helplessness, but both of you knew it wasn’t over.

this cage was once just fine

am i allowed to cry?

the forced distance apart only seemed to strengthen the feelings between you and kate. although you hadn’t exactly been flirting anymore, it was like you were convinced everything she did was a sign towards you; and each word from her mouth a symbolic message. you would see the glimmer in kate’s eyes as they would linger on yours for an extra moment during team huddles, certain that she could read your thoughts. as much as you loved hearing her voice as team captain, it would frequently get drowned out by all the wild things you wanted with her.

i keep recalling things we never did

messy top lip kiss

at times it felt unfair; as you and kate never got the chance to advance to something more serious. all you experienced was touchiness and bold flirting with nothing more. you wanted so badly to be something more with her, do something more. but every time you stared at kate a little too long during practice, bluder saw right through both of you. petty little sidecourt lectures weren’t your thing, but it wasn’t like you could just give up on kate that easily.

several practices and games went by with no progress in advancing with kate. in fact, the sexual tension once so familiar turned to irritable tension. even through the passive aggressiveness and pointless bickering on the court, your desire for kate was growing unbearable. her scolding you became a new source of interest, almost trying to get her mad at you.

“you’re acting like you’ve never done this before,” kate’s stern voice called out to you. it was nearing the end of an exhaustive practice getting ready for the next day’s game, and you were at the end of your wits.

unsure of how to reply, you stood there after messing up your defensive play, ball on your hip. you stared at her knowingly, but kate did not take your silence as an answer.

“can you stop standing there and actually do something?”

“can you actually act like a captain instead of just bossing me around,” you shot back coldly, maintaining eye contact.

kate paused and shifted in her stance. she took a moment to look away from you, either thinking or making sure nobody’s near, and promptly returned her gaze. almost without missing a beat, kate lowered her voice.

“what if i wasn’t talking about basketball.”

her unexpected question flustered you, making your eyebrows furrow and break the eye contact. it was embarrassing how quickly she made your heartbeat skyrocket. you knew it was exactly what you wanted her to say, but kept up with the act.

“kate, not now, not here.”

she scoffed and looked around once more before stepping even closer to you. she kept her head low along with her voice when talking to you, although she seemed to not care about keeping distance anymore. if coaches came around at any moment, you were sure she wouldn’t budge.

“you know you want to.”

why does it feel like a vow

we’ll both uphold somehow

the look in your eyes changed from resentment to need. every time she cornered you like this, it was like you and her magically became the only two on the court. kate managed to move even closer to you, and your eyes were stuck on her. your mouth hung open as you trusted words would come out, but the illusion was quickly broken away when you felt a firm pat on your shoulder.

looking behind you, coach bluder was standing there expectantly, her eyes darting back and forth between you and kate. the look in her eyes was apparent, but she went easy on you.

“practice is over, girls. go head in.”

you slowly began to step away from kate, your eyes still fixated on her before you turned around and picked up your pace. from behind you, you heard coach bluder order kate to stick around a bit longer for a talk with the other coaches. half of you was relieved to not walk in the locker room with her, but the other half wanted to.

when you joined your teammates in the locker room, their lively chatter seemed to dissipate as they saw you come in. they knew of your situation with kate and used to be supportive, but now backed off since the angst began. some were even convinced that kate was bullying you.

“you really shouldn’t let her talk to you like that,” jada encouraged.

already over what they had to say, you side eyed her and just tried to continue getting ready to go home.

“you’re seriously just gonna let her be that way?”

“jada, i don’t care. i just don’t,” you practically snapped at her, “plus, you guys don’t even know what she said to me.”

jada was taken aback at your sudden defensiveness.

“girl the whole gym heard her yell at you,” jada pressed.

“she wasn’t yelling at me. you guys don’t even know what’s going on, just stay out of it please,” you said, turning away from her. the interaction alone made you replay the moment with kate a hundred times over again.

they don’t know how you’ve haunted me

so stunningly

after losing the next day’s game at home, it was only a matter of time before you ran into kate again. you were truthfully waiting for it to happen, and the exact event did happen when walking out of the arena after the game. you were one of the only girls on the team to leave out the back door; a typically lonely walk to your car. kate knew this and took it to her advantage. so when you stepped into the cold night and saw her leaning against the wall, it didn’t surprise you.

“don’t get mad at me yet,” kate’s said smoothly.

the look on her face and tone in her voice told you she was being genuine, and you felt no need to be tense. you unclenched your jaw and dropped your shoulders. in fact, kate seemed to be the nervous one this time.

“kate what are you doing out here, it’s freezing,” you questioned, wrapping your arms around yourself.

she stood up from against the wall and inched towards you, seeming to really think about her words before saying them.

“i know we’ve been mean to each other lately and,” kate paused, maintaining eye contact to confirm your agreement, “and i think we both know it’s bullshit.”

her words were soft, but truthful and deliberate as they came out. it was like the fourth wall was broken with the acknowledgment of the act you two had been keeping up, and it was a relief to know she wanted it to end too. still, she was taking it a little too slow, and it only seemed to get colder outside.

“kate if that’s what this is about-“ you started to turn away, but kate promptly grabbed your wrist and faced you back to her. you realized she was being serious.

“please, just hear me out. i want to make things right again,” kate begged, her hand still around your wrist.

you looked around the dark parking lot, remaining paranoid of anyone who might hear the interaction. the only lights illuminating your faces were high up on the arena walls, and no one else appeared to be in the area. looking back at kate, she was looking back intently, waiting for a response.

“kate... you were pretty mean to me,” you replied honestly, but still wanting to work things out. she blinked and took a deep breath, realizing it might not have been as easy as she thought.

“you’re right,” she said nodding, “i’ve been a fucking asshole to you. i yelled at you when i was supposed to help you, i embarrassed you, i...i have no excuse.”

“so what now...we’re just supposed to act like we didn’t hate each other for weeks?”

between losing the game, being tired, and the coldness of the night, it was turning into a bit of an argument. you didn’t want it to, but weeks of taking shots at each other wasn’t easy to forget. kate’s mouth hung slightly open without words, and you could see her exasperated huffs into the air. she remained silent.

“seriously, i mean it never had to be like this,” you said, narrowing your eyes and moving your head away. without missing a beat, kate took her hand up to your cheek and moved your head back to her.

“just look at me...”

her hand ever so slightly touched your face, almost hovering, as if the world would implode if she touched you fully. although you were being stubborn, her tone remained patient and calm. with her hand rested on your face and the other hand finding its way back to yours, it suddenly felt like nothing had ever changed. the way her hand perfectly cradled yours and gave it a gentle squeeze made you feel like you never fell out with her at all.

the gentle squeeze of your hand was thought to be permission, as kate lowered her hand down to your jaw and held your face closer to hers. you weren’t sure there were any words needed, but you spoke anyway.

“kate, please,” you were now whispering, just inches away from her lips, and that was all it took.

you could feel the longing and anticipation in the kiss, the way kate’s lips pressed on yours so softly, yet biting down on your bottom lip. the kiss flowed back and forth, electrifying both of you in the way you needed it most. kate ran her hand down your neck and your arm, testing how you reacted to her touch. you needed more so desperately, cupping her face in your hands. it felt like hours had gone by after just several seconds, and you broke the kiss to take a breath.

these fatal fantasies

giving way to labored breath

kate’s forehead was pressed against yours as you caught your breath and began smiling. the intense kiss made you forget about the nightly cold, and instead gave way for warmth. kate kept her hands on your arms, giving them a gentle squeeze as if you’d disappear right then.

“was that ok?” kate questioned.

you laughed at her sheepish question, nodding your head. “i’ve been waiting for that forever, kate.”

taking all of me

we’ve already done it in my head

both girls decided making out in the middle of the night outside your basketball arena wasn’t very ideal. it was also decided you couldn’t just part ways after exchanging such a telling kiss, and kate allowed you to follow her back to her apartment. there was no practice the next day, and neither of you were busy.

kate’s apartment was a cozy little place, with just enough room for the both of you. you imagined all the times you could’ve been in her apartment before, if you had just been able to work it out earlier. you collapsed on her bed and didn’t even give any mind to getting unready. all you knew was that you were about to be lying in bed with your love, and there was an open day ahead of you.

once kate was done with her night routine, she joined you in bed. neither of you had the energy for anything more than a few short kisses peppered all over her face and head. being held by kate felt so right, and you were sure making up with her was the right decision. with your head rested on kate’s chest, she planted one last kiss to your head before whispering goodnight.

what if the way you hold me

is actually what’s holy?

[loonylesbian]

ok i am very much so not a writer, or at least not creatively. but i had this idea and i couldn’t get it out of my head so i decided to write it out. it ended up being 6.1k words so feel free to not finish it cause i’m sure it’s not good. however if you do read the entire thing i hope you like it and don’t clown on me too hard. long story short either you’re welcome for this or i’m sorry for this. there is no inbetween

naked in manhattan // k. martin

10 years ago

“Kate can you believe it! We’re starting high school!!!” you scream, hugging your best friend on the last day of summer. If you were being totally honest, you were nervous never being good at making friends, always relying on Kate for that. Her being so outgoing and friendly, it’s not that you weren’t nice, you really were, if anyone asked Kate would say that you’re the sweetest person she’s ever met, you were just shy. Talking to just about anyone made you nervous, in fact, you had a short list of people who didn’t make you nervous.

“I know! It’s gonna be great, I’m gonna do my best in basketball and volleyball, and you, my little genius, are gonna be the best in every class, and make tons of new friends,” she reassured you as if she could feel the nerves radiating off of you in waves. You were grateful for that, she had always been able to know exactly what you were feeling and how to help, even if you didn’t. It was one of your favorite things about her, sure there were too many things you loved about her to count, but that was one of your absolute favorites.

“I promise I’m gonna do my best to make it to each and every single game of yours,” you told her holding up your pinky while looking up at her, she giggled and interlocked her pinky with yours in a pinky promise, something you have insisted on doing since you met. You swore that it was more real than a regular promise, and made it to where the universe let the promise happen, not just the people involved.

“Well if it’s a pinky promise, I know you're never gonna miss a game,” she replied with a smile reserved just for you.

7 years ago

So far your promise had held, not without some struggle, but you had still attended every game Kate had for both sports she played, and just about every other game she just wanted to watch. There were a few games where you were late because of your job, studying, or other things that had gotten in the way, and the two times where you sat as far away from everyone else as humanly possible because you didn’t want to get them sick but also didn’t want to miss Kate’s game, but for the most part you sat right at the front to cheer on your best friend.

After the game tonight you guys were gonna have a sleepover as tradition for Friday night games, whether it resulted in a win or a loss. Either way, you usually ended up in her arms bringing her comfort, whether that be her knowing that she deserves it because she played well and won to bring her down from that high or wishing she had done things differently to change that loss and you reassuring her that it wasn’t all her fault, because as far as your were concerned basketball was a team sport and a loss couldn’t hang solely on one person's shoulders. After all, you were her number one supporter, never failing to let her know how proud of her you are and how much you love her no matter how she feels. You made everything feel okay for her, but it was the least you could do, afterall she did that and more for you.

when i sing that lana song it makes you cry

On the drive back to her house listening to the radio, she couldn’t help but look at you as much as she could without crashing the car. She couldn't help but feeling like she was was really listening to the song for the first time as you were singing along to “Young and Beautiful” by Lana Del Ray. She didn’t quite know what it was but when she looked at you and listened to you singing she couldn't help but feel her heart race and her body flush, she swore she could listen to you forever. Had someone told her in that moment she would never get to hear you sing like that, she would swear she’d cry And if anyone asked, she would tell them she liked girls, it wasn’t like it was a secret, and she’s had crushes before, she knows what it feels like. But she never thought she would have a crush on you, purely because you were her best friend, she couldn’t do that, it could ruin your friendship. That wasn't something she was willing, or at least wanted, to risk. A friendship that you've had since kindergarten, although now that she thought about it, it was basically a lesbian right of passage to fall in love with your best friend and-

mean girls we watch every night, and we both have a crush on regina george

“So wanna watch Mean Girls?” you ask abruptly interrupting her thoughts. Truth be told she’s glad that you did, it was probably best that she didn’t dwell on those thoughts for too long. Little did she know she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t having completely friendly thoughts about the other. She was just the only one who wasn’t in total denial about liking girls in the first place.

“Obviously. As if we would watch anything else first,” she replies with a scoff as if it were crazy for you to even ask. Although, to be fair it was crazy of you to ask because that was the first movie you watched anytime you had a sleepover, and it had been that way for years.

“Sorry. Sorry. I forgot you had a crush on Regina George,” you said with a small chuckle, brushing off the twinge of pain you felt at the idea of Kate having a crush on anyone else, even if it was a fictional character from a movie. Because why would you be sad or jealous about that? She was just your best friend, right?

Kate flushed even more red at this comment if that were possible with the combination of the game she had just played and watching you. Even though it was chilly outside and in the car, in that moment it felt like it was 100°. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or joy that was causing her to feel that way, but she did. In that moment life was perfect, the chill in the air, the rain falling around the car they sat in, the now soft music coming from the speakers, and most importantly you. She wished she could stay in that moment forever, just taking you in, stuck in that perfect moment forever. She let out a slightly nervous chuckle, lightly biting her lip, before she replied, not wanting to break the peace she felt.

“Okay, okay, don’t act like you don’t have a crush on her too. I know you have a thing for blondes.” She finally lets out trying to wave you off and ignore her pounding heartbeat, all while trying to steal another glance at you. What she doesn’t notice, however, is your face flushing or your fists clenching when she says that as if she uncovered a deep dark secret, that you hadn’t told anybody. And to be fair that’s exactly how you felt, you did have a crush on this mean girl and you did have a thing for blondes, but you hadn’t quite come to terms with that yourself, let alone talk to anybody about it. So if anyone asked, the blondes you had a thing for were blonde guys, but you were hoping nobody would ask. Even if that person was Kate, your best friend.

And you didn’t notice her grip on the steering wheel tighten a little bit, waiting for a response. Hoping you would do or say anything to acknowledge what she had said, telling her she was right or wrong, waving her off altogether, laughing. She waited for any acknowledgment of what she had said for the rest of the ride home, but it never came. Instead, you changed the subject all together after sitting in silence for a few minutes. You hoped she didn’t notice that, but she did.

And so you followed your typical Friday night game routine, going to her house, watching Mean Girls, finding yourselves tangled up together but never acknowledging it, and then turning on some other random show or movie before falling asleep. Still in each other's arms. Still, just best friends.

6 years ago

Today was the day, the last full day before your crush best friend was leaving you. Ok well not you per se, but she was leaving. And yes you were also going to leave and go even farther in a few weeks, but that’s beside the point. It still felt like she was leaving you and it just didn’t feel right. You couldn’t exactly put into words how or why you felt so badly about it, but you did. Maybe the fact that you had never been apart for longer than a week played a part in it. Sure, you were both gonna go off and hopefully live your dreams, but it just didn’t feel right to do that away from each other. However, she was going to Iowa and you were going to New York and there's nothing you could do to change that now. And you did genuinely think about going to Iowa instead, but New York was your dream, so when you got into culinary school there you decided to go. You knew you loved it and you knew that New York was a great place to start, not to get started on the fact that it could take you literally anywhere you wanted to go. That didn’t make the decision any less painful though.

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” you whispered in Kate’s ear giving her a hug. You honestly don’t know why you’re saying it right now, it’s not like she's leaving right this second, but you still need to say it, and you’ll probably say it about 1,000 more times before you actually have to say goodbye in the morning after your final Friday night sleepover, even if it didn’t follow a game you guys have grown into the habit of doing this almost every Friday night. She squeezes you tighter if possible when she hears this, trying to burn that moment into her memory, knowing she loves you but it’s too late to do anything about it now, at least not anything serious. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you, to admit her feelings for you after years of friendship less than 24 hours before you guys go to different states for college. It would be cruel, and she told herself it would almost be more cruel if you felt the same way about her. She knew that you came to terms with being queer, at least enough to admit it to her and yourself, what she didn’t know is that a big part of that was you coming to terms with being in love with her. But still, it was too late and she had to let that be.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Kate said with a big sigh before releasing you, muttering a quick “more than you could know,” under her breath, hoping you didn’t hear. Happy when you showed no indication of hearing the last part.

“But we still have a whole afternoon/night to do all of our favorite things together before I leave. And we can go get our favorite breakfast in the morning,” she said with a more upbeat tone, poking your sides slightly, trying to lighten your spirits too. Slightly succeeding when she saw you perk up a little, putting a small smile on her face.

“Okay, okay, so what do you say to popcorn, Mean Girls, and a bunch of candy?” you asked, slightly mimicking her accent. She replies with an eager nod. Grabbing your hand and pulling you to her room after making a pit stop for the snacks, failing to notice the blush that covered your cheeks. You simply follow her rushed pace, happy you decided to wear sweats and a tank top, as opposed to something like jeans to lounge around in.

By the time you were about halfway through the movie, you found yourself wrapped in her arms, like usual. But for some reason not knowing when you’ll see her again after this, and the cheesy high school coming-of-age movie in the background made you a little more confident. Not super confident to where you would outright tell Kate that you’re in love with her, but confident enough to try and hint at something, which is more than you’d ever been willing to do with anyone else. So that’s what you do. Especially after spending years denying your feelings, and almost a whole extra year hiding them.

“You know what sucks,” you start off looking up at her waiting for any kind of acknowledgment. She finally looks down at you with a light “Hmm?”

“I’m about to go to college and I haven’t even had my first kiss,” you say unable to stop your eyes from glancing down to her lips. This statement took her off guard, sure, you had never talked about anyone, guys or girls, but you’re you and she figured you had your first kiss and in your typical shy fashion, you just hadn't wanted to bring it up.

“What? No way!” she says laughing a little only realizing her mistake when she saw your face drop.

“No no no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t get how you of all people haven’t had your first kiss yet!” she exclaims “I mean you’re literally perfect, you’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re funny, you’re a great cook, I mean you're my favorite person in the world. I just don’t get how no one’s kissed you yet!” she finished off her little rant with a small huff.

“Well no one’s wanted to,” you mumble looking down a little bit, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden.

“That’s not true,” she mumbles quieter now than she had been before, suddenly feeling almost as shy as you while taking you off guard. It was pretty obvious what she meant, no hidden meaning laced in with her words, unable to pick her gaze back up to your eyes once they dropped down to your lips.

“I mean would you?” you question with a little more confidence once you notice where she's looking. You can’t help but follow her lead and look down to her lips, before going back up to her eyes, even though she still wasn’t looking.

touch me baby, put your lips on mine

“It doesn’t have to be weird or anything, it's just you’re my best friend, and I’ve never kissed anyone, and you’re leaving tomorrow and I don’t want to go to college without at least having my first kiss,” you kind of spit out hoping you don’t sound pathetic or desperate, or make her want to kick you out.

“Would you want me to?” she questions back, already knowing your answer but just wanting to ask to know that you were sure.

“Yeah, I’d like that” You rush out in a kind of whisper to her nodding, so she nods back to you. You can both tell that you’re nervous, each for different reasons. All it takes for you to start leaning into each other is locking your eyes again. In that moment she looks like an angel, with the soft glow of the lamp making her hair look even more golden than usual, to the way she was looking at you, not to mention how you felt about the grip she had on you. You barely even had time to actually look at her before her lips crashed onto yours. And that’s exactly what it felt like in that moment, like waves crashing onto cliffs, a completely overwhelming feeling, yet still, it brought you a newfound sense of peace. She pulled you as close to her as possible, knowing that this may be the only time you get to do this, not wanting to be even an inch away from you. At this point you were basically straddling her while she was leaning up against her headboard, both wanting nothing more than to be together, knowing you couldn’t.

You had never kissed anyone before but thought to yourself that in that moment that if this is what it is like you never wanted to stop. Kate had kissed people before, and you knew that, but what you didn’t know was that none of those felt anything like with you. They couldn’t compare. Not by a long shot. If she didn’t know how much she loved you before, she definitely knew now. The only issue is that she knows this, it’s gonna make it even harder to leave you in the morning.

By the time you guys pull away breathless from a mixture of kissing, nerves, and giddiness, you can’t help but feel at peace, resting your foreheads against each other’s. Sure you knew that nothing could come of this, that nothing would come of this, at least not right now. But you were happy. Happy that you got to show her how much you love her in one small way, one new way. Happy that you got to know her, and happy that she felt the same way about you. Even if you guys didn’t necessarily talk about it, or say outright say it, you both knew that was always one of the best things about your friendship, you didn’t have to actually talk in order to communicate and get your point across, and even when you did need words you didn’t need many of them.

So when you guys make eye contact again you come to a silent agreement, you have that night, and the next morning to talk if you want. You know you love each other, but also that there's realistically nothing you can do for you to start a relationship at that moment and have it work out. Not when you were about to be nearly 1,000 miles apart. It wasn’t right to risk it. And you both know that you’re too important to each other to risk your friendship, especially when almost all of the circumstances are pointing to it not working out. So, you have that night, after that, you’re friends again, maybe not even best friends, and if it works out you can be together in the future when you can be closer. But for the time being this is for the best, this is safe.

April 2024 || Present Day

It had been years since you and Kate had last seen each other properly, there were brief passings when you were both in your hometown that resulted in short conversations, but you were both barely there, you less than her, and when you were your family made sure you never went longer than 20 minutes without them other than to let you sleep. You had stuck to being friends, not best friends, just friends. Never talking about that night, your last night together. Not wanting to risk it, not yet. Other than that, you guys have managed to text each other occasionally to check-in. Keeping each other updated on your lives, but not close. It was as if you had both come to the understanding that you should keep a certain level of distance so as not to ruin what you had. Knowing that if you talked more, you would’ve talked about what could have been more. And you just couldn’t risk it.

id love if you knew you were on my mind, constant like cicadas in the summertime

That’s not to say that you didn’t keep an eye on her and her basketball. You had been her #1 fan since day one, and even if you didn’t talk or see each other as much as you used to, you wouldn’t let that change. You still felt the exact same way when you thought about her, even if you tried not to. Even when you knew you shouldn’t. You just couldn’t stop thinking about her. While you obviously couldn’t go to all of her games anymore, you still watched every single one, even when you were at work during them you would try to either watch it on your phone or record it and watch it when you got home later. You even managed to take off work for both the Final Four and the Finals this year to watch her and her team, even if you didn’t make it in person, you still had to watch the games live. And once you heard that she had declared for the WNBA draft you had to get a ticket for that, it was perfect, it was in Brooklyn so you didn’t have to travel more than taking the subway. And this time you told yourself that you would talk to her, not go up to her at the draft but you would text her and let her know that you were gonna be there if she wanted to meet up after, or at any point while she was in town. You would make an effort to see her. You really didn’t know when the next time you’d get the chance to see her again would be, it’s been so long since the last time, partially due to schedule, partially due to nerves, and you were about to move across the country to Las Vegas for a new job. You figured it was now or never, and you really hoped you would get the chance to see her so you could get her out of your mind.

You knew you had to try. Try to talk to her, try to see her, try something. You couldn’t stand it anymore, constantly thinking about her, you needed closure, even if there wasn’t necessarily anything to get closure about. You still had to try. So even though you had grown up a lot in the past six years, you had learned to start a conversation instead of stuttering your way through when someone came up to you, gotten more friends, and most importantly gained confidence and figured out a pretty good idea of who you were. You were nowhere near as shy as you used to be, but still the mere idea of Kate brought back butterflies that made you feel like you were in high school again. Frankly, the feeling had to be classified as something stronger than butterflies. So obviously the idea of calling her went out the window for you, you figured she was so busy anyway that she probably wouldn't answer, and you told yourself that if she chose not to answer a text it would hurt less than not answering a call. And after a lot of thinking and rewriting, you finally sent her the text.

“Hey Kate, I heard you’re gonna be in town for the draft and I know you’re probably busy but I would love to see you. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been keeping up with your games, I’m so proud of you, still your #1 fan, and can’t wait to see where you go. I’m gonna be at the draft rooting for you, just like I have been every step of the way even when I couldn’t physically be there. So if you wanna meet up after the draft or at any point while you’re in town let me know.”

Once you hit send you waited, and waited, and waited. Once it hit six hours with no response you figured you weren’t going to get one. Now that you had sent it, you realized that it was more nerve-wracking to sit and wait for the possibility of a response than to try and figure out what to say and hit send. Every possible reaction she could have had to your text was running through your head, well not every one, just every bad one. You didn’t know what she was thinking, or how she thought anymore, and that was terrifying to you. The nerves were so bad that to anyone watching you probably looked like a mess, flushed cheeks, sweaty, a little hunched over, and very clearly looking nauseous. But you were fine, it was no big deal.

You lied to yourself, it still hurt that you didn’t get an answer, but still decided to go to the draft anyway. Even if she didn’t want to see you, you still wanted to support her, figuring it was a big event and the chance of you seeing each other let alone talking were slim to none. You could go and didn’t have to talk if she didn’t want to. Plus you didn’t want to waste your money after you already bought the ticket and more than anything you wanted to support her, she was your first friend, your best friend, so far your most important friend, and now she's about to be a professional basketball player. You had to be there to see it come full circle, after spending the better part of ten years being able to count the number of her games you hadn’t seen on one hand, and saying you were her #1 fan, you just couldn’t miss it. Not for you, and certainly not for her.

By the time you had actually gotten to the draft and it started you were so focused on listening for Kate or her name, you couldn’t focus on anything else. You couldn’t hear anything that wasn’t related to her. You were confident that she was going to get drafted, but there was still a “what if” sitting in the back of your mind knowing your heart would break for her if she didn’t, maybe more than hers. Then you heard it, “With the 18th pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, The Las Vegas Aces select Kate Martin, University of Iowa.” you were so focused on her getting on a team that you didn’t think of the city she might end up in. You wish you could hit rewind when you heard it, almost not believing it. She got drafted to the Las Vegas Aces, you would be in the same city for the first time in 6 years. There could be a chance of you guys actually happening. Of course, she still had to go through training camp and make the roster before she was officially on the team, but you have no doubt that that’s going to be the easy part compared to everything else that it took to get to that moment. Not to mention text you back. When you’re finally able to focus again, there have been a few more picks you decide to go on your phone and check Twitter to see what they are saying about the draft. What you didn't expect to see when you opened your phone, however, was a message from Kate.

🏀Kate 🏀

“Hey, sorry I didn’t see your message or get back to you earlier! I’m so happy that my #1 fan came to support me just like you have been all these years. It means the absolute world to me to know that you came here for me tonight because I wasn’t even sure I was gonna make it. I haven’t been on my phone like at all today, but I’d love if you’d come celebrate with me and my friends tonight? It only feels right that you’re there, you’ve been there for pretty much everything else already, you should be there to celebrate now too.”

When you read the text you could’ve sworn your stomach quite literally did flips, while a giddy feeling erupted through your body, even releasing a small, relieved, laugh. At this point, the last thing you were expecting was to get a response, at most expecting to go to a bar close to your apartment for a drink or two, if you were feeling frisky. But upon seeing her text, you decided “Why not?” and decided to respond.

“Yeah of course I’d love to celebrate with you and your friends!! You deserve it after all the hard work you put in to get here. Just send me the time and place and I’ll meet you there.”

You tried to keep your response short and sweet, not trying to read too much into what she said or trying to seem too eager. Although, you were quite excited to actually see her and have the opportunity to talk to her again. You figured it wasn’t guaranteed that you were even going to talk more than a simple greeting, let alone that she would want to talk about what happened the last time you spent any substantial amount of time together. Hell, you weren’t even sure you’d stay longer than half an hour. But before you could dwell on it too long, you got a response, with nothing more than an address and a time.

//

By the time you show up, which is 20 minutes late due to nerves alone, you are sure Kate had forgotten that she had even invited you. What you hadn’t expected was for everyone to automatically know who you were, greeting you excitedly. You thought at most one, maybe two people would vaguely know who you were, but you didn’t expect all of your friends to recognize you and know pretty much everything about you. Including things you were pretty sure you hadn’t told Kate when you would catch up.

But that’s exactly what happened, all of her teammates knew who you were, Jada, Gabbie, and Caitlin, even people she barely knew. Never in a million years did you think that she could possibly talk about you that much. You didn’t think there could possibly be that much for someone to talk about regarding you, let alone that anyone would want to, especially after 6 years of limited communication. Yet it warmed your heart, it made you happier than you had been in a long time, to know that she talked about you, that she cared about you enough to talk about you that much. Jada went as far as to say,

“We finally get to meet you after her nonstop talking about you for I don’t even know how long. We were starting to think Kate made you up,” before giving you a hug in greeting. You could tell from that alone that she was an absolute sweetheart.

new crush, high school love again

By the time you had been able to talk to Kate for any substantial amount of time, it was clear that you both had a few drinks. Neither one of you could help yourselves from embracing each other in a long overdue hug, slightly rocking as she lightly rubbed your back. You couldn’t help but feel like you belong there. You had always felt like you belonged when you were with Kate, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Like you had wasted time not being there. You never wanted to leave her side again. You didn’t think you could stand it. At that moment, hugging each other again for the first time in you don’t know how long, you both felt like you were in high school again. You knew she still gave you butterflies, but in that moment you could have sworn you fell in love with her all over again.

“I’m so proud of you, I knew you could do it,” you whisper while pulling away from the all-too-long hug. Looking up at her, you were filled with an all-new type of butterfly, a bird maybe. Filled with a sense of joy knowing she was happy to see you, and a sense of contentment knowing that you were going to be in the same city again, for the first time in years. Knowing that you know each other, without really knowing each other. In a sense you know each other, you kept each other updated on the big things, relationships you were in when you talked, basic interests, but you didn’t know what really mattered. You didn’t know the little things, the day-to-day, the highs and the lows, and you missed that. You missed knowing the one thing that made her day unbearable, or the one thing that got her through the day. It was always you, to this day. But she wasn’t willing to tell you that yet. She loved you, and you her, and you both knew that, but you only knew that past tense.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says into your ear sending a shiver down your spine. You had officially fallen even more in love with her than the last time you saw each other, and you barely talked yet. And just like no time had passed, able to see the change in your demeanor, she grabbed you by the hips before looking into your eyes.

“I’m serious y’know? I really wouldn’t be here without you. You made it all worth it,” she pauses, eyes briefly scanning the room. “Every time I felt like I couldn’t do it, you made sure to tell me that I could. You made it clear that you believed in me, but you weren’t ever gonna push me into something I didn’t want. Even when you weren’t there I still thought of you. Thought of what you would say, how you would make everything better. You got me here baby,” she finishes off. Her eyes found their way back to yours while she talked, the intensity of her gaze alone could melt you.

“Even though I wasn’t there I never missed a game. I watched every single one, even if it was just a recording. I'm still your #1 fan, and I can promise to never miss a game of yours in the WNBA now either. I’ll even be at all the home games,” you smile up at her looking to see if she caught onto your words. You can see her trying to figure out what you meant, her eyebrows scrunching up in confusion as she was thinking before a smile eventually broke out on her face.

“What? Are you moving to Vegas?” she asks, her volume growing with each word. She grabbed you by the shoulders before lightly shaking you in disbelief. As if trying to figure out whether or not this was really happening.

“Yeah, I got a job there and I’m moving at the beginning of May,” you say laughing at her clear excitement. To her it felt like she was about to burst, this is what you had been waiting for, this was a sign. It wasn’t planned and neither one of you had any idea it was going to happen, but you were going to be together again.

the rush of slumber party kissing

“I can’t believe it! Are you joking?” she asks looking down at you for any hint of a lie coming from you, but she found none, so she continued. “Like we’re actually going to live in the same city? This is amazing, I can’t believe it.” and then it slips out, she doesn’t mean to say it, but she does, “We could try. Like we could actually be together, for real-” By the time she realizes what she said she was looking at the floor and couldn’t bear to try and meet your gaze. After all, she basically just confessed that she was still in love with you after 6 years of barely seeing or talking to each other.

“Really? You’d want that?” you ask her, grabbing her face and lifting it to meet your eyes. You couldn’t believe she wanted you, after all this time she still wanted you. So you did something Kate never in a million years thought you would’ve done, you kissed her. She wasn’t sure where your confidence had come from whether it had been her basically admitting that she never moved on from you, or the drinks you had, or just simply you growing up and actually being more confident. But she couldn’t think about that now. Now she had you in her arms, for the first time in years. She had you in a way she thought she had missed out on because she waited. And in that moment she knew she wasn’t going to let you go ever again.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 22 - Had But Our Loving Prospered Well

Summary: As Dutch readies the gang for their next big score, Arthur is sent to Saint Denis to settle unfinished business, only to face a ghost from his past. Meanwhile, Kate's come down with an illness, but a vivid dream sparks a newfound resolve to secure her and Arthur's future—no matter the cost.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

AN: About 10k words. I really enjoyed how this one turned out. I think it does a good job at setting up what's coming next while also keeping you on your toes. Guess you'll have to read and see ;)

And Happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate! I am so thankful for all my readers <3

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist @eternalsams @lunawolfclaw  @yallgotkik

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Caretaking, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Been a while since I put pen to paper. Feels like there ain’t enough time in the day anymore, though Lord knows I’ve been wasting plenty of it trying to keep my head above water. We’ve moved again. Ran from the law again. Stirred up more trouble. Same damn story, just a different setting. This time it’s Saint Denis—a place I heard was one of the seven wonders of the world. Well, if this is what they call a wonder, I reckon I’d be just fine never seeing the other six. It’s crowded, loud, and full of people who’d stab you in the back soon as they look at you. One of those people bein’ Angelo Bronte. Slimy, conniving bastard who’s got this whole city dancing to his tune.

He’s the same one who took Jack from us, but somehow, he’s also got us rubbing elbows with the mayor at some swanky garden party. Don’t ask me how that makes sense. Dutch’s idea, of course. Or maybe Hosea’s, hell if I know anymore. What I do know is he insisted Kate come along, dressed us all up like damn peacocks. I felt ridiculous, but then I looked at her. My Kate. She took my breath clean away. Lord help me, there’s nothing in this life I wouldn’t do for that woman.

The party itself? A circus. Drunks, phonies, and clowns as far as the eye could see. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some fun. Hell, I think Kate might’ve even enjoyed herself. It’s a memory I’ll carry with me, no matter how all this shakes out.

Still, this place ain’t sittin’ right with me. Dutch and Hosea keep goin’ on about opportunities, but I don’t see much besides folks with too much money and too little care for anything else. I better keep my head down while I can.

I introduced myself to a couple of Indians, father and son. The son is so angry and the father is; I don’t know exactly what. Something both impressive and frightening. And kind too. He’s a great man being defeated by powerful, awful forces. I don’t know why, but I agreed to help them. Seems they, like us, have a problem with that ape Leviticus Cornwall. 

And then there's Dutch, always in the middle of it all. He’s pushin’ Kate into things I’m not sure she should be a part of. Keeps talkin’ about loyalty, like I ain’t proven mine a thousand times over. Says Kate could help with this new scheme coming up—some high-stakes poker game on a damn yacht in the harbor. Wants to dress her up like some famous singer to get us in. The idea makes my skin crawl. She’s too good for this kind of life, and Dutch knows it.

I’ve been trying to keep her close, tellin’ her to stick to camp, help with the girls. But she ain’t the type to sit still. She’s got this fire in her, this restless spirit that makes her want to be out there with me, shoulderin’ the same burdens. And I love her for it, but it scares the hell outta me too. This gang is a powder keg, and when it blows, she’s gonna get caught in the blast.

John said something the other day that stuck with me—never thought I’d be takin’ advice from him, yet here we are. He told me I gotta start thinking about what happens after all this. If there’s even gonna be an "after." I don’t know what that looks like, but I know Kate deserves better than this life. Problem is, I ain’t sure I can give it to her. Not yet. Not while there’s still so much to fix, so much to make right.

I guess we’ll see what the day brings. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Arthur closed his journal with a soft thunk, the familiar leather creaking as he slid it back into his satchel. Stretching, he winced as his muscles protested—stiff from too many sleepless nights and too many hours in the saddle. Dawn was just beginning to break, but Arthur had been awake long before the first hints of sunlight painted the horizon. Not that it mattered much. These days, the weeks were a blur, the days bleeding into each other with each task, each job, and every damn mission Dutch insisted on. No end in sight, just more running, more scheming.

He sat on an old, weather-worn chair perched at the front of Shady Belle, the crumbling manor they called home. Its once-grand façade was faded and cracked, much like the gang itself—held together by little more than stubbornness and dwindling hope. The morning fog clung low to the ground, curling around the gnarled tree roots and the broken fence posts, giving the place an eerie stillness.

It was mid-September now—Arthur only remembered because Sean’s birthday had passed a few days back. Some of the gang had stayed up late, passing a bottle around the campfire, trading stories about the fiery Irishman. Arthur had stayed longer than most, his heart heavy with memories of laughter now silenced by a bullet.

The chill of fall was creeping in, carried by the night and lingering in the shadows, though the sun would soon burn it away. Arthur inhaled deeply, the crisp air filling his lungs, chasing away the stale dampness of the manor. For a fleeting moment, it felt good—clean. He let himself savor it, knowing the day ahead would likely choke him with its demands.

Dutch had a plan, as always. This time, a high-stakes card game aboard a river boat in the Saint Denis harbor. Every detail had to be perfect. No mistakes. No run-ins with the law. Not this time. That meant a shopping trip to the city with Trelawny, of all people, to gather supplies and scout the area. Dutch wanted every angle covered, every loose end tied tight.

And then there was Kate. Dutch had insisted she play a role in the job, her part pivotal to getting them through the door. Her cover? A famous Italian singer, the kind who’d catch the eye of the city's most elite. Arthur had protested—loudly. But Dutch was unyielding, Hosea backing him up with reassurances that it’d be fine, just like the mayor’s party. Arthur didn’t care much for that; polished shoes, fake smiles, and too many lies—but Kate had taken it all in stride, and she was confident she could do it again.

Arthur wasn’t so sure. He didn’t like the idea of her standing in the middle of it all, surrounded by strangers who wouldn’t think twice about exploiting her if things went wrong. But she was stubborn, determined to help the gang any way she could. Arthur had no choice but to pray he could change her mind in the next two days. If he couldn’t, he’d be right there beside her. No way in hell would he let her face it alone.

Lately, though, his worries stretched far beyond jobs and plans. He’d noticed the signs—Kate sleeping more, eating less, missing chores because of her headaches. The girls had told him as much, and Arthur knew the cause. Shady Belle was no place for someone like her. Sure, it had walls and a roof, but they were cracked and rotting, letting the rain and wind slip through. Mold crept up the corners, and the damp chill seeped into your bones at night. Arthur did what he could—pulling her close when the nights grew too cold, letting his body heat shield her from the worst of it. But it wasn’t enough. It ate at him, watching her put on a brave face, pretending she wasn’t struggling just to keep his worry at bay.

But he always worried. Now, with Dutch’s plan looming and Kate’s involvement hanging in the balance, the concern gnawed at him, heavy and relentless, like a stone pressing against his chest. He sighed, shifting his weight in the creaky old chair, debating whether to head back inside and kiss his woman goodbye before the day’s chaos swept him away.

Before he could move, the door creaked open, and Mary-Beth stepped out onto the porch. The young woman was wrapped in a heavy wool coat, her night chemise peeking out from underneath, and she held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a white envelope pinched between her fingers. Her other hand clutched her coat tightly against the morning chill.

“Mornin’, Arthur,” she greeted softly, her voice warm and familiar. “Figured I might find you out here.”

Arthur smiled, tipping his head in acknowledgment. “A fine mornin’ it is, Miss Mary-Beth.”

She handed him the coffee, and he accepted it with a grateful nod. The warmth seeped through his fingers, chasing away the lingering chill. If there was one thing about running all these damn jobs, it was the way the girls showed their appreciation in small but meaningful ways. It reminded Arthur why he kept going—why he fought so hard. Not just for himself, but for them, too.

Mary-Beth lingered as Arthur took a tentative sip of the bitter black coffee. Then, almost hesitantly, she extended the envelope toward him. “Letter came for you,” she said, her tone light but with a hint of something else—curiosity, maybe. “I think it’s from that woman.” The last two words carried a subtle edge.

Arthur chortled, raising an eyebrow as he took the envelope. “That woman, huh? You mean Mary Gillis?” He turned the letter over in his hands, the elegant script on the front unmistakable.

Mary-Beth pursed her lips. “Gillis? Thought you said she was married to some Linton fellow?”

Arthur sighed, suddenly feeling like he’d been cornered. “She um— well she was. Barry Linton. But he passed not too long ago.” His fingers found the edge of the envelope, ripping it open as he spoke.

Mary-Beth folded her arms, her gaze sharpening with interest. “Then tell me, Mr. Morgan, what’s this widow doing still writin’ to you?”

He huffed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, darlin’. That’s what I’m fixin’ to find out.” He unfolded the letter, but he could feel her eyes lingering.

“You best get along before Miss Grimshaw catches wind you’re up,” he added pointedly, trying to nudge her away without sounding outright rude.

Mary-Beth narrowed her eyes at him, clearly unimpressed by his attempt to dismiss her, but after a moment, she relented, turning back toward the door. “Alright, fine. But I’ll be keepin’ my eye on you. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He chuckled under his breath as she disappeared into the manor, shaking his head at her audacity. Then, finally, he let his gaze fall to the letter in his hand, the words waiting for him like the clouds on the horizon:

My dear Arthur,

I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to thank you for your help with Jamie. He and Daddy are still arguing, but I understand that Jamie is thinking of going back to college. Whatever happens, I believe you saved his life, and we are all truly grateful.

Oh, Arthur. I have made such a mess of my life, time and again. Why can I not change and be the woman I want to be? Why couldn’t you change and be a man and put down all those fantasies that cloud your judgment? Life is very confusing, and I see now that I am not very good at it.

I am afraid we have got ourselves in another mess. It’s not my fault, but I need your help. I’m staying at the Hotel Grand in Saint Denis. Oh, Arthur. I know it is wrong of me to ask you, but I have nobody else, and for what we had together, I beg of you, even though I am ashamed to do so.

Yours,Mary

Arthur sighed heavily, folding the letter with a deliberate care that belied the storm brewing inside him. He slid it into his satchel, the weight of it feeling heavier than any of the supplies or ammunition he carried. His jaw tightened as his gaze drifted out over the misty swamps, the sluggish waters reflecting a pale, muted sunrise. Mary Gillis. Always finding a way to haunt him, always pulling at the loose threads of a life he’d tried to leave behind.

The first time she’d called for his help, he’d nearly ignored her altogether. He’d wrestled with the question, torn between letting old flames die and doing what he thought might be the decent thing. It was Kate who’d convinced him in the end, her soft-spoken wisdom guiding him to answer the plea. "Helping others isn’t a weakness," she’d said, resting her hand on his, heart full of understanding. And so he’d gone. He’d helped Mary with her brother, with her troubles, and with it, he thought he’d finally put the past to rest.

But that was months ago. Months filled with battles, with losses, with a love that had rooted itself firmly in his chest and refused to let go. His heart belonged to Kate now, the woman who lay sleeping just upstairs, wrapped in the meager warmth of their shared cot. Whatever dreams Mary might still cling to, whatever fantasy she still entertained of what they once were, Arthur knew better. She’d signed the letter “yours,” but the truth was she had never truly been his.

They’d been just a couple of lovesick kids, foolish and reckless, trying to carve out a life in a world that seemed determined to keep them apart. Her father had despised him, calling him poor, unworthy, a scoundrel who’d ruin her. Maybe the old bastard had been right, in his own way. Mary, for her part, had always wanted him to change—begged him to leave his ways behind, to live a cleaner, safer life that had no place for a man like him.

He’d tried, God knows he’d tried, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Her rejection of his proposal had shattered whatever hope they’d built together, and they’d gone their separate ways, two hearts too stubborn to meet in the middle. At the time, Arthur had been furious, heartbroken. But with the years came clarity. She’d done the right thing by walking away, as much as it had gutted him. He’d have ruined her, and she’d have resented him for it.

Now, though, her reaching out again felt like opening an old wound that had barely scarred over. She must’ve been desperate to dredge up the past and call on him once more. Still, Arthur had made her a promise all those years ago—a promise to be there if she ever truly needed him. And damn it all, he’d meant it. But that didn’t make him regret those words any less now.

He sighed again, the sound heavy in the stillness, and turned back toward the house. His boots creaked softly on the steps as he ascended to the bedroom he shared with Kate. The air inside was quieter than the swamp outside, a hushed calm broken only by the occasional murmur of the gang stirring below.

Kate lay curled beneath their blanket, her hair splayed across the pillow in a tangled mess that caught the pale morning light. The sight of her tugged at something deep inside him—a mix of love and guilt that settled in his chest. She looked so peaceful, her face relaxed in sleep, a stark contrast to the restless energy she carried during the waking hours.

Arthur knelt beside the bed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. He leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. Her skin felt warm against his lips. She stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling again.

“Be back soon,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth.

For a moment, he lingered there, his hand resting on her shoulder as though drawing strength from the simple touch. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he straightened and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Whatever the day held, he’d face it. But as he made his way back down to the waiting world, he knew his thoughts would stay rooted here, with her. 

Always with her.

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate was lost in the throes of a feverish dream, her mind teetering on the edge of consciousness. Somewhere in the haze, she felt Arthur's lips brush against her temple—a fleeting touch that tethered her briefly to the safety of Shady Belle. But like water slipping through her fingers, she drifted away again, into a world both foreign and familiar.

She was standing in the bayou, its dark, twisting mangrove trees reaching like skeletal fingers toward a starless sky. Their roots dive far below the depths, peeking out in gnarled braids. There was no moon, yet the scene was bathed in an eerie glow, as if the shadows themselves emitted a pale, unnatural light. The air was thick and heavy, like the fever clinging to her skin, and she felt the weight of unseen eyes watching from just beyond the edges of her vision. Every time she turned, they vanished, retreating deeper into their dark spaces.

The cold water lapped at her thighs, the chill seeping through her soaked nightdress as it billowed around her legs like dissolving smoke. Shady Belle was nowhere to be seen, and she felt untethered, as though the world itself had abandoned her. She wanted to shout, to call Arthur’s name. But her mouth and tongue betrayed her, remaining silent in the oppressive quiet. Her mind grappled for meaning, but the logic of dreams offered no answers, only the inexorable thrill of what came next.

In a blink, the scene shifted, and she stood before an ancient, tortured looking willow tree. Its massive branches drooping low, their weight seeming to bow toward the water as if in devotion—or coercion. Devoid of color and leaves, it looked barren yet beckoning. The tree loomed impossibly large, its roots poking up through the earth as if it was trying to pry itself from the ground. They spread wide and deep, cradling something small and swaddled in a yellow fabric.

Kate’s body moved without her permission, her feet splashed forward sinking into the muck with every step, her hand outstretched toward the bundle. It pulsed faintly, as though alive, the fabric inexplicably dry and pristine despite the muddy water lapping at its edges. She knelt, her fingers trembling as they brushed the delicate cloth.

The earth beneath her began to quiver, a slow, rhythmic tremor that she realized was a heartbeat. It echoed in her chest, though strangely out of sync with her own, as if it belonged to something other. The sound grew louder, resonating in her bones, drowning out the hum of the bayou. It was steady and strong unlike her own, which began to falter under the pressure of uncertainty. 

This heartbeat was mighty.

With a deep breath, she peeled back the fabric. Expecting some fragile, living thing, she froze when all that lay within was a seed. Small, unassuming, nestled within the soft blanket—a peach pit.

A strange disquiet settled over her. What’s this doing here? she wondered, turning it over in her hand. She couldn’t explain why, but her mind immediately thought of Arthur. Before she could rise, a flash of light caught her eye. Looking up, her breath hitched.

Sunken into the tree’s ancient trunk was a mirror, its frame gnarled and alive, twisting like the roots that encased it. But the reflection that met her gaze wasn’t her own—or at least, not as she knew herself.

The woman in the mirror was her, but different. Healthier, fuller. Her hair was smooth and pinned in an elegant style, and she wore a fine dress—proper and clean, with no trace of the rough life Kate knew so well. But her expression was strained, her face marked by some deep, unspoken sorrow.

In her arms, the reflection cradled the same yellow bundle Kate had just unwrapped. The fabric was clean and vibrant, glowing softly as though untouched by the bayou's darkness. Kate looked on, and the image began to fade, its yellow hue leaching into dullness before her eyes.

"No," she whispered, a surge of desperation clawing at her chest. The mirror seemed to flicker, the image trembling as if on the verge of breaking apart. She dropped the seed into the water, her hands reaching out toward the reflection, pleading with it. Tears blurred her vision as her knees sank into the mud.

She clawed at the bark of the tree, her nails scraping against the wood as the mirror began to dissolve into the surrounding fog. The woman in the reflection lingered for just a moment longer, her pained eyes softened, and she smiled at Kate, before vanishing entirely.

As the last wisp of light faded, Kate’s gaze dropped. There, floating in the water before her, was the peach pit. It was glowing now, faintly golden, radiating outward as it nestled into her lap. Reaching down with cupped hands she felt its warmth, pulsing with the steady beat of her heart. Harmonizing, as if they were one.

A soft whisper reached her ears, though no voice could be seen or placed. The words were indistinct, like a lullaby carried on a distant breeze. Yet they filled her with an overwhelming peace, soothing the ache that had gripped her chest. Kate clung to the warmth, holding the seed close to her chest. 

The water began to rise, enveloping her body. But she held onto the tiny pit, clinging to the hope it offered her. Shielding it from the darkness as it swallowed them both. 

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The rhythmic clatter of Belle’s hooves against the cobblestone echoed through the bustling streets of Saint Denis, a steady cadence that drowned out the city’s chaos. The sharp clang of the trolley on its tracks, the overlapping shouts of merchants and passersby, even the piercing cry of a seagull overhead—all of it faded into the background. Arthur’s mind, however, was far from quiet. His thoughts churned, replaying the morning’s work, scanning for anything they might have missed. Anything that could tip their carefully planned mission into disaster.

Arthur and Trelawney had spent the better part of the day digging into every detail of the high-stakes card tournament scheduled aboard the Grand Korrigan the following evening. Trelawney and Strauss were confident they could fix the game in Arthur’s favor, but there was still much to learn. Who were the players? What were the stakes? And how could they infiltrate the riverboat without raising suspicion?

Trelawney, ever the charmer, had already secured the proper attire and spent hours mingling in the city’s seedier poker dens, listening to whispers and picking up useful scraps of information. Meanwhile, Arthur had taken to scouting the boat itself. He’d memorized its layout, noted its docking schedule, and kept a sharp eye on the captain and crew as they moved about their business. Every detail mattered, and Arthur was determined not to leave any stone unturned.

Lost in thought, Arthur rode back toward the heart of town to meet Trelawney at their arranged rendezvous. The weight of the mission sat heavy on his shoulders, his focus narrowing in on the steps ahead. So much so, he almost didn’t hear the voice calling out to him.

“Arthur!”

The shout was sudden, cutting through the din. Feminine, familiar.

He pulled Belle to a halt, glancing around until his eyes landed on a balcony just above street level. There she was—Mary Gillis, leaning eagerly against the railing, her face lit with a mixture of relief and excitement.

“Oh, Arthur, you came!” she called, waving as though the years between them had never passed.

Arthur stiffened in the saddle, his hand tightening slightly on Belle’s reins. He’d forgotten about her letter, about her request for help. Hell, he’d barely had time to think it over, let alone discuss it with Kate. The mission had consumed his every waking moment, and he’d figured he’d have a few days to sort it out—if he even decided to go at all. But now, fate had a way of forcing his hand.

He sighed deeply, the sound barely audible over the city’s noise. “Yeah, I, uh—I came,” he called back, the words tasting like regret the moment they left his mouth.

The smile on Mary’s face faltered slightly as she saw the frustration etched into Arthur’s expression. Her enthusiasm met the weight of his weariness, a stark contrast to the nostalgic hope that had brought her to this moment. She leaned on the hotel railing, her eyes fixed on him as though they could will away the years and pain between them.

"Wait right there, I’m coming straight down!" she called, disappearing into the building before Arthur could even open his mouth to protest.

He dismounted Belle with a heavy sigh, hitching her to the post outside. The doors of the Hotel Grand swung open moments later, and Mary rushed out, her steps hurried, her face alight with nervous energy.

"Arthur," she said again, softer this time, her tone steeped in wistfulness.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening. "What is it you need this time, Mary?" His voice was steady but edged, cutting straight to the point. He didn’t want to linger, didn’t want to open doors he’d shut long ago.

Her expression faltered. "I can’t believe you came," she said, ignoring his question. Her voice carried a strange mix of gratitude and regret. "After everything…"

Arthur’s patience was thinning. He looked away, his gaze following a passing wagon down the street. "Sure, seems whenever you call, I come," he muttered, his tone clipped. "Now just tell me what’s goin’ on. I don’t have all day."

Mary took a hesitant step closer, clasping her hands in front of her. "It’s my daddy," she began.

Arthur let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Your father? Christ, Mary, I must be an even bigger fool than I thought."

"Please, Arthur," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I know my daddy was always hard on you, but he was just trying to protect me. Can’t you see that? He wanted better for me than—"

"Better than me," Arthur interrupted, his tone sharp, eyes narrowing. "That’s what you’re sayin’, ain’t it? Your father was never kind to me. He thought I was trash. Made damn sure I knew it, too."

Mary flinched but pressed on. "Your choices—Arthur, they—"

"What choice did I have!" he barked, rising with an anger that had been simmering for years. "You knew who I was, what my life was. I never left you, Mary. You walked away."

Her eyes welled with unshed tears, but Arthur didn’t let up, the wounds of their past bleeding fresh. "You think I don’t know why? You made the right call, I’ll give you that. But you don’t get to come back now and act like I’m your knight in shinin’ armor. I’m not. And I can’t be."

"Arthur, please," she begged. "You’re still the best man I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t be here asking you if I didn’t believe that."

He shook his head, his frustration boiling over. "You don’t know a damn thing about me anymore. You’re livin’ in some fantasy, Mary. Always have been. This pure life of yours? Your daddy’s still drinkin’ and whorin’ and gamblin’ away your money. Jamie’s nearly run off with some cult, and here you are, beggin’ me to fix it all."

Her lips quivered as she reached for him, but he stepped back, keeping the distance between them. "I’m sorry," she said quietly. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—I didn’t know who else to turn to."

Arthur sighed, his anger giving way to something softer, but no less resolute. He stared at her for a long moment, his voice low but firm when he finally spoke, feeling defeated. "This is the last time we meet like this Mary. I’m done doin’ your family favors."

Her eyes widened as she grasped the weight of his words. "Oh, Arthur…"

"I’ve got my own life to worry about now," he said, gentler but unwavering. "My own family. A woman who’s stood by me, who I’ve got a future with. That’s where I’m puttin’ my focus. Not on what might’ve been."

Mary’s breath hitched, and she turned away. "It wasn’t that I didn’t love you, Arthur," she whispered, thick with emotion. “You know that.” 

"Don’t," Arthur said quickly, voice tightening. "Don’t bring that up now. It’s done. We’re done."

She turned back to him, her expression desperate, but he didn’t waver. "Think of what we had," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Of what could’ve been."

Arthur shook his head, his voice firm even as his heart throbbed. "I’ve spent enough time thinkin’ about that, Mary. Now I’m thinkin’ about what I’ve got. And I’m not gonna throw it away for somethin’ that’s long gone."

Mary lowered her gaze, her fingers twisting together nervously. For a moment, silence fell between them, save for the distant clatter of wagon wheels and the murmur of city life around them. Arthur could see it—the shadow of the young woman she’d been, the glimmer of the love they once shared. That flicker hit him like a punch to the gut, stirring memories he’d buried deep.

He sighed, running a hand over his jaw, trying to shake the ache in his chest. Damn it all to hell, Arthur thought. Why was it always her?

Finally, he let out a long breath and stepped forward, resting a hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly at his touch, then turned to meet his gaze, her eyes hopeful and fragile all at once.

"Fine," Arthur muttered, his tone gruff and tinged with resignation. "But this is the last time, Mary. You hear me? The last damn time."

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a fleeting moment, her face lit up, though the weight of her troubles quickly returned. "Thank you, Arthur," she whispered.

He dropped his hand and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. "Don’t thank me yet. Just tell me what kinda trouble your daddy’s dragged himself into this time."

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Stealing back the Gillis family brooch had proven to be an unseemly task, though far easier than Arthur had expected. The brooch had found its way into the hands of a pompous collector named Mr. Hugo Abernathy, a well-known figure in Saint Denis. Abernathy had a reputation for exploiting desperate gamblers, trading their losses for heirlooms and sentimental trinkets to add to his collection of gaudy treasures. Arthur didn’t know whether the man fancied himself a cultured gentleman or just another leech, but it didn’t matter. He’d made the mistake of crossing paths with Arthur Morgan. As satisfying as it might’ve been to rob the man blind, this wasn’t about profit—it was about keeping his word to Mary, no matter how reluctant he’d been to give it.

By the time Arthur handed over the brooch, the sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across the bustling streets of Saint Denis. He walked Mary back to her hotel, his boots echoing dully against the cobblestone as he turned his thoughts toward camp. Toward Kate.

As if sensing his distraction, Mary broke the silence. “So,” she said lightly, “tell me about this woman who’s tamed your heart.”

Arthur huffed a quiet chuckle. “She’s far from taming it. Hell, I can’t even tame her sometimes.”

Mary laughed softly, but there was something wistful in her tone. “She sounds... spirited.”

“She is,” Arthur said, a rare softness creeping into his voice. “She’s somethin’ else, Mary. She don’t back down from nothing. She’s kind, too, in her own way. Got a way of makin’ me believe I might just be better than I’ve been.”

Mary hesitated, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her face. “And... she doesn’t mind what you do? The outlaw life, I mean. Doesn’t it... bother her? I can’t imagine it’s the life any woman dreams of.”

Arthur’s steps slowed, and his jaw tightened as the words sank in. He stopped, turning to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mary’s eyes widened, realizing her misstep, but she pressed on, perhaps emboldened by old familiarity. “I just mean... I tried to love you, Arthur. I really did. But that life you lead—it consumes everything. I just don’t see how anyone can truly be happy with it. Or with you.”

Arthur’s lips parted slightly, as though the words had struck him like a blow. They pained him deeply, he already struggled with feeling unworthy of Kate’s affections. But it stung especially after what he had just done to save Mary’s family, again. A slow anger began to simmer in his chest. “Kate don’t see it that way,” he said firmly. “She sees me. For who I am. Not for what I’ve done or where I come from.”

Mary faltered, searching for the right response, but her silence said enough.

“That’s the difference, Mary,” Arthur continued, his tone sharpening. “You were always tryin’ to fix me, tryin’ to make me somethin’ I’m not. Kate... she doesn't ask for that. She just—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “She loves me as I am.”

Mary looked away, a flush creeping into her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Arthur. I just... I suppose I wanted to understand what she sees in you. What I couldn’t see.”

Arthur let out a breath, long and heavy. “Maybe that’s just it,” he said quietly. “We were never meant to see eye to eye. You were always lookin’ for somethin’ I couldn’t give, and I was too stubborn to realize it.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the distance between them suddenly feeling insurmountable.

“Thank you,” Mary said finally, her voice soft and resolute. “For everything.”

Arthur nodded, his expression unreadable. “Take care, Mary.” Without another word, he turned and walked away, the sound of his boots fading into the din of the city.

As Arthur mounted Belle and rode back toward camp, a strange weight lifted from his shoulders. It was as though he’d finally closed a door he hadn’t realized had been open for far too long, letting the past linger like a ghost. Mary had been a symbol of what had always been out of reach—a life of quiet respectability, a pure life. A fantasy where he could be the man she thought he should be. But with every step Belle took, the clarity of his feelings grew. 

That life had never been meant for him. Mary had never been meant for him.

Mary had wanted a version of him that didn’t exist, a man who could walk away from the outlaw life and become something proper in the eyes of society. She’d seen his flaws as barriers, challenges to be smoothed over or removed entirely. That his past was something he could simply erase from his identity. She loved the idea of him, not the man himself. 

Kate, on the other hand, had never tried to change him. She had seen him at his worst—bloodied and bruised, hardened by the choices he’d made���and still, she’d chosen to love him. All of him. The good, the bad, and the downright ugly.

Kate didn’t just stand by his side; she rooted herself there in devotion. She didn’t demand perfection or moral absolution. Instead, she accepted the man he was and encouraged the man he was trying to become. She saw the good in him, even when he couldn’t see it himself. Kate understood that his scars, both visible and hidden, were part of what made him who he was. Where Mary had always sought to mend or reshape him, Kate simply held space for him to be, flaws and all. 

As the city lights of Saint Denis faded behind him, Arthur let out a deep breath, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The ache of old memories had dulled, replaced by something warmer, steadier. He thought of Kate’s laugh, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief when she teased him, the strength in her voice when she pushed him to keep fighting for what mattered. She didn’t coddle him or let him wallow in self-pity. She challenged him, called him out, set him straight, and still, she stayed.

The realization struck him like a punch to the gut: Kate was his future. Not some imagined version of himself or a life he could never truly live. Kate was real, and she was waiting for him back at camp.

Arthur urged Belle into a faster trot, eager to leave Saint Denis behind. The past had its place, sure, but it wasn’t where he belonged. Not anymore. For the first time in a long while, Arthur felt certain of his path. His future lay ahead with Kate—and he could hardly wait to seize it.

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The camp was alive with the warm hum of camaraderie as Kate sat cross-legged at the poker table, her cheeks flushed from laughter. The early evening sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over Shady Belle as the group settled into their game. Hosea, ever the charming rogue, shuffled the deck with a flair, his mischievous grin growing as he eyed Kate's rapidly increasing pile of poker chips. 

Charles leaned back in his chair, sipping from a tin cup while Javier and Lenny exchanged jabs, their banter bringing easy laughter to the group.

“Now, Miss Kate,” Hosea drawled, dealing the cards with the finesse of a seasoned cheat, “you’d best not let that pretty smile fool us into thinking you don’t know what you’re doing. Although,” he added, nodding toward her hoard of chips, “I suspect the smile ain’t needed.”

Kate smirked, tossing a couple of chips into the pot. “Oh, trust me, Hosea. I don’t need my pretty smile to clean you out.”

A ripple of laughter swept over the table as Lenny slapped it. “She’s got you there, old man! She’s ruthless.”

“I’ll show you ‘old man,’” Hosea grumbled, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

Charles leaned in, his tone faux-serious. “Or maybe she’s just cheating.”

Kate gasped, placing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “The slander! Lies on my good name!”

“Good practice for tomorrow,” Javier said with a sly grin. “Maybe we should put her at the table instead of Arthur.”

The group erupted in laughter as the game continued, the teasing punctuated by moments of concentration. Kate reveled in the lightheartedness, the warmth of her companions easing the dull fatigue that had lingered all day. The strange dream she’d had still nagged at the edges of her thoughts, but the laughter and camaraderie helped soften its weight.

The sound of hooves approaching broke through the chatter, and all heads turned as Arthur dismounted Belle and strolled toward the group. Kate’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. 

“Arthur!” she greeted warmly, setting her cards down. “You’re back early. I thought you’d be out until dark.”

Arthur tipped his hat to the group, his gaze softening when it landed on her. With a small, fond smile, he bent to tilt back her hat and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, completely unbothered by the amused stares from the others. 

“Figured I’d better get back,” he said, his voice low but full of concern. “How’re you feelin’? Grimshaw ain’t been ridin’ you too hard, has she?”

Kate waved him off, trying to mask her weariness with a smile. “It’s alright, Arthur. Just needed a little rest, that’s all.”

Arthur stepped behind her chair, folding his arms as he watched the game unfold. “You want me to deal you in, son?” Hosea asked with a knowing smirk.

Arthur shook his head. “I’ll pass. Looks like y’all’ve got enough trouble at the table already.”

Three hands later, Arthur couldn’t help but notice Kate placing a high bet despite her lame cards. He frowned, leaning forward. “Hold on. Are you whipsawin’ Hosea?” He whispered loudly. 

Kate froze, turning to glare at him with mock indignation. “Arthur Morgan, I cannot believe you right now.”

The men at the table groaned as Charles threw his cards down. “Told you she was cheating,” he said, laughing.

“How’s she even doing it?” Lenny asked, his curiosity piqued. “You can’t squeeze a player by yourself.”

Kate rose with a huff, tossing her cards on the table and dramatically pointing across at Javier. “Ay, pequeño diablo!” Javier threw his hands up in mock innocence. “I swear, it was her idea!”

Lenny leaned back, shaking his head with feigned annoyance. “Can’t believe you’d do Hosea dirty like that. Poor old man.”

Arthur burst into laughter as realization dawned. “You two teamed up on Hosea? Of all people?”

Hosea chuckled, putting a hand to his heart. “I’m touched, truly.”

Kate grinned, collecting her chips and dumping them in her satchel. “No hard feelings,” she said, pushing in her chair, and flicking her hat in a playful farewell.

“You’ve learned from the best,” Hosea replied with a laugh.

Kate looped her arm around Arthur as he wrapped a hand around her waist. “I think it’s time I turned in,” she said, her voice softening as the laughter behind her began to fade.

“Goodnight, Kate,” Charles said with a small nod, echoed by Lenny and Hosea.

Javier smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Sleep well, card shark. Don’t let Arthur keep you up too late.” He winked playfully, “we got a big day tomorrow.”

Arthur shot him a warning glance but chuckled, steering Kate toward the house. “They’re gonna have your name runnin’ through camp by morning,” he teased.

“Good,” Kate replied with a smirk. “Keeps things interesting.”

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The climb up the creaking, weathered staircase to their bedroom was quiet, the kind of silence that wrapped around two people who didn’t need words to fill the space between them. Arthur walked just behind Kate, his gaze focussed on her every movement. 

Up close he noticed the faint pallor in her cheeks. She was good at hiding it, but he could tell she was still feeling unwell. He ran a hand over his jaw, searching for the right way to bring it up without discouraging her mood. Listening to her laughter and the childish banter with Hosea and the other guys struck a chord in his heart. He didn’t want anything to ruin her happiness. But this next job, coupled with her abating strength loomed over his consciousness. Arthur couldn’t let it go. 

As they reached the landing, Arthur cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “Darlin’, I gotta talk to you about somethin’.” He was soft, cautious, but it was clear this wasn’t something he could brush aside.

Kate stopped just shy of opening the bedroom door, turning to face him with an arched brow. “That sounds ominous.”

Arthur gave her a crooked smile, his hat in his hands, but before he could continue, Kate pushed the door open—and gasped.

Hanging from a shelf inside the room was an elegant black and gold dress, the fabric catching the dim light like liquid fire. Beside it hung a sleek black suit and a matching golden ascot tie—Trelawney’s handiwork, no doubt. Arthur recognized the attire immediately, part of the plan for the riverboat job, and an uncomfortable weight settled in his chest. 

This wasn’t the first risky scheme they’d run, but something about involving Kate this time gnawed at him. The mayor's garden party had been a simple play to gather information. It had gone smoothly enough, but this felt different. The stakes were higher, the dangers more evident. Kate would be shoved in the spotlight. Open, and vulnerable. 

This wasn’t just another job with the gang. In the past, Arthur would dive into missions headfirst, guns blazing and ready to handle whatever chaos came his way. He’d learned to adapt, to put on a show when things went south, always prepared to claw his way out of trouble. But this time was different. This time, he had something to lose.

Kate wasn’t just another member of the gang. She was a light in the darkness, a reason to hope in a world that so often felt too heavy to bear.

Arthur's unease wasn’t just about her safety—it was about what her involvement represented. Every lie, every con, every dangerous move Dutch made, Arthur could swallow it. It was a part of the life he'd chosen. But dragging Kate into that world, risking her for the sake of their schemes, felt like a line he was dangerously close to crossing. One that gambled with her life. 

She deserved better than this, Arthur knew it was not the future he wanted for her. Yet here she was, caught up in it all because of him. Because Kate is too stubborn to let him take on the world alone. The thought of something going wrong made him feel sick. 

Kate stepped forward, running her fingers lightly over the dress, her expression equal parts awe and amusement. “Well, I’ll be damned. Trelawney certainly has an eye for style,” she murmured.

Arthur crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, an eye for flair and trouble. This don’t change how I feel about you being involved in it.”

Kate turned to him, her playful grin fading as she caught the concern etched into his face. “Arthur,” she began softly, already sensing where this was headed, “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that?” he pressed, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “You ain’t been feelin’ fine these past few days. You think I don’t notice how pale you’ve been lookin’, or how you’ve been tryin’ to hide it from me? I’m worried about you.”

“I told you, it’s nothing serious,” Kate said, though the edge in her voice betrayed her. 

“Darlin’, it’s serious to me.” Arthur stated. 

She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Arthur or herself. Her thoughts drifted back to the dream she’d had that morning, the edges of it now hazy, like a half-remembered melody. She could recall flashes—shadows moving like whispers, an overwhelming warmth, and a sense of being drawn toward something she couldn’t quite remember. The dream’s meaning eluded her, slippery and incomprehensible, but it left behind a strange, fluttering feeling in her chest, like the stirrings of anticipation or fear.

Maybe it was just the lingering effects of the fever, or perhaps something more. Kate had noticed subtle changes in her body—a creeping fatigue that left her feeling weaker than usual, a loss of appetite, and persistent headaches that seemed to come and go. She brushed it off as nothing serious, likely just a common cold. After all, a little sickness had never slowed her down before.

She squared her shoulders, meeting his eyes. “I can pull my weight, Arthur. I always have.”

Arthur sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “It ain’t about pullin’ your weight hon. You’ve got nothin’ to prove to me or to anyone else. I don’t want you pushin’ yourself too hard, not for something like this.” He gestured toward the dress, his voice softening. “If somethin’ goes wrong on that boat…”

Kate crossed the room and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “It won’t. Hosea’s got this all planned out to the last detail. I just have to sing a few songs while you win a couple rounds. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

The fact that Kate rehearsed things with Hosea brought him a sense of calm, but still his anxiety festered. Arthur held her gaze, his deep blue eyes searching hers for any hint of doubt.

 “I just hate that Dutch is puttin’ you in the lion's den while your vulnerable. You mean everything to me, Kate,” he said quietly. “I don’t want a future without you in it.”

Kate smiled faintly, her fingers brushing against his cheek as his warm hands enveloped her waist, squeezing them like he was testing if she were real or just his wild imagination.

“I’ll make you a deal, alright?” she resolved. “After this, I’m done. No more schemes, no more jobs. I’ll tell Dutch I’m out of commission.”

Arthur’s lips quirked into a soft smile, though the worry didn’t fully leave his face. She had made up her mind. “I’ll hold you to that,” he muttered, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

She rested her head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding her. “I know you will,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

As they stood in the quiet room, the soft glow of the lantern illuminated the dress and suit like relics from a story neither of them wanted to live, an unwelcome reminder of the weight of the world outside. Arthur tilted his head, his lips brushing against Kate’s hairline with a tenderness that belied the tension coiled in his chest. His hand traced slow, deliberate circles along the small of her back, grounding him as much as it soothed her. 

For a moment, Kate closed her eyes and leaned into him, the warmth of his body chasing away the lingering unease of her dream. Flashes of it teased the edges of her mind—a heartbeat, a pull she couldn’t quite explain. She opened her eyes and pulled back slightly, her hands resting on his chest where she could feel his heart, steady and strong. 

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” she teased, though the mischief in her eyes couldn’t entirely hide the vulnerability beneath. 

Arthur let out a soft snort, his lips quirking into a smirk that made her stomach flutter. “Darlin’, I think you got that backward.” He leaned down to nudge her nose with his, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. “I don't know what a man like me did to deserve a woman like you.”

Her laughter was quiet, intimate, the kind that warmed Arthur to his core and chased away the heaviness he carried. She moved her hands to his shoulders, her fingers tracing the lines of his shirt like she was memorizing him. For a moment, all the worry and fear melted away. 

“You know,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a playful whisper, “you could try on the suit—” She bit her lip, her lashes lowering as she glanced up at him, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.“And recreate that night we had in Saint Denis.” 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, giving her a skeptical look, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. “What, you’re tellin’ me this doesn’t have it’s charm?” He spread his arms wide, gesturing to his body and clothes. His tone was laced with mock arrogance, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed his act.

Kate pressed herself against him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Absolutely,” she murmured, her voice softer now, her lips hovering close to his. Her eyes flicked down to his mouth, her breath mingling with his. “I want you just as you are.”

Arthur’s grin widened, his hands sliding up her sides to cradle her face. His thumbs brushed her cheeks as he leaned closer, his voice a rough murmur. “Then what are we waitin’ for, to hell with the suit.”

Kate didn’t give him a chance to say more. Standing on her toes, she captured his mouth in a kiss, slow and deliberate. Arthur stilled for only a heartbeat, then surrendered, his hands tightening on her waist as he kissed her back with a fervor that made her knees weak. The world outside the room seemed to vanish, the faint sounds of camp life fading into nothing. All that mattered was the way her lips moved against his, the way her fingers tangled in his hair, the way her body molded perfectly to his, like they’d been made for this.

His tongue brushed along her bottom lip, and Kate moaned softly, her hands sliding to his collar to tug him closer. Their movements grew more eager, more desperate, as they peeled away layers of clothing, discarding them without breaking their connection. Arthur felt his need for her aching between his legs, and he couldn’t stop himself from guiding her backward to the cot. He followed her down, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he ground his hips against hers, drawing a breathless gasp from her lips.

Arthur broke the kiss to trail his lips down her neck, his stubble scraping lightly against her sensitive skin. Each kiss was unhurried and reverent, as though he were memorizing her taste. He reached the curve of her collarbone, then lower, his mouth finding a peaked nipple. He captured it between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub, and Kate arched into him, a soft cry spilling from her mouth.

Her fingers tangled in his hair as his kisses continued downward, his warm breath ghosting over her stomach. She shivered beneath him, flashes of her dream surfacing again—the heartbeat, the magnetic pull, the sense of inevitability. When he kissed her navel, she swore she could feel it again, that same unshakable connection.

Arthur paused, his lips hovering over her skin as he looked up at her. “You alright, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice thick with concern and raw desire. His hands caressed her thighs, grounding her in the moment.

Kate laughed breathlessly, her heart racing so fast she thought he might feel it. “I am now,” she whispered, her voice trembling with affection and longing.

Arthur chuckled, low and warm, the sound vibrating against her skin. His hands slid down to lift her thighs, spreading her open for him. She gasped softly as she felt his warm breath against her most sensitive spot, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“I think I can help with that,” he drawled, his grin turning devilish before he lowered his head and pressed a kiss where she needed him most.

Kate’s body tensed at the first touch of his tongue, her head falling back as a moan escaped her lips, unrestrained and raw. That sound, coupled with the sensations Arthur was drawing from her, made her chest tighten with something beyond pleasure. The rhythm from her dream returned, steady and certain, like a heartbeat resonating deep within her soul. It wasn’t just her body responding to him; it was her heart, her entire being. Arthur’s mouth moved with a precision that wasn’t hurried but deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world to explore her, to love her in a way that felt eternal. 

Every touch was a silent vow. A tangible expression of holy devotion, a sacred need that left her trembling beneath him, utterly lost yet feeling more whole than ever.

As the pleasure surged and overwhelmed her, Kate swore she could feel that heartbeat echo in her chest, pulsing with a meaning she didn’t fully understand but instinctively trusted. This moment wasn’t just an escape from the dangers of tomorrow; it was an anchor, a reminder of what truly mattered. What they were fighting for; their future.  Kate cried out his name, the sound trembling with passion and something deeper. Hope. In Arthur’s touch, in his unspoken promises, she knew that whatever lay ahead, there was hope for a future beyond this. For now, she let herself fall into his love, into the steady rhythm that promised her not just comfort but a forever she hadn’t dared to dream of.

AN: I know this chapter and the last one probably feel a little repetitive in the way they're structured; Arthur goes out, Kate is left at camp, and then they come together at night. But I promise the next chapter will include them together. I think you all know what mission is coming up....

Suffice to say, I think I've got the rest of this fic laid out. Well at least I have the bones, I've just been adding the meat as I go along. But it will be 35 chapters, with 2 epilogue chapters (37 total). It feels so far away, yet close at the same time. I wonder if I'll finish this before it hits the one year anniversary in March! ♥️

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

By Camila Tominey,

“Just as I have always admired the seamless way the Duchess of Sussex’s truth has sometimes clashed with fact, so too do I have a grudging respect for Omid Scobie.

"Lest we forget, this is a man who spent a decade raking over celebrities’ private lives for US Weekly, only to brazenly tweet in 2021: “Privacy means freedom from *unauthorised* intrusion. It is the right to choose what you share with others and what you don’t. That’s it!

"At the time, such outbursts left journalists like me in disbelief. Wasn’t this the guy whose entire career was built on analysing snatched paparazzi images of the rich and famous? Imagine our incredulity when Scobie launched into repeated attacks on the very royal press pack he followed around like a puppy. I saw with my own eyes how he tried to muscle in on the rota system in a bid to gain access to the very members of the Royal family he now seeks to trash in his second book, Endgame, which hit bookshelves on Tuesday.

"You have to admire the brass neck of the bloke, you really do. I remember one incident on a royal tour when he was literally begging me to tell him the sources of my various royal scoops. And to think he’s now so reluctant to discuss his own! Who on Earth could they be, I wonder?

"Perhaps the most amusing thing about Endgame is how much this fearless journalist gets wrong in his tireless pursuit of Meghan’s truth. “Palace aides were racking their brains to remember the ‘five’ private secretaries who have come and gone from the Duchess of Cambridge’s office (there have been three). And contrary to the claim ‘you’d be unlikely to read about it in any British newspaper’, The Telegraph reported on exactly that staffing issue last week.

"Hey, but why let facts get in the way of a good story? In one passage, I am described as The Telegraph’s Royal Editor – which I’m not and never have been. Referring to a piece I had written about the now infamous dog bowl incident, in which I suggested that it showed how much love William has for his little brother that he felt the need to physically wrestle him to the ground, Scobie comments that I sound like the “excuses of domestic abusers everywhere.”

"Domestic abuse? Is that what we are calling sibling rivalry these days? We are now being asked to believe that it was a “translation error” that the names of two “alleged” royal racists had been left in the now-pulled Dutch copies of Endgame – even though they were completely absent from the English version. And we’re supposed to accept this narrative even after Scobie had bragged on US television that he knew the names of both alleged racists?

"You know, I really thought I’d seen it all when Meghan told Oprah, with a straight face, that the Archbishop of Canterbury had married them three days before their official wedding ceremony; that she’d had her passport confiscated only to jet off on multiple holidays; that Kate had made her cry and not the other way round.

"I thought I’d heard it all when “sources” close to these two multi-millionaires (who were still receiving a £700,000 allowance from the King after Megxit) revealed the couple were so “desperate” they had no choice but to sign deals with Netflix et al – even though we know they were speaking to streaming companies as early as 2018, a whole two years before they stepped down as “working” members of the Royal family.

"I thought I’d heard it all when Scobie, of all people, claimed to be both a champion of privacy and an accountable press, only to publish not one, but two completely unauthorised intrusions into the lives of the Royal family so lacking in balance as to be laughable. We must believe all victims of bullying, insists Scobie (who was comforted by Meghan when he copped the kind of flak we all get, day in and day out on social media), except when they’re accusing the Sussexes of it. You really couldn’t make it up."

Thanks!

[upat4amwiththemoon]

IN LOVE WITH GROUP PROJECT, please please do a second part, and if you don’t want to include this topic in the second part could you do another high school fic whit angst and fluff like some of Wanda Nara group friends are mean to reader and something happens but happy ending. Sorry I just want a good high school fic but I can never find good ones. Loveeee❤️❤️❤️❤️

Group project | part 2

Summary: Proximity warms hearts.

Pairing: WandaNat x female!reader

Warnings: bullying, some angst

Word count: 1226

a/n: I’d suggest reading part one of Group project before you read this!

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @emsmultiverse

masterlists | quidelines

All parts: part 1, part 2

“We’ll meet you at chemistry class, okay sweets?” Wanda smiles, kissing Y/N’s cheek before dropping her hand from her waist.

Natasha grabs her chin and kisses her lips quickly. “Gotcha.” Y/N giggles, slowly backing away from them. “See you later.” She waves and walks through the other students.

After few months of serious dating, the three of them decided to make their relationship officially public, before that, only Kate and Yelena knew.

As expected, not everyone thinks it’s a good relationship, but so far they haven’t gotten any significant trouble. Only minor comments and shoves in the school hallways, which were all received by Y/N. Technically, Wanda and Natasha still don’t know about any of it. She intends to keep it that way.

The smile on Y/N’s face fades quickly when she arrives to her locker. Some people have formed a ring around it, most of them snickering, others just staring at Y/N silently as she pushes through them. Her heart jumps up to her throat.

There are papers taped to the door of her locker with big, bold, red letters on it.

SLUT

HOMEWRECKER

Her eyes widen and there’s a sudden sick feeling in her stomach as tears start gathering in her eyes. Her lower lips starts quivering and the snickers get louder in her head.

Y/N rips the papers off of the door before practically running out of the school. Feeling humiliated, she really doesn’t want to be around anyone. On the way out, she sees a group of Wanda and Natasha’s friends very clearly laughing at her.

That’s when the tears finally fall. She figured they weren’t the most supportive of their relationship considering all the dirty looks she received from them, but she never knew they’d go this far.

Gripping the handles of her backpack, Y/N starts running when she finally gets outside. She runs all the way to her dorm. There she throws her bag to the ground and crawls under her cover, where she just cries.

After an hour of crying, there are no more tears to cry in her. Y/N is just laying on her bed, staring at the wall in front of her.

However, it gets interrupted by knocks on the door, and then the sound of a key being put into the lock. Which lets Y/N know it’s Kate. She’s the inly one besides her who has a key into their dorm.

“Y/N?” Kate’s voice is quiet. She closes the door and takes of her shoes before walking inside. “Are you awake?”

Y/N gives no indication of hearing her.

Kate sits down to her bed and sets a hand carefully to her side, her thumb rubbing it in a hopefully comforting manner. “I heard what happened. I’m so sorry, Y/N/M, you don’t deserve any of that.” She stays quiet for a moment. “Yelena is definitely going to beat up whoever did this.”

“It was their friends.” Her voice cracks and it’s weak from all the crying. “Wanda and Natasha’s.”

Kate frowns. “Which ones?” Y/N just shrugs, not feeling like talking anymore. Rapid knocking comes from the door. With a sigh, Kate gets up and cracks the door open. The moment she sees Y/N’s girlfriends behind the door, she steps to the hallway and closes the door behind her.

“We heard what happened.” Wanda starts, there’s clear worry on her face. “Can we see her?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not now at least.”

Natasha furrows her brows. “She’s our girlfriend and she is upset.”

“And I am her best friend of many years, I’m deciding what’s best for now. So, I say, now is not a good time.” Kate repeats, her voice set. “Do you know who did it?” They shake their heads. “Figure it out. It was your friends who did it.”

“What?”

Kate doesn’t let them continue, she just goes back inside and closes the door in their faces. Going back to the bed, she lays down behind Y/N, pulling her close against her chest.

They stay there for the rest of the day.

Kate is shuffling around the dorm, cleaning it up while Y/N is finally getting proper rest. The last two days have been full of staring at the wall in silence and crying, with Yelena popping in at times to bring food for the two.

While Kate is throwing useless papers into the trash, a knock comes from the door. With a sigh, she goes to open it. “Please let us see her.” Natasha says before the door is even fully open.

“Fine,” Kate puts on her shoes to give the three of them some privacy, “but she hasn’t really been talking.”

“Thank you.” Wanda says as they step inside. “Has she eaten?”

“Barely.” Is the last word before Kate leaves the dorm, shutting the door behind her.

Natasha and Wanda walk deeper into the room, careful not to step on anything or make any sudden loud noises. They notice the Y/N sized lumped on her bed, completely under the cover. Wanda goes to sit by her feet, setting one of her hands on Y/N’s leg.

“Hey.” Wanda whispers, rubbing her leg. “How are you feeling?”

Y/N shrugs.

”We, uhm,” Natasha sits by Y/N’s head, “we found out who did it.” She starts explaining, her voice gentle. “It was people on our friend group, Peggy, Pepper and Tony basically planned it.” Clearing her throat, she moves the cover out of Y/N’s head. “We’re so sorry this happened, we didn’t know they’d do something like that.”

“They’re your friends.” Y/N whispers.

”Not anymore.” Wanda assures her, climbing over Y/N so she can lay down opposite of her. “We would never want to be friends with people who are being mean to you.” She strokes Y/N’s cheek.

Natasha lays down behind Y/N, so the two are sandwiching her. “Have they ever done something like this before?” She starts playing her hair, a gentle smile appearing on her lips when Y/N leans towards her touch.

“Sometimes they give me dirty looks, or shove me around the halls.” She explains quietly, averting her eyes more over Wanda rather than to her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I didn’t think it was a big deal.” She shrugs. “They’re your friends.”

Sighing, Natasha pulls Y/N closes to kiss the top of her head. “People who hurt you are not our friends, okay? You gotta tell us if something like this happens.”

Y/N hums. She snuggles closer to the both of them, pushing her head to Wanda’s neck. “I’m sorry.” Her voice gets muffle by Wanda’s hair.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Wanda wraps both of her arms around her. “It wasn’t your fault. We are sorry for not noticing this earlier and we’ve dealt with it.”

”Promise you’ll tell us if something like this happens again.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Natasha puts her arm over both Y/N and Wanda. “We should get you something to eat.”

“Can we sleep first?”

Wanda hums in confirmation, having already closed her eyes. Natasha chuckles at the two, they’ve always been the tired ones. She decides to stay awake and order food to the dorm while the two start sleeping.

[for-ships-that-never-sail]

Okay Y'ALL I saw Episode 5 today and these are the thoughts I jotted down while watching it (PART 2 OF 2)

Please don’t read below the cut if you are avoiding spoilers until you get to watch it yourself 

And FYI some of these may not have any context, but I guess it won’t matter cause you’ll have context in 7ish hours anyway (also sorry about how long all my thoughts and feelings are lol)

Awh Kate you’re so pretty - kinda weird to see her so chill though - she was so stressed all of season 2 that seeing her so serene is throwing me off tbh - I am so happy for you though my love

Also her outfit that looks like a sari is soooo gorgeous I WANTTTT

Love the cinnamon biscuits vs fruit jellies bit

Portia ma'am please listen to Varley FFS

lol I hope they did in fact fuck again like she wanted

Ugly crying at MY MESSSSSS

PARIS? oufff I love how comfortable she is, just casual teasing chit chats with bestie

“Undefended”? Charlotte needs a different hobby pleaseeee

LOLLLLL when did Penelope learn to do her hair and makeup by herself???? Cause there’s no fucking way she would’ve looked THAT fucking good after alllll of that lol

We were going to be KNIGHTS!! OMG sweet babiessss

“as much as I do” I can’t even blame anyone for anything they’ve done or said so far tbh 

This is such nuanced writing — I understand exactly where pretty much everyone is coming from and that’s really nice tbh 

Omg they really do want Cressida to marry a dinosaur 

WTF Cressida you do you girl fuck shit up for Penelope I don’t even care do whatever you have to do and go all out and save yourself cause no one else will I’m so sorry you were ever put in this position  

We have been acting uncouth AS OF LATE??? as of late????!? Omggg Portia girl pleaseeeee you had ONE job and you’re just gonna pass the buck to your daughters instead? STAHP own up to your shit cause you knowwww they bully her because youuu bullied her and the gall to say this is just happening LATELY on top lmao 

Though like in her eyes I always do see remorse too - I think she just lacks courage to ever really own up to everything in full because she’s just so guarded 

Honestly this is such stellar acting 

And also like, Penelope, most of you is your mom my girl - your brains, your overthinking, your inability to just say Yuh I done fucked up my bad lol 

Greg’s hat

Yesssss lord Kent find you some Bridgerton besties 

I actually do love Portia - yeah she’s been a colossal dick of a mom to Pen but as complex women go, I get her - If she makes amends with Pen for them daily microaggressions and general abuse one day, for real for real, she’d be really great 

Omg Mama B and Lady D are such big shippers - wish they didn’t fully cut out the Lady D stuff from the books though le sigh 

Eloise has a point - I agree - she had lotsss of alone time to say it - I understand Pens fear completely, but she must realize that her saying this is still soooo much better than him having to find out on his own - and there is no way he wouldn't - and he’d be more hurt by that part than the actual LW part I think and honestly Eloise is right about her being involved in that painful deception too, I wouldn’t want my own brother to feel betrayed by me like that either, given how often he wished LW ill out loud - and the longer Pen stays quiet the more guilty Eloise becomes as a sister too - If anything her not immediately snitching makes her moreee team Pen than team Colin - this is still a lowkey loyalty to Pen for sure - I think I may have issued this same ultimatum under these conditions too

Omggg JOHNNNNNN stop he’s having a panic attack why did Fran put him on the spot like thissss????

“As you rightly mocked me last season” lolllll

Awh Colin and the toast 

Eloise should nottttt have done her second toast - now THAT part was uncalled for, but I guess they want to keep the stress levels high 

Lmao Kate to the rescue 

I loveeeee how close they are sitting in public - but like… does nooooo one else see this??? Hips glued together? Hands holding??? Just out in the open?? No one thinks this is insanely intimate for a newly engaged couple of the ton??? Even if it’s a love match? None of the older women are clocking this and saying 1. Sit the fuck apart 2. Did yall fuck already cause yall look like you fucked and we don’t even have a wedding date set yet??? Are you not going to even ask for a special license?? You just want her to pop a baby before she technically should and cause more drama?? Like who is in charge of all these fools?? Mama B what is you doing??? Do you not think Colin is being a nasty girl with his wife-to-be?? lol

Lol Anthony I love you, you competitive lil bitch 

Lmaooooo Eloise and Penelope being the smartest bitches of the ton YESSSS

Portia trying to show where Pen's brain comes from lol

Muddy boots panic again 

LMFAOOOOOOO Mama B your face is going a mile a minute right now listening to the muddy boots

"I saw straight away" OH MY FROHN you will end me one day

Pen get your shit together pls grab a brown paper bag or smthn 

Oooohhhhh fuck I get itttttt

Cressida girl my bad I get ittttttt sooooo much more - I didn’t fully understand her thought process behind what we already knew she was gonna do until just nowwww - they really set it up for her well - girl needed an exit and everyone fully offered her one - I have no issues with this at all tbh 

Omg omg this is the most chaotic midnight strike of all time like 6 different things happened at the same time???? 

Well that was some good old fashioned Bridgerton CHAOS Hope y'all enjoyed it too!!!! LESS THAN 8 HOURS TO GOOOOOOOOOO

[sokoneedsagun]

Giving batfam songs I think fit them and they would like

Bruce- Lithium by Nirvana (I have to)

(Ok so tumblr seems to really hate links to nirvana songs, so I’m sorry but Bruce won’t have a link, the song shouldn’t be hard to find if you want to find it)

(This is my third time typing this, sorry if it seems like I’m annoyed while I am, tumblr is being fucking stupid tonight) I picked the song lithium for Bruce because of a few lines in particular. The song itself is about a man who is depressed and finds god, but to me it represents how Bruce became Batman and what it did for him. “And just maybe I’m to blame for all I’ve hurt, but I’m not sure” can represent how Bruce hurts his friends and family by doing what he does as Batman, but often doesn’t realize the extent of it, he doesn’t know if he should be blaming himself because he doesn’t know how much he’s hurting them. “Light my candles in a daze, cause I found god” could easily be about how at this point he doesn’t think about being Batman, he just is. Finally “I missed you, I’m not gonna crack” to me is about his no killing rule. Even with how much he misses and loves his parents and kids (especially Jason) after their deaths he refuses to kill, he misses and loves them but he won’t crack.

Dick- Mama by My Chemical Romance

I picked this one for Dick because the song is about a solider going off to war, and when they come home their mother is horrified by the atrocities committed by her child. I think that could fit both Dick and his parents and Dick and Bruce. Dick’s biggest fear is disappointing Bruce, and if Bruce were to find out some of the things Dick has done that’s exactly what would happen. One of Dicks first thoughts after the blockbuster incident is what Bruce would say.

Babs- Malibu by Hole

The song is about how Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain used to talk about leaving LA to go move to Malibu together and get away from it all, and it kind of reminds me of Barbara and Dick, because neither of them would walk away, but I think there would be times they talked about it, but also I think a lot of hole songs would fit Barbara in general.

Jason- Bullet With Butterfly Wings by The Smashing Pumpkins

“Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage, someone will say ‘what is lost can never be saved’” and “tell me I’m the only one, tell me there’s no other one, Jesus was an only son” (and “Jesus was an only son for you) are enough to explain why this fits Jason. (Alternatively for a younger Jason, army dreamers by Kate Bush)

Cass- The Garden by The Crane Wives

Truly if you haven’t listened to this song you really should, the crane wives are an amazing band and so many of their lyrics just read as poetry. But I picked this song for Cass specifically because of the lines “the crows in the garden are laughing at my expense” “hold your light to the darkness in my brain, put your ear to my heart or set your teeth against my throat” or “my darling, the devil knows my name.” To me as a whole the song represents the way that Cass has spent so much of her life being used for others gain (mostly by her father), the line about the darkness in the singers mind reminds me of the fact that Cass doesn’t think of herself as a good person, which is why I think the line is fitting.

Tim- Boys Don’t Cry by The Cure

Tim has had a long history of going through extremely traumatic things but refusing to feel the emotions that come with it, that coupled with the misogynistic writers for Tim Drake in the 90’s made me pick this for him. The lines “I would do most anything to get you back by my side” or “but I know that it’s too late and now there’s nothing I can do, so I try to laugh about it cover it all up with lies” really represented the grief he’s had to go through with loosing friends and family for me.

Steph- give me Novocain/ she’s a rebel by Green Day

Both of them work for Steph really fucking well and I’ve said the she’s a rebel thing before the post just got no notes, both songs are also incredibly underrated and glossed over and so is Steph. (Alternatively so nice, so smart by Kimya Dawson, although to me that more represents her relationship with Tim)

Duke- Class of 2013 by Mitski

Duke lost his family at a young age, he lost the security of having someone to take care of him. Then he had to lead a revolution again, as a child. “Mom, I’m tired, can I sleep in your house tonight?” Represents that to me, because I think after it all that’s what he would want, he would want his family after being as tired as he is. “And I’ll leave what I’m chasing for the other girls to pursue” is also fitting because people refuse to even acknowledge that Duke counts as a Robin. They don’t include him and I doubt that they have many plans to. They want him to leave behind signal and Robin for the rest of his siblings to pursue.

Damian- Bigmouth Strikes Again by The Smiths

Damian has long since been a martyr for both the writers and fandom. He’s constantly used for the benifit of others while also being told he’s a brat or a demon or whatever else anyone would like to call him, he’s a child. He does know how Joan of Ark felt, he’s a child constantly being victimized by people who should be protecting him. The line “and I’ve got no right to take my place to the human race” also fits him in my opinon due to his struggle with finding a way to fit in, in not only Gotham but his own family.

Harper- the kids aren’t alright by Pinkshift

I think the song itself fits Harper’s general attitude towards a lot of things, plus it seems like something she would listen to. But the lines “is it the cramps or was my life always this bad? I don’t know if I’ll ever make it to the other side where sky’s are blue and I don’t have to pay to stay alive” specially were what made me pick it for Harper.

Kate- Topless by The Malefactors

I think this song fits Kate really well, a lot of it has to do with her sexuality and how I interpret the lyrics. Specifically “I think you’re pretty when you’re topless, you know the law can never stop us.” Or “you know I love it how we play friends.”Fits Kate because the law didn’t stop her, she got kicked out of West Point because she refused to hide who she was. Also “I think you love it when I’m upset, like I love your fucking pessimistic mindset” fits her relationship with Renee (Montoya) very well.

This took me forever to type so I hope it turned out ok and I explained everything well, if you disagree that’s fine, you’re allowed to, just don’t be rude about it

[hopepaigeturner]

How would you like the writer of Bridgerton to write Bath scene in AOFAG if s4 is going to be Benedicts season

For the most patient nonny who must have waited atleast a year for me to answer this. I present...

An Offer From An Avid Reader: The Bath Scene.

That's right, it's finally here. All 4000 words of it.

NOTE: I do not write smut, however this has some heavy implications of sexy shenanigans so I am rating this a 15+

Right, let's get to it.

✨The Context✨

This is not necessarily a scene, but more the 'bath sequence' as I shall call it for there are some humorous asides that add to the bathroom scene itself.

Also, as in the books, this scene takes place after the jail scene, but there are a couple tweaks:

The bath scene takes place at Bridgerton House not at Benedict’s bachelor lodgings. It takes place in a bathroom that is connected to two rooms that used to be Eloise’s and Francesca’s shared bathroom.

My jail-break scene is split into two so it’s not an info dump. So what’s happened is all the elements of the jail scene: Benophie reunites, the impromptu proposal, Posy swooping in and saving everyone while the magistrate slowly loses the will to live…But no Violet vs. Araminta showdown. Araminta hasn’t been blackmailed—sorry persuaded—to keep Sophie’s heritage a secret or announce her as legitimate.

Therefore, Benophie are still headed towards their original destination—living a modest life after being cast out by polite society, due to the indecency of Sophie’s heritage.

Finally, pre-jail scene, the last scene Benophie would have been in together was the sofa scene (read part 1 here, and part 2 here). They literally haven’t talked since then other than Benedict sending Sophie a letter she never read.

Hence this scene is still romantic, and will get steamy, but also a lot of unresolved conflict will be sorted out. And starting out both Ben and Sophie haven’t really been able to calm down over the last two days…

✨The Scene✨

Kate is the one who finally shoos everyone out of the bathroom after noticing how Sophie is utterly overwhelmed.

Sophie finally shuts the doors and rests her head on them. The viewer sees unshed tears in her eyes as the emotions of the last couple hours—and even the last few days—threaten to burst out of her.

Then she hears a knock from the other side of the bathroom.

“Sophie?”

Sophie almost seems to collapse in relief, instantly drawn to the other side of the bathroom.

“Benedict?”

“I am here.” The camera switches to the other side of the door, where Benedict stands. Benedict puts a hand on the wood. “I do not need to come in, but I just…” he puts his head on the door.

The camera shows both sides of the door, Benophie pressed up against each side in mirror positions--a slab of wood preventing them from resting their foreheads on each other. Just as they were at the end of the sofa scene.

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe…that you were…” Benedict’s voice catches on the thousand scenarios still reeling in his head, “that you were here.”

“I am here.”

“I know. I know.” Ben’s smile is small but fleeting. He takes a shuddering breath. “I shall leave you and give you some peace—”

“Please do not leave me,” Sophie says her voice small, but sure. “Please come in.” And with that she unlocks the door.

Benedict stares at the door. A door that Sophie has chosen to unlock—for him.

With reverence, he walks in to find Sophie some paces away, her dressing gown clutched around her.

For a moment they stare, then they soften. And then there is a blur and they are in each other’s arms, tears streaming down both their faces. With Benedict buried in the crook of her shoulder crying.

“I am so sorry, I am so sorry.”

They separate slightly, foreheads pressed together, eyes still closed.

“No, I should be the one apologising…”

“No, no I must apologise.” Benedict says, his voice clogged with unshed tears, “I told you that I would protect you, I promised to keep you safe and I could not, she…she could have…” he shudders, “I am so sorry.”

“Benedict, Benedict, no.” Sophie cradles his head in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You came back for me, you rescued me.”

Benedict shakes his head,

“Posy was far more significant in that matter.”

“That is not what I meant.” Sophie takes his hand and places it on her heart. “You saved me here. Your love…your words…your deeds helped me.”

Sophie herself shudders as she recounts,

“Before you arrived, Araminta found me, and she taunted me with all her usual tricks and barbs that she has inflicted upon me since I was a child. And in the past, they have worked…you see, for my entire life, all those who were supposed to love me, would always step away: my father, Araminta and my stepsisters. And I would try so, so hard, but all I seemed to do was make people miserable and I think…” Sophie’s voice becomes clogged, but she continues, “I think I started to believe a long, long time ago that I could not be worthy of love, that I did not…that such things could not be for someone like me.”

“That is not true—”

Sophie puts her fingers on his lips and Benedict stills.

“I am coming to understand that. I am starting to believe so…and part of that is because of you.”

Benedict shakes his head emphatically, Sophie smiles.

“I said part, not the whole. What you did, as you do for so many others, is help me unveil the truth within myself. And the truth within myself is that…” Sophie smiles brilliantly, “I am more than a bastard. I am a woman with convictions. I am a woman who is kind regardless of the consequences or my past. I am a dear friend and confidante. And I am loved. I am loved by Ginny and your sisters and Kate and your mother and the servants like Mrs Gibbons and you…I am loved by you.

You, who has never stepped away from me but always embraced me. You, who loved me in a silver dress and then again in a maid’s uniform. You, who still rushed into a prison even after my cowardice spurned you so deeply. So, when Araminta lashed me with those old insults and barbs, I saw them clearly for the first time—as lies—just as I saw myself as clearly as well. I am Sophia Maria Beckett, the woman who loves and the woman who is loved. And your words helped me come to that conclusion, even if they were only one piece of the puzzle. So, there is no need to apologise, only for you to receive my gratitude and my love.”

She continues to smile, while Benedict gapes.

“You are a marvel,” Benedict breathes, eyes filled with wonder. “And there are so many reasons why I love you. But one of the things I love best, is that you know yourself. You have principles, you have spirit and a strength that is ever so rare.” He touches her delicately, not because she is so brittle that she will break, but because she is the most precious of jewels, “I am sorry for asking you to be my mistress.”

“You have already apologised.”

“Not truly, nor sincerely.”

“And what else was a man of your position to do?”

“While that may be true it was not fair, especially when I was so pig headed at hearing your refusal.  You were correct, I was ignorant of our positions. I would die before sharing you, so why should I have expected you to share me when I was forced to marry?”

“In a perfect world we could have married, we could have just been Sophie and Benedict. But in this world men like you do not marry—”

“None of what I said weeks ago, in my lodgings, have changed. I do not care that we cannot live in London, I do not care what Lady Penwood might spread or what doors are barred to us. Over these past days, these past weeks, the conviction that first whispered on my heart has been carved deeper and deeper; that when I think about what I need in my life—not want but need—all I think of is you. Only you, it always has and will always be, you.”

It is Sophie’s turn to stare, her eyes widening to drink in a new expanse of emotion, just as her heart tries to hold the enormity of his words. But his words are like monsoon rain on parched land, and so, her eyes water.

Benedict softly wipes the tears away and Sophie can smile. 

“Such sentiment explains your little announcement.”

“I know I was presumptuous in the jail, and you deserve much more—”

“Benedict—” She holds his face, “I wish to marry you also. I love you, only you.”

Benedict’s breath hitches, before he sweeps her in his arms.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, so, so much,” he cries as Sophie giggles in his arms. “You make me the happiest man alive.”

Benedict surges up and kisses her and with a final spin they return to the ground. Although they stay clasped together, rocking in the momentum of that joy, the surety of their love finally realised. Benedict buries his nose in the crook of her shoulder, inhaling the presence of her. And as he inhales, his nose scrunches…

“Sophie, I love you,”

“Mhmm.”

“But you do smell.” He whispers, kissing her cheek. Sophie pulls away and sniffs her shoulder.

“Oh gosh, I do! Well, that is what sleeping on the floor for two days does for you.”

At his stricken face she says, a little quieter,

“One day we shall laugh about it.”

“But not quite yet,” Benedict replies softly.

“Not quite yet.” She kisses him softly before extracting herself, looking over to the bath. “Oh, there are bubbles!” she turns to him with a childish awe, “I have never had a bath with bubbles before.”

Benedict smiles. They will probably never joke about her past—but he could ensure that the rest of her life would be full of laughter and love.

Sophie goes up to the bath, her hands fiddling with the tie of the dressing gown. Benedict turns away.

“That is very gallant of you.”

“I am a gentleman.”

“I would not mind; you are to be my husband after all.”

Benedict scrunches his eyes shut and almost groans, his resistance waning. Perhaps the audience might see him mouthing:

You are a gentleman. You are a gentleman.

“This is my mother’s house,” he manages to choke out.

“As you desire.”

He hears the thump of the dressing gown, the ripple of her limbs entering the water and he bites his lips to keep himself in check. But, he cannot restrain his eyes from wandering over his shoulder…

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

“I am glad that all is well,” Kate sighs, resting on Anthony as they stand with the rest of the family in Bridgerton House’s parlour.

“Yes, Sophie is safe,” Anthony replies, fingers idly tracing up and down Kate’s spine. “And they shall be happily married,” he acknowledges Kate’s raised eyebrow. “With the family’s blessing and my own. But we must prepare for the oncoming storm. I doubt Lady Penwood is a woman who enjoys being thwarted nor hesitates from ensuring she has the final word.”

“There must be some way to mitigate the damage…” Kate falls silent for a moment. Then she perks up, her eyes sparkling, “I have an idea—I must go talk to your mother.” She kisses his cheek and rushes over to Violet. Anthony watches on baffled, as his mother and wife start a hushed, but fervent, conversation. In curiosity he walks closer.

Just then a maid, Nadia, enters the room with a gown. Only then does Kate break from the conversation to nod at the dress.

“Very good, Nadia. Take it up to the Lady Francesca’s old room, for Miss Beckett is bathing in the rose bathroom.” The maid curtsies then exits.

“The rose bathroom?” Violet asks, brow furrowed. “Not the jasmine bedroom? Is that not our best spare room?”

“No, Anthony directed the servants to ready a bath in the rose bathroom for some reason…” Kate trails off, then turns to her husband. “Anthony, why did you not send the servants to the jasmine bedroom?”

Anthony gulps.

“I just…it was the first thought in my head,” he rambles.

“And why should Sophie be relegated to the opposite wing of the house?” Eloise pipes up. “She is to be family; it makes perfect sense for her to be in the family wing. I do not mind sharing the bathroom once more, after all, Frannie and I managed for years.”

His mother turns to Anthony with accusatory eyes. A look that was always followed by an admonishing ‘Anthony!’ ever since he could reach his father’s knee. Anthony swallows thickly.

“Come to think of it--where is Benedict?” Colin asks, sharing a conspirators look with his wife.

“I sent him to rest. He has not slept these last two days,” Anthony tries to ignore how pitchy his voice sounds.

“Anthony!” His mother cries.

“Ah a wise decision. I am sure, Benedict is in need of some…relaxation.”

“Colin Bridgerton!” Violet cries.

“All I am saying is that after everything, the poor pair deserve a little…release.” Colin shrugs, getting a muffled scoff from Penelope whose eyes are alit with delight.

“Oh, I cannot believe you all,” Their mother grouses, pulling up her gloves as if going into battle. Indeed, she starts to stalk out of the room.

Thankfully, Kate arrests her before she can exit.

“Violet, you must allow it, just this once.”

“What exactly is happening? Do I need to go and check on Sophie?” Eloise cries, standing to attention.

“There is no use. Knowing Benedict, it would be unwise to appear unannounced,” Colin continues, Penelope barely able to hide her giggles behind her teacup. “Goodness knows what position they shall be in.”

Penelope spits out her tea.

“Colin Bridgerton!”

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

Sophie blows softly, and the pile of bubbles in her hand disperses into the air.

“Lean forward, please.” She obeys and allows Benedict to rinse the rest of the soap off her back. Then she hums as his hands start massaging her shoulders.

“Hmmm, this feels wonderful.”

“I am glad. Can I wash your hair?”

“Ofcourse.”

“Dunk please.”

Sophie obeys, eyes shutting, body loosening. She lifts up and Benedict starts to create a lather of soap in her hair, the movement of his hands hypnotic. All adding to the gentle, warm lull of the atmosphere. Sophie takes a sniff of her hair.

“Better than lake water?” Benedict asks with a grin, recalling that day on the lake all those months ago.

“Absolutely—lavender, pretty.” Sophie grins up at him, before dunking her hair and washing the soap from it.

"Your hair used to be longer," Benedict muses, hands running through the wet strands. Sophie closes her eyes and tips her head back into his touch.

"It was, but I had to sell it to a wigmaker."

Benedict's hands retreat. Sophie lifts her head up--slightly bewildered--until Benedict gently turns her face to him, staring deep into her eyes.

"You will want for nothing," Benedict says, as solemn as a vow, and Sophie's throat burns with emotion. Her hand reaches out to trace the curve of his cheek, her own words just as weighty,

"As long as I have you, I will want for nothing."

“You have me, heart and soul.”

“As you have me, heart and soul.”

The solemnity warms until they are smiling sweetly at one another, Sophie gently leans in and kisses him.

“Are you sure you do not wish to get in?”

“Absolutely not, I am quite enjoying myself here.” Benedict grins then returns to his prior position, “I like pampering you.” At this he starts massaging her again, causing Sophie to moan slightly.

“You must be careful, Mr Bridgerton, otherwise I might want such treatment every night of our marriage.”

“And I would gladly do so. But is there anything else you want Mrs Bridgerton?”

“What else could I want? What else could we want?”

“Well…I want to spend an afternoon by a lake. You would be reading, I would be sketching, and whenever we got too warm we would slip into the water to cool off.” His voice pitches low, “then I would carry you from the water and make love to you on the shore.”

Sophie tries to swallow her flush,

“You have given this a lot of thought.”

“I have had a thousand nights of dreams about my Lady in Silver,” he kisses one shoulder, “and Sophie Beckett,” he kisses the other shoulder.

Sophie’s breath catches, her eyes fixed in the distance—as if looking at a shimmering future that she can finally believe is no longer a mirage.

“Tell me more,” she whispers, hoarsely.

“I want to hold your hand in the street and in church, and in the market, where I buy you pretty ribbons for your hair. I want to bring you breakfast in bed.”

“Misshapen eggs?”

Benedict chuckles,

“Misshapen eggs and all.” He replies, then turns a little more solemn, eyes lost in the future he paints with his words,

“I want to go on rambling walks where the conversation never ends. I want us to come home to our little cottage or flat or whatever home we can afford, and dance together in our kitchen,” he swallows thickly, “I want to hold you as the embers die down in the fireplace, and I want to wake up next to you every morning even when we’re grey or we only have a couple moments before our children jump on the bed. I want to love you more and more every day and take care of you and give you anything you want.” His hands tremble with emotion, like his voice. “That is what I want…So, what is it you want?” he kisses below her ear, looking at her.

Sophie’s eyes shiver in the silence, she plays with some errant bubbles floating in the water.

“You have such a way with words and I…” her voice dies down, “it has been a long time since I have been allowed to want, let alone been asked.”

Benedict’s eyes soften with understanding. Gently he tilts her chin up.

“It does not need to be much or many, just whatever is on your heart.”

Sophie lingers in the sincerity of his eyes, far more powerful orators than his beautiful poetry. So, haltingly, she starts,

“I want to be loved. I want to love…I want to wake up in your arms every morning with the knowledge that I am safe. I want to laugh. I want to be held and comforted no matter how violent the storm. I want our children to be smothered in love and never know what it is to be hungry or cold or unwanted. I want to be by your side as your talent grows and love you through all manner of strife. I want a life with you by my side, whether we live in a palace or a poorhouse. I just want you.”

Benedict swoops down for a plundering kiss that spins the world around them. When they break Benedict whispers,

“I will give you all of it.” His voice rumbles against her lips. “You deserve the world, my goddess, my Queen.”

“I do not want the world; I just want Benedict.”

He moans at that, and they kiss once more, Sophie lifting herself out of the bathtub to gain purchase. Both are gasping when they part, and the words fall out of Sophie’s mouth.

“I want you to join me.”

Benedict's eyes darken, his smirk widening as he stands and turns away to strip.

"I would like to watch".

Benedict looks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow. Sophie swallows, then stares him down with a burning intensity that is starting to settle in her stomach.

"I want to watch you."

So, he turns, and slowly unbuttons his shirt, basking in Sophie’s lascivious gaze as he moves to snapping off his breeches before unthreading the buttons of his breeches. Before the final button he looks at Sophie for permission, she nods.

Then he is bare, and her breath hitches.

“I assume this is the first one you have seen?”

Sophie nods mutely.

“The first you will touch?”

She nods.

“The first you will take?”

Sophie nods, eyes wide.

“As long as it will fit.”

Benedict kisses her gently, and ensures she looks him in the eye when he says,

“You lead, I follow. Whatever you want, whenever you want, at your pace. But I can promise,” a kiss on her jaw. “that on our wedding night,” a kiss on the corner of her mouth, “I will be gentle, so all you feel is exceptional.” Another kiss that turns molten all too quickly. “Now, what is it you want?”

“For the final time, for you to get in the bloody bath,” she huffs, trying to pull him in. He chuckles then climbs in, sitting behind her, pressing themselves against each other.

Sophie’s breath hitches.

“Better?” he whispers.

“Much.”

He turns her chin, so they look at one another. His eyes are blown wide and so startingly blue that they transfix her. Benedict nods.

Sophie raises a hand to link it with one of his. Then, still staring deeply in his eyes, she traces their hands over her body until it cups her breast.

“I want you here.”

He squeezes and she gasps.

“Yes?”

She reaches back once more, for the final hand, lacing their fingers together.

“And I want,” she trails their clasped hands over her stomach until it dips under the water, “you here,” she gasps, eyes drowning in Benedict’s blue ones, as he starts his ministrations.

Yet they do not stop staring, not even when they kiss...

Not as Sophie writhes more and more in his arms, nor as Benedict’s hips start to buck. Even as Sophie turns around to straddle him, they keep their eyes locked together. Even as Sophie braces one hand on his shoulder, the other sinking below to find him in the soapy water. Even when their kisses turn messy and open-mouthed.

“I want you,” Benedict pants as they both start to reach their peak, “I want all of you.”

“I want all of you,” Sophie keens. “And you have me, all of me.”

“And you have me, all of me,” he whispers. “You are mine and I am yours.”

Finally, her eyes close as she shudders from the climax. Benedict surges up and smothers his own releasing moan with her lips.

The water settles, as the couple settle—even though they can barely control their panting breaths or racing heartbeats.

“God, I cannot wait to marry you,” Benedict mumbles.

“How long must we wait?”

“A few weeks—three at the least.”

“So long?” Sophie huffs. Benedict chuckles. “Then I suppose we shall have to make do with moments like this,” Sophie leans forward with a spark in her eye, “I am sure there is much, much more I can learn…”

Benedict leans forward also, a rakish smirk on his face.

“What a wonderful idea Mrs—"

Someone hammers on the door.

“Sophie!”

Benedict and Sophie snap up, eyes wide.

“S—t.” Sophie swears.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Eloise, please—”

Eloise rips away from Kate’s arm to wiggle the lock.

“I must ensure that my brother is not befouling Sophie!” she cries. With a final click, and one final kick, Eloise bangs the door open and strides in.

“Eloise, what on earth?” Sophie asks from the bathtub, where she sits—alone. Eloise strides further into the room, scouting around the furniture, even behind the bath.

“Eloise!” Sophie sinks deeper into the bath.

“I am looking for my infuriating brother! In case he has invaded your personal space!”

“As opposed to you who entered my private space uninvited.”

Eloise stops short, her cheeks flushing.

“Well, I…”

“Eloise, you are being rash,” Kate soothes pulling Eloise back to the door. “You must learn to ignore Colin—he was merely winding you and your mother up.”

Eloise pouts, hands on her hips.

“Well, Sophie, if my brother dares to act in any ungentlemanly way towards you, you must tell me then I can give him a stern talking to.”

Sophie smiles.

“That is very sweet Eloise. I shall endeavour to do so in the future.”

“I am sure Sophie will,” Kate says with a smile. Behind Eloise’s back, Sophie notices Kate push Benedict’s errant waistcoat under a footstool with her foot.

Eloise leaves with a final nod. Kate follows behind and gives Sophie a wink. Sophie turns bright red.

Once alone, Sophie deflates and sinks under the water in relief.

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

The camera turns to an empty bedroom—the same bedroom Benedict had frequented before entering the bathroom. All is still.

Then the window slowly judders up and open. One boot drops to the ground, then another. Finally, Benedict clumsily manoeuvres himself from window into the room—sockless, shirt open and braces swinging around his hips.

Once safely inside he silently closes the window and picks up his belongings. Just as he is to leave, he gives a fond smile towards the bathroom door.

Someone clears their throat.

Benedict looks up, like a rabbit in front of a rifle.

His mother leans against the bedroom door, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Benedict has the sense to look sheepish.

“You have precisely less than a minute to rush into another room and avoid Eloise’s wrath. I shall talk to both you and your brother later,” is all she says.

“Yes, mother,” Benedict starts walking out, avoiding her eye. Just as he passes her, she puts a hand on her shoulder.

“And Benedict,” He turns to find her hard stare. “While the revelations of the past days might have set our world in a tailspin, it does not alter the matter that Sophie is a lady and should be treated as such. Do you understand me?”

“Yes mother.”

Violet narrows her eyes. Benedict gives a tentative smile. Violet breaks and rolls her eyes. “Off you go—shoo.”

She shoos him away, and Benedict obeys—with a quick kiss on her cheek and a smirk on his face.

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

Hee hee.

What do you think?

As always, I’d love to hear your ideas/corrections/opinions and always open to chat or requests. So...

Check out the list here, for more of my ideas on S4.

Check out the general arcs of my prospective S4 here.

Or message/reblog/reply to this :)

[lookingfts]

Jesus Christ. How is this woman real? 🔥🥵

Had to send you these because everyone is raving about the sleek white number, and yes, stunning. 🥰

But this one I felt fit more your lane/atmosphere. I wonder what kind of snippet you could come up with being inspired by this. And more importantly which of your Anthony’s are losing their god damn minds right now? 😄

Okay, this is a deep cut but I immediately thought about one of my drabbles from "For you, I am fragile" that I’ve always wanted to continue. You can read it here, it’s very short, but the general gist is that Kate and Anthony get off to each other’s thirst trap photos but neither of them know it.

*sexy snippet below*

Holy shit.

Even after months of pining after Kate pathetically through her Instagram, Anthony still finds himself blown away by her latest photos. She’s flawless; her wild curls spilling over her shoulders, the black leather of her dress gaping at her breasts, her legs endless as the slit rides up her thigh.

He barely even argues with himself anymore. Just reaches into his boxers and takes his cock in hand, measured strokes that will only last a few minutes before he loses all control. It’s a routine now. A lonely, slightly depressing routine, but fuck it. She helps him sleep.

Anthony still thinks she would probably kill him for having these thoughts, for finding his pleasure in her without her knowledge, but he can’t stop. No one else makes him feel this way. Kate Sharma has more power over him in a photograph than anyone else does standing right in front of him.

It’s a shame she hates him, really. She has no idea the pleasure he could repay her.

Forcing himself to draw it out, Anthony imagines getting on his knees for Kate. Pressing kisses from her ankle to her knee, higher and higher until he finally licks into her. Finally hears her little satisfied cry as he tastes her cunt, flicks his tongue against her clit, swallows her arousal. She would taste so sweet; he just knows.

He unravels at the thought of her whimpers, her hands tight in his hair, her hips bucking against his face. Using him to reach her peak until he’s rewarded with her release on his tongue. It’s a little embarrassing that Anthony’s balls are already tightening, fire in his veins as he stares at her, desperate and open-mouthed. When he gets too close, his eyes screw shut and he nearly crushes his phone in a death grip.

Entirely unaware of the fact that he is calling her.

--

Kate gets a lot of attention on her photos. She looks good in them; Ben is a fantastic photographer.

It’s funny – he’s taken a lot of Anthony’s photos as well, probably with a significant amount of eye rolling behind the camera. She wonders what Ben would say if he knew that he’d captured most of her erotic material for the past few months.

God, she’s pitiful. All this attention and she pines for the attention of the one man who doesn’t give it. The one man who probably doesn’t even look at her photos. Or at least, he’s never done anything about it.

As if she conjured him – though to be fair, he is never far from her mind – her phone buzzes with a call through Instagram. From Anthony.

Her heart is in her throat as she answers. The video is just blurry beige, but that’s not what captures her attention. She’s a little distracted by the sounds.

It takes a second to understand what she’s listening to. Just heavy breathing at first, and then panting, and then the filthiest moan she’s ever heard in her life. And Kate is pretty sure that a) Anthony is jerking off and b) he has no idea that he called her.

She almost hangs up, embarrassment and arousal warring within her. She’s slick so quickly, an ache deep inside at every hiss and catch of his breath. Kate has spent an inordinate amount of time imagining Anthony making those sounds as she sucked his cock, as he fucked her into the mattress.

“Anthony?” she asks, tentatively, not wanting him to stop but not wanting to violate his privacy, either. “It’s Kate.”

Everything goes quiet, and then Kate hears fuck! and Anthony turns his video off. She thinks he’ll disappear, but he stays on the line, strangled breaths as he tries to calm down. He was so close.

“Shit,” he sighs, and her mouth goes dry at the roughness in his voice. “I didn’t mean...that wasn’t…”

“It’s okay,” Kate says, curling up on her side against her pillows. She doesn’t want him to hang up, she realizes. Now that he’s there, she just wants him to stay. “It was a mistake.”

“A mistake. Yeah.” There’s something strange in his tone as he says it. “It wasn’t intentional, I swear. I wouldn’t do that. I was just…”

He was just masturbating. Looking at photos on Instagram.

All at once, it dawns on Kate. The most likely reason that he would have accidentally called her is because he was looking at her profile. Her photos.

It gives her some courage. She doesn’t have anything left to lose by finding out, except maybe a blow to her pride.

But if she’s right-

Kate swallows. “You don’t have to stop.”

There’s an eternally long silence on the other end. “What?” he croaks.

“Keep going,” she encourages. “I could join you.”

--

Fuck it. Anthony is dreaming – that’s the only explanation. He fell asleep with a sticky hand and is now dreaming about the most beautiful woman in the world offering to touch herself for him.

Whether it’s a dream or reality, Anthony has no interest in wasting his chance. He takes a breath, feeling a little out of his mind as he starts to rub his cock again. “What do you want me to do?”

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” she says, already sounding a little breathless. The idea of her fingers circling her clit, slipping inside her, makes him absolutely delirious. “Before you called me.”

There will never be a better moment for honesty. “I was looking at your pictures,” he admits, a groan falling from his throat as he brushes his thumb over his tip. He’s been on the edge for too long, but he wants to hear Kate come first more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. “The new ones with the leather dress. Fuck, Kate. It’s like you’re trying to kill me.”

“Don’t stop,” she says, a sweet whimper leaving her lips. “Keep talking.”

“I was thinking about how I would go under that skirt and eat you out until you were begging. Your thighs wrapped around my neck and your heels digging into my back,” Anthony growls, his fantasies spilling out of him now as Kate makes the most delicious sounds in response. “That flimsy little top. I could easily put my hand under there and tease your nipples. Suck on them while I fill you up with my fingers.”

Kate whines, sounding frustrated. “Anthony.”

“I know. Your fingers aren’t the same as mine. But I’ll stretch you out on them soon,” he promises. “And your hair, Kate. I dream of grabbing a perfect handful and pulling until the sting makes you come.”

That tips her right over the edge. She muffles a cry into her pillow as she finishes, and Anthony barely makes it to the end of hers before he’s spilling messily into his hand.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but panting. The dreamlike atmosphere fades, replaced with the heavy weight of reality. Holy shit.

And then Kate…laughs. A deep, throaty chuckle that Anthony can’t help but mirror, the two of them bursting into near-hysterical laughter.

“Fuck,” she breathes. “We should have done that forever ago.”

“Did you want to do that forever ago?”

Anthony feels a little scared of the answer. If he discovers that he’s had a shot this whole time, he might jump off a bridge. “For a while, yeah.”

So much time wasted. But at least he can vow not to waste any more. “Can I take you to dinner, Kate?”

“Like as a date? Or like hey, here’s dinner as a pretense for me to fuck you?”

His head is too fuzzy to discern which is the right answer. “Um, both? Or whichever one you want. I want it to be a date. But I also have wanted to fuck you for a long time, so…both.”

For the eighth time that night, Kate makes the very strange decision to give him a chance. “Pick me up on Friday, then. I’ll wear the dress.”

[nofootprintsinsand]

Some stuff I’ve written that I’m proud of

HP

Hinterland (Hermione/Tom, Hermione/Snape, WIP, explicit)

“A time traveller, are you? I rather think I will keep you."

He strokes her cheek, and she bites down on a whimper. She is tired now. Exhausted.

“There is a kind of winsome audacity about you, isn't there? And you are as brave as a fool.” He shakes his head. “It’s quite interesting. And sometimes, I get bored.” A smile. Too wide, too many teeth. There are no borders drawn in his gaze, no cartography at all. “This will be tremendous fun.”

Dimmuborgir (Hermione/Tom, complete, explicit, 93,262 words)

He steps straight out of the shadows one late autumn evening, but she is not afraid.

At least not at first.

A Crown of Dying Stars (Hermione/Tom, complete, explicit, 16,486 words)

The setting moon is but a shard in the sky, and it looks sharp and deadly. She wants to pluck it from its place in the heavens and run him through with it for making her feel like this.

For making her yearn.

another year, broken apart into memories (Hermione/Snape, complete, explicit, 12,706 words)

“Ready?” she asks, and with the question finally turns around to face him.

He is stiff, and angry. Hates being made vulnerable like this. She can tell; the way he grinds his teeth, straightens his back. His words, when they come, are chewed up and spat out, sharp little pieces of flint.

“Fucking… Just get on with it.”

She nods once, and points her wand at him.

“Obliviate.”

Hannibal

Typhoid and Swans (Hannibal/Will/Clarice, complete, explicit, 82,119 words)

The first time Clarice sees the stag, she is walking in the woods surrounding Will Graham’s old Wolf Trap home.

With her mentor and friend Jack Crawford dead, and her once-promising career in shambles, Clarice Starling decides to find out what really happened to Dr. Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham.

Far Cry 5

we live in the dreams you had (female deputy/Joseph Seed, female deputy/John Seed, explicit, complete, 56,451 words)

“Freedom of choice is a wonderful thing. Until it’s not anymore. I fear I can no longer allow you that luxury. I fear I must avail myself of a more...hands-on approach.”

Joseph takes a different route to the end

his vows pulled out all her sinews (crossover: Far Cry 5/Sicario, Kate Macer/John Seed, complete, explicit, 40,757 words)

“...what do I want to know about you?” asks this man who eats confessions like amuse bouches, and she can tell, she can tell how violence is only a wrong word or a right word away. She can’t possibly predict or read him accurately, and this coiled recklessness living inside her makes the situation heady.

Terrifying.

Fine, she’ll give him something. He has worked hard for it, earned it, look, that is sweat on his brow!

She smiles, but there are tears in her eyes.

“A man put a gun under my chin and told me I that reminds him of his daughter when I am afraid.”

The Boys

you know, I still wait at the edge of town (Butcher/Starlight, complete, explicit, 28,152 words)

He hates her and she hates him, kiss kiss.

[boolger]

I’m dangerous ☆ chapter 6 ☆ COD fanfic

Originally posted on my AO3, where I post all my stuff. Always read the tags of my fanfics. MDNI

[Chapter 1] ☆ [chapter 2] ☆ [chapter 3] ☆ [chapter 4] ☆ [chapter 5] ☆ [chapter 6] ☆[chapter 7]

☆ fem!reader x Kate Laswell ☆ explicit. MDNI. ☆ 6/10 ☆ 1,935 words

☆ Summary: You were a hacker and had been a thorn in the side of the 141 gang for a while, in particular as you tried to find out who the famous leader, Watcher, was. But they refuse to be blackmailed and won’t pay you.

So, to prove that you weren’t just bluffing, but were a serious threat to them, you kidnapped a random woman that you saw coming out from one of their meetings, figuring she was a secretary or girlfriend or something.

Oh, how wrong you were.

☆Tags: au mob, gang, kidnapping, blackmailing, dub-con, angst, smut, death, grief/mourning, hacking, non-con drug use, bondage, spanking, kissing, rough sex, inaccurate portrayal of mob, suicidal thoughts, more will be added

extra note: Ahem, first of all, this is fiction, this is not a healthy relationship, secondly, In case you haven’t noticed in any of the former 5 chapters, i am not a hacker and i don’t really understand a lot of it, so just. Sssh. play along. third thing, Fae has some short suicidal thoughts.

You didn’t quite remember how you got from the car to the room Kate had been keeping you in; you were overwhelmed, your legs feeling like jello, humiliation from the failed escape attempt, from the spanking - from Price watching the spanking.

Even worse, how you had liked it, how Kate’s hand had rested on your burning behind, gently caressing the soft, warm skin, fingers trailing along your stretch marks. If she saw how wet your pussy was, she didn’t comment on it. 

A part of you had expected her to leave you alone afterwards, angry with the lack of replies yesterday, with the way you escaped and had to be caught again.

Shame made you nauseous for a moment - you were back, your attempt nothing but a failure, having been spanked in the car like a naughty child. This whole thing was getting worse and worse - you were supposed to be the kidnapper, you were supposed to be the dangerous one, the one who would catch Kate and bring her back to yours, instead, here you were, the least dangerous being in the room.

You sat down on the bed, instantly regretting it as your ass hurt, making you tip to the side and lay down, tears still filling your eyes.

“ ‘nough of that, pretty thing,” she said, standing next to you, reaching down to touch your cheek, as if to say you were being too dramatic , “you took your punishment yeah?”

“You were going to kill me,” you cried, trying to ignore the softness of her hand, your tears seeping down into the bedsheets, “ you were going to kill me. ”

Kate huffed, then straightened up, her touch leaving you, beginning to pull off her suit jacket. She wore a gun harness beneath that you tried to ignore.

“But I didn’t, did I?” She casually argued, “in fact, you got off easily with a spanking.”

Your gaze met hers. You wanted to scream. She stood there, all calmly, as if you were  throwing a tantrum for no reason. 

“You - you pointed a gun at me!!”

“I’m a mob boss,” she casually pointed out, rolling up her sleeves as you tried not to look at her forearms. “It really shouldn’t surprise you.”

You looked away. In this room, she was the dangerous one. You could scream, cry, claw at her desperately - and she could easily shoot you. Leave your messed up brain splattered across her light, expensive bed sheets.

“There is a mole in my gang.” A flicker of a lighter and the sound of Kate breathing in as a cigarette was lit. You listened to her blow out the smoke before she continued. “I want you to help me find out who they are and what they want.”

The hand that touched your cheek once again became wet with your tears.

“Why should I?” You asked.

“Won’t kill you then.”

Alice would have… Alice would have thought a lot of things, but she was dead. The sister shaped hole in your heart screamed that dying meant meeting her again. It meant peace for once, the pain of going to her funeral gone. Perhaps you would be buried next to her. Then again, if it was the Watcher or the 141 gang in general, who killed you, you would probably end up somewhere where nobody would find you for at least 10 years. Perha–

Snap!

You blinked wildly as Kate pulled back her fingers after having snapped them right in front of your face.

“C’mon Fae,” Her voice was gentler somehow and she sat down next to you. The gun in the holster that you had spotted just moment ago was gone - put away while you were lost in your own mind, “Where is that strong, dangerous kidnapper of mine, hm?”

You frowned, but didn’t push her away as she gently caressed your cheek. You had stopped crying without realising. 

“Don’t remember me bein’ a good kidnapper,” you argued stubbornly, voice not as strong as before. An amused huff left Kate.

“Not really,” her hand ran along your back, along your spine, stopping just at the edge of the sweatpants, “But you are a good hacker.”

You wanted her to touch you so badly - even as your asscheeks were still warm from the spanking, you wanted the same hands to run along the rest of your body. Damn your tired, fucked up, horny mind for wanting this woman.

“You know, good girls get rewards,” she continued as her fingers ran up along your spine again, voice much softer, “even for small things.”

Her hand repeated the pattern. Her long legs crossed next to you, blue eyes watching you intensely. Like a spider, trying to lure in its prey to the web, promising safety. If you did this - perhaps you could get out quicker? Being allowed to leave instead of having to run off? 

“I need access to electronics then,” you pointed out carefully. It would give you an opportunity to check out possible ways to run off as well. 

“Already done,” those two words were almost cooed at you and the hand from your spine disappeared, only to return to your chin. Your face was tipped towards her and she was leaning down - and before you knew what was happening, she was kissing you. It was short, but sweet and it left you breathless as she pulled back again. She was grinning and you felt like the world had stopped moving for just a moment. 

“Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll get you some new clothes and access to a laptop then,” she offered, hand still on your chin. You just mutely nodded. Kate smiled, her thumb moving to touch your bottom lip for just a moment before pulling back.

“C’mon then, Fae,” she said, giving your ass a smack, pulling you from your trance as the pain spread, making you curse.

Bloody hell.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Perhaps it had been naive of you to believe they would give you free access to a laptop, without supervision. Nope. You had one displeased Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick breathing down your neck, watching you work. He had apparently been one of those not able to catch you earlier - so they drew lots and he lost, earning the duty of being your guard for the rest of the day. Which apparently didn’t interest him one bit. If you had to listen to one of his stupid ass questions one more time, you were going to –

“What are you doing now?” 

You closed your eyes with annoyance. You couldn’t hit him. You couldn’t hit him. 

“I’m writing a code.”

“For what?”

“To help me look for discrepancies in your security system,” you patiently answered. What annoyed you the most was that you were pretty sure that Kyle knew most of what he asked about. It almost seemed like a petty way to get back at you.

“Ever considered running competitively?” Yeah, he was definitely doing his best to annoy you.

“Nope. Only do that when I fear for my life.” You dryly answered, making the other man snicker. Your fingers never stopped their dance across the keyboard.

“It was impressive.”

“Thanks, it sucked.”

“Bet the spanking was worse.”

Your fingers stopped and you took a deep breath, pretending you didn’t want to run away with shame. Another snicker left him. Of course they all knew about it. You returned to your task, continuing to go through the different files.

“The running were worse,” you just muttered. Kyle seemed amused at that.

“Well you can always ask for mo–”

“Does Kate have any enemies?” you asked, cutting his no doubt embarrassing comment off, as you stared at a file, before following its trail that had been somewhat deleted.

“Plenty,” Kyle answered, “The 141 isn’t really buddies with anyone, you know?” 

“Kate in particular-” you asked.

“Nobody knows she is the leader outside the main ring - except you of course but–” 

“Somebody does now.” You turned the laptop towards him more, “Because the mole told them.”

1: Watcher _s Kate Laswell. N_t John Price. 2: Good work. You w_ll be r_warded. 1: The h_cker is still aliv_. 2: Del_te th_s_ emails w_th the virus I s_nt you. I will contact yo_ o__r t_e ph_ne.

You watched Kate Laswell, John Price and Simon Ghost Riley all bend over to look at the laptop screen. 

“And you don’t know who any of the senders are?” Ghost asked even though you had already told them so.

“No. The virus was self-destructive in a way. I don’t know, I need more time to find out something.”

“How old is this?” 

“I don’t know exactly but…” you didn’t want to say it out loud because if you did, it felt more real.

“But you’re mentioned in there,” Price concluded as he straightened his back, before looking over at Kate, the two of them having an almost silent conversation. 

You didn’t like this one bit. If Alice had been alive she would have found this hilarious , teasing with how you were such a bad kidnapper, that you got kidnapped in return and pulled into a bigger mobster mess.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Kate Laswell had pretty fingers. 

Those pretty fingers showed you a good time that night. Kate hadn’t been kidding when she promised you a reward for finding something. 

It wasn’t anything wild, she got you off on her hand, yet it was more than you had expected and it was everything you had dreamt off. She had cooed in your ear as you tried fucking yourself harder on your finger, calling you beautiful. Touching the fat on your stomach and giving it a squeeze, fingers running along your stretch marks, teasing your nipples, even slapping your pussy once - and it turned you on so much more than you liked to admit.  Your back was pressed against her front and she never undressed herself, but she had you sit in between her legs, not wearing anything.

Tipping your head to the side to kiss you again, murmuring praise, leaving small kisses down your neck and throat, but not leaving a mark behind. The only marks from the whole ordeal were the ones on your ass.

That night you slept next to Kate. Why exactly she kept you in her bed, you weren’t sure - the mattress beneath you was soft, it wasn’t too hot or too cold, everything was physically perfect. But you couldn’t sleep.

When you got up to go to the bathroom, Kate muttered a few nonsensical things, but didn’t wake up properly. You didn’t turn on the light in the bathroom, your eyes getting used to the dark. You were tired. 

You had eaten earlier, without any form of defiance - but the soles of your feet were sore and had small cuts and skin scraping from your escape attempt - your ass was still a little sore from the spanking as well. 

The person in the mirror didn’t feel like you. You weren’t supposed to be here, in a wealthy bathroom, surrounded by all kinds of stuff that you would never need. 

You opened the bathroom door, but stopped. There was a bump outside the door - a small groan - then another small bump, making you frown. It was around 3 am if you weren’t wrong. You heard the other door to the bedroom open, making you freeze… panic surged through you, making it hard to breathe, because the person stepping in wasn’t anyone you had seen before.

[sequinsmile-x]

The Games We Play - Chapter 2

She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her.

She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death. 

A Hunger Games AU

-x-

Hi friends,

Thanks so much for the reaction to chapter 1 <3

AU's in general are always nerve wracking, but this one feels even more so because I am aware it's a little bit of an out-there idea. I really appreciate the support on this unhinged little fic, and I really hope you like this chapter.

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 4.6k

A full list of warnings can be found on the series master list

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She seeks him out on the train. 

He’d left the dining carriage not long after they left the district, and at first, she leaves him to it, giving him the space she remembers needing herself. It was strange to leave home, the only place you’d ever been, and not know if you’d be coming alive or in a body bag. Not everyone even got that, the brutality that the tributes sometimes showed each other beyond imagination, as if the Capitol had truly won in convincing them all that they were each other's enemies. Their gaze and anger turned inwards, instead of all of them looking out to see who was using them like chess pieces. 

She goes looking for him for a couple of hours, Kate’s crying eventually getting to her, too many memories of other tributes who hadn’t come home haunting her. The ghosts of children whose faces she’d never forget in every reflective surface she walked past. 

She finds him at the back of the train looking out of the large window, scenery they’d otherwise never get to see speeding past them, hints of life and freedom in the birds that flew between the trees. She clears her throat as she steps into the carriage and he looks up at her, his smile tight as their eyes meet.��

“Want me to leave you alone?” She asks, not stepping any closer to him and he shakes his head. 

“No,” he replies, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

She nods and walks towards him, revealing that she has two glasses of scotch behind her back, smiling wryly as she tries to hand him one, “Here, I brought you this.”

He frowns, the smell from the glass familiar, the scent of alcohol something he thinks he might always associate with his father, “We’re not ol-”

“We’re old enough to die for a TV show,” she says, pressing the drink into his hand before she sits next to him, “I think we’re old enough to have a drink.”

He pauses for a moment and considers arguing with her. He thinks about putting the drink down, ignoring that she’d brought it to him, but he doesn’t. There was something about it pulling him in, the chance to break the rules, to do something he’d never done before, tempting as he thinks about the fact his days are numbered. He nods and takes a sip, something simmering in his gut when she smiles widely at him. 

He’d never been able to say no to her anyway. 

She laughs at him when he grimaces at the taste, at the burn in the back of his throat, and for a moment they are children again, playing in her mother’s house with no regard for anything other than the fun they were having. The train jolts and pulls them out of it, bringing them back to the harsh reality they were in. 

“Can I ask you something?” She asks, and he nods in response, “What happened with you and Haley?” 

He smiles sadly, scratching the back of his head as he thinks of his ex-girlfriend, the woman he thought he’d one day marry, “We talked about the future. She wanted kids. I don’t,” he sighs and shakes his head, “I can’t imagine bringing a child into this world and then potentially sending them into this.” 

Emily nods even though he’s not looking at her, blowing out a steady breath, “I know what you mean. Especially now I’m a victor.” 

He looks up at her, his eyebrows knitting together with curiosity. He’s so close she could reach out and touch the line it creates between his eyebrows, press her thumb into the ravine that she’s sure would get so much deeper as he got older. 

If he ever got older. 

“Why?” 

She smiles sadly, “The kid of a victor would almost be guaranteed to go in the games,” she says her lips pressed together as she shrugs, “It makes good TV. It would show even the strongest of us aren’t protected.” 

There’s a pause, and it stretches out between them. Tied together with threads of their separate histories, tattered edges knotting together to create a morbid tapestry. 

“What about you and that guy from District One?” He asks, breaking the silence, his voice soft, as if he was afraid to ask. 

She smiles wryly, “Ian?” She says and he nods, making her chuckle, “Don’t believe everything you read, Aaron. He’s just a guy who won’t take no for an answer.” 

He isn’t sure what to say to that, how to feel about the wave of protectiveness that washes over him, so he clenches his teeth and decides to move the conversation on. 

“Where’s Kate?” He asks, looking at the amber liquid in his glass before he takes another sip, this one going down easier than the first. 

“Dave’s comforting her,” she replies, looking out the window, her gaze fixed on the trees, “She’s upset,” she says, even though it’s obvious. She looks at him and takes a moment to study him as he continues to look at his drink. He was handsome, he always had been, but the boyishness that had once been in his features had faded away. Sharp features had replaced once rounder ones as if they’d cut through from underneath, pushing away innocence and childhood with the harsh realities of life. He looks up at her and she clears her throat, pushing down the embarrassment that she feels at being caught staring at him, “What you did was really brave.” 

He laughs wryly and nods, blowing out a slow breath before he finishes his drink. It was objectively brave, he knew that, if he’d seen anyone else do it he’d think the same thing, but he didn’t feel brave. He couldn’t have let his brother do this, couldn’t let him march towards certain death when he could help. 

He wasn’t sure it counted as bravery when it was his only option. 

“He’s my brother,” he says simply, “I only did what was right,” he says as he puts down his empty glass. He can see her start to argue with him, the pinch between her brows something he’d seen countless times before, so he cuts her off before she can, “So, how does this work? Do you and Dave train us both? Do we have a mentor each?” 

She sighs at the change of subject but lets it slide, well aware that he needed to deal with this in the way he needed to, that her feelings weren’t important in any of this, “One each - I’ll be working with you, Dave will be with Kate.” 

He frowns, “I saw you with Tara last year,” he says, feeling momentarily regretful when she flinches for a second, a brief reaction she can’t control at the mention of the female tribute from the year before. She’d almost made it, survived until the final three, and then was killed by a career tribute from District One, “Don’t you usually work with the female tribute?” 

She nods, pressing her lips together to gather herself, “Yes but, because we’re friends Dave suggested I work with you,” she says, the lie slipping past her lips easily. 

She used to hate lying, used to think the truth was always the better option no matter what, but one thing she’d learnt since leaving the arena was that lying was the way to keep everyone she cared about safe. She’d asked Dave if she could work with Aaron and had ignored his concern. Selfishly, she wanted to spend as much time with Aaron as she could, so if she did lose him, if she had to watch him die helplessly and keep a straight face, she would be able to tell herself that she’d done her very best to help him. 

He chuckles wryly, “Friends? Em, we’ve barely spoken since I started to date…” he drifts off and shakes his head, cut off by the look of hurt that flashes across her face, guilt sparking in his gut, and the thought of his ex-girlfriend, her name turning to ash on his tongue at the thought of how she must be feeling about all of this. He sighs, “Look, that wasn’t fair. I’m-”

“No,” she says, tucking her loose hair behind her ear, “You’re right. I haven’t…” she sighs and a humourless laugh escapes her, “It’s not been an easy few years.” 

The guilt in his belly catches fire, spreading through his blood as he reaches out and places his hand on her arm. It’s only when he does it that he realises it’s been years since he’d touched her, and he feels like an addict, the desire to never let go forcing him to do just that, his hand springing back like he’d been burned. 

“I am sorry, Em,” he says, smiling tightly at her, “I can’t imagine how you’ve felt since you came back.” 

She looks down at her arm where he touched her, his warmth lingering where his palm had been. She knows she’ll inspect her skin later, that she’ll check to see if he’d left a mark behind, if he’d somehow branded her with a simple touch because she can almost feel it burn. She looks up at him and smiles, and she shrugs half-heartedly. 

“Well, in a few weeks when we’re back on this train, you’ll know.” 

It’s false optimism neither of them buy into, but he can’t help but smile back at her, “Yeah,” he replies, “I will.”

___

She’s running. 

Her lugs hurt, her feet her almost numb with pain, a dampness in her shoes she knows is blood and not water, but she can’t stop running.

Her life depends on it. 

“You can run, but you can’t hide pretty. The things I’ll do to you when I catch you.” 

She’s only forced further forward by Karl’s words, by the foul implication dripping from them. She’d seen what he’d done to some of the other girls, and had seen the joy he’d derived from it. Emily wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of killing her, she was going to outlive him or she was going out on her own terms.

She curses as she realises she’s run into a dead end, her feet just touching the cliff edge as she comes to a stop. She can hear him gaining on her, his thundering footsteps getting louder, and she closes her eyes, giving herself a second, one final moment of peace, but when she opens her eyes she sees a shimmer in the sky. It’s almost discernible from the blue of the fake sky in above her but she sees it. She chuckles as she remembers what Dave had told her about the forcefield, about the edge of the arena, and she pulls her knife out of her pocket. She looks over her shoulder and sees that Karl is right behind her, a smirk on his face as if he had won already. She looks straight ahead and she throws the knife, immediately ducking as it hits the forcefield and bounces back. She’s knocked to the ground by the force of the soundwaves that echo around her, her hand automatically covering her ears as she tries to protect them. 

Everything goes eerily silent, everything overwhelmingly quiet after so much nose, and her hands shake as she removes them from her ears. Her arms are unsteady as she pushes herself up off the ground. She walks over to where Karl is lying, the same smirk still painted on his face, a grim flash burn of the last moment of his life, and her knife planted firmly in the centre of his chest. 

She jumps when the canon goes off, half convinced until that moment she’d lost her hearing, and she looks up at the sky, Karl’s face briefly emblazoned on it, before the disembodied voice of the game maker fills the arena. 

“Ladies and Gentleman, the winner of this year's Hunger Games - Emily Prentiss.”

___

Aaron was exhausted. 

No matter how much training they did, how much preparation Emily had put him through the last few days, he couldn’t sleep. It alluded him, forever out of reach as he slept in a bedroom bigger than his childhood home. 

He’s walking around the apartment they’d been assigned when he hears her scream, the sound of it pulling him towards her room immediately. When he walks in she’s wrapped up in the bed sheets, twisting in the bed as if she’s trying to escape from something he can’t see. He runs over and sits on the edge of Emily’s bed, placing his hand on her sheet-covered knee and squeezing as he says her name.

“Em,” he says, quietly at first, not wanting to startle her, “Em, you need to wake up,” he says, shifting closer, his hand skating up her side as it lands on her shoulder. He turns her towards him and the look on her face, the devastation she couldn’t escape even in her sleep, makes him ache, “Sweetheart, please,” he says, the nickname slipping out of nowhere as he begs her to come back to him, “Wake up.” 

She sits up so fast that their foreheads would have collided if he hadn’t moved, a gasp loud enough to shake the walls escaping her as she looks at him, her eyes wide. She tries to shift away, as if she doesn’t recognise him, still half asleep as she tries to shake the rest of the nightmare off. 

“Emily, it’s me. It’s Aaron.” 

She breathes heavily, her chest rapidly moving up and down as she frowns at him, recognition finally seeping into her eyes, “Aaron?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling encouragingly as he rests his hand on her shoulder again, grateful when she doesn’t flinch, “It’s me. I was walking past and I heard you.” 

She frowns, “Heard me what?” 

He presses his lips together briefly as he weighs up his options, but he knows she needs the truth, “I heard you scream.” 

“Oh,” she says, clearing her throat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, “I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he says, smiling softly at her. His gaze drifts to his hand on her shoulder and he lets it drop to the mattress, “Were you dreaming about the games?”

She nods, her hand pressed against her chest as her heart still hammers at her rib cage, the beat of it so hard she thinks her ribs might crack, that the places the Capitol doctors had put her back together would slowly unravel.

“Yeah,” she says, her nerves too shot from the nightmare to deny it, “It’s always the same moment.” 

He’d watched her games, and had felt relief when she’d won. It was the only one he remembers all the details of, the names of the other tributes forever burned into his memory.

They were people he’d prayed would die so the girl he loved would win. 

“What moment?” He asks without thinking, his eyes going wide as he realises what he’s said, “You don’t have to-”

“When I won,” she says, cutting over him, feeling a strange sense of relief in finally saying this to someone. She was under no illusion that her mother hadn’t heard her screams. Elizabeth made her coffee on the mornings after the worst nights, or sent for her favourite bread from the bakery. A silent apology that would have to do, because Emily knew if her mother asked about it, if she acknowledged what her daughter had gone through, the house of cards they’d built around themselves stuck together with half-truths and platitudes would come crumbling down, “It’s always the moment when I won.”

He nods, “The knife and the forcefield,” he says, “I didn’t know what you were doing at first.” 

She hums sadly, shaking her head she repeats the words she’d heard again and again anytime she saw footage of any of the games - hers included.

“The moment a tribute becomes a Victor,” she says, doing an impersonation of Penelope that gets a smile out of him that she matches, “Not that there are any Victors,” she says, her smile fading, “Just survivors.” 

Her words are heavy in the air, laying like a cloying blanket over them, an acknowledgement that even if he won that he’d never be free trapping them in place. He eventually clears his throat and starts to stand up.

“Well, I should go back-”

“Please stay,” she says, reaching out and grabbing his wrist before she can stop herself, her basic instinct to keep him close winning out over everything else, “I…please stay.” 

He doesn’t have to think about it, he simply nods and climbs into bed next to her, careful to make sure he’s on the other side of the mattress from her, their bodies not touching as they lay next to each other. For a moment it’s awkward but he turns his head to look at her, a half smile on his face as her eyes meet his.

“I think this bed is bigger than my bedroom at home.” 

She chuckles and rests her head back on her pillow, “I will give the Capitol one thing,” she says, blowing out a shaky breath, “They sure know how to make a mattress.” 

When they wake up in the morning they are tangled together on his side of the bed, wrapped up like vines that had grown side by side, destined to become indistinguishable from one another.

___

“He needs to smile more.” 

Emily doesn’t look at Dave, doesn’t tear her eyes from the screen as she slaps his chest with one hand, the other by her mouth as she bites her cuticles, “He’s doing fine.” 

“He’s lucky he has the whole volunteering for his brother thing on his side,” Dave says as he steps closer to the TV, Aaron’s one-on-one interview with Jason Gideon, the host of the games, happening live in front of them, “Let’s be honest, not a lot of star power on that screen right now.”

“Shut up Dave,” she says, finally turning from the screen and looking at him, “He’s doing his best. I didn’t do great either.” 

He nods thoughtfully, “True. I think that was the first time they’d ever had to censor a 15-year-old on the show before.” 

She chuckles and looks back at the screen, blowing out a slow breath as she looks at the other tributes sitting behind Aaron as he speaks to Gideon, her gaze fixed on one of them in particular, “I don’t like the look of him.” 

Dave frowns as he leans in and gets a closer look, “Oh, that intense guy from four? What was his name…”

“George Foyet,” she says, turning to look at him, “He reminds me of Karl. I think he’ll get a kick out of it all.” 

“He does have that look about him,” Dave replies, watching her carefully, concern washing over him. She was clearly close to Aaron, or had been at some point, and he was worried she was setting herself up to get hurt. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Aaron’s room had been untouched for days and that Emily wasn’t screaming in the middle of the night anymore. “Bella, are you-”

“Shh,” she says, tuning back into what was being said, aware that the conversation was wrapping up. 

“So, do you have a special lady waiting back home?” Gideon asks and Aaron looks down at his hands before he looks at the camera and he shakes his head. 

“No, I used to but…” he trails off and shakes his head, “We broke up.”

“That’s a shame,” Gideon replies, leaning forward in his chair towards Aaron, “There must be someone else though, someone else you’ve had your eye on.” 

Aaron sighs and Emily swears she can see his thought process, can see him physically weighing up the pros and cons of what he was about to say, “Well, there is someone. I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember” he says, his smile tight, “But it won’t ever work.” 

“Why not?”

Aaron looks down the camera, an intensity in his eyes that, for a moment, makes Emily feel like he’s talking directly to her, “Because I came here with her.” 

She feels her breath catch in her chest as she flicks her gaze to where Kate is sitting on the stage, any vague hope she’d felt the last few days, waking up in his arms even when they fell asleep on separate parts of the bed, gone in an instant. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dave says, shaking his head, “Maybe he does have it in him.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says, swallowing thickly, “Maybe he does.”

___

She avoids him after the interviews, purposely changing the habits she’d formed in the time they’d been in the Capitol, and it takes him a while to find her using the tactics she’d taught him on how to track someone against her.

He finds her on the roof of the building, her elbows resting on the edge as she looks out over the city. The fireworks going off in the distance make him feel sick, the celebratory feeling in the air more akin to that of a festival rather than marking the start of the death match between children that would begin in the morning. 

“Emily?”

She turns to look at him, her smile fake, the one she always wore in front of her mother or the cameras, as their eyes meet, “Aaron, what are you doing up here?” 

“Looking for you,” he replies, walking over to join her, “You disappeared.” 

“I don’t have the privilege of being able to disappear,” she says, her grip on the wall in front of her tightening as the smell of him washes over her. He smelt different here, clean and fresh in a way that wasn’t always possible at home, the Capitol’s array of soaps something that had surprised even her and her relative privilege when she first came here. He smelt different, but there was something that was still him sneaking out from underneath, “Don’t you want to spend the evening with Kate?” 

She regrets it as soon as she asks it, pettiness winning out for a second. It could be his last night in some sense of normality before he died and she was upset because her feelings had been hurt, her unrequited love for him that had followed her everywhere her whole life making itself known at the worst possible time. She looks up at him, expecting to see the sting of her words on his face, but she’s only met with confusion.

“Kate?” He asks, and then it clicks into place, the assumption she must have made when he was speaking to Gideon, trying to win some kind of favour with the audience. He’d thought about his literature class at school, how the teacher had always told them that a love story pulled people in, and he’d thought of Emily. Thought of how her seat had been empty during that class because she’d been here in the Capitol, ready to fight for her life. He’d loved her for so long that it had felt good to admit it, even if it wasn’t the whole truth, “Oh, no. Em-”

“I’m sorry,” she says, turning to walk away, “I think I’m just tired-” she’s stopped as he grabs her shoulders and turns her to look at him, his expression intense, a hint of fierceness to it that makes her breath catch in her throat, “What-”

He cuts her off, his words falling free before he can even think about stopping them. He could be brave now. 

He might not have many chances left, 

“I wasn’t talking about her,” he says, dropping his hands from her shoulders, both of them frozen in place, “I was talking about you.” 

It’s everything she’s ever wanted to hear at the worst possible time, and her chest shudders as she lets out a choked noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “Me?”

“Well, I wasn’t talking about Dave,” he says, offering her a half smile that fades as she doesn’t respond to the joke, “Em-”

“Why did you never say anything?”

“You stopped talking to me,” he says, no malice in his voice, only confusion that somehow made him seem younger. 

“I was protecting you,” she says quietly, “President Barnes, she…well let's just say, the people close to Victor’s don’t always have the longest life expectancy. The entire time I was in that arena I told myself if I lived I’d tell you. I’d admit what I’d always been too scared to…but I wanted you to live and be happy,” she laughs bitterly, “Even if it was with someone else.” 

He knows her well enough to read between the lines and he steps closer, the space between them so small now he can feel her breath skip across his face, “Are you saying…”

She nods, her eyes boring straight into his, an intensity in the darkness of them he’d never seen before, “I love you too.” 

Everything shifts, everything he thought he knew suddenly different, and the lingering fear he’d felt for days about what he was about to do disappears. For a moment he feels nothing but love for her. He leans in to kiss her, drawn in by the way she’s looking at him, but she stops him, her fingers pressed against his lips as she shakes her head desperately. It physically hurts to stop him but she can’t let herself have this, can’t have a taste of him when he might die tomorrow. 

“No,” she says, the word catching in her throat, “I can’t. You’re…I’ve dreamt of this for years and I don’t think one kiss, one evening would ever be enough,” she says, her thumb still resting against his lower lip, her entire body aching to lean forward to kiss him, “I can’t spend the rest of my life desperately trying to remember what it was like to kiss you.” 

He wishes he could pretend that he didn’t understand, but he does. Any amount of time with her would never be enough. Whether it was one night or a lifetime, and if he was her, if he was the one sending her off to what could end up being her death, he knew he couldn’t do it either. That the unknown was better, that it would allow her imagination to live on after him. He tightens his hold on her, pulling her into a fierce hug so he doesn’t go against her wishes, settling for kissing the top of her head instead, for smelling her hair and the shampoo that had always been too nice for where they came from.

“How about,” he says, a hand on either side of her face as he pulls back to look at her, his thumbs catching tears as they land on her cheeks, “ If I live, I’ll take you on a date when I get back?” 

She chokes out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she shakes her head as she presses her forehead against his, “Aaron…” 

He cups the back of her head and encourages her backwards again, the same smile she’d fallen in love with when she was too young to understand what it meant painted across his face, “Come on,” he says encouragingly, “Give a man going off to his death something to live for.” 

She has to bite back the tears, not wanting his last memory of her to be one full of sorrow. She blows out a shaky breath before she nods. She smiles shakily at him and wipes a tear from his face as she does so, pushing it away trying to commit the feel of his skin against hers to her memory.   

“Okay,” she says, nodding, an edge of desperation to it, “It’s a date.” 

-x-

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[april-is]

April 11, 2024: The Coffin Maker Speaks, Lisa Suhair Majaj

The Coffin Maker Speaks Lisa Suhair Majaj

At first it was shocking—orders flooding in faster than I could meet. I worked through the nights, tried to ignore the sound of planes overhead, reverberations shaking my bones, acid fear, the jagged weeping of those who came to plead my services. I focused on the saw in my hand, burn of blisters, sweet smell of sawdust; hoped that fatigue would push aside my labor's purpose.

Wood fell scarce as the pile of coffins grew. I sent my oldest son to scavenge more but there was scant passage on the bombed out roads And those who could make it through brought food for the living, not planks for the dead. So I economized, cut more carefully than ever, reworked the extra scraps. It helped that so many coffins were child-sized.

I built the boxes well, nailed them strong, loaded them on the waiting trucks, did my job but could do no more. When they urged me to the gravesite— that long grieving gash in earth echoing the sky's torn warplane wound— I turned away, busied myself with my tools. Let others lay the shrouded forms in new-cut wood, lower the lidded boxes one by one: stilled row of toppled dominoes, long line of broken teeth. Let those who can bear it read the Fatiha over the crushed and broken dead. If I am to go on making coffins, Let me sleep without knowledge.

But what sleep have we in this flattened city? My neighbors hung white flags on their cars as they fled. Now they lie still and cold, waiting to occupy my boxes. Tonight I'll pull the white sheet from my window. Better to save it for my shroud.

One day, insha'allah, I'll return to woodwork for the living. I'll build door for every home in town, smooth and strong and solid, that will open quickly in times of danger, let the desperate in for shelter. I'll use oak, cherry, anything but pine.

For now, I do my work. Come to me and I'll build you what you need. Tell me the dimensions, the height or weight, and I'll meet your specifications. But keep the names and ages to yourself. Already my dreams are jagged Let me not wake splintered from my sleep crying for Fatima, Rafik, Soha, Hassan, Dalia, or smoothing a newborn newdead infant's face. Later I too will weep. But if you wish me to house the homeless dead, let me keep my nightmares nameless.

--

Today in:

2023: Running Orders, Lena Khalaf Tuffaha 2022: April, Alex Dimitrov 2021: Dust, Dorianne Laux 2020: VI. Wisdom: The Voice of God, Mary Karr 2019: What I Didn’t Know Before, Ada Limón 2018: History, Jennifer Michael Hecht 2017: from Correspondences, Anne Michaels 2016: Mesilla, Carrie Fountain 2015: Dolores Park, Keetje Kuipers 2014: Finally April and the Birds Are Falling Out of the Air with Joy, Anne Carson 2013: The Flames, Kate Llewellyn 2012: To See My Mother, Sharon Olds 2011: Across a Great Wilderness without You, Keetje Kuipers 2010: Poem About Morning, William Meredith 2009: Death, The Last Visit, Marie Howe 2008: Animals, Frank O’Hara 2007: Johnny Cash in the Afterlife, Bronwen Densmore 2006: Anne Hathaway, Carol Ann Duffy 2005: Sleep Positions, Lola Haskins

[doodling-doodle]

Hey

: )

Do the most angty angst you can muster

Oh Kings

is this a threat or a challenge to make you cry?

Well, ask and you shall receive.

(WARNINGS: Severe injury, coma, medical inaccuracies, amnesia, graphic death/murder, disassociation, breakdowns, mental health struggles)

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

"Price! Come on, stay with me!" Kyle yelled as his eyes rolled back, his grip going lax.

"We need medivac, now!"

They had to wait almost thirty minutes for the evac, and both Kyle and Soap were covered in blood. The medics struggled to get Price stable while they flew back to base. It felt a lot longer. It was all just a blur now.

Soap was changing out of the blood soaked clothes, but Kyle was sitting in the hospital room with Price, hoping he would wake up from surgery. He was shot in the lung, lower abdomen, and shoulder.

The doctors said that it didn't look good.

He just felt... numb right now. Completely numb. Alex was on his way from a mission with Graves, who was probably freaking out right now.

He waited there for three hours, and Ghost, Soap, Laswell, Alex, Farah, and Graves all got there.

Graves was laying next to Price, curling up and holding onto him as if John would hold him back.

Laswell was on the other side of the bed, holding his hand while sobbing quietly.

Ghost was standing behind soap, who was just looking at him blankly.

Farah was sitting next to Alex, whispering something in Arabic while crying.

Alex was holding onto Kyle, tearing up while Kyle just leaned on him, still covered in blood, blankly staring into the distance.

No one spoke. They were just waiting for him to wake up...

Which he did.

"Johnny?!" Graves yelled when he felt him shift, sitting up, "Bear?!"

John held onto his arm, looking around the room, smiling at all of them, and Laswell let Kyle go in front of her to speak to him while Graves cuddled into John, resting his head on his chest.

"Dad...?" Kyle asked quietly, holding his arm.

John smiled up at him, but he shakily pointed to his clothes on the floor, to his jacket.

Kyle picked it up, "What is it?" He asked, looking back at John.

He tried to reach out to him, but...

His hand dropped, eyes rolled back, and the heartbeat monitor flatlined.

Phil, who was still laying on John's chest, head against his heart, screamed, and Ghost quickly pulled him away from John's body, and they all left the room as the nurses ran in.

Alex pulled Kyle to the waiting area, sitting him down while he clutched the jacket in his arms, face blank, while they heard Phil screaming and crying about how he needed to be with John, how he needed to go back, telling Ghost to let go of him.

They just sat there, and Kyle eventually started going through the jacket pockets, finding envelopes, all with names: Simon, Johnny, Kate, Philip, Alex, Farah, and Kyle.

He put the others down, and he opened his, seeing in big letters, "Do not open unless Johnathon Price is missing, dead, or dying."

He shakily opened it, still just feeling numb about it.

"Kyle Garrick,

I am so proud of you. More than you know. Ever since Piccadilly, I knew you were special. But that you needed someone to help you. And I hope that I've done that.

The day you called me 'dad' was one of the best days of my life. And I guarantee that Pops is the same, and the same for Mum. But I love you like my son. You will always be my son.

You brought so much light into my life. A bubbly, bright light of joy was brought into my life.

I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry that this happened. I know that it will not be easy. But know that I will always be here. Even if I'm dead, I will always be here for you.

You're the captain now. I know you are so young, but I trust you to keep the team going, and make it work.

Just stop Makarov for me. Stop him and Sheperd for me. And make sure that they will never come back.

I love you.

-Dad"

He felt a tear roll down his face, onto the letter, and Alex held his hand while he put his own letter away.

"You should know that he threatened me if I didn't take care of you." Alex said, which made him chuckle slightly, but he just looked at the ground, and he picked up the jacket again, feeling his dog tags in his pocket.

He heard someone walk up to them, and then the others, along with Phil's sobbing, and his arms around him.

"What's going on?" Farah asked.

"We stabilized him. however, we had to place him in a coma. We don't know when he'll wake up."

He couldn't hear it anymore. he tuned everything out, and the next thing he knew, he was back in front of John, Phil back cuddling with him...

He was going to get his revenge. He would make Price proud. He would do it. He may not be a proper captain, but he was now.

He looked at the dog tags in his hand, and he slipped the Tags off the chain, and took his own chain to slip them on, along with several other tags of dead friends.

He was getting revenge. Dad wanted him to get revenge.

He would do it by himself.

That night, he went out to the helipads, with only a suppressed shotgun, pistol, and knifes. The chopper had even more. It was Nikolai's, after all.

He was dressed in full black. Jeans, shirt, hat, gloves, mask and tac gear. He wouldn't likely be easy to see.

He got in the chopper, and sat in the pilots seat, sighing slightly. It was Nikolai's stealth bird. He knew how to fly it, but he was worried that he'd be caught.

But he doubted it.

He quickly got set up and got off the ground, flying to where the Konni base was. Where his Dad was shot.

It took a few hours, but he saw it. He saw very few lights on.

He didn't know how long it would take. But everyone there would die. And he would find Makarov.

He landed on a helipad by the water, and he walked the rest of the way to the base, where he could get in through the secret bunker door and kill off most of the people in it.

He snuck in, immediately seeing two guards at the door and shooting them both in the chest, where Dad was shot.

He stood as they fell, trying to reach for their radios as their lungs filled with blood quickly.

"Fuck off." He said quietly, finishing them off by slitting their throats.

He slowly moved out of the room, moving down the hall, going through another door to a security room. Perfect.

He pulled out the shotgun, closing the door before shooting all three people, making sure all of them were dead with a shot to the head.

He checked the cameras, seeing at least twenty in the halls and another security room across this level of the base.

"Alright, then." He said, picking up one of the rifles from a dead guard, and putting a suppressor on it.

He quickly turned off all the camera's before leaving the room, setting it on fire before closing the door.

He found someone alone in the hall, and he stabbed him in the back, where Price was shot from the front, then slitting his throat.

"Fuck you." He whispered as he moved on, going to a bigger area, where there were five. It hurt, but he had to make this one quick.

He took out the rifle, and quickly shot them all in the head, moving on and stepping over the bodies.

There were three more people in the next room, and he slit one's throat, and shot the other two in the head.

"Lights out."

He got to the security room, seeing for more people, and shot them all in the head before going to check the cameras. More on the other side of the hall.

He turned the camera's off, and he went over to shoot them all in the head.

"Never fuck with me." He said, going to the next level of the base.

There were three people in that room, and he shot all three in the neck with his pistol before stabbing them all in the chest.

"Sleep."

He moved to the next room, seeing another five people. He took his rifle, shooting all of them before they noticed him. He shot them all in the head again to make sure.

"Fuck. You."

There were ten in the briefing room. And he took a stun grenade from a dead body to toss it in the room to clear it out without anyone shooting back.

"Go to hell." He took all the intel in that room. "All of you."

He went to what looked like a common room, and he killed all ten in the room while they weren't even armed. They didn't have time to scream. He shot all of them in the head before leaving.

"Don't wake up."

He found the security room, and killed the one person in there before checking the cameras. One more. One more floor that was the least protected.

"Perfect."

He went to the upper level, and he killed the four that were in the first room. In the stomach, then the lungs, then the head.

"None of you deserve to live."

He moved on, seeing empty halls as he dragged blood through them. He felt most of the drops on his face drying, his mask and gloves soaking through to his skin.

There were three more in the briefing room there, and he took his shotgun to kill them all. Gone in seconds.

"Almost."

He went to the last security room, and killed two and kept the last alive. He tied him up, shooting him in the knee.

"Where's Makarov?" He asked calmly.

"Ah, back for revenge, eh? What happened to your little capt-"

He shot him again, hearing him scream. His face was blank.

"Where. Is. Makarov?"

"Why should I-"

Another shot to the other leg.

"Where. Is. Makarov?"

"You-"

Another shot.

"Tell. Me. Where. Makarov. Is."

"It- He's in his base in Moscow."

"Thank you." He took out a piece of paper and a pen, "Location. Now."

He wrote down the coordinates, which Kyle took and looked over before putting it in his pocket.

He slit his throat before walking out.

It was the dead of night when he got there...

It was sunset now.

it felt like no time had passed. But he had been there to kill everyone for at least thirteen hours.

But there were more.

And he was done.

He just went through the catwalks and balconies, and he just killed all of them. Blood. Nothing but blood and bodies were around.

He had stabbed so many of them, he didn't know if some was his blood or not.

He saw a Chopper in the distance.

But he stayed on the mission. He killed the rest, and he heard yelling in the distance.

Everyone looked the same. Faceless.

And he found another.

"Kyle, Stop!"

He barely turned at the voice, and he felt someone taking his guns from him, and he wrestled with them for it back.

"You all can just GO TO HELL-!"

"Kyle, it's me!"

He opened his eyes, and he saw the face of a terrified Alex taking his gun and holding his face.

He felt him wipe the blood away, holding him against his chest, rocking him gently.

"Kyle, its me... it's Alex, okay? I'm here, honey... I'm here."

He felt the numbness slightly melt into confusion, fully feeling the blood caked on his face and clothes.

"How did you find me?" He asked quietly, now registering another emotion for the first time in almost 48 hours. Sadness. Up until then, all he had been feeling was panic, anger, confusion, and complete numbess.

"You have a tracker in your radio." Laswell said as she walked up, "we pinpointed it."

He was still pressed against Alex's chest, eyes filling with tears.

"You scared us all, brother." Farah said as she walked up, "why did you do this?"

"Dad wanted me to stop Makarov."

"Kyle-"

"I have his location. I'll put together a briefing and we'll all go this time but I am killing Makarov alone."

"You can't make that call." Laswell said.

"I am the captain now. Dad made me the captain. I am in charge. Whether you like it or not. I am making sure we stop them..."

He didn't know how he kept his voice from wavering, still being rocked back and forth by Alex.

Laswell sighed, looking away and shaking her head, "Fine." She said, "Get back to the heli, Nik is taking the other one back."

Alex held onto him as they walked to the chopper, seeing that he was fully numb, eyes glazed over, and face blank.

He gently rocked Kyle as they flew back to base, hoping to keep him calm, to get him out of his daze.

Once they got back, Phil jumped towards Kyle holding him tight.

"You scared me to death! Kyle, why would you do this?!"

"Dad wanted me to get revenge..."

"You should've gotten someone to go with you, you could've died! I can't lose you and John, Kyle...! I can't..."

he didn't respond. The next thing he knew, he was back in his and Alex's room, and Alex was getting the blood off of him.

He didn't know what to do now. It finally clicked that he was probably going to lose his dad. He might lose his Pops with it, and his mother...

It was Makarov's fault.

It was his fault...

It wasn't him, he didn't pull the trigger...

But what if he got there faster? What if he took the bullet instead?

Maybe that would've been a better outcome...

"It's been a long time, Kyle." Alex said, kneeling in front of him, unlacing his boots and gently pulling them off, "have you eaten? Or slept?"

He shook his head.

Alex nodded, getting him changed into something more comfortable, and kissing his forehead, "I'm going to go to the mess, get you something to eat. Then your going to get some sleep, okay?"

He nodded.

"Okay." Alex kissed him again, walking out to quickly go to the mess hall.

He wanted Dad.

He finally felt tears welling up, along with sobs, and he just broke down.

Everything had been boiling up for the past 30-something hours, and it all just came out at once...

He wailed. He wailed so hard and couldn't stop, holding his face in his hands.

Alex ran back in shortly after, and held his head against his shoulder, rocking him gently while he waited for Kyle to calm down.

"Let it all out. It's okay, darling." Alex whispered, also tearing up.

"Why?! This isn't fucking fair! It shouldn't have been him!" He wailed, clawing at Alex's back.

He calmed down after fifteen minutes, now just sobbing in Alex's shirt.

"He's strong, baby." Alex said, tears in his eyes, "He'll pull through."

He nodded, pulling back slightly and looking down while Alex grabbed the food and laid them down. The tears never stopped, but he calmed down a little, Alex gently bringing the food to his mouth, letting him eat at his own pace.

"Alright, sit up for a minute." Alex said, and Kyle nodded, sitting up as Alex grabbed the tea, giving it to him and letting him drink it slowly.

Kyle gave the empty mug back, and Alex set it on the side table before laying them down.

"Sleep, darling." Alex whispered, "We'll figure out what to do later."

One week later...

They had tracked down Makarov. Got to the safehouse. He wasn't alone this time.

It was a blur. He didn't remember much of this night. He would probably never remember it.

But he would remember seeing Makarov on the glass roof. He, Ghost, and Alex were up there, about to kill him and make it hurt.

And then there was... something. An explosion, probably.

He was knocked to the ground, looking around and trying to find the others.

He heard footsteps, and he looked up to see an injured Makarov, holding his side and holding out a pistol.

It only registered what was happening two seconds later, hearing him say something.

"Goodbye, Sergeant Garrick."

He heard Alex scream.

"NO!!"

He heard the gun go off, and Ghost trying to wrestle the gun out of Makarov's hands.

No.

This was his time. His turn.

He was killing him.

he quickly stood, punching Makarov and tackling him to the ground.

He grabbed... something. He didn't know what it really was at first, but his mind was on auto-pilot. It was cable.

He wrapped it around Makarov's neck, seeing him struggle but not able to fight too hard.

"Kyle, what are you doing?!" He heard Ghost yell.

He slammed Makarov against the glass. It cracked.

He did it again. It cracked more.

He did it again. It shattered.

They both fell through the roof, Kyle falling on a catwalk, groaning as he sat up.

He watched as Makarov swung from the cable, trying to reach his neck and untie himself.

He stopped moving.

He heard Alex over comms, yelling about how they were coming down.

He just...

He wasn't satisfied. Makarov didn't actually die by his hands. He died because of a cable.

It wasn't enough.

He stood, shooting the cable until it snapped, seeing him fall to the ground, and he went down to him, drawing his knife.

He just started gutting Makarov. He gutted him like a dead fucking fish, stabbed him in the throat, stabbed him in the head, gouged his eyes out, nearly snapped his spine, nearly snapped his leg off, and an arm.

He was breathing heavily. He looked at what he had done...

And he smiled.

He fucking smiled.

"This is what you deserve." He whispered, kneeling back down over his body.

He looked back over his work, and he took the dog tags that hung around his neck.

"This is my reward for my suffering. The end for you."

He stood, seeing a jug of gasoline, and he took it, dumping all of it on Makarov.

"Gori v adu, kusok der'ma." He said before throwing his lighter on Makarov's dead body.

He watched as it went up in flames, smiling softly.

"Kyle!"

He turned at Alex's voice, seeing them run up.

And then he felt all the emotions come back. Panic, sadness, fear...

Alex wrapped him up in his arms, quickly walking away and whispering to him, hearing Ghost say something into his radio, Laswell on the other side.

Next thing he knew, he was on a chopper, still holding the dog tags.

He must've passed out, because then he was in his and Alex's room, Alex taking his blood-soaked gear off, and taking the dog tags.

"Let's get you cleaned up." Alex said softly, pulling him off the bed.

He pulled him into a warm bath, and he saw blood immediately fill the water, Alex gently washing his hair off, saying something to him, though he didn't hear it.

"Kyle?"

He blinked, glancing over at Alex, who was washing his arm off.

"What happened?"

He looked down, eyes filling with tears, finally, as he spoke.

"I... I didn't like how he died..." He said, "I decided he needed to suffer more. I gutted him. Took the tags..."

Alex nodded, gently washing his face off, "he was already dead though, right?"

He nodded.

"Did you set him on fire?"

He nodded again.

"Was there anyone else there that you killed?"

He shook his head.

"Just Makarov?"

He nodded.

"Why did you take the Dog Tags?"

He looked down, feeling Alex start to dry him off.

"My trophy."

Alex nodded, draining the water and pulling him out to dry him off easier, "Then hang it. I'll get a frame."

He smiled softly, taking the robe Alex offered him, "I was just going to hang it with a knife."

"That works." Alex said, smiling softly and pulling him up, "Let's get you dressed and in bed."

"Can we see Dad first?"

Alex sighed quietly, but nodded, "Alright." He said, pulling Kyle with him gently to get him dressed.

They went to Price's hospital room, seeing Phil still asleep on the bed, clutching John's left hand, his engagement ring.

John had proposed a few months ago. They were happily planning their wedding, Phil had wanted it in July, by a beach...

Now this.

"Pops?"

He turned to look, and he smiled softly, gesturing for Kyle to come closer, and he did, Phil sitting up to hold him.

"Kyle... Bud, your strong, you know that, right?"

He nodded.

"You'll get through this." Phil said, "He'll wake up. Don't worry."

But he would. And He could hear the barely hidden fear in his voice.

"What about you, Alex?" Phil asked, looking up at him, "How are you holding up?"

"About as well as everyone else." He replied, sitting on the bed, holding Kyle's hand, seeing his own engagement ring. They wanted to get married on Christmas. John was supposed to walk Kyle down the aisle...

"I think it will work out." Phil said, "He'll wake up soon. We can get Shepherd. And it'll all be okay."

Kyle hoped so.

Three months later...

They had tracked down Shepherd. They could kill him easily.

John was still asleep. He had been transferred to a nearby care center, giving him better around-the-clock care, but they could still easily see him. Which Phil and Laswell did every day.

But none of them were doing much better. In fact, most of them had gotten worse.

Kyle lost that bubbly, bright light. Now, it was a dull shine at most, wearing darker clothes, following Ghost's method of not wanting to be seen, and wearing masks to cover the lower half of his face. They had barely seen his face since Price was placed in a coma. Alex and Phil saw it the most.

Kyle had officially been promoted to Lieutenant, allowing him to officially make decisions for the 141.

He had been allowed to use Price's office, which he didn't change at all, other than adding a heater and Makarov's dog tags.

Alex had been promoted with him, Soap and Ghost declined the promotions, because Ghost didn't want to risk Kyle being knocked back behind him.

And now they could get Shepherd. Graves sent in a few Shadows to get Shepherd in a transport, would knock him out, and then bring him to the base.

They were already on the way back with him after slipping his drink.

Phil was going to help him interrogate and kill him.

Kyle smiled as he saw the chopper land, the Shadows dragging Shepherd out to an interrogation.

"You ready?" Phil asked.

"Of course." He responded, going up next to Shepherd.

He woke him up, slamming his head on the table.

It was a blur from there, but, apparently, Phil got everything they needed out of Shepherd. Where he was, safehouse locations, intel...

Now they could kill him. And he wasn't making the mistake he did with Makarov.

"Step out, Commander." He said. He didn't want Shepherd to make Phil feel even more vulnerable by calling him "pops"

"Lieutenant, no-"

"You don't want to see what I am about to do."

Phil sighed, nodding and walking out. But he decided to watch through the window.

He took out his knife, stabbing Shepherd in the ribs, hearing a scream that turned to a wheeze when he stabbed higher, his lungs filling with his own blood.

He then stabbed his stomach, watching the blood pool on the floor. he stabbed him in the neck.

He watched as he writhed in pain. He watched as the blood stopped flowing out.

He was dead.

Kyle wiped the blood off his knife, walked out and saw Phil and a Shadow.

"Burn the body."

"Yes, sir." The Shadow replied, walking in the room to drag the body away in a bag.

He walked out, going to his room to wash all the blood off of himself. Alex was helping Laswell finalize mission reports, but, he knew that, if he was there, he'd be helping and telling him that he did the right thing.

He was either always crying or showing no emotion. Alex was begging him to talk to a therapist, or at least him. At this point, he was considering it.

He just... didn't know what to do. His dad was dying. He felt lost...

He sighed as he got out of the shower, dried off and got dressed. He texted Alex before leaving.

"I'm going to see Dad. Can you come once your done with Mum?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

He walked to the care center, went to Price's room, sat next to him, and took off his mask.

"Shepherd's gone, Dad." He said, "You can wake up now. Makarov and Shepherd are gone. I'm Lieutenant now... Please? Wake up?... Pops is still wearing his ring. I still want you to walk me down the aisle... Please?"

He just sat there.

Phil walked in after a while. He immediately laid on John's chest, snuggling close to him, wrapping his arm around himself.

Alex walked in after that, holding onto Kyle as he sat down, "Any progress?" He asked, and Phil shook his head.

"Shepherd's dead." Kyle mumbled.

"Good." Alex replied, nodding, "Now what?"

"We wait for what's next." Phil said.

One year later...

Things had been... okay... kind of.

Most of them had started therapy, Kyle and Phil were on Anti-depressants, heavier then Soap and Alex were taking.

Laswell had been on leave for a while.

Kyle and Alex were close to being promoted to Captians. It was surreal to them.

John was still asleep.

Phil was lost, he was still wearing his ring and he was still slowly planning the wedding for the day John woke up.

Kyle had asked Alex to postpone the wedding, which he agreed to. They still wanted John to walk him down the aisle. They would want for the day.

Soap was still struggling with himself, he watched as John was downed and could do nothing, he watched as he passed out and was with Ghost as he dragged Phil out of that hospital room, he had to help hold him down as he screamed at them To let him go back to John.

Ghost was... he would never admit it, but he was struggling so much. He would sometimes lay on John and sob. He would be in his office, crying while he held Soap. He was suffering just as much...

Missions had been slow. They hadn't had much trouble with Makarov anymore. Now that he was killed- and so brutally, for that matter- they were not hearing a single thing anymore.

Kyle had been in charge of whatever they were doing. He has only done something like this a few times before, and not as long. But Phil said he was doing amazing.

He was hoping John would wake up soon, though.

He had gotten him a Christmas gift last year. He left it in his room at the center to unwrap when he woke up. But he didn't.

He left a birthday present for him. He took the time to date it that time, and dated the Christmas present.

He left a Father's Day gift. He dated that one too.

It was already Christmas again.

At the end of the day, They all went to his room with gifts, spending a good few hours with him, all of them leaving the gifts, though Phil spent the night, smiling at John's heartbeat.

"The kids miss you, bear..." he whispered, "You need to wake up... Kyle really needs you... But he is doing great. But I don't think he wants to be a Captain yet..."

He curled up under the blankets, feeling John's warmth on his body.

"I love you, bear. I can't wait to get married to you."

Six months later...

They had found Valeria.

Kyle had been promoted to captain, and Alex was with him throughout it all. Was promoted with him.

and now, they were keeping Valeria in a cell before putting her in jail for her charges.

"Well, I guess a few years changes a lot of things, eh?" She asked once she heard Kyle's new rank.

"It's not relevant." He replied as he sat down.

"I've already given you my intel, pleaded guilty, and signed away all my rights." She said, leaning forward, "It's not like your here for any more intel. I gave you everything I have. So why not chat about it?"

"You first. Why did you plead guilty and sign everything away?"

She shrugged, leaning back, "I have nothing to lose. No family left. I have no one to love. So, why should I fight? You have my cartel in your hands, Alejandro and Rodolfo are probably making arrests as we speak. I have nothing."

He nodded, pretty shocked at the reasoning.

"So why are you captain now?"

He went numb. It was the first time he was numb in quite some time. He started to get better... but now he was talking about it.

"Captain Price is in a coma. He has been for nearly two years. I was promoted to his rank." Was all he said.

"Oh... That... holy shit..."

"You can stew over that in prison." He said, standing, "You're leaving tomorrow. You know your sentence."

He left, seeing her fidget with her handcuffs and looking down.

He wondered if she really cared. About anything.

He wondered if she noticed how his voice was deeper. How he dressed. She couldn't have missed the mask...

But he didn't care much about her, so why the fuck should he care?

He just went back to his room to sleep.

He woke up screaming from another nightmare, Alex holding onto him and whispering to him that it was okay.

It was not. It never would be.

He had therapy that day. It helped a little. His meds helped a little more. Family helped a little more.

Good. he didn't feel numb.

Alex decided they should go out that night for dinner. A fancy restaurant, one of Kyle's favorite.

It made him feel happy for the first time in a while.

Six months later...

It had been two years since John went into a coma.

Every time that any specific date that involved John came around, the base was quiet. Somber.

All of them had barely been on leave. Both Kyle and Phil had spent a week each in a mental hospital. Kyle had a breakdown after a particularly hard day, and a visiting Major yelling at him for some stupid mistake. He said that it was his fault that John was in a coma.

Phil was with John, laying on him as he flatlined again. He ended up having a breakdown of his own from that.

Kyle screamed and cried in his room, throwing things around and breaking a few picture frames. He gave Alex a few bruises and cuts in the blind rage. Medics came to sedate Kyle and treat Alex's wounds. After an emergency therapy appointment and a Psych eval, Kyle was placed on psychiatric leave for a week in a mental hospital, barely managing to pass the follow-up and allowed back in the field.

Phil was fighting with a few nurses, then with Ghost to stop him from going back in the room.

John was revived. Still asleep.

Phil was crying and yelling, and he passed out. He was moved to the med bay on base before the mental hospital.

He spent the week there and was put on desk duty, not allowed to see John for two weeks. It helped and hurt. Because he was very dependent on seeing John to function.

Kyle was picked up by Alex, and he was crying nonstop, trying to apologize but the words were hard to form. Alex still had plasters and stitches. He just held onto Kyle while he sobbed, still saying "I'm sorry" over and over.

Alex was, admittedly, a little angry when it happened. more at the circumstances than Kyle, but, it was the reaction more than anything. He was scared. He had cleaned the room and replaced the picture frames, making sure Kyle came home to a clean room. He just sobbed more at that. It really made him realize what he did. But they talked about it, very calmly, and Alex promised that he'd help him find better ways to cope.

Ghost picked Phil up from the hospital, not really reacting when he apologized at least twenty times. He had already written an apology to the care center, which is when he found out we wouldn't be able to see John for a while. But Ghost just dropped him off at the base before driving off. He texted him so many times, begging for a response. Ghost only responded with a few things, but he did say that he didn't blame him. He was stuck doing a bunch of paperwork, though Kyle, Alex, and Laswell came to see him came to see him the most. Soap and Ghost came by some.

They both were doing a little better now. Kyle had been finding ways to calm down. Phil had been trying to not be as reliant on seeing John.

Kyle went to a rage room every once in a while. Alex often went with him, and every time, they'd actually start giggling together and make a game out of hitting targets.

But John was still asleep. And nothing was okay yet. Not truly okay, anyway.

But at least it was better.

Even just a little.

One year later...

Phil sighed as he laid on John's chest, stroking his cheek softly.

It had officially been three years since John fell into a coma. None of them truly felt okay.

Kyle had been taking so many pictures of missions, the team, and everything that had been going on... for when he woke up.

He and Alex were still Captain's and working on mission briefings. They were helping Ale and Rodolfo with dealing with the leftovers of Las Almas Cartels.

Ghost and Soap were there, about to come back.

Laswell had been helping Kyle and Alex through all the planning.

"Bear... Could you wake up? Please?" He whispered, shifting to lay on him more how he used to, and putting John's hand on his head...

He felt his hand grip his hair.

His eyes shot open, "John?!" He yelled, shifting to sit up and gently touching John's face.

His eyes fluttered open with a groan, and he said in a raspy voice, "Cr-Cricket?"

"Bear... Bear, it's me... Don't worry about talking right now... I'm getting the nurse." He jumped up, running out to the hall.

He texted Kyle, Laswell, and Ghost as he ran back in the room.

...

Kyle sighed as he finished up the stack of paperwork. Alex gently touched his shoulder as he stacked them back up, "Well, we got it done. What now?"

"I don't know..." Kyle said, hearing his phone go off, and he picked it up-

"He's awake."

Was the text from Phil.

"Kyle?" Alex asked, looking at the text and also freezing.

They both sat there for at least three minutes before Kyle stood, getting his stack of photos, and Alex went with him out of the room.

They ran to the care center, and Kyle sighed as he got to the door to the room.

"You go ahead, Kyle." Alex said, smiling, "I'll come in after you."

Kyle nodded, taking his mask off and knocking on the door.

"Come in." Phil said, and he slowly opened the door.

"Hey..." He said softly, smiling when he saw his dad sitting up in bed for the first time in three years, nurses around the bed while Phil laid on him.

John looked a little confused, choking out, "Who are you?"

No.

No.

This wasn't happening.

This was a joke.

"It... It's me, Dad..." He said, "It's Kyle..."

"I never had kids."

Phil looked up at him, seeing the look in his eyes.

He watched as two years of progress in therapy was undone in seconds.

Kyle looked down, "I apologize, sir." He said quietly, gently placing the stack of pictures on the bed.

He looked back up at him, straightening up, glancing at Phil, who looked so worried.

"Goodbye."

A simple word he said a lot.

But it would be the last time he said it to him.

He walked out, softly closing the door, seeing Alex looking confused.

"Dad doesn't remember me."

Alex was shocked, but nodded softly, taking his hand, "Let's go." He said, "Let's talk about what to do."

They silently walked back to the base, and Alex sat Kyle down, getting him tea and snacks, holding him gently.

"So. What do we do?" Kyle asked.

Alex sighed, kneeling in front of him to hold his hands.

"As much as this hurts to say... It's the best idea, for your sake... to leave."

It didn't shock him. He knew as soon as he heard his Dad ask who he was, he knew he wouldn't be able to stay. This was the end.

The end of Captain Gaz Garrick of the 141. The end of Captain Alex Keller of the 141.

They had to leave.

He called his Pops from his room, Alex holding onto him.

"Kyle, are you okay?" He asked, clearly very worried.

"I'm fine... Alex and I are packing, we're going to transfer."

There was a long pause...

"Okay. But, please... Don't let us lose you completely."

"You won't. I'll still be in touch."

"Good... I'll help with the paperwork, we promote Ghost and let you go."

"Thank you."

They got their room packed in two days. The paperwork was done for Ghost to be in charge. He was now Captain Reily, and Soap was Lieutenant Mactavish.

They were at the helipad, Kyle wearing his mask as they said their goodbyes. Phil was sobbing in Ghost's arms as they left. He hoped he'd see his boy again soon...

Once they got to their new base, they were allowed to make their own new team. Thankfully, an old friend of Kyle's was also there, and they got her on their Task Force... Unofficially, for now, until they could actually make the Task Force.

They had to fill out paperwork for new dog tags and officially transferred to a new team. Names and callsigns.

Alexander "Alex" Keller.

Kyle "Specter" Garrick.

He couldn't be... "Gaz" anymore. He lost that long ago. Now, it would just remind him of what he couldn't have.

They decided to stop postponing the wedding. Kyle decided, really, and Alex agreed.

"It's not like Dad could walk me down the aisle now anyway. Pops can if he wants to. I just want us to get married now..."

Phil was happy to do it.

They finally were able to get married on Christmas that year. The 141 came... Price wasn't there. Kyle almost didn't care.

They were so happy... Kyle was genuinely smiling for the first time in a while. It was so perfect. Beautiful.

Kyle had to sign new paperwork now that his last name changed...

Kyle "Specter" Keller.

It felt much better. It further detached him from Price.

He would always call him Dad, he would always love him. But he would never want to see him again. Not willingly.

He felt like he lost three years of his life. He did everything for him... It wasn't John's fault. He knew it wasn't. But it still hurt. So much.

But this was life now. It wasn't what they wanted, but it was what they got stuck with.

The years went by rather quickly. The more Kyle blocked out the feelings about Price, the more he seemingly got better. But he wasn't. Therapy was fine, sometimes it helped.

He wanted to detach himself from him. But he wanted him in his life. He put up all the pictures he had of them together in his and Alex's house. He put a few in his office...

Alex was trying to help, but he was struggling just as much. he didn't want to leave the 141, but he knew it was the only thing they could do at that point.

Farah would still come to visit from Urzikstan. She'd try and help them, get them in town, out on a walk, or to a restaurant... Anything to get their minds off of work and Price... He remembered her. Not everything about her, but he remembered her.

They didn't hear much after they left. Not that they wanted to know, Price probably wasn't making great progress. Phil said that he was getting a few memories back. Not about them.

And by that time, it had been two years.

It had been five years since he lost his Dad.

And he doubted that he was going to get him back.

Ever.

[the-algebra-thing]

I think my most favorite thing about the riddle of ages was that it was unabashedly More focused on the interpersonal relationships formed by the society, especially within the four of them. tesla hates time skips which is not my feeling but fair I guess and I was reminded of this several times while I was reading. not only because I want them to read this series and I think they'll love it but because the time skip was SOOOO conscious. it was like it occurred for the sole reason of them backtracking and saying I'm sorry. I am sorry we skipped fiveish years. I love you. they love each other. look at what has happened. it is not okay. it's okay.

change is an overarching theme of this book and like. it's not as if that hasn't been done before. that's what strikes me so much about it is that among dozens, hundreds of final installments that address change and how it feels, this book still feels uniquely emotionally intelligent about it. I haven't quantified it yet but the approach feels fundamentally different. this is enhanced by the way the main plot is, so much more so than the original trilogy, a vehicle for these themes about love and family and strength and change and growing up. the consequences, you find out at the end, were not nearly as dire as you were lead to believe, and the entire plot was in fact the result of a play by reynie kate and sticky that directly feeds into and really ties up some of those emotional themes.

there is no way I could've expected a series that is so stalwartly About being a child to tackle growing up so so so effectively. the time skip was integral to it in a way I haven't quantified, like I said. but otherwise stewart kept the exact tone and style he'd used for the original trilogy and applied it to a wholly more emotional central idea, just leaning it gently in that new direction, and it worked so phenomenally that it passed right through my mind without me even crying about the end of it. I was worried when I finished the riddle of ages and didn't feel like I'd been hit by a truck, because in my mind that's how I'm supposed to feel when something rooted deep in my childhood like this ends for good, but really I think it is just that the story worked on me that completely, which is honestly insane to me. I'll have more thoughts later as I continue working through my ideas but this is the main one I've got to put out there right now