#Kyra (Faded Dream)

[nordlichtkunst]

Ref for Kyra, one of the MCs of Children of a Faded Dream!

She's very friendly, plans on becoming a Make Up artist but until she can get a foot in the door in that line of work, she "just" has like, Social Media Accounts showing the make up she does on herself or her friends.

Thanks to the blog @/cripplecharacters and their followers for giving me some much needed inspiration in regards to her make up!

Also thanks to @silversh4dows for the Base :3

[totaly-obsessed]

Could you write for alessia where the reader gets badly injured during a match and alessia completely over reacts during trying to protect and look after reader

Hovering

Alessia Russo x reader Drabble & Request

-> Reader gets injured, Alessia loses it, and turns into a nurse

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Derby’s were always different matches than the usual – feistier, more brutal. There was a real passion behind it. And this game was no different. Arsenal against Tottenham, the north London derby. The training sessions were even more intense than usual, and the speech Leah gave in the changing room was terrifying. While the blonde couldn’t play, still out with her ACL, she was still a Gunner through and through – so she sat at the sidelines, shouting words of encouragement.

Standing in the tunnel you could feel the tension, it made you nervous. While most loved derby days, you didn’t – they were scary. Your lovely girlfriend knew it, trying to get you to sleep until three in the morning, whispering calming words into your ears as she rubbed your back in a soothing motion. Now, standing behind you, she rested her bigger hands on your shoulders – weighing your nervous body down.

The crowd was electric while walking in and through the entire first half where Less had scored a gorgeous goal – the halftime speech mainly consisted of encouraging words to further the lead by a goal or two. Everything was going fine until Arsenal was given a corner kick.

Steph was the one to take it – and now the only thing you remember was hearing Katie shout out a ‘you bitch!’ as you went down. Your entire face hurt as a metallic taste filled your mouth. Dazed you sat on the ground as everything escalated around you.

The medics were talking at you, pressing a towel against your nose, and lighting a lamp in your eyes as your conciseness started to fade.

It felt like a dream when you woke up in the medical room, surrounded by your teammates, who were quietly chatting amongst themselves. “Amore! You’re awake!” Your girlfriend sat up next to you, taking your hands into hers. Your eyes were hazy, the brightness of the room needing you to hold a hand in front of them. It was Kim who turned the light off, sitting directly in front of the switch for it.

“What happened?” Alessia nearly cooed at your croaky voice, feeling sorry for you. After looking at her a bit closer, you noticed tear streaks on her cheeks. With shaky hands, you reached out to wipe the new tears away, as she gave you a tight smile. “You jumped for the header, but got pushed into the goalpost by a Tottenham player.”

And just like that, the pain in your nose returned – as you went to touch it, Less caught your hands, taking them into hers once again. “Still made the goal though. And Russo got a red.” Kyra laughed as she remembered how your goal went in, going to hug you, just to see you lying on the ground, with a bloody nose and absent eyes.

With shocked eyes, you looked at your girlfriend, who looked way sheepishly. “W- What? Alessia?” Other than expected, the girls started cheering  - quickly stopping when their striker's angry gaze met theirs. Katie patted her on the back like a proud older sister, who had gotten her sibling into trouble. “Russo here can get feisty. Some nice yelling at the Ref, pushing players – Slapping a bitch…”

You nearly thought that you had misheard the Irishwoman. “You slapped someone?” The blonde knew that she really was in trouble now – so did everybody else as they quietly laughed. “Amore – she pushed you! You were bleeding a-and I couldn’t help myself so I- I…” She gave up, seeing your raised brow.

The team girls stayed for a while as a doctor came and explained your bruised nose, chipped tooth, and very annoying concussion.

Seeing your pain and Alessia’s longing eyes Kim decided to gather the team and go home, leaving the blonde on your bed at your side before she took you to your joined home again. “I was so scared, Amore.” Now it was your turn to coo, kissing her puffy cheeks, tasting the saltiness of her tears on your lips. “I know baby. But you didn’t need to get a red. I appreciate your protecting me very much, but it wasn’t needed.”

Alessia spent the rest of the evening hovering. Helping you in the bath, helping wash your hair, helping you get out, making dinner, helping you change, and helping you get ready for bed. And as much as you tried not to say anything, it felt suffocating.

“Alessia?” You were lying in bed by now, while Alessia ran through the room, trying to think of things to make your night better. “Hmm?”

“If you wake me up in the night – I’ll kill you.” Your girlfriend gulped nervously, hoping that you were joking.

After two hours of restless sleep, Alessia was still awake, she woke you up again. “I’m sorry Amore, but I need to check, you know that.” You did know that. But you were still annoyed.

Throughout the night she was met with various harsh responses to being woken up – but she handled them like a champ, knowing that you loved her – you were just tired and in pain.

Alessia couldn’t help but hover for the next days, having taken off from training as well.

While it was annoying, you wouldn’t change it for the world, enjoying your time together even if you weren’t feeling so well. the striker would never regret that red card, content to have you by her side, nursing you back to full health.

[chaosology]

only slightly

— Sam Kerr x reader

based off these requests, where Sam is only slightly mad that Y/N got hurt

There was something in the air that night. Your relationship with Sam had blossomed from teammates to more than friends only eight months prior, a secret well hidden from the public.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want people to know, but you just wanted to enjoy each other in private. The photos that decorated your walls were for your eyes only, pictures of arms around waists and kisses on cheeks during tender moments. You knew a small part of Sam wanted to show you off, grab you by the hand and twirl you with a “that’s my girl” expression, but even she was enjoying the privacy and security.

Your sport wasn’t easy - you fell, tripped and tumbled constantly. You knew the game's rough edges, the unpredictability of injuries, and the unspoken understanding of pushing through pain. You know you have to get back up and push aside whatever you feel to keep going. Concern never takes precedence.

Unless it’s her.

Witnessing the person you cherish hit the ground evokes a unique kind of terror. Resilience fades as love clouds your vision, and it’s so incredibly hard to not run over and protect them in the only way you know how.

Despite this, you and Sam had remained professional (even though it was incredibly hard). There hadn’t been many occurrences; one of the examples being when Sam was booted in the face, and you clapped her on the back when she sat back up. The cameras didn’t catch the whispered I love you’s, though.

“You right?” you heard Kyra say as she nudged you.

You offered only a stiff nod in response. It was the quarter finals, giving your team the opportunity to make history for Australia in the World Cup. Sam was giving a speech, her hands moving animatedly with a few fucks thrown in here and there. You could tell she was stressed too. It was her dream being here, but all she could feel was the weight of the world on her shoulders.

As you moved out to position, you could feel a hand brush against yours, her pinky intertwining with yours for only the briefest of seconds. It was a silent reassurance of which you treasured, offering a smile and cheeky wink back. Sam just laughed, moving out to her spot You didn’t miss the way she turned back to look at you.

You were beginning to feel the heat. Both teams were 0-0 and there was 20 minutes left. Every player on the field was getting more aggressive, weaving in and out strategically. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed, though. Mini had been tripped up twice by the same player and Kyra had taken a hit to the head - in what seemed to be calculated attacks. The referee didn’t seem to care, as nobody had been carded or even lightly reprimanded. What a joke.

Running up and down the field had began to tire you, a familiar tight feeling returning to your chest. The stress of the game was taking its toll, and you wondered if Sam was doing ok. She was down the other side of the pitch, but you could still see her meet your eye and smile. In seconds, you had turned back to see the ball heading your way. You took off, weaving through the opposition as you made your way towards the goal.

What you didn’t predict, though, was a player on the other team not only barreling into you, but shoving you hard on the way down. Her hands were at your shoulders, forcing your head at the ground. Feeling slightly spiteful in the heat of the moment, you grabbed the neck of her shirt and forced her down with you. It was only fair, right?

The white hot pain spread throughout your head like a wildfire, your eyes closing as your hands came to cradle your face. You could taste the blood on your lips the familiar searing sensation returned to your ankle, which had healed only weeks earlier. The force of impact had blurred your vision slightly, and you were surprised to see that the other girl had ran off the game was continuing.

Couldn’t they see that you were hurt? Why hadn’t they stopped? The referee didn’t even glance at you.

Sam had seen you take a tumble from the corner of her eye, losing focus when the ball came her way. She didn’t look back over until she noticed the crowd’s chanting change to yells of anger and concern. Her eyes flitted over the field, where were you? Who was that curled up on the ground?

Oh.

She was running in an instant, yelling for someone to grab the medics and the referee as she made her way to you. The referee had finally taken notice, signalling a pause in gameplay she took her sweet, fucking time walking over.

All urges to keep the relationship private had left her body as Sam crouched to pull you to her. She sat behind you as the medics checked your pupils and made sure it wasn’t urgent. The referee was having an animated conversation with the player who had pushed you, insisting that you had pulled her down. The ref looked to you, asking question after question that you didn’t even clock.

“Give her a fucking minute, can you see she’s hurt?” Sam had snapped back, pushing your hair behind your ear as you cleaned your face up. The medics had offered wet wipes as the physio made her way out to asses your ankle. You were still dazed, but coming to it more and more as you felt Sam’s grip on you. Who cares that anyone saw.

She looked up from where she was sitting to see the screens in the stadium had been replaying the moment for the crowd. The other girl had been vicious in her actions, and the expression on your face as you hit the ground made the Aussie see red.

She was up in seconds, in the other girls face and shoving her back.

“What the fuck was that, huh?” she had yelled, pointing at the screen. “She could’ve been really hurt.” Her eyes were slightly teary as she yelled. She shoved her back once more, a string of expletives as she did so. It was Mackenzie who eventually separated the two, offering the offender a pointed glare.

Sam’s attention was back at you, still hot with anger and concern. It was a kiss on the forehead as she took your arm and you walked off the field to rest. It wasn’t too bad, the shock had worn off and you were beginning to feel better despite the yellow bruise painting your head.

The cameras had captured her crouching in front of you, taking your hands in hers as she kissed your knuckles. Regretfully, she went back out to play, but you couldn’t help but notice her looking over at you protectively every few minutes.

All pain from your ankle disappeared as you ran back out to the field, jumping to Sam and Caitlin as they celebrated the win. The winning penalty had just been kicked after a tense 15 extra minutes. Sam had grabbed your chin, tilting it down to kiss your forehead in the midst of the chaos. You were laughing and crying, embracing one another as the crowd screamed bloody murder.

Like all other games, you and the opposing team had ended with handshakes and hugs. You were lined up as they walked past in defeat, offering a small “you guys did great” to each player that came by. By now, the crowds had settled and the cameras were skirting by, trying to get a good shot of everyone’s face - you hoped they didn’t focus to hard on yours.

What they did catch, however, was the moment Sam didn’t let go of that girls hand. Keeping up appearances, she smiled and pulled her in, saying something in her ear as she paled in response. She let go, giving her a slight push and clap on the back. From a distance, it looked friendly. Looked friendly.

“What did you say to her, Sami?”

“Nah, didn’t say anything. Must’ve hit your head pretty hard there, babe.” she responded teasingly. You had retired to the changing rooms where she was still inspecting your face. Her hands gently moving your chin in all directions so she could see the damage. You could see the fire behind her eyes that she was holding back, instead busying herself with making sure you were ok.

“Oh come off it, we all saw. What’d ya say??”

She sighed, muttering a small so demanding as she whipped off her jersey and changed. You admired as you awaited her response. Anyone could guess she offered something of a threat, but you just wanted to hear her say it. Perhaps that was because it was super attractive when she was protective, but you’d take that secret to the grave.

“I just told her what would happen if she did it again, that’s all.” She looked almost proud as she pulled you in for another hug.

“I’m serious, though. I’m glad you’re okay. Gave me a fucking heart attack out there” she admitted, her arms tightening around your waste.

“I’m glad you were there, Sam. All I wanted was you” you whispered, “but no more threats.”

“No promises, baby”

[daddycephalopod]

Stars Fading

Cody x Oc

Summary: A war erupts between the Jedi and Separatists, but you already know that story. This is the story of love blooming in a time of chaos, pain, and disorder. 
What will become of our heroes? Who will win? Who will survive?

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49394683/chapters/124650316

Due to trigger warnings related to PTSD, blood, war, and the inclusion of other mature themes as well, I will be posting all of my Clone War Auxiliary fics under the cut as I move them over. I’m moving this one over first because I really hope @starstofillmydream can read it easier this way 💚 she’s been very helpful in the characterization of our beloved Commander. Each fic has a song or lyric for the title, this one is a cover of Dream a Little Dream of Me by Kina Grannis.

Chapter 1: Sunshine

There was a reverent beauty in the setting sun and all that it touched, the skies bursting with pinks and oranges. The peachy color illuminated the part of the hanger where Kyra usually worked on broken or damaged fighter ships. She usually had her black hair pulled back, splotches of ink or oil on her face and the GAR issued mechanic suit.

Always disheveled, always covered in a dark liquid to some varying degree, and yet a certain Commander always found his heart beating a little more loudly as he watched her work. She had no idea he was there, talking to another one of the techs. She was looking up, focused on a wing that took damage. Her googles were on, hair in a messy bun today.

He recognized the other tech to actually be the weapons expert, Isla. She smiled slightly at him, now trying to discreetly get Kyra’s attention but failing.

“I’m just glad it was Kenobi instead of Skywalker. Anakin treats my ships like they’re bantha fodder, made for explosion only. I’ve asked Rory to have a chat with him, I don’t think she does or he doesn’t care when she does.” She said, scanning the wing with the data pad to fully assess damages.

Isla opened her mouth but shut it when Kyra kept going. Cody looked a little amused now.

“I’m tired of these Jedi thinking our resources are expendable, easy to come by. The senate pays the bill for it, sure, but what of it when they don’t or won’t anymore?”

“Do you have something against the Jedi? I might be able to launch a more formal complaint.” Cody said

Kyra almost hit her head, pulling away from the wing now.

“Hello commander.”

Kyra was just a hair shorter than him, able to basically look him in the eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. She rested the googles around her neck now, beautiful brown eyes on him.

“I apologize if it sounds that way, about the Jedi. I’m fond of the generals, just frustrated. My people have a very intricate and annoying relationship with them too, it doesn’t help their case.” Kyra admitted with a sigh

“Where are you from?” Cody asked, genuinely curious.

“Mandalore.”

The answer was short and didn’t offer too much personal information but he had several follow up questions. Maybe this would be a good time to ask her to dinner, which is something he’s been wanting to do for a while. Before he could, Isla witnessed the darkening of his expression. It was like a storm passed through the man at seeing Kenobi approach and Kyra’s expression brighten.

“You’re officially my favorite general, you barely scratch up my work.” She said with a smile.

“I don’t particularly try to be mindful of that in the heat of battle but happy it works out that way. Is Cody bothering you?” He asked

“No, he could never. The man is like sunshine is plastoid.” Kyra said, not able to look at Cody as she said it.

Isla winked at Cody, “I’m gonna head back to work on some stuff and see Jesse. Are you going to 79s later?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there.” Kyra said before beginning to work on the wing again.

“I’m inclined to agree, Cody is a wonderful asset to our team. As are you, you work very hard to keep us in the air.”

“Did Skywalker crash another one?” She asked, pulling some wires out of the wing as she spoke.

Those probably weren’t supposed to come out so easily.

“Yes. But I mean it, you’re a great asset to this team.”

Kyra blushed and waved him off, “thank you but really. Please. Yell at Skywalker.”

Kenobi smiled at that, “I’ll do my best.”

He left at that, it was just Cody and Kyra now. Did she have feelings for his general? Why did that sit funny with him?

“Will I find you among the other commanders and captains tonight, Cody?” She asked

“Maybe.” He answered, genuinely unsure.

He had so much to do in terms of paperwork and preparing for tomorrows meeting, but those beautiful brown eyes seemed to shine in the sunlight when they looked at him. They were an amber brown.

“I’ll look for you.” She said

That made his heart flutter but he chose to ignore it. She probably did like Kenobi, who wouldn’t? He had developed a slight crush on the man but it seemed to go away with time. Cody was pulled from his thoughts by Waxer, who was showing him a data pad to sign off on shinies.

Kyra had gone home after her work was done to wash up and change, going to 79s after. Isla was the only one there and she was preoccupied by Jesse so Kyra sat at the bar by herself. She was two whiskeys in when Cody approached her, sitting next to her at the bar now.

“Not going to go fight off potential bed warmers at the high command table?” She asked, probably a little too bold from the liquor.

Maybe Cody had misread what she meant when she said she would be looking for him but he wasn’t going to back down now, especially as Wolffe and Gregor gave him a thumbs up from their table. Kyra smiled a bit at that, maybe she should go easy on him.

“I’m only kidding, I know most of you have partners and aren’t like that. Although, sex is actually a great stress reliever.”

Too forward, too much. Someone kill her now. Kyra downed the rest of her whiskey and ordered two more.

“I think you’d like this stuff. If you don’t, hey. It’s a free drink.”

Cody took a sip of it, taking in the bitter somewhat smokey flavor of the liquor.

“It’s nice, thank you.” He said

“I’m not good with people. You put me in front of a broken ship or even building one, I’m spectacular but I can’t uh…I’m not the talker. I don’t talk to people well.” She admitted

“You don’t say.” Cody said, sarcasm laced heavily in his words.

Kyra blushed a bit at that, she wasn’t doing well with this at all. She opted for silence after and Cody hoped he didn’t offend her.

“I’m not much of a talker either.” He admitted.

“No?” She asked

He shook his head, “too much going on in my head. Sometimes I switch between Mando’a and basic without meaning to and one time, I accidentally insulted master Yoda. He was a Jedi about it but I still felt bad.” Cody sighed

“I insulted the Chancellor at a dinner once.” Kyra said, “to his face. It was an accident too. Kenobi really saved me from being arrested. Not that Thorn would have, not without me actually doing something illegal.”

“Have you ever been arrested?” He asked her.

Kyra faced him a little more now and he did the same to her, their knees bumping together going ignored by the two of them.

“I was held by the Corries for 1 night once. I accidentally stole a necklace but what happened was I was still kind of magnetic from an incident with one of the ships. Senators are dramatic and a necklace flew off of one of them onto me. Really, holding me was just a formality. I didn’t even go into a cell, I sat in Thorn’s office and played with Grizzer.”

“How did Fox let that slide?” He asked, taking another sip of whiskey.

“I’m friends with Kavra, she helped him take mercy on me. They should just shut up and date already. The world would be a happier place if people let go and let their feelings win sometimes.” She shrugged.

She was about to order another one, but Cody stopped her.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, okay? I know that hangovers during briefings are no fun.”

“Ah fuck, I have to sit in on that tomorrow?” She frowned

“Sorry.” He chuckled.

He ordered her water and something small to eat, Kyra watching him as he did so. He was in a black T-shirt and pants, no doubt the blacks from under their armor. He had various scars down his arms, but she noticed how toned his arms were and how long his fingers were. She shifted in her seat, clamping her thighs together.

“What?” He asked, noticing her watching.

She had to keep herself in check because it wasn’t polite to tell your sort of new friend you wanted them to choke you while railing you into next month. Kyra opted for a random fact that popped up in her mind, knowing it would divert the confused looking man from her semi-strange behavior.

“Some call you Commander Sunshine.” She said, smiling at him with teeth.

She had a small gap between her two front teeth and it lit up her whole face to smile. He felt his heart flip flop at that and couldn’t help his own smile.

“Why is that? I’ve been told I can be harsh on my men at times.”

Kyra vaguely gestured at him, as if that was answer enough and he laughed.

“Thank you for not clearing that up.” He said

“You’re welcome.” She smiled again.

After they both ate, continuing to talk, Kyra decided it was time to close her tab instead of keep drinking. The food seemed to sober her up a little bit and she knew a walk back in the cool air would help too. Cody insisted on walking her back to her apartment, it wasn’t far from here but he wasn’t going to take no for an answer on this. She was tipsy, he wasn’t going to leave her alone.

They walked in silence, enjoying the sounds around them as the cool air seemed to do the trick. It was a comfortable silence between the two of them and Kyra made a decision as they stopped outside of her apartment building.

“Did you want to come up for a cup of caf?”

Cody was a little startled by the question but said, “sure.” He followed her up, silently looking around the apartment while she went into the small kitchen. It was a little cluttered, lived in. Boots by the door, a jacket and scarf on a hook by the door. There was a couch with blankets draped in various spots and a data pad charging at a desk pressed against the wall in the corner. There was a small kitchen with barstools at an island instead of a table.

The counter top island had various jars and half drank cups of old caf on them. She had an easel set up too, tarp under it. A half painted bowl of fruit was on it, making him smile a bit. There was a small table in the middle of the room and another next to the couch, an end table. There was a helmet, beskar, but it seemed old. Worn, but not worn. The color of it a grey-blue mixture. Cody noticed there was a picture of a man with her by one of the lamps.

“I had a husband.” She said as she handed him the warm mug.

She was so quiet, he almost jumped out of his skin when she spoke. To sneak up on him was a feat many didn’t possess but he knew Kyra wasn’t going to harm him. Maybe.

“Had?” He asked

“He died. We had only been married for two years but it’s okay. It was an arrangement to bring our clans together, we were friends. Nothing more.”

“I’m still sorry.” He said

She nodded, “most people are.”

They both sipped their caf in silence. She sat on the couch and patted the spot next to her. Their legs touched again, silently enjoying the closeness but not admitting it.

“We should do this more.” She said suddenly.

“What?” He asked

“Hang out. Talk. Whatever this is.” She said, still not entirely sober but not entirely drunk either.

Cody brushed a strand of hair out of her face, the touch seeming to startle her. There was something slightly odd about the woman, anybody who spent more than 20 minutes with her could see it or sort of sense it. She seemed warm and kind, though, generally. The silences with her were comfortable, never tense or awkward. Eventually, Cody had fallen asleep on one side of the couch, Kyra falling asleep on the other. When she woke up, Cody was gone and it made her frown. She rather enjoyed his presence, she found, and it was sort of cold without him. She couldn’t explain it beyond that. There was a note taped to the fridge, the caf pot still warm to indicate he hadn’t left that long ago.

“Sorry if the caf is cold when you wake up, I didn’t want to bother you. See you at the meeting.”

Kriff. The meeting. She checked what time it was and saw she had an hour left to get ready and head over there. The caf would end up in a to-go mug after being microwaved due to waiting until after her shower. Her hair was down, air drying and she had on leggings and a tank top for now. She brought her data pad, just in case. She slid in next to Isla, maybe only 5 minutes late, and immediately felt a gaze on her.

Commander Cody, through his visor, staring right at her. She heard he hated tardiness and informalities, he was a proper commander after all. She smiled sheepishly at him before pulling up notes on her data pad. She paid very close attention, not noticing after a while that Cody seemed more interested in her than the meeting. You couldn’t really tell beyond the visor because it hid his face but Kenobi certainly noticed.

It was concern enough for the Jedi to pull Cody aside after the meeting, telling him he wished to speak to him in private. After everybody had filed out and it was only the two of them, Kenobi’s expression turned from friendly to very serious.

“I don’t know what your true relationship is with Kyra and it is not my business to pry in such matters, but you need to consider the relationship very carefully.” Kenobi said

Who was she that Obi-wan was warning him?

“We’re just friends, general. Nothing more.” Cody replied

“Even being her friend could lead to precarious situations. Her life is not as simple as it looks.”

How did Kenobi know all of that? Who or what was Kyra? The question seemed to entice him towards her more, sliding down to where she was working later in the day. She was with Aurora.

“So when is the wedding?” Kyra joked lightly.

“Shut up.” Aurora blushed

“Apologies, on interrupting.” Cody said as he approached.

“None needed, what brings you all the way down here?” Kyra asked

Ask her to dinner, for a drink. Kriff, she looked so beautiful in those leggings and tank top, her hair pulled up in a bun again out of her face. She had freckles across her nose and a few scars here and there down her arms and back.

“Cody?” She asked, tilting her head to the side slightly now.

He cleared his throat, “I need to speak with the General. I came looking for her.”

Why couldn’t he just ask this woman on a proper date? Cody was smooth, he could usually sweet talk his way into anybody’s bed but with Kyra he always found himself falling short.

“Well, I am done with her for now so I suppose you can borrow her. Only for a little while, commander.” She said, giving him that bright smile again.

“You should come to 79’s tonight.” He blurted out.

Yup. Smooth.

“Why is that?” She asked, looking amused still.

“You made a comment about the commanders and captains turning away bed warmers and I wanted to turn that jab into a bet.” He said

Something unreadable flashed through Kyra’s expression, there and gone in a second.

“Deal. I’ll be joining your table tonight then, warn the others.” She said

“Don’t you mean inform the others?” Aurora asked

“I didn’t stutter.” Kyra said before going back to working on repairs.

Maker, what had Cody gotten him and his vod into?

[fireteampassenger]

I remember you

The dream started like it always did; Amelia waking up in a large bed. The sheets were soft and warm. The blanket was so puffy it felt like she was wrapped in a cloud. In the distance, she could hear birds chirping and lapping ocean waves. She breathed deeply through her nose, letting the slightly salty, crisp air fill her lungs. It invigorated her, easing her transition from sleep to wakefulness. She opened an eye and looked around the room. Everything was fuzzy, like looking at a picture through acrylic glass. The early morning sun cast the room in yellows and blues. There were paintings on the wall, blurry collections of hues that gave the impression of images. She rubbed her eyes and looked at her hands.

They were slightly tanned. Soft, well taken care of. She felt a brief moment of surprise at the sight of them but brushed it off.

And then she saw her.

The woman stood gazing out the window, her form silhouetted by the sun. She wore a robe tied loosely around her waist. And her hair. A fiery red, sticking up at random intervals. The cutest bedhead Amelia had ever seen.

 Just looking at her made Amelia feel warm. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She couldn't remember her name; lost to the fog of memory, but she knew she loved her deeply. Her other half, the other side of her coin.

"Good morning my love." Amelia heard herself say. The woman started to turn around, a slight smirk on her lips.

Then the scene faded, like waves washing over the sand. Brief, flittering glimpses of joyous moments played across her eyes.

A walk on the beach.

The woman excitedly talking about something

A dinner

A kiss

And then black.

BOOM!!!

Amelia crashed into the next moment. She coughed and hacked and felt like every muscle was on fire. Cuts littered her body; her lungs filled with smoke and dust. There was screaming everywhere. She looked up. The city was burning. The sky, once sunny and bright, was now as pitch black as a new moon. Bodies lay strewn about, twisted and contorted. Pain carved on their faces. She reached out and felt the woman take her hand.

"I got you, we're gonna be OK."

They ran through the streets. Amelia looked back and saw people floating up into the air, their limbs splayed out in unnatural forms. She smelt ozone for just a second before an explosion split the sky. A beam of energy came crashing down from orbit striking a massive Pyramid floating above. A cloud of dust and heat came roaring towards her and she dove to the ground. The Pyramid didn’t react; it just kept floating there imposing its will on the city below. It felt like it was staring right at her, its unfeeling gaze burrowing into her soul.

"We need to keep going, the evacs close, we'll get to the Green, just trust me." The woman whispered.

Amelia went to squeeze her hand, but it was empty. She looked up, but the scene was melting away. 

Shoving

Screaming

Begging

Separation

Terror

She was on a landing strip now. A horde of people swept around her, dragging her around like a riptide. A hurricane of limbs, with Amelia at the center. She strained to scan the crowd beyond the gates, seeing the red haired woman in the distance. The guards were holding her back but she was trying to break through. A soldier bashed her in the head with the butt of his rifle. Amelia tried to run to her, but the horde just kept forcing her into the ship. Soldiers grabbed her arms and forced her into the evac shuttle. They then turned and pointed their guns at the crowd. Someone opened fire, bodies dropped. More screams. She locked eyes with the woman one more time. Two more soldiers had her pressed to the ground, a gun to her head. All the noise seemed to fall away, until all she could hear was her voice.

"I'LL FIND YOU AMELIA!! I PROMISE I'LL FIND YOU!"

The ship door slammed shut, and Amelia screamed into the dark.

"Kyra?"

“Launch now!” Amelia held her breath as the Exodus Green rocketed into the atmosphere. Somewhere, down on that ruined world, the love of her life was still looking for her.

"Kyra! Wake up."

A massive swirling vortex, a rip in reality, a singularity. It howled and howled. Amelia rested a hand against the ship's plasteel window. She closed her eyes, welcoming oblivion, and let herself fall in.

“Girlie, you need to get up!”

Down

Down

Down

/////

"KYRA!"

The Awoken shot up, her breathing rapid. The room was dark, too dark, she was still there. Falling.

Down

Down

Down

"Come on girlie, come back to me."

She blinked at the Ghost floating right in front of her face. "Puca." She croaked, her throat dry.

"It was just a dream, it wasn't real." Puca whispered.

Kyra cupped her face in her hands. Her breathing was rapid, she was having a panic attack. Her fingers felt wet, she didn't know she had been crying.

She tried to focus on her senses to ground herself in reality. She smelled the damp, cold air of her hut. The hints of wet pine and sage. Outside, she heard owls hoot and squirrels scamper across her roof. 

"I saw her, Puca. I saw her again."

"Kyra, you need to breathe.”

Kyra struggled to take a few deep breaths, but eventually got a rhythm going. She reached down and picked up the quilt that had been tossed to the dwelling floor. It was scratchy and a bit too big, but it reminded her of the blanket in her dream. She ran a finger along its surface, shutting her eyes and trying to focus on the woman's face. She was there, she was right there, but the details were fading.

“Please” she whispered. “Please don’t go.”

Her eyes. What color were her eyes? What did she sound like? Focus, focus now. She was talking at dinner, what was it about? But as she squeezed the dream in her hands, it collapsed and slipped away. Like waves washing over the sand.

Only one image remained. The same image that always did.

A woman. With fiery red hair, silhouetted by the rising sun.

"Could she be real? Maybe it’s a memory? "she asked, desperately.

Puca shook her shell. “You know that's not how it works.”

Kyra sighed heavily. 

The Warlock looked out the window, the morning sun was just beginning to creep over the horizon, casting achingly similar rays into her hovel.

[xxxtrouvaillexxx]

Let’s Strike a Deal

A/N: This is late, I know. If you have not realized from before, I’m really bad at meeting deadlines. Well, at least deadlines that I’ve created for myself to follow because I like to procrastinate things and frankly… what am I gonna do to myself? Band myself from tea until I’ve written a chapter? I don’t have the self control for that! And life is hectic. But you know, enough with my excuses and onto the story. Hope you enjoy. I always love feedback so please be sure to leave a comment! ALSO I wanted to give a TRY (key word) to first person. If I don’t like it... I might change it, idk. I should never write anything at 3am as per evidence below, especially without editing lmao

Pair: CEO!Tom x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, the small town of Hawkshead girl trying to make her way in the big city of Westminster, London. Not as easy as she thought. When things start to take a turn for the worst one afternoon and only one man in the crowd of hundreds decides to help her, she does something rather uncharacteristic and gives her savor her number in case he could ever use help of his own. Course, she never expected for him to actually call her out on it.

Masterlist

Warning(s): none… yet. Cursing?

Word Count:

My time was limited. There was nothing left that had to be done here or anything left to pack. Everything I’ve ever owned sat in a car on the way to my new apartment and last of the suitcases were in the bed of my brothers pickup at this very moment while I sat on the floor of my room. There wasn’t anything left for me here, I knew that, but it was still difficult to say goodbye to the place that carried so many of my favorite memories and the imprints of my childhood that still were splayed around the surrounding room.

There were two dents in the wall right in front of me from when I was ten and hit my head after tripping on one of my toys, thumbtack holes that littered everywhere above the bed from forts that I would make with my brothers and friends, nail polish that was spilled on the carpet from times when I was too distracted with talking than keeping the bottle up straight, my engraved initials on the windowsill. The memories that I had made in this room were countless and they were all absolutely priceless.

“Y/N!” I heard your mother call from the living room, her voice was slightly hoarse from held back emotion and it broke my heart to hear her like that. “You got to get going, dear! You’ll miss your train if you wait much longer to head out.”

Taking a deep breath and slowly standing from the, now old, bed I made my way toward the door, feet dredging behind me and scuffing the floor as I walked out. “I know, Mama. I’m just-” the words caught in my throat and I was at a loss. “I’m really going to miss you guys so much.”

“Oh stop it, you’re gonna make me cry if you keep on like that,” She said giving a tight hug before pushing me out the front door. “You are going to love it in London so much you’re not even gonna be thinking about us here, so get goin’. Your brothers already waiting for you in the car.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, “I love you Mama! I’ll call you when I get there!”

Jumping into the passenger seat of the truck, I waved final goodbyes from the window, dramatically blowing kisses as the car started to drive away.

“You better!” She exclaimed, watching as we pulled out and down the road.

“She is going to be a mess when I get back home. I can’t believe you’re going to leave me to deal with that alone!” Christian, stuck driving you to the train station much to his dismay, gave you a mocking glare. “After all the things I’ve done for your, this is how you choose to repay me? I’m pretty sure I’m getting the short end of the stick here,” he laughed humorlessly.

“Ahhh~” I cooed and smiled, “You’re only saying that cause you know you guys’ are going to be missing me so much!”

“Miss you?” He scoffed, “Yeah right. What we’re going to be missing is your baking. It’ll be the greatest blow our family has faced since 1824.”

I gave a scathing look, “And what, if I may ask, happened in 1824?”

“Don’t know, but something bad probably.”

»»-——————————————-««

I have never been so sore getting off of a bus in her life. The cheapest route to get to Westminster from Hawkshead was a train and 8 bus stops, totaling up to 10 or so hours in and out of vehicles. I groaned and stretched when my feet planted on hard asphalt for the first time in what seemed like forever. But, for all the soreness, I had made it to my destination with time to spare.

It was louder than I had imagined, crowded with traffic from all directions and people running any which way to get on with their lives. It was bustling and busy. Lively. Not exactly what I was used to which made me smile. 

Wide.

I made it. 

I only had a suitcase with me, the rest of her belongings would be delivered in a few days to the new apartment. 

My apartment. 

I was positively giddy at the thought. 

It took a lot of self control to keep from skipping down the side walks while I somehow navigated the new scenery, but I managed to keep my excitement under wraps for the time being. Arriving an hour early gave me a bit of time to take in the bigger sites near by, like the Ferris wheel, the clock tower Big Ben, and my personal favorite- Westminster Palace and abbey. It was a dream of mine since I was little to see it in person, and now here I was standing mere blocks away from the grand building, elated and amazed. 

Vibrating caught my attention and I barely managed to turn my eyes away from the sites in front of me to my phone, Kyra’s name popping up on the screen. My best friend and now room mate, Kyra Bardou, who was probably wondering where the hell I was now. 

“Hey,” I drawled with an obvious grin I couldn’t even hide in my voice. 

“Hey yourself! I’ve been waiting at the stop for 15 minutes with no sign of you only to learn you’re already in town and didn’t even bother to tell me!” She spoke so quickly I was shocked she didn’t run out of breath and laughed. 

“I’m site seeing, sue me!” I turned and started making the slow walk back, “I’ll be back in a couple minutes, I promise.”

She only grunted in response and let me walk in a comfortable silence, letting me continue to take everything in while simply enjoying her presence on the line. It was the last few moments I’d get now, the last bits of my old life slipping through my fingers like sand in exchange for a new one. 

And the chaos that comes with a big city. 

Like robbers. 

I couldn’t even let out a cry as I was shoved to the ground, my phone forced from my hand and my suitcase caught up in a strange mans arms. It took me a whole 5 seconds to get my bearings enough to yell at the man and give chase, shouting for help though no one so much as looked our way, just moved out of his. 

“Stop!” I screamed, running but quickly losing him as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd skillfully. “Stop! Someone stop him!”

And this time, someone moved to action, running past me at an alarming rate and quickly gaining ground on my assailant before they both rounded a corner and I lost sight of them. 

My heart dropped and I picked up speed again, hoping that I didn’t let them get far enough away for me to lose them completely, it would have been easy for them to get away from me here.

But when I turned around the block, I found the man on the ground with the track star of a man on top of him, already on the phone with I assume the police. I finally caught up to them and without thinking, hugged the man on the phone, a silent thank you while he spoke to whoever was on the line, before I gathered my things and hugging them close to me. 

He smiled kindly, finishing the call and turning to me properly while still pinning the thief to the ground. “Are you alright miss?”

“Yes! Thank you so much, I’d have been completely lost without this,” I gestured to my luggage. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me get it back. I don’t even know how to get around town yet.”

He laughed and nodded. “So new to town then. It was my pleasure to help, though I was really just doing what anyone in my position would do,” he responded kindly.

Furiously I shook my head, “No, you didn’t. I don’t believe I saw a single soul other than you move to help. Unless you did but beat them to it at the last minute. Not that that it implausible, you are seriously fast on your feet.” 

He laughed again and I noticed what a nice laugh he had, it was contagious and I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of my own now that my adrenaline was fading bit by bit. “Yes, well- I do enjoy the sport.”

“Dually noted,” I grinned, jumping a little when my phone started to buzz in my hands. Kyra’s name popping up on the screen again. “Shoot!” I exclaimed and answered. I wasn’t even able to put the phone to my ear before I heard her shouting my name on the line. “Kyra-”

“Oh my god, Y/N! What the heck happened, I heard you shout and then the line went dead! Are you okay? Did something happen? Where are you?” She was speaking so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear a safe distance as she spouted one question after another at me without reprieve. 

My rescuer across from me chuckled, overhearing my frantic friend. “I’m fine, someone tried to steal my stuff on my way to meet you. Luckily someone came along and helped me catch him, otherwise I’d have lost everything. But everything is okay now, we are-” I looked around and realized I have no idea where we were. 

He seemed to catch on to my newest distress and whispered, “Tell them we are on the corner of Tufton and Bennett’s Yard.”

I nodded and mouthed a thank you, “ Tufton and Bennett’s Yard,” I repeated and she said she’d be here in a 10 minutes and to sit and wait before hanging up the phone. 

I slouched on the wall of some building, letting myself relax. “Not to be repetitive or anything, but thank you.”

He just shook his head, “No need. You’re friend sounded pretty worried about you, it wouldn’t do well to let her stew in that worry longer than needed.”

“Yeah, it’s been a few years since we last saw each other. She’d be pretty upset if something bad happened before I could even move in,” I laughed, though it didn’t quite sound right even to my ears. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” I introduced and stuck my hand out. 

He took it and gave a firm shake, “Tom. It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N. Even in these less than optimal circumstances.” 

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”

“Y/N!” Someone yelled, and we both turned our heads to see Kyra sprinting full speed around her car and at me. I stood and braced myself for the collision of her, and fell back against the wall with the force of her body. 

“Holy shit, girl! You scared the hell outta me, you could have died! This is why I told you to call me when you first got into town, you always manage to get yourself into trouble like this. What would I have told your parents if something happened, huh? Huh!?”

I grinned and pulled back to get a proper look at her. Her black hair, normally frizzy was sticking out in every direction and her honeyed eyes wide as she scanned me over, running her hands over my arms for injuries. “I’m fine, Kyra. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, you’re right.”

“I know I’m right!” She shot back with a glare, “That doesn’t make me feel any better!”

“Well, there is a first for everything after all.”

Tom laughed hard at our back and forth, making us both jump a little and look down at him. Before I could even say anything, Kyra was down on his level with the thieves shirt in her fists and a scowl that would scare the devil himself on her face. 

“Is this the bastard that did this?” 

“Let go!” I shrieked and pulled her off, albeit with a little effort. “Tom called the cops and they’ll deal with this properly. Not you,” I said sternly. She just let out a huff of a response and pushed herself back enough to look at Tom properly. 

She gave him a once over and held her scowl in place, “So you’re the one who saved Y/N/N?”

He gave a small, hesitant nod and gave me a nervous glance. I just laughed and stood back up, as Kyra launched forward to give him a hug. “Thank you,” she murmured a few times and pulled back. 

“No worries,” he said, and looked far less distressed now that Kyra didn’t look like she wanted to gut him. “I was there at the right time is all.”

“Yes, well- That doesn’t mean what you did was anything less than amazing. My whole life is in that bag and in that phone at the moment. Seriously, if there is anything I can do for you in return it’s yours. Ice cream, some roller skates, a kidney. Just ask.”

Everyone laughed at that and he nodded with an obviously sarcastic “sure”, just as the police arrived to take the culprit and our statements. Kyra mumbled something about them being slow and went to the car for a few minutes to be out of the way. 

15 minutes later, everything was settled and they took the man away. Leaving Tom and I alone on the side walk again while I settled everything in my case to be sure I didn’t miss anything and quickly scribbled on a stray notecard. 

“I meant it when I said I owe you one,” I said and handed the card with my name and number to him. “Just give me a ring if I can ever be of any help at all and I’ll come running. Though, probably much slower than you did.”

He tried to decline the offer only once, but after some persistence he took it with another smile, “Thank you, Y/N. Hopefully this will not be our last meeting. And hopefully never again under such pressing circumstances,” he held out his hand, and I took it, returning his earlier shake with a firm one of my own and I agreed. 

“Until next time then,” he said and left. 

I barely was able to take my seat in the car before Kyra grasped my arm with a devious smile, “Y/N/N- Did you just give that guy your number?” My silence was answer enough and she laughed, “Girl! No way!”

No way was right, I thought with a small smile of my own as we pulled away and started home.

»»-——————————————-««

TAGS: open 

@drakesfiance @dumbgopher1​ @kewlbeans-22​​

[diphthongsfordays]

First Lines Tag

Thanks for the tag, @afoolandathief! This is a new one and it looks really fun!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all).

1 - Deathdancer

Ailin stood in the dust. Knives heavy in her hands, she flexed her toes as the crowd cheered.

2 - Firetide Rising 1

Everyone knew dragons were extinct. Even Kina. They had to be, after all.

If dragons were real, then her dreams could have been real.

3 - Firetide Rising 2

Kina couldn’t control her magic.

4 - Firetide Rising 3

It was good to be back on the ocean.

5 - Chance Magic (the file is called Dealer of Death)

Kyra’s clothes stank of smoke. Not the pleasant smoke of an evening bonfire, but the acrid scorching of fabric, and chemicals, and burned flesh. Two days of running, and fire still flashed whenever she closed her eyes.

Fire, and two dead faces.

6 - Mirrorshine

Cecilia resisted the urge to chuck her laptop at her apartment wall.

Barely.

7 - Stormshaper

Kayali ran. Air crackled with static against her skin, the roar of rain sweeping in from behind growing relentlessly louder.

She had never tried out outrun a storm wall before. Generally you either got to shelter first, or you hunkered down in the violence.

Today wasn’t the day for ‘generally.’

8 - Shadowrunner

There were eight people in the Central Cell today. More than usual. And the front panel had been left off, exposing the heavy criss-crossed bars, leaving the prisoners in plain sight.

9 - Death by Dawnlight

Taja's hands were sticky with blood. It had started to go cold on her fingers, the thick heat fading as it congealed to dark red goo.

10 - undead short story I never finished

No one likes to admit when they have a problem with undeath. It’s not necromancy, not really. Necromancy is organized. Nice, and neat, and utterly incomprehensible in spite of itself.

Undeath is just messy. Echos of the world gone wrong. A microcosm of reality all warped apart and tied around itself, trapped away in something that can never know real consciousness.

11 - prologue for a super complicated story I might draft someday

They ran.

She still didn’t know him, not really. A few odd jobs did not make a partnership. Certainly not a friendship.

But apparently they were still prepared to die for each other. She’d never thought she could die for someone before. She’d never thought anyone would die for her.

12 - The Shattered Sky

Selby awakens alone, surrounded by stone.

There are no shackles on her. It’s still a surprise. She unfurls slowly, eyes darting, but she’s alone in the wild, at an unfamiliar crossroads in an unfamiliar age.

13 - Rook and the Red Tree

Rook stood in the entrance arch, pulse beating steadily in her throat. There was no evidence that she was at the edge of a Splice. There was no discernible temperature change in the air on her back versus her face, no unnatural wind, no distant sounds that didn’t belong. None of the usual signs were there.

And yet...

Her heart was the wrong size in her chest. Her feet weren't grounded, like standing on a slanted surface, her whole body working just slightly harder than usual to stay steady and upright.

14 - The Onyx Castle

I knew the ocean crashed a hundred feet below me, but couldn’t hear it over howling salt wind.

15 - The Never-Dog

Darkness came early that night, descending fast and unexpected on the little cluster of buildings of Deepwater Crossing. Moonlight glinted in rippling, black water as the river tore ever-onward.

16 - Siphon

One street over, someone screamed. Coletta froze, just for an instant. She was the last person who should head for screaming.

17 - Starfall

Not for the first time, Kaya was alone. It was getting old, this endless walking, heading for mountains she wouldn’t see for another month at least.

18 - The Haunted Doll

“Here’s a question,” said Kory, folding their hands across the diner table and leaning forward slightly. “What is darkness?”

I stifled a groan.

“The absence of light, genius,” I said.

19 - Flash fiction thing I forgot existed

“I don’t know how competent you think I am, but let the record show that I spent most of last night watching Mythbusters and seeing how many twizzlers I could fit in my mouth at a time without using my hands.”

20 - The Guidebook

The path down is non-euclidian. Be mindful.

I'll tag (no pressure!!): @the-orangeauthor, @akindofmagictoo, @winterandwords, @ink-fireplace-coffee, @uraniumwriting, @shaheenarnitipsyart, @dontjudgemeimawriter, @papercutsunset and OPEN TAG for anyone who wants! Seriously, take it, I love seeing stuff like this!

[pollylynn]

Title: Goldilocks WC: 1000 Episode: The Final Frontier (5  x 06)

He assumes, most of the time, that it is his holy mission to make sure that she plays sometimes. He is not entirely self-appointed in this regard. She herself was the first to come out and say it, so long ago at this point—so comparatively early in their partnership—that he sometimes thinks he imagined it, as he is certainly wont to do. But this is not just him rewriting history in this case. It’s not just him Mary Sue-ing his way into the role of the Play Police. She’s said it herself, in so many words: Having him around counteracts, in some small way, how hard the job is. Having him around makes things a little more fun. 

And he knows because she’s told him, low-voiced and sweetly, that Roy kept him around for the same reason. She’s told him that, and she didn’t have to, and it means the world to him. Elsewhere in their universe, the boys, for all that they like to make sure that the workplace is where flirtatious fun goes to die, definitely enjoy the lighter side he brings out in Beckett, and he has read between the lines of Lanie’s perennially narrowed eyes and determined that, yes, she will kill him slowly if he screws up and hurts her friend, but she is generally of the opinion that he provides a valuable fun-based service. 

He takes his work seriously, ironically enough, and from the beginning, he has enjoyed the job immensely. He has taken pride in every jinx he’s lured her into or paid off in off-brand diet sodas from the vending machine. He has an entire notebook devoted to schoolyard taunts he’s baited her into making. It truly feels like victory when he gets her to shake off the role of the grown-up for even the briefest of moments. 

But it’s a next-level victory when he unearths some bit of her past that reveals play comes naturally to her. And this—the Nebula-9 confessionals—all of this is appropriately out of this world. He loves, in retrospect, discovering how much sooner he should have been on to her devotion to the show. He chuckles as he thinks about the slightly manic way she’d teased the SciFi murder scene, fully expecting him to be as wowed by the ties to the show as she clearly is. He wants to kick himself remembering how Ryan, of all people, seemed to clue in immediately when she suggested using the fansite to canvass for potential witnesses. 

The charm of it—the ever-present thrill he feels whenever he discovers something wonderfully playful in her past—dims a bit when it comes to Captain Max. He sees, once again with the benefit of hindsight, her initial awe at the prospect of meeting him, and he sees how quickly it fades when it rapidly becomes obvious that the man is nothing but one might call foibles if one were motivated to protect all that is wondrous and playful in the tender heart of the woman of one’s dreams. 

And he is motivated. He is happy to play bad cop with Gabriel Winters so that she doesn’t have to. He’s happy to more or less call the man stupid to his face, to be the one who notes that there’s little point in being shy about personal matters when they already know about his threesome with the Lieutenants Chloe. He is ready to go across the table and throttle the man when he has the STD-riddled balls to call the Nebula-9 fans lunatics, though he manages to confine himself to a Sing-Sing joke instead, but only because he knows she’ll kill him if he disrupts an interrogation. 

He doesn’t end up protecting her from all that is gross about Gabriel Winters, because there’s simply too much, as the hits regrettably keep coming, despite the man’s very slightly redeeming judo take-down of their killer in the end. That leaves her smiling, but it’s nowhere near redemption. 

She doesn’t need him to protect her memories, her deeply nerdy fangirl heart, or her commitment to playfulness, as it tuns out. It’s everything about Stephanie Frye that makes that clear, and really, he should have known better anyway than to mistake Kate Beckett—even nostalgia-ridden Kate Beckett—for any kind of damsel in distress. 

She knows who her heroes are and who they aren’t. She knows that inspiration, reassurance, and role models turn up in the strangest places, and she knows the difference between fact and fiction. She lifts her unashamed chin in his direction and declares her unwavering love and admiration for her warrior–scientist heroine and—maybe a touch less emphatically—for the noble leader of the crew tasked with carrying the human species into the future.

It’s such a wonderfully grown-up response to the entire situation. It’s so healthy and functional that he almost finds himself envious. Almost, though he has no plans to retire from the solemn job of making sure she plays from time to time. 

And maybe it’s nostalgia, but her take on everything puts him in mind of Kyra. It puts him in mind of the very first thing she said in response to the dig he just couldn’t resist making. 

Does that mean the groom is a grown-up, too? All work and no play?

He remembers the well-warranted sharp look and the softer one that followed—the one that was probably fonder in that moment than he deserved. 

No. He plays just enough. 

She puts him in mind of Kyra, of that conversation, of same-time, next-year flings and the joy of leaving them behind. He thinks of Meredith and Gina and the extremes they represented in his life, in his past. 

He thinks of her—of Kate—wonderfully playful, wonderfully grown-up. So this is what that’s like then. This is exactly what that is like. 

A/N: So I did manage this bit of total lack of morphousness. OR DID I? Without morphousness (which this is totally without), who can say? 

images via homeofthenutty

[galacticwildfire]

found.

Prologue.

Pairing: Kenobi!oc x Din Djarin

Summary: Satine and Obi-wans daughter fought in the war against the Empire and lost her faith when she lost Mandalore. Until she found him. A lone Mandalorian who was searching for a Jedi.

Warnings: violence, war, main character deaths, torture, ptsd, mentions of genocide, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: This will be a series and will begin just prior to Chapter 9 of the Mandalorian. OC was born during the fall of the Republic in an au where Maul didn’t kill Satine and she was able to hold Mandalore.

Masterlist. 

~

~

~

I never knew life under the Republic, it fell in the months surrounding my birth.

All I ever knew was the Empire.

For years Mandalore was able to hide from its wrath. Under my mother's leadership and protection they were able to silently resist and carry on without slaughter.

Until Darth Vader discovered my father still lived and hunted him to the ends of the galaxy. To Tatooine where he trained me, his only daughter.

Until then for most of my life I'd been raised on Mandalore, my father cautiously spending his time between there and Tatooine to watch over the son of his fallen apprentice, to avoid the suspicion that he was my father. In the absence of the Jedi and with Mandalore as fragile as it had ever been, he and my mother Satine reluctantly agreed that he would train me in the ways of the Jedi and that my aunt Bo-Katan would train me in the ways of the Mandalorian.

It was a balance.

Until the inquisitors turned their sights onto me and the daughter of one of the rebellions leaders, Leia. Until they forced my father to expose himself to save us, the daughter of the man he called a brother and his own. That was the very day whatever childhood I had ended and my Jedi training truly begun.

Eventually, as the threat that was posed towards Luke on Tattooine lessened and the hunt for my father faded he stayed on Mandalore, in the secrecy of the palace. Hidden under armour as her guard, only my mothers most loyal supporters knowing his identity.

Until the Empire finally turned its attention to Mandalore, or more specifically our beskar. At the beginning she allowed them to mine what they could for the sake of peace but the mines went dry, and whatever beskar was left was within our walls and our armour.

Diplomacy began to become little more than a fragile dream. The people grew afraid and desperate, some grew murderous, and that's when they discovered my father was on Mandalore with his secret daughter and the Empire came. Whether they cut a deal or were tortured into the confession I'll never know, but Vader knew he was alive. Vader knew that Lady Kyra Kryze, heir to Mandalore, was his former masters daughter and as he would soon discover, a member of the Rebellion. However it would not be until years later he discovered it was his own daughter who drew me into rebellion to fight beside her against the Empire.

In retaliation for my mother hiding my Father for so many years who unleashed hell upon Mandalore in the form of Stormtroopers putting the city under siege and killing all those who resisted, a hell that only stopped when my mother surrendered for the sake of her people and placed Bo-Katan as regent while I escaped to Alderaan.

And so Leia and I risked it all for the Rebellion, for our planets. Two rogue princesses, defiant and willing to do whatever it took to fight. Little did we know that in mere hours we would be two orphaned princesses sharing a cell, awaiting execution.

But not until I found her, my mother.

While Leia and the rebels smuggled out the intel we had received I fought my way into the cells where my mother was being held, cut down the door using my saber and found her there in chains.

"Kyra?"

"You're alive," I whispered running in and checking if she was hurt. Which she was. "We need to go, now!"

I took her hand and tried to pull her to her feet but she couldn't stand and had greater worries than her safety. "Bo Katan?"

My aunt who ruled as regent with the Darksaber. Who ruled over what little of Mandalore was intact after the civil wars and stormtroopers had battered and stripped it raw, it had begun to fall long before the purge that was to come.

"She's fine. Mandalore is fine. But we need to leave."

"Obi-wan?" She croaked, having heard nothing since I smuggled him off planet to Tatooine. "Does Obi-wan know you're here?"

I shook my head knowing he was safe where the Empire couldn't reach him, unaware I had stormed Darth Vader's ship. I had watched one parent be taken by the Empire, little did I know that day I would soon lose both to it. 

"Kyra," she sighed and coughed into her hand, when she pulled it away it was splattered with blood.

"Where are you hurt?" I asked checking her over unable to find physical wounds and realising the torture that's been done to her using the force. "We need to leave."

She grabs my wrist to keep me at bay. "My time has come my dear. You know it to be true, as will Obi-wan."

That's when my voice broke. "No. There's still time."

But we could hear the blaster fire, and I could feel the darkness I had not felt since I was a child of ten.

"I will never leave this ship," she said and tears filled my eyes. "But there is still a chance for you."

"Please," I choked out but I could feel him growing nearer. "Let me take you home."

"My home is Mandalore," she said holding the side of my face. "As it is yours. You are a Jedi my dear, and a Mandalorian. The Mand'alor. Its fate is in your hands now."

"Please," I whispered, pleading for her to get up but she couldn't. "I need you. Please. Mandalore needs you."

"It has you." And then the pacifist, the woman who gave everything to bring peace to Mandalore whispered the words that broke my heart. "Never stop fighting."

It was then Vader came. Just as my mother's last breath had been stolen away. Almost as if she had just lost the will to live, and perhaps it was mercy or victory that Vader never got to execute her.

But if it was a victory it was hollow.

"Lady Kyra Kryze, or should I say Duchess Kenobi now?" Vader said looking at my mothers body. "Your mother was wise, but not wise enough to be able to hide Obi-wan from me, to hide you."

"Nineteen years is a long time," I'd breathed shakily and looked darkness in the eye. "Nineteen years this Empire has stood, but it will fall."

"Ah, so you are a rebel," he said and sounded amused. "Strange for the daughter of a pacifist."

"But not for the daughter a soldier," I finished.

"A soldier who has far more restraint than his daughter."

"He does," I said and in a fraction of a moment later my saber connected with his, blue and red colliding.

But even with the anger fuelling me I was no match for the power of the darkside as my throat tightened and I was lifted mid air. Only interrupted by the news they had captured Leia.

And we both suffered. Leia, for her they used droids. But me - Vader tortured me himself, by his own hand. Using my own weapon against me. The force.

Torturing me to draw my father out of hiding,

Until finally he won.

And so as Leia and I waited for our execution my father, along with a farmboy, a smuggler and a wookie came to our rescue.

Then as freedom was close I saw him, sword to sword with Vader.

My father looked at me for the last time. His lips did not move but I could hear his voice so clearly.

The force is with you, always.

And a horrid scream was torn from my throat as he was struck down.

Leia and Luke had to drag me onto that ship as I screamed bloody murder at the loss of the two people I loved most in this word.

I swore to myself that day as Leia and I mourned that I would never stop fighting.

And so when the Death Star was destroyed I returned to Mandalore, a shadow of what it once was, and told my aunt that I would not accept the Darksaber, that I would not rule while the Empire reigned. That if I took the mantle of Duchess Mandalore would only be destroyed as Alderaan was. To protect Mandalore I left Bo-Katan as regent and forgot my royal titles in favour of military ones,

With my family and my home a distant past I found another.

I found it in the son and daughter of Anakin Skywalker. In a smuggler and a wookie. And eventually in a con man.

A bunch of rebels and lost souls became a family.

And despite the war that raged it was the happiest time of my life.

Until the Great Purge.

Until I abandoned it all to fly to Mandalore saber in hand to defend it against the Empire until my last breath.

Only to watch it burn.

And nothing was ever the same again.

I was never the same again.

My aunt left me mourning in shame in the ruins of what had been my home and I could never touch my beskar again knowing how I had failed my people.

Then it became dark.

I took comfort in the arms and bed of a bounty hunter, who was unknowingly Vader's right hand man.

Then came the betrayal, my first love handing me over to Vader with a blaster at my back.

All I had left was the fight inside of me.

The fight was all that kept me standing.

Until the war ended.

And I lost myself.

Even Lando's love could not make me break the promise I had made.

To never stop fighting.

And so I left behind the life I could have had to live as a rogue wanderer, seeking justice.

For so long I was lost.

Until I found him.

[carrion-aac]

sleepy i was at fucking rehearsal while that little british bastard streamed wtf happened and why is everyone screaming

hi kyra

basically it started off with tommy and wilbur arguing in the afterlife and tommy asking wilbur how much time is left (in the universe, there are 8 eons left)

and then wilbur trying to play competative solitare (solitare my beloved has a bad rep, give it a better one) and then wilburs voice faded out and dream declared himself a god after reviving tommy and tommy was trying so damn hard to convince dream not to revive wilbur after his two months in the afterlife and then when dream said he was gonna revive wilbur tommy passed out RIGHT infront of the lavaand that was stream end

[eleanorbloom]

When You’re Ready Ch. 21

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Angst, mentions of anxiety and guilt, smut, mentions of child neglect (medical).   Rated E

Taglist @utterlyinevitable @binny1985 @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations  @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268  @cinnamonspongecake @romewritingshop @freckles-spangledvampire​@mercury84choices​  @curiousconch​ @thegreentwin​​

_______

Chapter 21: Keep On Loving You

And I meant every word that I said

When I said that I love you

I meant that I love you forever

 For the first time in days, she’d had a blank dream.

When Eleanor opened her eyes, there was no knot on her chest, no exhausting sensation of being pulled, no maddening sensation of wanting to die. No. This time she simply woke up.

She woke up well-rested and with a warm sensation enveloping her: his arms around her waist, his breath on her neck.

Home.

She turned around and found Bryce still asleep. It was a rare experience waking up before him and have the chance to see him sleeping. So she just observed him.

Couldn’t he be any more gorgeous while he was sleeping? Even with his open mouth, his lower lip slightly separated from the upper, his oblivious look, his hair a mess; he was beautiful, and Eleanor still couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to have him.

She bit her lower lip. The temptation of touching him was too irresistible, so she just surrendered and brought a hand to his cheek and stroked it. He was soft. Even with the incipient stubble, he was so soft.

These are the perks of being alive, she thought.

Tenderness invaded her remembering the conversation they had the night before.

The way he looked at her. The vulnerability, the candor. The pain, the rawness.

The truth about him. About his love. About his heart.

Bryce had opened his heart and her, without hesitation, dived in. And without hesitation, she would dive in a thousand times more.

That’s why she fell in love with him in the first place. That’s what made all the difference to make her fall for him. Knowing what no one else did and wanting to stay no matter what.

“Like what you see?” He muttered, with his eyes still close.

Eleanor chuckled, then pinched his cheek softly and playfully with her fingers, “Very much.”

His eyes smiled instantly the moment they reached hers, “How are you, princess?”

“Right now, grateful for being with you. I can’t promise how I’ll feel in the next minutes or hours, but I feel the progress.”

“That’s amazing, babe.”

She beamed and then leaned to kiss him, a soft caress on his lips, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For pulling me back and talk me into my senses. I know there’ll be times I won’t be thankful, that I’ll relapse, but last night you made me see there are a lot of reasons to keep living for. Being with you is one of the most important.”

“Babe…” He frowned, looking somewhat ashamed.  

“What is it?”

“I feel like an ass.”

“What? Why?”

“Because last night, at the end I made it all about me, when you were the one who needed comfort, not me. But at that moment I just couldn’t…”

She shook her head softly, “No, no, don’t say that. This whole thing is not just about me. You suffered too. My family, our friends suffered too. You made me realize that. I was the selfish one just focusing on my pain, on my guilt, on my mistakes, and I didn’t realize that this was bigger than me. So… thank you for that. Thank you for opening up to me.”

He nodded, “I’m glad you can see it now. And please, whenever you feel like you don’t deserve to live just remember all the good you’ve done. All the lives you’ve enlightened with your presence, with your kindness, with your give. As a person and as a doctor. Not just mine, but your friends, your family, Keiki. Everyone around you. You do more good than any bad or any mistake you thought you made.”

She shook her head, amazed, “I’m so lucky to have you,” she whispered, looking adoringly at him, lost in his eyes.

“But I’m luckier to have you,” he clarified.

She arched a brow, defiantly, “Oh, now it’s a competition?”

“Nah, that’s a fact.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes, “I don’t wanna argue, but I strongly disagree.”

Bryce smirked and pulled her into a deep, searing kiss. She sighed the moment he pulled apart, “And you just keep proving my point.”

He kissed her again, but this time he pushed her against the mattress, “Yep, you’re not helping your case at all,” she giggled.

“I disagree, this just points how lucky I am of being able to do this,” he looked down at her with a bright smile, relishing in the sight of her smile, of her happiness.

“I love you,” she whispered, caressing his cheek softly, her eyes glimmering with adoration.

“And I love you,” he replied, brushing her lower lip with his thumb before leaning down to her lips.  

A warm sensation started to build inside her. Euphoria. An almost irrational feeling of happiness for being alive. And want and need, as never before. After feeling dead inside for so many days, this felt like an awakening.

She locked her arms around his neck to stop him from parting from her. At the evident gesture, he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth to grasp her lips with his teeth and then softly suck them with his own lips. The warmth kept building, now raising her heartbeat and breath.  

Then he continued down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses while a hand sunk under her pajama. She couldn’t help but gasping at the feeling of his warm fingers caressing the contour of her waist, and her breasts. At the hearing of her own sound, she pulled apart, “Wait, what about Keiki?”

“She’s not here,” he replied instantly, his lips now against the skin of her clavicle.

“Uh?”

Bryce parted from her and propped in one arm by her side, “She’s at the hospital with Kyra.  She doesn’t want to be here when I… When I call my parents.”

“Oh, okay,”

"You want me to stop?"

Eleanor shook her head, staring deeply at the hungriness of his eyes, and hearing attentively his want with every breath, “No. I want you,” she sighed.

Bryce smiled and then kissed her hard again, this time cupping her breast fully with his hand, while the other was roaming over her hips and tights, “if you want me to stop, just tell me, okay, babe?” he muttered, tenderness in his voice, looking for her approval.

She nodded, and at that moment, that warmth, that want melt into something else. Something new. What she wanted, what she needed was like never before.

Why he was always so considerate towards her? How could he be so gentle with things that she would never expect?

As her heart was swelling with this new sensation, she pushed him against the bed and straddled him, tenderness still set on her features. Bryce looked up at her with curiosity, but the moment he read the way she was looking at him, inquisitive, but sweet, and almost melancholic, that curiosity faded. It was replaced with vulnerability and yearning.

The door was still open.

Her thumb caressed his cheek, down his jaw, and up to his cheekbones, every inch inspected with earnest adoration.  

How could she not be the luckiest woman on the planet?

Bryce lifted a hand and placed it on her cheek. Eleanor nuzzled in it closing her eyes for a brief moment, softly brushing the back of his hand with her lips.

He gulped at the feeling of her touch, at her eyes piercing him completely, studying his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his lips like never before. Discovering. Relishing.

She was exploring beyond that desire and that want, beyond the surface. She wanted to dive in deeper and decipher his vulnerability as if she knew she would find the most beautiful pearl at the bottom of all those layers incessantly built with the years.

Drove by instinct, she cupped his cheeks gently, and leaned down to kiss his forehead and temples, slowly and delicately; each peck as a precious promise, a gentle introduction to something he’d been missing all those years. Then placed a kiss at the tip of his nose, then over his lips, Bryce returning the peck with equal softness. When she parted from him, he was with his eyes closed, and a dreamy smile on his lips, lost in the sensation.

But when he opened his eyes and found her staring, a glint of fear crossed his face. This was new to him. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t use to show this side to anyone. He had never shown this side to anyone before.

She brushed her knuckles over his cheeks, and he closed his eyes instantly, the ghost of a smile creasing in his lips.

That’s when she knew. She had found him at last.

What she was seeing, wasn’t the Bryce that everybody knew, his persona. No. She finally was seeing him under the surface, diving deeper and deeper, past his self-assurance and cockiness, past under his warmth, and niceness. Even under his caring nature.

At the bottom, all that was left was the desire to be loved, loved unconditionally and with no bounds.

That was Bryce Lahela. Raw and real.

The only thing his heart wanted, was to be loved.

And Eleanor couldn’t help but wonder: How is it possible that no one had loved him like this before? How? How no one kneeled to his kindness, to his generosity, his selflessness? To his loving nature? How could no one see him? How could people be so blind? How no one had been willing to give him the world?

Her eyes glimmered at the sight of him vulnerable, opening completely to her for the first time in his life. Imagining all those years by himself, dealing alone with his traumas and lacks. Convincing himself that he’d always be by himself, that no one could love him.

And Bryce looked at her scarer than before, panicking. As if he was sure that Eleanor couldn’t give it to him, as if it was too much, as if she doesn’t love him enough as she thought.

He trembled.  She felt his stomach quivering down her tights.

For Bryce, it was so easy to love, but so difficult to accept being loved. He never thought he would be worthy of being loved. Especially not this way.

He had been so broken. He had been so unloved. Rejected. Bullied. Ignored. Abandoned, even. And yet. And yet he was the most wonderful man she’d ever met. The most loving and caring. The man who gave her his heart expecting nothing in return.

Of course he deserved to be loved. Of course she would give everything in her to love him as he always should’ve been loved.

A tear streamed down her face before she could find the strength to talk, “You’re so beautiful. So kind. So generous. And loving. And caring. And cute, and tender. And compassionate. And clever. And I love you so, so, so much Bryce. So much.”

His eyes glistened. His lip quivered. His breath sped up. He was unrecognizable. There was no even a shade of the Bryce she’d know for more than a year.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I promise you I’ll spend my whole life showing how much I love you.”

He gulped. His eyes were full of tears. It was like her words broke him somehow. His past self. Or maybe broke something inside him. Something old and damaged. A shield.

Eleanor wiped the tears off his face and kissed him sweetly, trying to dissolve the pain in his heart, trying to fill that void with the love that was bursting inside her again.

Perhaps that’s why she was so full of love. It was never too much love. It was just that the void to fill was too big. For too many years of waiting.

And she kissed him again and again until the desire was stronger than the pain. Until the lump in his throat dissolved into a groan of pleasure.  

Until the desire grew stronger enough to make Bryce pinning her against the bed. He wasn’t back yet, the overconfident and expert Bryce, his features still showed vulnerability, but his eyes were studying her. As if looking for a hint of betrayal, of a lie, of faking. God, no. How? She could never. “Te amo. Te amo, Bryce. I love you so much” she reassured, staring deeply into his amber eyes. There weren't more certain words than those.

That was fuel. Because a second later he’s frantically kissing down her neck, while his hands were trying to get rid of her pajama. Her skin tickled and burned with every kiss, with every touch.

The sensations were intoxicating.

But there’s no hurry once he had her skin. He savored her, and she savored his touch. She and he got lost in the other, none of them craving for more touch or release. They’re loving every second. They’re happy with the connection.  With the unspoken.

Some things happened in a blur. A golden haze numbed them from everything. Love was intoxicating enough to make them miss the track of time, but not to miss a single bit of the sensations. Of how the other made them feel. How the love is so palpable with every caress and kiss, with every look, with every moan and sigh.

When their bodies connected, the haze simply turned into a warm bliss. As if what they’d been living was the best thing, the pleasure building inside proved them wrong. This was.

Bryce looked up at her, beautiful and powerful like a goddess, establishing a pace, panting, her body shaking with every thrust. “Oh my god, you feel incredible”, he groaned, and then sat up to envelope her in his arms and kiss her because he couldn’t get enough of her.

With his hands on her hips, he pushed her even deeper into him, “Bryce…” she purred, looking at him with a mock of desperation on her face, her cheeks flushed and her whole face glistening in sweat. She is glowing.

“Eleanor…” he gasped, losing himself in the honey of her irises. In the pomegranate scent of her shampoo, in the sweet scent of her skin. There, at that moment, he realized. He finally had what he always wanted, “You’re mine, you’re… Mine.”

“Yes," she sighed, her hot breath against his mouth, "I’m yours, and you are mine. You’re mine and I’m yours, love.”

“Say it again”

“I’m yours, Bryce, I’m completely yours," she promised.

Bryce had never been possessive. He was very far from that. But there was something about the fact that she was finally his. His girlfriend, his partner, his lover. That she had chosen him. That their love was mutual and reciprocated, and probably everlasting.

And Bryce never had anyone. No one who could hold him, who could love him, and now he had her. Those words were a simple sense of belonging.  

He kissed her hard and a groan crashed against her mouth. The shared moment electrified her body from head to toes, making her feel how her brain was slowly melting, shutting her down from any coherent thought. There was just one thought.  She needed release.

As if he’d read her, he started moving senselessly.

“Bryce” His name was sugar on her lips. The most exquisite elixir causing the most beautiful feeling inside her.

The pain. Sadness. Distress. Fear. Guilt. Everything was gone at that moment. It was only him and his touch, and his love. And everything him.

“And I’m yours. Damn, I’m yours, Eleanor, all yours” he groaned. It was only her and her touch, and her love. Everything about her. It had always been about her. It had always been her. It would always be her.

The way he spoke. His voice. Like a plead. Desperation. Like it was beyond him.

It was so intimate, pure. But at the same time so sensual. Carnal.

Eleanor pulled his hair on the back of his head, purring for the last time, “Bryce, love!” as her back arched, her whole body shuddering with the most divine sensation she’d ever felt. Buzzing, pure, sweet, warm.  A few tears had escaped her eyes, the sensation was overwhelming and healing.

A few moments later, one last grunt escaped his mouth. Visceral. Primal.

He remained with his forehead against hers for a few seconds before hurling himself over the bed with Eleanor on top of him. Then she rolled to the side to regain some coolness, their bodies were almost unbearably hot and sweated.

After a while, Bryce turned to her, smiling contently, and slid an arm under her neck and pulled her against him, her face barely inches apart from his. “Thank you,” he said, a hand cupping her cheek.

She frowned, “for what?”

“For loving me.”

The look he gave her broke her again. Open doors. But somehow… the void didn’t look empty. Not as empty as it was before.

It was glowing.

*

The moment shared that morning worked like a destressing charm for what was coming. Even if momentarily.

As if he hadn’t dealt with enough that week, now he needed to do something unpostponable. Call his parents.

He had planned to call them on Monday, after Kyra’s surgery, but with Eleanor’s accident, he prioritized other things, and Keiki was honestly grateful for that. Even if she agreed that Bryce had to call their parents, she was scared of what could happen. That’s why she preferred not being there when Bryce called them, and instead, decided to spend the day with Kyra, with whom had found a good friend despite the age difference.

After lunch, Bryce and Eleanor were sitting on the couch, waiting for Bryce’s mother to pick up the phone. After a few seconds, a feminine voice was heard at the other side of the line, “Hello?”

"Hi, mom."

“Bryce? What a surprise! How are you doing? How is Keiki?”

“She’s fine.”

“Is she there?”

“No, she’s with a friend.”

“A friend?”

Bryce rolled his eyes before continuing, “Mom, I called you because we need to discuss something important.”

“What would that be?”

“You really don’t know? Or you just simply prefer not to give a damn about your daughter?”

“Oh. You want me to go for her? Did you get bored already? You two lasted more than I thought.”

Bryce breathed deeply, containing his anger, “No, that’s not what I meant. I… I want to be Keiki’s legal guardian.”

A laugh was heard on the other side of the line, “You got to be kidding me, you, in charge of Keiki?”

“What’s the joke here? What I’ve been doing this time, then?”

“I guess just keep with your life with the only difference that there’s a teenager in your house when you come home.”

“Oh, are you talking about when Keiki was with you? Or when I lived there too?”

“What do you want, Bryce? Money? A ticket flight so you can send her back?”

Bryce's ears turned red in anger, “I want to be her legal guardianship, mother. School started here, I can’t enroll her in any place without your and dad’s authorization. I’m sure you don't want me to be annoying you every five seconds to make a decision that affects her, so that's why being her legal guardian would simplify things."

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? You seem pretty comfortable with her being here, you didn’t even bother to come here to talk. You give a shit about Keiki, mom.”

Silence, but Bryce would tell she was resisting a snarl, “You really want to take care of her?”

“Yes. I want her to live with me, she’s not happy there.”

"Oh, Bryce, you should know better. You yourself were a teenager and everything seemed bad to you. We were monsters.”

“I’m 28 and that hasn’t changed.”

“You haven’t changed a thing, have you? Always with your drama and victimization. Now I understand why Keiki doesn’t want to come back, I can only imagine the things you’ve said to her.”

“Not very much different from what she’s shared with me.”

“And she wants to stay with you? She’s okay with being alone all day? You’re a doctor Bryce, you barely have time for yourself.”

“Well, I’ll make the time. I’ve made the time to be with her. That’s what we do for the people we love.”

Silence again, then, she stated, “I need to discuss this with your father, we can’t just let you take care of her.”

“I think you already did it.”

“I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

“Okay.”

The woman ended the call.

Eleanor stared at him. His face was unreadable, but it didn’t feel right.

“This doesn’t look good,” he said after a few seconds contemplating his cellphone.

“Do you think?”

“Yes. She feels… threatened. I guess they never expected that I’d ask to be in charge of her, they thought I’d give up after a month and I’ll send her back. But I won’t do it. Now more than ever, hearing all the shit mom said with just a call.”

“It’s like she doesn’t care about it, like she never did anything wrong with you, or with her. Like this is all a tantrum.”

“She’d always been like this, blaming me for the things they did, never take any responsibility with anything. Apparently they've been doing the same with Keiki.”

Eleanor saw the fear in his eyes and couldn’t help but reach out his hands and held them between hers. “You’re doing this for Keiki, love. And I know you’ll do whatever it takes to have her with you for good.”

“Yes, but what if it’s not enough? If for some reason, life keeps protecting them, keeps helping them and they get away with everything?”

“Let’s hope things with children are different than with insider trading criminals.”

“The lawyer with whom I spoke told me they had to be really miserable and negligent to lose Keiki’s custody, that my best option, in this case, was to obtain an agreement. But if they won’t agree with it, I will go to court if that's what it takes to protect Keiki from them."

That evening, when Keiki returned, Bryce told her about the conversation. Anxiety grew in both of them. In the three of them, actually, Eleanor was concerned too.

This situation felt like an escape from her own mind, something new to think about, something worthy to spend neurons in, instead of sulking all day in guilt.

The following days were odd. Eleanor and Keiki spend most of the day together, watching movies, silly videos, or just talking about life. Some other times they'd been on their own, dealing with their problems in peace. Eleanor didn't want to contaminate Keiki with her bad mood when the guilt was coming for her again.

Four days since the call, Eleanor was still sleeping when heated voices in the living room woke her up.

“You what? No!”

Eleanor got up and dressed up in a matter of seconds before sprinting to the bedroom door.

When she opened the door, she found an elegant woman standing in the center of the living room. She had black hair styled in an updo, sharp cheekbones, and pristine makeup, making her look younger than the age Eleanor knew she had, a couple years older than her mother. She was wearing an emerald green jacket over a black dress and matched heels. What she was wearing probably costed more than her intern salary, probably even more.

A few feet from her was Keiki, who gave her a pleading look when she noticed her presence. She was panicking.

“What’s happening here?” she asked, walking towards the woman.

“Oh, I thought you were alone, Keiki. And you are?”

“Eleanor Bloom, I’m Bryce’s girlfriend.”

“I’m Rebecca Lahela, nice to meet you, Eleanor. And Bryce?”

“He’s at work.”

“Oh. So he lets you in charge of Keiki when he’s not here?”

“No, I’m not in charge of her, I’m staying a couple of days so I can recover from an accident.”

“Oh, sorry to hear about that. So Bryce has you as her carer, Keiki? That’s why he doesn’t want you to leave?”

“Mom…”

“Excuse me, how do you speak to your daughter like this?”

“This is not your business, Eleanor, so stay out of this” She replied, dryly. “Get your things done, Keiki, we are leaving at 3 pm.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Does Bryce know about this?”

“Of course, he called me to take you home.”

“No, he called to ask if he could be my guardian, he wants to enroll me in school here in Boston.”

“What he really meant, is that he wants you back in Hawaii.”

“Don’t lie to her” Eleanor snapped, serious.

“Pardon me?”

“I was there when he called you. I heard everything you said, everything he said, and Bryce said loud and clear that he wants to be Keiki’s legal guardian, that he doesn’t want to send Keiki back.

“Well, I won’t let that happen, so it doesn't matter what he actually said. I won’t let you keep this rebellious behavior another second, Keiki.”

“I said I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going anywhere.” Keiki insisted in a mir voice.

“You have no opinion in this. I’m your mother, I know what’s best for you.”

“Oh, so now you’re my mother. After two months of giving a crap about me, now I’m your daughter and now you remember your obligations as a mother? A little bit late, don’t you think?

“Don’t talk to me like that, Keiki.”

“But it’s the truth! I left almost eight weeks ago. You could’ve come seven weeks and a half ago, even just the day after I left Hawaii. But no. You just assumed I was with my brother and that I’d come back soon, and gave a shit about me. You did nothing but call me a couple of times and then you did like I didn’t exist.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened before giving her a guilty look, as she noticed Eleanor was observing the whole exchange, “We let you do your thing, darling. You wanted to reconnect with your brother, that’s okay but we thought you wouldn’t last two days. You wouldn’t tolerate the loneliness because your brother is working all day and you wouldn’t connect, since you haven’t seen him since you’re six.”

“Loneliness.” She repeated, her voice trembling. “Do you think I don’t know anything about loneliness?”

“Do you?”

“Do you even notice when I’m home? Like, really notice me? Not to dictate my life or ask about my accomplishments, my grades, or with who I hang out at school. Do you know who I am, what I like? What do I want in life? No, you don’t. I’m alone in that house all day. I’ve spent the last three years locked in my room for holidays because I have no friends while you do your life and pretend that I don’t exist, so, mom, I think I know a thing or two about loneliness.”

Rebecca snorted, ignoring the tears that were streaming down her duaghter’s cheeks, “You’re exaggerating things, Keiki, we do care for you, but you just don’t like whatever we say.”

“You almost let me die. You do not care about me.” Her voice was enraged.

Eleanor froze in her place, unsure of what she’d heard, “Keiki, what are you talking about?”

Keiki turned to her, her eyes full of tears, looking somewhat ashamed of what she had just admitted in front of her. She cleared her throat before speaking, “a month before coming here I had some stomach pain, it didn’t stop with anything. My beloved mother didn’t even bother to take me to the hospital, she thought it would pass with some Bentyl. One afternoon the housekeeper found me drenched in sweat, almost unconscious, and took me to the hospital because none of them were at home. At the hospital, they had to make me an emergency operation. I had appendicitis that turned into peritonitis. They should’ve done the appendectomy two days before, and if I had taken one more day, I might have died, or at least had major organ failure.”

Eleanor’s heart sunk at her words, and probably then it just broke, “oh my god, Keiki.”

“We didn’t know it was that severe. She just downplayed her pain, she was going to school as normal.”

“Because you forced me! Because you minimized my pain and thought I was just trying to get your attention and have an excuse to not go to your shitty dinner...”

“Watch out your tongue, Keiki”

“You see? You care more about my vocabulary than what happened to me.”

At that moment, Eleanor ran to the room to pick up her phone, hands trembling and her eyes blurry with the tears. She called Bryce but he didn’t respond.  He texted him. Left voice messages. Nothing. Then she sent a message to the group chat. "Please, if you see Bryce tell him to call me ASAP”

A minute later her phone rang, it was Sienna, “Ellie, are you okay? I saw your text.”

“I’m okay, but I’m in a situation with Keiki and I need him to come home. It’s urgent.”

“Heavens. Okay, I’ll check the board.  Did you know if he had surgeries today?”

“He told me about one at 2 PM, he had only preops in the morning.”

“Okay, I’ll tell a nurse in case he’s at the OR”

"Thank you, Si."

When she came back to the living room Keiki was still arguing with Rebecca, “Keiki, I apologized for what happened, but that doesn't justify this behavior of yours."

“Why did you come now? Why now that Bryce called you, why you suddenly care? If he hadn’t called you, you would’ve not given a fuck, would you?”

Rebecca didn’t respond.

“Now, leave, because I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I’ll give you the afternoon, Keiki. I’ll wait for Bryce’s call. If he doesn’t reach out at 7PM, and you don’t come into your senses, I’ll bring the police if it’s necessary, you hear me?”

Rebecca shouldered her bag and got out of the apartment.

The moment she closed the door, Keiki burst into tears. Eleanor ran to catch her in her arms, “Keiki, oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The girl just sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. Incessantly. Like everything she had inside was flowing like an avalanche. All that she had kept for how many years, and all she had to repress after such horrible experience, “I don’t wanna go, Ella, I… I can’t go back there, now you understand why… why I can’ go back there?”

“Of course, but… why you never told us? Keiki, this is terrible.”

“I don’t know, I always tried to tell Bryce, but I knew I would start crying, and I’d lose it and I don’t like to feel like that.”

That story seemed familiar. Eleven years apart but they were cut from the same cloth. The same scars. The same behavior.

Eleanor couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t blame her. Keiki, like Bryce, had no one. She didn’t trust anyone, she barely trusted them. Saying something like that was too much for her.

“I’m tired of being strong, Eleanor,” she confessed after a while.

“You don’t have to be, not with us. We’re here for you, Keiki. Bryce will do whatever it takes to keep you with him.”

She didn’t know how much time passed, but Keiki had fallen asleep on her lap when Bryce arrived home. He knew his mother had been home but didn’t know any details.

As Keiki didn't wake up with Bryce's arrival, Elanor took a pillow and put it under her head, and covered her with a blanket before leading Bryce to the room, where she told him everything. The fact that her mom came to take her back to Maui, what she heard in the conversation, and all the things Keiki had told her after Rebecca left. The real reason why she decided to ran away and why she didn’t want to come back.

“I… I can’t believe it. She… could’ve died, Elle.”

Bryce was devastated. For her sister, for all she’d lived, and also because he was seeing the consequences, new unknown consequences, of having left Keiki in the past. If he’d been more present, she wouldn’t have lived that. “Do you realize that… that if I’d been closer to her, if we had spoken daily, or frequently, none of this would’ve happened? I would’ve told her to go to the hospital? She wouldn’t have been in danger. The fucking irony.”

“Love, you can’t blame yourself for this. It was your parents' responsibility.”

“But I know perfectly well how irresponsible they are. I should’ve at least doubted that they would treat her the way they did with me. But I assumed that things would be different with her, that they’d take care of her, that they’d care for her. But I’m realizing she’d been a ghost like I was.”

Bryce was livid with himself. Even if Eleanor tried to calm him down, there was just so much anger, so much guilt, that simple words or reassurance weren’t enough. Even if he’d been dealing with the guilt since Keiki was with him, there was still a lot more to unfold. And it’d be so much more after the bomb he received that morning. This was much worse than he thought.

“Babe, I’m sorry, I need to be alone now. I… I need to deal with this on my own.”

Eleanor gave him a sad smile before standing up from the bed, “okay, but if you need to talk, if you need anything, please tell me, you’re not alone in this, okay?”

Bryce nodded, his face emotionless, “I know. I just need some space to think.”

“Of course,” she whispered, stroking his hair before leaving the room.  

Bryce knew he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

______

A/N: Keiki, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doing this to you. I don’t know if Bryce’s parents are this crappy in the game, maybe we’ll never know, but they’ve been totally been neglectful with Keiki when she was at home, and after she left and they didn’t even bother to come to talk to her. So I think they’re not very far from being that shitty.

(This is just rambling, you can skip it)

Also, I’ve never been more nervous about posting a chapter as this one, and that’s thanks to the first part. (that’s why I moved it from ch. 20 to ch. 21, trying to delay “the inevitable”). Even if I loved writing it, I’m afraid you’ll find it too much? Like, too intense, like Bryce wouldn’t reach those levels? Personally I think he would. Well, the Bryce I’ve been writing all these months would, I don’t know if the game Bryce, because PB hasn’t gave him so much deepness unfortunately.

I’ve been meditating this scene for months, deliberating if it’s something he would do, if it’s too much, and most of the time my instinct told me he would react that way but under very specific circumstances, as it is to be feeling emotionally vulnerable (the conversation they had the night before, when he opened up to Eleanor like never before), and being in the presence of a very loving and passionate partner as Eleanor. I mean, people who had been alone, unloved, have a strange reaction to intimacy. Bryce doesn’t have problems with intimacy per se, but certainly it shocked him the way he was receiving love, that’s why he was scared. If he wasn’t that emotionally vulnerable he wouldn’t have shed some tears, but he had been very passionate, just as he was after that brief moment of heartbreaking vulnerability.

I don’t know. If I’m honest, I’m really proud of what I did there, I even cried, but I also know that not everyone has to agree with my interpretation of Bryce. I know I made him unrecognizable, and I explained why. This was just for that moment, it’s not that he’s gonna cry all the time now, or every time they have intimacy.

Maybe this explanation wasn’t necessary but I’m gonna leave it just in case :)

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you so much for reading! ❤

[julia-highstorms]

Last Night on Earth (Bryce x Rei (F!MC))

Summary: Infected by an unknown poison, Rei spends what could be her last night on earth with her most important person.

Author’s note: Open Heart is back which means BRYCE IS BACK and omg the angst in chapter 11 was on spot. As usual, I wanted to give a bit of more depth between Bryce and Rei’s relationship. Read more about them here

Song: Last Night On Earth - Green Day

Disclaimer: Characters and some dialogues belong to Pixelberry Studios.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Rei Sato (F!MC)

Word count: +2.8K

________________________________________

Rei left out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as she watched Ethan and June wheeling Rafael out through the decontamination room and down the hallway, solitary figures in a labyrinth of plastic. She had the sensation that her mentor took one last worried look over his shoulder to where she was. 

The silence that fell over was deafening, the pressure in her head felt too much. Now, all alone, she felt like she was the last person on Earth. She curled up on her bed and the tears came hard. She let them fall, hiding her face behind her hands, her frail and weak body quivering to the intensity of her weeping.

She cried for Danny, for Bobby, mourning the loss of those two souls. She cried for Rafael, scared of what could happen to him overnight. She cried for Kyra, fighting for her life at the O.R. She cried for herself. She felt scared of what fate had in store for her.

Working with medicine, she had to learn to endure that sometimes they were unable to save everyone. Death was part of life and a hospital staff dealt with it more often than most people would.

But she was scared either way. She was terrified. The feelings were overwhelming. Mourning, loneliness, anger, regret, helplessness, fear.

________________________________________

What it seemed to be much later, her friends and the diagnostics team arrived outside the window to her room. She felt tired, her eyes dry and puffy from crying so much.

She noticed Bryce standing behind Baz, staring at her with haunted eyes.

“How’s Kyra? The surgery must be over now…” “She’s fine. She’s resting. She, uh… we haven’t told her what’s happening with you yet.” - Rei nodded.

“Good idea.”

Sienna sniffed and buried her face in Jackie’s shoulder. The diagnostics team informed her that she had maitotoxin.

There was no cure for maitotoxin.

...She was going to die there.

Rei felt a wave of emotions all over again, feeling more helpless than she had ever felt. That was going to be her last night on earth.

Ethan told her to not give up yet. That was something so typical of her mentor to say and something she would usually be thankful for. If it hadn’t been for his tough love, she wouldn’t be the doctor she was today.

But today, right now, she wasn’t a doctor. She was just a dying being. He assured her that they’d synthesize an antidote overnight. Usually, she would believe and put faith in him. She trusted in Ethan Ramsey, and in June and Baz.

But that night she wasn’t feeling much hopeful. Even though Aurora came in with a group of doctors from Mass Kenmore. Even though Carrick affirmed that she wouldn’t die on their watch. Rei felt that she was already far from being saved.

Everyone said their goodbyes and followed June and Baz to the lab. Ethan stayed behind for a moment more, his pale blue eyes fixed on his favorite mentee, on the woman he was secretly in love, his face wrinkled with worry and something else. Fear. Regret. Longing.

“It isn’t over yet, Rookie.” - he said, and she smiled weakly at the nickname. - “You should try and get some rest.”

“What, are you my doctor now?” - she snapped back at him, good humouredly.

“Yes. I’m telling you as a doctor and...” - he hesitated, as if he tried to carefully choose his next words.

The head of the diagnostics team reminisced about the talk he had with Sienna on their way to a FBI field office earlier, where he confessed he had rather unprofessional feelings for Rei. But he didn’t tell Sienna the complete truth: although he had never really confessed to her, Rei knew about his feelings for her. At least, back then when she still was an intern. And Ethan was more than aware that her feelings for him weren’t mutual. She had rejected him. And he still pinned for her either way. And she could possibly die soon. Real soon.

He thought about throwing everything to the ceiling and fully confessing to her. How he still loved her. That might be his last chance.

...But that wouldn’t be fair. To Rei. A love confession from her boss and mentor was the least thing she needed right now. And it would be unfair to Dr. Lahela too. Whatever was the nature of their relationship, it was clear that Rei loved that scalpel jockey. And that, this time, the feelings were mutual.

The young surgeon was a few feet away, leaning against the wall, his hands buried inside his pockets, staring down at his feet, patiently waiting for his turn to talk to Rei. And Ethan was sure that he would possibly spend the rest of his night keeping her company. That was something she would want. 

“...as your friend.” - he finished his thought.

Rei nodded, smiling gratefully at Ethan, unaware of the storm of emotions he had inside him, and he left. 

She heard him exchanging a few words with someone who was behind the wall. Bryce came into view as he stepped to the side, lingering by the window. He forced a smile.

“It’s all gonna be okay, Rei. I promise. You heard Dr. Ramsey, they’re going to find a cure.”

“Bryce, you don’t have to pretend to be positive for my sake.”

The smile left his face.

“...I’m not. It’s for my sake. If I don’t stay optimistic, I’m gonna lose it. I can’t let myself do that. Not yet. Not while there’s still hope.”

“Okay. Whatever helps.” - she murmured, resting her head back into her pillow on her back. - “What did Ethan tell you?” “He asked me to take care of you.” - he frowned. - “You should try and sleep. You need to keep your strength up.”

“I don’t know if I can. I keep thinking about Raf… wondering how long he can hang on…”

Bryce looked down to his side, to the spare hazmat suit nearby, his brain working.

“...What if I stayed with you for a while? Would that help? There’s another hazmat suit out there.” - he smiled warmly at her. - “You know us scalpel jockeys. We’re beyond useless in the lab, anyway.”

That proposal seemed to bring a bit of life back into Rei, her eyes shining.

“Are you sure? What about Keiki? Will she be okay?”

“Keiki is a teenager, Rei, not a baby. She can take care of herself for a night. Besides, she forbade me of going home with you like this.” “Did you tell her…?” 

“Yeah. I said I’d be up late here. She told me to stay here with you. Keiki’s your number #1 fan, Rei.”

Rei chuckled softly and agreed on Bryce staying with her that night. A few minutes later, she heard the decontamination tent activating, and he entered her room.

“What do you think? Am I still handsome? Or am I somehow more handsome? Be honest.”

She laughed as Bryce strutted through the door in his bulky hazmat suit.

“It’s your best look yet. You should rock this every day.”

“Don’t tempt me, Rei.”

“I can’t believe you actually came in here.” - her voice dropped to a murmur.

“If I’m gonna be here for you, I’m gonna be here for you.” - he walked to her bed, standing up beside it and took her hand, squeezing it gently, as if to prove he was not a dream.

“I’m glad. I’m not doing so well in here on my own.”

“Not true, Rei. You’ve been incredible today.” “I haven't done anything but watch two good men die.”

He suddenly enveloped her in his arms. It was a good hug, even through the thick plastic suit.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” - he whispered into her ear and then Rei felt the tears back into her eyes.

She weakly circled her arms around him and sobbed. She looked so fragile.

“Bryce, I-- I’m scared.” - she confessed, hiding her face on his chest. He let her weep, his hands rubbing up and down her back in a comforting movement, saying nothing.

She was scared of not waking up in the morning. Of not being able to spend one more night at Donahue's with her friends. Of not knowing if Kyra had made it all after her surgery. Of not being able to see Bryce's smile ever again, or to feel his touch. She was scared that the last news their family would have of her was about her death.

“I know it wasn't my fault that this happened… but I still feel so full of regret. This might be last night on earth…”

“Hey, none of that. You need to stay positive.”

She brushed away her tears.

“Oh? Any suggestions on how to manage that?”

“I think we already established how incredible I look in this.” - he tried to give her a confident smirk. Rei smiled ruefully, her eyes red due to her crying.

“That’s… not quite doing it for me.”

“Fair. Then let’s focus on all the positive in you. What are you most proud of? What makes you happiest?”

“I definitely am most proud of my job.”

“As you should be. You’re a fantastic doctor, Dr. Sato.”

“And of working in the diagnostics team, although at first I didn’t intend to be part of it when we were interns.”

“I remember all the drama.” - it was almost funny how it seemed pettiless compared to what was happening now.

“And about what makes me the happiest… probably… You.” - she confessed, her cheeks blushing slightly.

“Now there’s a pleasant plot twist.” - Bryce grinned.

“Are you surprised?”

“Not really. I don’t want to make you feel like you’re not special, but I’m a lot of people’s reason for living.”

“You asked for my favorite thing, not my reason for living.” - she pointed out, smiling back at him. - “In light of the new framing, I’m changing my answer to ‘pictures of baby animals’.” - he laughed.

“That’s actually fair. I’ll allow it.”

They grinned at each other and, even filtered by the mask, the beauty of Bryce’s smile could still almost blow Rei away.

“Gosh, you’re pretty.” - she murmured, adoration in her eyes. But to her surprise, his smile faded. - “Bryce? Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I just… Rei, I really am trying to stay positive. We both have to. But…” - he hesitated.

“But what?”

The truth was that Bryce was desperately trying to keep his cool. He somehow managed to do it at the operating room, but now, seeing Rei so terrified, feeling so helpless…

And even though she was the one in that situation, unsure of her fate, Rei Sato still was able to comfort him. To check on him, to make him feel like the most amazing person in the whole world.

He loved her.

He felt his heart clutching inside his chest and out of breath, a lump in his throat.

“You mean a lot to me, Rei. More than you know, probably. The idea of losing you…” - he trailed off, shaking his head ruefully, unable to finish his sentence.

Rei could see a sadness in his eyes as he gazed back up at her, but also something more… that something that made her heartbeat speed up.

“Bryce, you mean a lot to me too. As a friend, and as more…” - she murmured, her cheeks turning a bit redder and less pale.

“Yeah?” - he asked, as if he couldn’t believe his own ears.

“Yeah. I don’t know what waits for me tomorrow… Hell, I don’t even know if I’ll get a tomorrow. But if tonight’s my last night on earth, then you’re the one I want to spend it with.”

“Well, damn, Rei. Talk about bittersweet.” - he smiled, his eyes glistening with the tears that threatened to fall.

“Let’s focus on the sweet part.”

She gently took his gloved hands and led him to the bed, too small for them both, especially with his suit, but they didn't care.

"Would you hold me?"

"I'd love to, Rei." - he curled around her, spooning her tightly from behind. She always felt safe whenever she was in his arms.

"I wish I could feel your skin."

"You will."

"I wish I could kiss you."

"Sorry, was I mumbling? You will, Rei. You're going to get through this." 

"It's nice."

"What?"

"Hearing a doctor tell you this. It almost makes you believe that it will really be okay." - Rei swallowed another fresh wave of fear.

"What is it?" - his voice sounded worried.

She turned to face him, the tears welling up on her eyes again.

"What if the inside of this hospital room is the last place I see? What if…"

"Hey, don't go there." - he said, brushing off the hair out of her face. She took a deep breath.

"I need a kiss." - he smiled, amused by her request.

"How do you want to manage that one?"

"With a lot of imagination, I guess?"

Smiling softly, he lifted her fingertips in his hand, bending over them to 'kiss' her through the mask. Rei couldn't feel the softness of his lips, but a tingle of warmth shot through her nonetheless.

"How was that?"

"Better than I expected, honestly."

"Good."

His arms tightened around her. She laid still, enjoying the strength of his embrace until, at last, sleep clouded the edges of her mind.

"I'm glad I at least got to hold you one last time…"

"It's not the last time, Rei. I promised." - she heard Bryce say as she drifted off to a restless sleep.

________________________________________

The hours passed slowly, but Bryce didn't dare to close his eyes, afraid of losing her. Rei's weak breathing was the only sound in the room. Her body would squirm occasionally and low whimpers would escape her lips as the pain would hit her. He would brush off a strand of hair away from her face, her skin feeling both clammy and cold through his glove.

Much later, when the sun was already up the next morning, Bryce still found himself with Rei. He was now in the chair right next to her bed.

She woke suddenly to a stabbing pain in her midsection. She clutched her stomach, gasping at the intensity.

"It's okay, Rei. You're okay." - he rubbed her back soothingly, his voice comforting.

She gave in, riding the wave of pain until it passed. When it was over, she lied back down the bed, feeling weaker than ever, breathing hard. She gazed listlessly at the window just as her friends hurried up.

"Rei! We did it!" - she heard Aurora's voice and blinked at the blurry shapes of people in the window.

"Huh?"

"Seriously? You guys found an antidote?" - Bryce asked, immediately standing up.

"Something like that." - Carrick smirked confidently. 

Rei took a shuddering breath, trying not to hope too hard. Ethan, June and Baz came swimming into focus as they entered her room. They looked exhausted, but there was a glint of hope in their eyes.

"How?"

Ethan explained, a smile on his tired face. They hoped it would keep the maitotoxin from progressing any further. They had already administered it to Rafael, but there hadn't been any change of his condition so far, neither for worse nor better. 

Well, it was better than nothing. It was the only shot she had anyway.

"Give me your arm, Rei." - she presented her arm, barely able to hold it up. Bryce promptly cradled her, holding her arm still as Ethan prepared the injection. - "Ready?"

She smiled back at him.

"Ready."

He smoothly inserted the needle into her vein and dispensed the serum.

"And now we wait… and hope." - June concluded.

________________________________________

The next several hours passed in a slow, anxious crawl. Bryce had to go back to work, as well as all of her friends. Every hour, June would come by to test Rei's blood.

Slowly, her blood pressure started to stabilize. Eventually, the nausea receded. The world swimmed back into shaper focus, until…

"It worked!" - Bryce announced, loud and clear.

"Seriously? I'm cured?"

The young surgeon strode through the decontamination tent on his scrubs, with a megawatt smile that told her everything she needed to know.

"I told you it was going to be okay. I told you-- Unf!" - she printed across the room and into his arms so hard it nearly bowled him over. - "Couldn't you wait for me to cross the room, huh?" - he asked, looking down at her, enjoying the sensation of her arms hugging him tightly, her body against his.

She shook her head, a broad smile on her lips, her dark eyes shining with happiness, full of life.

"Nope."

Rei grabbed the front of his scrubs and pulled him into a dizzyingly deep kiss. Bryce immediately responded, kissing her back as if there was no tomorrow. But today was tomorrow.

"Thank you." 

"For what?"

His arms wrapped around her, holding her close, both of them savouring the warmth and solidity of each other's body.

"For being alive." - he whispered, leaning down to kiss her temple.

Rei laughed, happy and feeling more alive than ever, and they held each other for a moment more. 

________________________________________

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @pixelburied @nyastarlight @endlessflame @awkwardalbatros @choicesarehard @strangelycami @stillafictosexual @queen-kass-the-writer @indiacater @worldofchoices @radlovedreamer @fairydustandsarcasm @choicesthot @blackreddish @lilyofchoices @fluffywhitehair @weaving-in-words @eileendannie @hellooliviaolivia @professorortegasstudent @bucket-harrington @god-save-the-keen @choices97 @camcantarella @sawyer0akleyscowboyhat @thequeenchoices @hellomynameisdevi @dreaming-of-movies @maria-lahela @zodiacsign1 @omgjasminesimone @miss-raleigh-carrera @lahellacute @soft-for-drake @raleighcarrera @simsvetements @wolverinesbeer @virtuallytakenby @anotherbeingsworld @teenytinytanya08 @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl @sitsoncornflake @jamesashtonisbae @lxdy-starfury @choicesficwriterscreations (if you would like to be tagged in upcoming Bryce x MC fanfics, tell me!)

[semperintrepida]

The Sellout, chapter five

five: the changing levels

Kyra awoke with something hard jabbing into her thigh. She pulled the sharp corner of a book away from her leg, and blinked back the veil of sleep while she regained her bearings. The chair she sat in was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and she shifted positions, feeling wool under her fingertips, concrete under her feet. She was still in Kassandra's condo, and this hadn't been some stress-induced dream.

The owner of the book and uncomfortable chair and concrete floor was still sleeping on the couch nearby, blissfully oblivious to her presence.

Kyra glanced out the windows. What time was it? The skies outside were chalkboard black, the city winking back at her through the glass. She touched the screen of her phone awake. Two-thirty in the morning. Opening the shop in three hours was going to suck.

She only had herself to blame. She was the one who'd offered to drive Kassandra home. She could have ignored Kassandra's protests and called an ambulance. Let the EMTs haul her away. Problem solved.

That there was a problem to be solved at all was also Kyra's fault. She'd left the front door unlocked, and the shop's bright lights had drawn that tweaker inside with the gravitational pull of the sun. If she hadn't done that, he wouldn't have been able to attack her, and Kassandra... Kassandra wouldn't have put herself in danger by stepping into his path instead.

The incident took no more than a few seconds. Kyra's memory of it flickered past in still frames from a blurry video, but there was no mistaking the central figure in each one.

Kassandra.

She'd done Kyra a reckless, foolhardy kindness, despite Kyra's best attempts to give her every reason not to.

Kyra looked at Kassandra again. She really was gorgeous, stretched out like a slumbering lion across the couch. Kyra shook the thought away and studied the book in her hands, with its thick cover and mix of heavy paper and vellum pages, hefty for an otherwise small volume. Anne Carson's reimagination of Antigone. I like a good argument, marrow versus marrow...

The moment Kassandra had fallen asleep, Kyra had gone to the bookshelves and found a collection of tomes as tasteful as everything else inside this concrete box of a condo. All the titans were there, from Atwood to Zola, Booker prize-winners rubbing covers with Pulitzers, their spines uncreased and bookstore-fresh.

None of the books had been read. It was as if Kassandra had arranged to fill her bookshelves with a cross section of capital-L literature without bothering to crack them open even once. Kyra had a vision of Mars as seen through an old telescope, its surface cloaked with dark expanses once mistaken for seas until closer inspection revealed them to be as barren as the rest of the planet.

Kyra had rolled her eyes at the fakery, but then her gaze snagged on a book unlike the others, and she realized that her first glance may not have been entirely accurate. Then curiosity took over, which was how a copy of Antigonick had ended up in her hands. Apparently, there was life on Mars after all.

With hours to fill, she'd settled in and started reading, flipping pages in a book so worn that its cover flopped open flat on its own.

Now it was two-thirty in the morning in Kassandra's home, with Kassandra's book in her lap, and she remembered how the Greek chorus in that book sang accusingly at the god of desire: You change the levels of a person's mind.

She stood up abruptly. She returned to the row of shelves, slid the book back where it came from, and studied the others, looking for signs of wear, looking for signs of life.

She was snooping and she didn't care. Kassandra slept on, none the wiser, as Kyra found worn covers on predictable heavyweights like Wolf Hall and The Prince mixed with surprises like Chiang's Stories of Your Life and Others and a copy of the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius that was so tattered from use it nearly fell apart in her hands.

She never would have thought Kassandra a stoic. Spartan maybe, given the simplicity of her surroundings, but not stoic.

The surprises kept coming: in the amount of poetry contained in Kassandra's shelves and in the fact that the poetry was more likely to have been read than the prose. And then Kyra hit paydirt, in a heavy, library-bound tome with "Ψάπφω" embossed on the cover, filled with pages of photographic reproductions of what looked to be papyrus fragments.

And in the margins of each page were annotations written in a forceful, propulsive scrawl. English mixed with what looked like Greek. Kyra would have to take the words written in English at face value; despite her Greek heritage, she'd never learned the language or any of its ancient forms.

among mortal women, [know that?] you could release me from every care

Kyra couldn't read the book's title, but she still had a good guess what it was. She turned the page, then the next, skimming translation after translation, some crossed out, others given a second attempt, and then she spotted one that leapt off the page:

someone will [did??] remember us I tell you in another time

The book in Kyra's hands was Kassandra's attempt at translating Sappho.

If studying Kassandra's bookshelves was snooping, this suddenly felt like reading her diary. Kyra shut the book, the covers closing with a loud snap, and she winced and held her breath while Kassandra stirred on the couch.

A momentary rustling, then silence again. Kassandra hadn't woken up. Kyra returned the book to its home on the shelf and went to the windows. There wasn't just life on Mars, but an entire hidden ecosystem, and now having discovered it, she wished she could forget it existed.

She frowned into the darkness. Somewhere to the east, Mount Hood was waiting until dawn to make its grand entrance onto the cityscape. Kassandra's view would be spectacular, as a view from a penthouse should.

Kyra's frown deepened. Penthouse. "PH" in the private elevator that serviced a private garage. Follow the trickle of money down to the space-age car, the hand-tailored suits, the twenty-dollar lattes. She'd missed the obvious, over and over.

A place like this couldn't be bought with a VP's salary — even one at Starbucks. It would take real money, fuck-you money, the kind of money that cascaded from one generation to the next in an endless flow. Kyra looked back at the couch and the woman sleeping upon it.

Kassandra wasn't just rich — she was fucking wealthy.

It made sense now: the careful curation of Kassandra's social media, the steady stream of favorable press, her reluctance to call the cops. It was how someone with vast amounts of money could hide in plain sight, floating through life without needing a security detail to protect her from the crazies like Bezos and Gates did.

But with all that money, why did she even bother with work?

Kassandra would take Kyra's shop, not because she needed to make a living, but because she simply could, and it didn't matter if she liked Marcus Aurelius or read poetry or translated Sappho. She'd do the job and Kyra wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop her.

Kyra didn't belong here. Maybe in another time things could have been different. In this one...

She walked across the room and knelt by the couch. "Kassandra. Hey."

Kassandra's eyes blinked open.

"You alive?"

"No," she said, then smiled. "Yes." She glanced around the room. "What time is it?"

"Almost three."

"Shit. I'm sorry." She sounded like she meant it.

"What time's your alarm set for?"

"Five-thirty."

Good. Kyra wouldn't need to stay much longer. "You've lasted this long, you'll probably survive to hear it."

The smile faded. "You sound disappointed."

"Get some sleep," Kyra said. "Five-thirty's coming up fast." She got up before Kassandra could answer, moved back to the chair, sat, and tried not to think of anything while Kassandra's gaze bore down on her with the weight of a hydraulic press.

It took forever before Kassandra's breathing finally relaxed and deepened with sleep, but when it did, Kyra quietly moved across the room and slipped out the front door. Her debt to Kassandra's inexplicable gallantry was paid in full.

The elevator whisked her to the building's lobby, an airy chamber of blonde wood and minimal metal, warm and smelling faintly of lavender. Then she pushed open the glass door, stepped into the cold, damp, river bottom air of the real world, and left Kassandra and her gleaming tower far, far behind.

.oOo.

Eleven o'clock and the Sunday morning brunch rush was still underway. The flow of customers had been steady since she'd opened at six, but as nice as it was to ring up sale after sale, she was running on fumes.

Pete could tell. They'd bumped elbows once and had a few near misses behind the bar, and after that he kept giving her sidelong looks.

She was pulling a shot under his watchful gaze when her patience with him finally frayed. "Say whatever it is you want to say."

"Take a break after this drink. Fifteen minutes would do you good."

And give every person standing in line an excuse to whine on Yelp because their drinks took a few minutes longer than they wanted? "Not yet."

"When?"

She lifted the pitcher of steamed milk, then stopped just before the pour. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn't get them to stop.

He stepped into her space, his bulky powerlifter's body towering over her, and gently took the pitcher from her hand.

She watched silently as he finished the drink for her, and when stillness returned to her hands and forearms, she picked up a to-go lid from the stack and gestured for him to put the drink down on the counter. "When Phoibe comes in," she said.

"Kyra..."

She snapped the lid onto the cup and handed it to the customer waiting on the other side of the counter.

The man sipped his drink and gave her a grateful nod, now fortified with enough caffeine to wait two hours in line for a seat at the diner up the block. Pete was already talking to the next customer, but before he could tell her what to make, a flash of color pulled her eyes to the front door.

A tiny, black-haired Korean woman bustled into the shop, dwarfed by a sprawling bouquet of flowers in her arms. Every eye in the shop turned to watch her walk up to the counter. "Are you Kyra?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"For you, lucky girl." She placed the glass vase at the edge of the counter and stepped back to inspect her work.

Kyra's hand slid into her back pocket for her wallet, but the woman wagged a finger at her and said, "No, no. All taken care of. Enjoy." Then she smiled brightly and disappeared out the door.

Kyra eyed the slice of meadow that had appeared as suddenly as spring: sprigs of white serviceberry blossoms hovering over matte green leaves, pink clusters of sea blush, all nestling contentedly in a bed of ferns, the serrated fronds twined with sweetpea vines in full bloom.

They were the real life inspiration for the tattoo that wound around her right arm, every plant and flower growing wild in Oregon. They'd greeted her every spring, after Nia had taken her in and they began spending the warmer months up at the homestead in Estacada, its lush forest and sparkling river a shocking change of scenery to a gutterpunk who grew up in the grey grime of Portland's streets.

A card peeked out from the greenery, its handwriting familiar. She could almost hear Kassandra saying its words out loud.

Thanks for the ride home — and for looking out for me.

-K

Kyra's ears buzzed and her head swam dizzily as she floated on a curious feeling of elation. Then she blew out the breath she'd been holding. It was the lack of oxygen making her feel loopy. That's all.

So Kassandra was observant. All hunters were. And Kyra would be a fool to think otherwise, that this was anything other than a ploy to soften her up.

Kassandra would be back. The only question was When?

.oOo.

It wasn't Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, and after Thursday crawled by and Kyra had begun to hope that maybe, just maybe, her prayers had been answered and Kassandra had moved on to richer hunting grounds, the door to the shop clanged open five minutes before close.

This time, she didn't even turn around when Kassandra walked up to the counter. She just kept spinning the cup in her hand against the towel she'd been using to dry it off. "How's your head?" she asked.

"Much better, thanks."

She put the cup away with the rest, then turned to Kassandra, noting her lack of suit jacket and the extra button open at the neck of her dress shirt. Working late, perhaps. "I got the flowers."

"Good." Kassandra's face gave nothing away, her answer too short to offer any clues about the purpose of her visit.

"They were beautiful," Kyra said. "Where did you find them?"

"I've been exploring the city in my off hours. Sometimes I end up at a farmers' market and find a Korean family selling the most amazing wildflowers. Sometimes I end up in coffee shops where I find more than I bargained for."

Kyra tossed the towel next to the rack of cups. "Why are you here, Kassandra?"

"You keep asking me that."

"You never give me a good answer."

"I like the way you make coffee."

Kyra folded her arms.

"Ahh, you're not really asking about me then," Kassandra said with an air of amused patience.

She'd guessed wrong, but Kyra didn't correct her.

Eventually, she sighed into the silence. "Like I said, a new flagship store. That's the plan."

"There's already one in the Pearl." A massive shop, three stories high, a layer cake of espresso counters and seating and retail encased in a shiny frosting of glass and steel.

"Seattle has more than one, San Francisco does too. Time to add another on this side of the river. Little Portland's growing up."

Kyra stepped out from behind the counter. This time, she locked the front door before doing anything else. "You'd be better off at the Convention Center than all the way down here," she said over her shoulder.

"Probably. But I wouldn't be doing my due diligence if I didn't know the landscape of the entire east side." Kassandra moved to the windows and began helping flip stools onto the bar. "My offer still stands, by the way."

Kyra stopped mid-flip, then put the stool in her hands back down on the floor. "Suppose I said yes. What do you think I'd do with myself then?"

Kassandra didn't have a ready answer for that. She tilted her head, squinting at Kyra as she thought. "I don't know," she said. She seemed surprised by her own admission. "Take a vacation?"

"You're damn right I would. Someplace nice and sunny with enough five-twelve routes to keep me climbing for weeks. And afterwards, I'd come home and... what then?" She ran her hand along the bar. Ten years ago, she'd rescued the oak plank from the collapsing ruin that had once been the homestead's workshop. She'd attacked it with a sander, finished it with shellac, installed it against the window with her own hands. "Selling this place would net me — what, a hundred thousand if I'm lucky?" Ten years of work, only to end up with less money than she'd started. "That money won't last forever."

A rattle at the front door turned both their heads at the same time. A woman stared back apologetically through the glass. Just someone looking for a last-minute caffeine fix. Kyra mouthed a Sorry and nodded up at the inert neon sign above her head.

"You could open another shop."

"And bust my ass starting over from scratch while waking up every day wondering if today's the day another suit like you is going to show up? That sounds fun." She was tiring of this conversation. "But worrying about things like that isn't something you'd understand."

"What do you mean?"

"How much does a gallon of milk cost?"

Kassandra's eyes narrowed. "Between three and five bucks a gallon around here. I know the price of bananas too in case you think I'm too out of touch to know that either."

The question had pissed her off. Good. Maybe she'd go away sooner. Kyra started sharpening another volley of words, knowing that Kassandra would raise her shield, and look at her with that mirror-finished glint in her eyes she'd used to turn Kyra's pointed remarks aside before. Kyra's heartbeat sped up, ready to rise to the challenge.

Instead, Kassandra's shoulders sagged and a strange expression slumped across her features, one that took Kyra several moments to identify as hurt. It scattered Kyra's snark, and left her with a pounding heart and nothing to say. She stared at Kassandra as the silence grew second by second, and when she was finally able to muster some words, they snuck out from her with a weary softness. "You didn't come here to talk about work, did you?"

"No." Kassandra turned away, straightening the stool she'd lifted onto the bar so its edges were lined up square. "I was hoping to get your help with something."

It was bait. It had to be. The longer Kyra let this conversation keep going, the more likely it was that she'd do something stupid. "My help with what, exactly?" she asked, while her brain howled in frustration.

"I've been invited to a... gala of sorts."

Kyra didn't like where Kassandra was going with this. "A gala," she said flatly. "Like ballgowns and dancing?"

"Not really. More like Patagonia fleece vests and fat wallets bumping into each other."

"And?"

"Will you come with me?"

"I think you're asking someone from the wrong social strata."

Hurt flickered through Kassandra's eyes a second time, but she smoothed it over with a faint smile and didn't miss a beat. "On the contrary, you'll fit in better than you think. It's a fundraiser for the Multnomah County Library."

"Surely I'm not the only person you know who reads books."

"You don't just read books. You climb."

An oddly specific combination. "You're plotting something."

"Nothing shady, I promise. Just come with me and talk to people. It'll only be a couple of hours — and there'll be an open bar."

Kyra was half-tempted to lie and say she didn't drink. "You actually think I'll say yes to this? I don't even—" Like you, she meant to say.

"It'd be an excellent opportunity to expand your network," Kassandra said, but then she shrugged off her own suit-speak with a grin. "Anyway, the Library wants to build a new children's wing, and I'm on a mission to separate some people from their money for a good cause. I think you can help me do that."

Think of the children. Kassandra's audacity seemed to have no bounds. "When is this thing?"

"Saturday night."

Shady or not, Kassandra was up to something, and saying No would cut Kyra off from any chance of finding out what it was. "Fine. Two hours, then I'm done," Kyra said. Against reason, against her better judgement, brain still howling as—

Kassandra's face lit with a triumphant smile.

The kind of face that made Kyra do stupid things.

Chapter five of The Sellout. Continued in chapter six...

Author's Note: The translations of Sappho herein are loosely reworked versions of Carson's, from her foundational translation "If Not, Winter."

"among mortal women..." is a snippet from fr. 23.

The "did??" in Kassandra's translation of fr. 147 is a reversal of Casaubon's commonly-accepted emendation that changed "did remember" to "will remember". (Oh, to have a photo of the original papyri so I could puzzle out what the text actually said, but I'm no classics scholar...)

[whumping-every-day]

I’m in love with your writing and was wondering if you perchance have any new drabbles or any writing from your gabriel series soon?

Ahhh, tysm Nonnie!! I am finally back on my bullshit. I hope you enjoy. xD

Please heed the warnings on this one! It contains graphic whump and violence against a minor, plus the usual slavery/institutionalized whump that come with this story. Gabriel is 14 here. 

–

At first, when he’s dragged up the rickety basement stairs for the first time since being thrown down them, Gabriel is grateful. The very concept of out has started to fade from his mind; too long spent surrounded by the same walls, chained by the same wrist. Too many hours (and days, and months) lying on cold concrete as the blackness smarts and swirls in his vision.

The sunlight is a lance through his eyes. It’s midday on a weekend, and light pours in through the kitchen windows past faded floral curtains. Outside, there’s the sound of a lawnmower, and there’s a pile of old mail on the counter. It’s normal, almost. It’s peaceful.

Gabriel is shoved forward and down, and he goes, curling into a ball as he fetches up against the counter. The impact against the back of his head aches, but it’s the blinding glare of the sun that has Gabriel moaning and curling his arms over his head.

“Get up.” The door to the basement shuts smartly, and Gabriel flinches, but he quickly twists onto his knees, tries to get upright.  He tips, sends a hand out to catch himself, finds the counter. His whole body thrums with pain, and he’s dizzy, nauseous. At least there’s nothing in his stomach to throw up. “I said up.” Gabriel whimpers as his Master’s hand closes around the back of his neck.

The boy is fourteen this year, skinny and knobby as a newborn colt. He’s thin, dark hair a shock against ashen pasty skin. Master drags him through the kitchen and into a small dining room, then shoves him back to his knees. Gabriel lets himself be moved, like a ragdoll tossed around by a child. He’s still squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he can, because everything outside is white fire. 

There’s clanking, and then one of Master’s meaty hands fastens around his ankle. Gabriel cries out as he’s yanked onto his front, arms braced against the dirty vinoleum. Master’s presence looms over him, and the man’s grip shifts upwards, from his ankle to the back of his thigh. For a split second, Gabriel’s fear turns black in his chest. He wouldn’t dream of resisting when Master comes into the basement to beat him; but this, somehow, is different. The boy screams and kicks, and he hears his Master snarl. His other ankle is grabbed, then pinned. A weight settles over his back, and Gabriel cries out brokenly as Master leans his whole weight into the knee on Gabriel’s back. 

“Keep that up, you little shit,” the man snarls. He shoves harder, and Gabriel’s not-yet healed ribs light up with a searing pain. His scream this time is airy, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the cabinet. “Yeah, you like that?” Master lets go of his ankle, instead fists a hand in his hair. “I’ll teach you what happens when you fight me. You don’t get to fight me.” The man slams Gabriel’s head against the hard viloleum, and it sends stars spinning in his vision. Master does it again, and again, and when he yanks Gabriel’s head back by his hair, his mouth and nose are bleeding. 

“This is what you get,” the man spits. He shoves his knee into Gabriel’s back one more time as he gets up, and the boy whimpers pitifully. He hears Master scoff, and then he’s backhanded harshly across the face, like a punctuation mark to the beating. “Fucking useless.” 

The man stomps away, and Gabriel curls into himself on the hard floor. He knows by now not to cry; crying will only make it worse. 

When Master comes back, it’s with a chain. One end gets wound tightly around Gabriel’s ankle, and there’s a soft click as the lock it snapped shut. Gabriel still can’t see properly past the blaring pain in his eyes, but he feels the chain being moved, then fiddled with. His Master gives it a good yank, and Gabriel puts together that he is now chained to a bolt in the kitchen floor. 

“This is your new life,” Master says. “You will keep this kitchen spotless. You will cook breakfast and lunch every day. You will be quiet, and you will do as you’re told. And if you can’t do that,” the man pauses, and Gabriel shivers, muffles a whimper. “If you can’t do that, if you can’t complete this simple fucking task I have set for you - then I will string you up where the punching bag is and I will make you sorry. Do I make myself clear?”

Gabriel’s head is still ringing from being slammed into the floor. He groans, opens his mouth - but Master must have decided he’d taken too long, because he’s kicked in the gut before he can answer. The cry of pain is punched right out of him, along with the air in his lungs. 

“Then again,” Master says, and despite the anger in his voice, it sounds like he’s smiling. “I never had very high hopes for you, boy.” Those rough, calloused fingers run through Gabriel’s hair in a parody of gentleness, and then they yank and tighten. Master holds Gabriel’s head up, watches the blood trickling from his nose, the blooming black eye, the way he’s whimpering and squeezing his eyes shut. “Mm.” He lets go, and Gabriel blindly scuttles backwards, following the line of the counter till he finds a corner. 

The chain rattles as he moves; it’s different from in the basement, when he’d been chained by his wrist. The thought makes his wrist ping with old pain; it’s intended where the manacle had sat, pasty white and grey underneath. The chain around his ankle is tight, and Gabriel wonders if Master will loosen it if his foot starts to swell. 

He still can’t see. He hears Master get to his feet; the man is grumbling softly, but he moves away, out of the kitchen. Then the TV switches on in the living room, and Gabriel is alone. 

Gabriel’s cheekbone is throbbing, a deep pain that radiates through his whole face. He sniffles quietly, now that he’s alone, and lifts a shaky hand to assess the damage. 

He had thought he understood what Master wanted him for; he was something to hit, something to kick around and hurt so Master could enjoy his suffering. Gabriel understood what he was for, and what he was. But now… 

Master had never brought him upstairs before, never ordered him to clean or cook. A few stray tears slip down Gabriel’s cheeks at the thought, because he knows what cooking and cleaning is, but he has no idea how. 

He lies there, in a puddle of long limbs and bruises, and lets the sound of the television muffle his sobs.

–

[END]

Tagging the Gabriel Gang! Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list. @robinshouseofwhump @pepperonyscience @angelsuperwholock @pennsss @silver-sparrow-462 @silverinkgoldenquill @kestrelsparverius @learningtowhump @shameless-whumper @latenightcupsofcoffee @thebluejayswhump  @what-huh-imconfused @vickytokio @captivity-whump @pink-and-purple-flowers @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @adventuresofacreesty  @kyra-plays @cagefreebirds @whumpywhumper @blue-flare10 @whumptywhumpdump   @whumpywhumper @maybeawhumpblog  @fallingstormphoenix  @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight  @infreidel @shadowicepuma @justanothermaltesegirl @whump-in-the-night @theawesomeawkward@whumpity–whump–whump  @maraudersmarvelwhump @haro-whumps @whumposaurus @deluxewhump  @nervous-writer @doublebubblebitchqueen @mortifiedwhump @whump-tr0pes @comfortforthepain  @whumps-the-word @burtlederp

[inthewrite]

Cold–OC Kiss Week 2020

This was written for Day 2 of @ockissweek. It’s not from a WIP, but a short story about my Pathfinder character Seely (an elf rogue) and her first (human) love, Johann. In an encounter several months ago, each party member lost a memory, and Seely’s lost memory was of Johann and their love and how he died in her arms on an adventure. This is just a little what if her mind brought part of Johann back. 

 Seely isn’t sure where she is, but recognizes the man she’s with, even if she can’t quite focus on his face. 

“What’s the look for?” he asks, a curious smile on his lips. 

She shrugs, and already everything seems more normal, like she’s been here all along. “I can’t look at you?”

He laughs and she can’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “Not when the look makes me afraid of what you’re thinking." 

"Oh, I don’t think you’re afraid at all,” she says, walking closer to him. “I think you like it." 

His laughter comes again, contagious and easy and bright. "I might." 

Seely rolls her eyes and looks at the map in his hands. "Where are we going next?” she asks. They had finished their last adventure the week before. They’ve been taking a break, but she’s itching to be on the road again, to have something to chase. 

He pulled the map up where they could both see it. “I was thinking north. There’s a monster that’s been wreaking havoc. I thought we could go defeat it." 

"And the reward?” she asks, thinking of how much fun it would be to fight a monster by his side. 

“The satisfaction of knowing that we’ve helped folks in need?” he asks, his hand on his chest, an air of false piety in his voice. 

She shoots him a knowing look. 

“500 gold. Each." 

Seely’s eyebrows rose. "This must be some monster." 

He nods. "We might need to work with some others, which would lower our take, but I think it could be fun anyway." 

"I say we do it,” she says, already packing her things in her bag. “Let’s go now." 

"Hold on,” he says, walking over to take her hand in his. “We don’t need to leave right this minute." 

"But it’s wreaking havoc. We should go.” There is an energy humming in her skin and she wants to be on their journey already. Why wait when they have what they want in their sights?

He chuckles and pulls her closer to him. “It will keep for a few more minutes,” he says, leaning down until his lips are hovering over hers. 

Seely grins and pushes up into the kiss, her arms looping around the back of his neck and pulling him closer. Feeling giddy and oh, so happy, she pulls him closer and deepens the kiss, until he pulls back with a pained gasp. 

“What is it?” she asks, in concern. Is he hurt? 

He looks at her, but she still can’t make out his features. She moves her hand down to his chest, and gasps when she finds his shirt wet. She looks down to see dark blood seeping into the fabric. The blood is coming fast and even as his legs give out and he crashes to the ground, even as she follows him down, she can’t seem to get the bleeding to stop. 

She opens her mouth to call his name, but finds she doesn’t know it. How does she not know his name? She pushes down on the wound as the healers she had grown up with had taught her, but still the blood pulses through her fingers.

Her mouth opens in a wordless scream. 

Her eyes fly open, her breaths coming in sharp gasps. 

“Seely?”

She glances over to see Benjamin, who has been standing watch, walking towards her. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, concern written across his features.

Already the dream is fading from her memory and she can’t quite hold onto the details. She had been upset, but why? Someone was with her, but she can’t remember who, or why she had felt so distressed. 

She takes in a couple of deep breaths, letting them out slowly. It is cold and she focuses on that, on how the chill feels against her skin. Already she is feeling better, although there is a sliver of unease that she can’t quite shake. She turns to Benjamin with a smile she doesn’t really feel. “I’m fine." 

She lays back down as he walks back to stand watch, and focuses on slowing her breath, her heartbeat. She glances around at Irennah and Kyra in their bedrolls. Everyone is here, and safe. 

Safe. 

But as she closes her eyes, she can’t quite bring herself to believe it. 

[ethereals-call]

Prequel 27

The Uber drops me off at the main entrance of the hotel. Only my ears are glamoured since I am down to my last one, and I need it for game night. I decided to dress for comfort today and kept my choice of apparel simple: running shorts, a t-shirt, and a hoodie.

The entrance is congested, so it is easy for me to be unnoticed. I have no interest in going inside anyway. I am just here to find my phone. I hope it is in the vicinity of the truck dock.

I maneuver away from the crowded entrance and start to the rear of the building. I wonder if there will be anyone there. Daylight is beginning to fade away tonight, and the streetlights start to blink on. I tuck in close to the wall as I round the corner to the dock.

It does not appear like anyone is there. I see that the loading door has been left open. I scan the area, and nothing is jumping out at me. I am hesitant, but I have to get my phone. With forced determination, I go in.

I hope to find it near the entrance, but I know better. I inspect the warehouse floor as I walk. I suspect it was flung from my pocket when Archer and I fell through the wall.

It is odd, though. Walking through the open warehouse, it is like nothing happened. The only thing that is different is the open dock door. I also think it is strange that no one is patrolling this space. Are the Fae really that arrogant?

I see the wide hallway with the declining floor. Since there has been no challenge to my presence, I continue. The light is starting to dim, and my eyes adjust on their own. Truth be told, I am too tired to hide what I am today. All I want to do is tuck myself back under the covers until game day.

My mind starts to wander as I walk. Flashes of that unnerving dream creep into my thoughts. Easton said Archer is hunting me, now. I don’t know what to think about that. He is not the first to hunt for me. It is not like a Fae-human hybrid isn’t a rare commodity or anything. I will just have to deal with him when the time comes. Seriously though, why doesn’t Easton just try to trap him the next time he enters the Crossroads? Although he could try to attack me before then, I guess.

One problem at a time. Tonight, I find my phone and go back to bed. Then I do whatever is next. I can see the hole in the wall, and I smell the stench of decaying flesh. I cover my nose and try not to hurl. There does not appear to be any rubble on the floor from the destruction. That may not be a good thing.

I look in and see there is scattered debris with piles of bones. I cringe at the sight of it. How many victims were there? Were the Fae helping them? I step inside and begin my search. It has to be here somewhere.

The sound of someone clearing their throat makes me stop and turn. “Looking for this?” Gatlin asks with a cocky grin on his face. I narrow my eyes at him as he holds my phone up. “Kyra, right, not Sara?” My stern expression answers his question. He slides it into his pocket and leans against the hole in the wall. “So, that was you last night?” I reply with silence. He nods and crosses his arms. “You know, we can help you.” That statement surprises me, and he can see it on my face. “We are not your enemy, Kyra. We are Fae, like you. We do not wish you any harm.”

I hear what he says, and I cannot deny that it appeals to me. Holy Crap! What am I thinking? I cannot trust the Fae. I am here on assignment for the coven. I can’t just leave. They are harboring ghouls, and who knows what else. I scold myself for allowing him to influence me. Is he using compulsion? That must be it. He must be using Fae magic to influence my mind.

“I don’t need any help. I just need my phone,” I tell him with firm resolve.

He makes an audible sigh. “Come with me, and I will give it to you.”

I grit my teeth. I am not in the mood for this. “How about I just take it?”

“Think it will be that easy?” He sounds smug, and I am itching to show him exactly what I can do. He puts his hands up defensively. “You look exhausted. Come with me, and you can rest then we can talk. We are allies, not opponents. Let us show you.”

My gaze breaks away from his. I can feel myself starting to waver. Maybe they can answer questions for me. The ones that no one seems to be interested in entertaining. Would I be betraying the coven if I just had a conversation? The scuffling of his feet makes me look back.

He must have noticed that I am considering what he has to say. He starts to move closer. He stops and looks over when a hand is placed on his shoulder. I growl and crouch when I see those menacing red eyes. Gatlin looks shocked and is about to say something.

Archer doesn’t give him any time. He digs his sharp nails into his collarbone and thrusts him backward. Gatlin is knocked unconscious when he impacts the wall. He slides down into a lifeless heap. “Thought he would never stop talking,” Archer’s hungry gaze fixed on me. “Now we can have some alone time.” His oversized teeth gleam as if they are proclaiming his unspoken intentions.

I do not wait for him to attack. He won’t get the upper hand this time. I know my coven magic won’t work for whatever reason, but I am more than just a witch.

The air begins to crackle with energy. I have to focus to stay in control. I can feel my inner beast starting to stir in anticipation. She wants to be set free. I can feel her pounding against the confines placed on her by the coven’s magic. My heart races as we both struggle for command.

Archer cocks his head in curiosity. “Are you Fae?” I watch as he starts to stroll around the darkroom. “I have always wanted to know what Fae tastes like.” He disappears into the inky shadows. “You have the most beautiful eyes,” he whispers into my ear. I can feel his breath on my neck. My hand flexes. I am about to move.

“NO! Brother!” I look over and Archer at the entrance. Only he looks human. I blink and try to make sense of what I am seeing. Brother? My eyes shift back and forth. I feel my hair being moved from my neck. “Do not do this! You don’t know what she is!” What did he just say? What am I? What does he mean by that? How does he know what I am?

“Bother, I have been denied long enough. I need to embrace this power. She will help me become. To evolve. I must have her. I can no longer live by your rules. I need to embrace this.” Human Archer is about saying something. “No more!” I feel something sharp digging into my shoulder and hook into me.

I am being dragged like a slab of meat. We are moving fast, but I won’t be taken by him. I am too tired to be afraid, so I jump right to anger. Heat burns through me. The air is alive with energy. I wave my hand, and we stop.

My eyes glow, and the tips of my fingers start to transform into talons. I am on my feet as I levitate the ghoul in front of me. The sound of footsteps makes me look over. Micah and Lazlo emerge from somewhere. They both look at me with awestruck expressions.

I watch them as they fan out. I cannot take my eyes off of them for some reason. There is something about them that has my undivided attention.

I snap back to Archer when I feel him struggling against my magic. I turn him so that he is looking at me. His grin is disturbing with that double-jointed jaw and those teeth. He moves his tongue across like he is savoring a lingering flavor.

“She is injured,” I hear Micah.

“We should not have left this to Gatlin,” Lazlo replies.

My eyes shift between the two of them as they circle me. They are distracting. I blink to focus and to avoid looking at them.

“She is powerful,” Micah’s voice sounds lustful and appeasing. The desire in his voice is affecting me. I am struggling to stay centered. What are they talking about? What are they doing? My mind starts to feel fuzzy. Are they doing that?

“Gatlin,” I look over when I hear Lazlo say his name. He is holding his hand to his head as he walks up from behind me. “Report.” Lazlo’s tone sounds gruff, but I think I like it.

Gatlin examines the scene. He appears to be struggling with words. “We were interrupted. She was considering.” I narrow my eyes at them. I am such an idiot. They set me up. My head spins to Micah when I hear purring.

His gaze is locked on me. I tilt my head in inquisition since his eyes are like mine. This is the first time; I have ever seen another set of eyes like mine. “Micah,” Lazlo growls.

“Can you…” he is struggling to speak.

“Yes,” Lazlo replies. “Keep it together.”

Micah’s purring becomes more audible, and Lazlo rushes to him. He is looking at me like I am prey or something. His purring has a hypnotic effect. I can feel my mind starting to slip into a trance. Lazlo places a hand on his shoulder and says something in his ear, but he doesn’t stop.

My breath quickens, and my chest starts to contract. I reach up and grasp my shirt. I close my eyes to try and calm myself. When I open them, I jump.

Flames surround me. Everything is on fire. Where am I? Where is this place? I can feel the heat of the fire. I can hear the roar of destruction. Black smoke is billowing. My lungs are burning. I buckle over to cough then I am back in the warehouse. What the heck?

I spin around. What just happened? I shake my head. I need to get out of here! Archer chuckles, and it snaps me back to the task at hand. I have had enough of him. It is time for him to be done.

I close my fist, and he begins to scream in pain. “NO!” I hear his twin brother calling out, but it does not affect me. “Don’t let her do this!” No one responds to him. I don’t know what they are doing or thinking, and I don’t care. I smile when I hear bones snapping under my power as I bend and twist him into an unnatural form.

The sound of steel being drug across the floor grabs my attention. I smirk when I see Archer’s twin rushing at me with an oversized beam in hand. I lift my other hand, and he is frozen in motion. I growl in challenge at him. I can see the fear in his human eyes when he realizes I am not like the Fae he is accustomed to. I am not reasonable and have no desire to be. I can hear Lazlo chuckling, but it doesn’t make me look away. I am fixed on both of these brothers.

A hissing sound seizes my attention. I shift my view to its origin. Three sets of red eyes and large teeth surround me. I hear Archer laugh. “We will finish this another time. Release me, or you will see carnage like you cannot imagine.” I sneer at him and consider if I can manage to slay all of them simultaneously.

“Female,” the sound of Lazlo’s voice is calming me. Why is it calming me? I curse to myself. I am feeling overwhelmed with everything that is happening. I just need to go so I can think and figure this out.

“I will revel in sucking the flesh from your bones,” Archer taunts. I can’t deal with this right now. My gaze flicks around to all of them. I came here for my phone, not for this, whatever this is. I look at Gatlin. It is in his pocket. I decide and nod to myself.

I send Archer flying out of the warehouse, and the other ghouls follow him. Lazlo and Micah topple to the floor when I fling Archer’s brother at them. My phone comes flying towards me when I reach out my hand. Gatlin curses since it forces him to stumble and rips a hole in his pants.

Moving with an unnatural speed, I burst out from the warehouse and appeared at my car. No one is fast enough to catch me when I tap into my Fae beast. As I open the door, my step wavers a bit, but I catch myself. I just need to sleep this off. I slide into the seat and put my foot to the floor to get the heck out of here. I look over and see three Fae males standing and watching me jet away.

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