#Underneath i wrote up a little Iron Henry thing — as you can tell

[museenkuss]

Paged through my commonplace book (of sorts) and found those short (awkwardly lettered) notes on fairy tales :x

SAFTTROPFEND SEIDIG ZUGESCHNÜRT

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] Hanahaki Disease + Flowers for Demon Brothers (Part 1)

Scenario: Which flowers would the demon brothers be inflicted with when they develop Hanahaki Disease falling in love with you? +  Headcanons to how they would deal with it. 

(includes pictures of flowers 🌻🌺)

PART 1 INCLUDES: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan

[PART 2] INCLUDES: Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor + Diavolo

Note: BIG PINING ENERGY + Unrequited Love aka ANGST; I love hanahaki so i wrote our local demon boys coughing up an a e s t h e t i c bouquet 

--

Lucifer

(White) Sweet Pea = gratitude; departure; also common to give to brides

You have always been a little special to Lucifer, and he has always had a soft spot for you. It wasn’t something big-- he knew he had favorites. Though you were troublesome, you were just as loving and patient as you helped him and his family again and again. Gratitude on its own cannot inflict the hanahaki disease onto a demon, but it is the overwhelming love that comes with his overflowing thanks that has him coughing into his black gloves white petals that contrasts beautifully. It is alarming, but he tells no one, especially not you. (Looking back at it later, the purity of color that his lungs have produced makes him a little wry, because it does make sense that the purest thing about him is his love for you.) 

(Blue) Forget-Me-Nots = true love; memories

He is a man who yearns. He wishes for your affection but can never find it in him to ask for it, so he keeps the memories of his time with you together in his heart-- counting them like fragile, little flowers in his palm. And he continues to fall for you as he gets to know you better. Forget-me-nots begin to litter his desk, reminding him how much you dominate his everyday thoughts, in the little things you do. 

(Lilac) Azalea = temperance (self-control), passion, fragility; “take care”

At the peak of his love for you, Lucifer has grown so much from who he was before. He finds it fitting when he coughs out petals of lilac azaleas, a memento of how much he has changed and how much he has fallen so deeply in love. There is no turning back-- he is in love with you, with your passion and your strength, and the way he can feel fragile whenever you hold him. “Take care,” the petals say when he coughs out enough to cover the floor of his room the moment you leave the Devildom at the end of the year. He knows already he will miss your presence by his side. He has said nothing to you about his feelings-- doesn’t dare to: there is no happiness in a union between a mortal and immortal. 

As much as he wanted to continue loving you, there’s too much to lose and he has too much that must be accomplished

Doesn’t entertain the idea of confessing and having you return those feelings and has them removed 

Mammon

Ivy with a sprig of white tendrils = anxious to please, affection

It is a known fact that Mammon falls for you hard and fast. It’s a little jarring, when he thinks back on it, to pull out a vine of ivy with white tendrils from his mouth only when you have only been in the Devildom for a month. But he doesn’t think much about it. It’s obvious he cares for you, yearns for your affection when you’re the first to show him such unconditional kindness, tries his best to please you so you will always look at him favorably. 

Sunflower = adoration 

Mammon’s feelings for you only grow, but he doesn’t like the fact that the flowers have gotten bigger. It’s easier to dump ivy because they’re found outside, but where in the hell would you find sunflowers in a place without a sun? When he coughs out an entire flower, he saves them and-- upon observing its quality and cleanliness-- gifts them to you. He adores the smile on your face and doesn’t want to let you know that every time the flowers grow in his lungs, they choke and suffocate him.

(Yellow) Primrose = “I can’t live without you.”

Time is running out. You are only authorized to stay in the Devildom for so long, as much as he wants and begs you to stay. Would you stay if you knew that I loved you, he thinks. Do you even love me back? He looks back upon the days before he knew you and doesn’t need to reflect long to know that his world is better with you in it. He doesn’t tell you though, not when you’re awake at least. He had hoped that telling you when you couldn’t hear him would clear his lungs, but the primroses that he coughs up the morning after tells him otherwise and forebodes his decisions in the coming months. 

In the scenario he confesses and MC doesn’t return his feelings, he would rather much die than forget he loved you

He knows his love for you has been ingrained into his heart and soul-- and to remove it means removing a part of himself, and he doesn’t know if he wants to do it; it might be foolish but… well, he’s a fool in love.

Leviathan

Hydrangea = gratitude for being understood 

Never once have you looked at Levi with disdain when he talked about his interest. Never once has he felt so listened to, having your complete attention when he talks about something that he loves. The hydrangea petals come out in droves, covering the bottom of the tub with gentle violets and blues. It’s the first he’s felt understood, he thinks, of course his body would react so violently to something as novel as that. And besides, being understood is not the same as being loved. Levi keeps the flowers to himself, brushing off any questions and preferring to talk with you instead, spending any time he can get from you that you have not already given to his brothers.

(Yellow) Acacia = true friendship and indicates secret love

You’re his Player 2, his Henry. He can be content with just the notion that the two of you share an unbreakable bond of friendship where you’re there for him and he’s there for you whenever the two of you need it. The acacias, however, tell him he’s in love-- with your smiles, with your affectionate touches, with your laughter. Levi ignores them; he shouldn’t ask for more than he already has. 

Daisy = loyal love; “I’ll never tell”

When daisies show up in his bouquet of hanahaki flowers, Levi thinks it’s a little ironic, but for once, he doesn’t argue. He will take his feelings to his grave, if he can help it-- pushing daisies as the humans would say. He’s convinced himself he wasn’t in love with you before, and he could probably do it again when you’re not in the Devildom anymore-- or so he hopes. His heart feels like it’ll never love anyone else when he watches you fall asleep on his shoulders. 

Not unlike Mammon, he doesn’t tell his brothers about his illness and tries to fight it off himself-- but feelings are hard to get rid of

Ultimately chooses to have his feelings removed if he can’t do it himself, putting him right where he feels like he belongs as your best friend

He feels like he’s lost something, but soon enough he forgets the time he loved you (for his sake)

Satan

(Blue) Petunia = can be anger/resentment or “Your presence soothes me”; deep trust, peacefulness, intimacy

When Satan coughs out petals of petunia as dark as night, he stares at the bunch of them on the palm of his hand. He tries coughing them up again, but he doesn’t get to decide when the illness acts up. He searches furiously through his library for what he has, quickly coming to the conclusion that he had feelings for you. Of course he did-- considering what you’ve done for him, giving him a chance to make sense of his identity and looking beyond his anger. He knows without a doubt that these petunias do not represent his anger; in fact, they denote the opposite. “Your presence soothes me,” he reads in the language of flowers, wondering if the flowers will change the more he trusts in you and gets closer to you.

(White) Jasmine = Sweet love, amiability

He picks out the white jasmine off his tongue and quietly dumps them into the trash, the sweet scent stuck in his mouth. When you ask him if he’s alright, he turns around and smiles at you-- a sweet, genuine smile that no one can doubt to be sincere. He returns to where he was by your side as he reads the latest novel at your insistence, glancing at you once every other sentence to gauge your reactions. He feels his cheeks flush underneath your gaze, but he doesn’t persuade you to do otherwise. He loves your attention, and sometimes in these quiet moments he can pretend that you’re just as in love with him as he was with you. 

White roses = “I’m worthy of you”; loyalty

As the year passes, Satan grows more and more confident of who he is as a person, and where he stands with you. These feelings may have been new, but when the white rose petals tumbles from his mouth, he knows that there is only one thing he must do before you leave. He yearns-- he isn’t different from those with this illness-- but he knows better than to pine after someone who doesn’t feel the same as him after all this time. And regardless of whether you can stay with him, he wants you to know how you make him feel: worthy-- and worthy to be loved by you.

In the chance you don’t feel the same, he’s disappointed. When yellow carnations come from his lips as if to commemorate his rejection, he destroys his room, not in resentment but in the fact that he will have to forget some of the parts you made him feel. 

He wishes he could keep these feelings, but knows that it’s unfair to both of you to keep hoping. When you leave the Devildom, he lets himself mourn for what he will lose and removes the flowers. 

[erin-bo-berin]

Stargazing

It’s been such a long time since I wrote something and I haven’t written a Spencer Reid fic yet, so here it is. Warning its SMUTTY. Enjoy!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Word Count: 2,999

Rated: M (Smut)

Your feet in the water was the only sound being made in the quiet night. The rest of the team had already turned in, but you decided to hang back for a few moments of peace and quiet.

Earlier in the day Garcia had invited the whole team over to hang out in her new hot tub. It had been a rare few days where the BAU hadn’t had a case and she thought it was a good idea for everyone to relax while we could.

Originally it was just going to be a girls night, you, Tara, JJ, Emily and Penelope hanging out in the hot tub—champagne and girl talk included. Somehow it ended up with the entire team coming over to hang out after Spencer had stopped by to return a book he’d borrowed. If only he’d known the hard time the girls had been giving you just moments before.

You were the newest member to the team, a temporary one at that, at least for now. There’d been talk about making you their permanent press liaison. Besides being the newest to them team, you were also the new youngest; Spencer being the youngest of the team for 15 years the other members were having a blast teasing the new “baby of the BAU”. You were 31 to Spencer’s 38 and apparently that was more than enough excuse for the others—mainly the girls—to try and set you two up.

“Oh come on, Spence is great!” JJ beamed.

“He really is [Y/N],” Emily piped in.

“Come on, you’re hot, he’s got eyes, I mean even he can’t miss that!” Penelope grinned so big, she was on the precipice of looking like a Cheshire Cat.

“Guys, calm down,” you chuckle, “I know he’s great and brilliant. I get along with him well y'all know that.”

“I think he likes southern accents too,” Tara smirked, laughing as she clinked her glass with Penelope’s as the latter nodded vigorously.

“He does. I asked him the other day.”

“Subtle, Penelope, subtle,” you mumble.

“Well technically his exact words were that they’re fine and then he launched into some facts about accents that I couldn’t even remember if I tried.”

“Okay enough, this night isn’t about me,” I smiled, “I want updates on all of your lives.”

The conversation from earlier played through your head and you smiled to yourself. The one thing the ladies didn’t know was the...thing that was happening between you and Spencer. You didn’t know how to explain it exactly. Your banter always seemed friendly with an edge of flirting, but it always left your entire body tingling as if you’d just been shocked by an electrical outlet. You thought it was just in your head, the connection you felt, the chemistry. It was no secret to yourself that you were attracted to the good doctor.

“What are you still doing up?”

You yelped, almost losing your balance and falling straight into the hot tub. The chuckle that followed was instantly recognizable.

“Jeez warn a person before sneaking up on them!” You grin, resteading yourself on the edge.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Spencer chuckled, sitting down next to you.

“I thought you’d be in bed like everyone else,” you nodded towards the house where the others were crashing for the night, the invitation from Penelope extending to anyone who wanted to stay.

“Couldn’t sleep.” His eyes slid to you before continuing, “Saw the light still on out here and figured I’d check on you.”

Your breath caught, more memories from earlier flitting across your brain. Was he still awake for the same reason you were?

Loud laughter filled the air. Different conversations filled your ears as several team members were having separate conversations with one another. You were busy listening to a story Penelope was telling, JJ seated next to her and across from them sat you and Spencer. You had ironically became like their fourth musketeer since joining the BAU.

“So I’m getting Sergio out of the car at the vet-” Penelope is saying.

You’re trying to hide a grin as you take a sip of champagne—only your second glass, you know how to nurse your drink well—when you feel something brush your thigh. You ignore it, thinking you’ve imagined it as you continue listening to your friend’s story, certain there’s going to be a hilarious ending to this. A couple of minutes pass before you feel the same sensation again only with more pressure. You almost lose grip of your glass as your mind finally registers the feeling—a hand sliding up your thigh.

Your eyes flick to your left at Spencer whose gaze is still on Penelope, listening to her story. It happens quickly but his gaze meets yours, an eyebrow slightly raised as if seeking permission. Your head moves the tiniest bit, an imperceptible nod, but he sees it.

“You’re telling me Sergio managed to get out of his carrier in the middle of the vet’s waiting room and terrorize a nearby bunny?” Spencer laughed.

“He wasn’t terrorizing it!” Penelope exclaimed, “He was trying to be friends! He kept staring at the bunny through the bunny’s carrier. He’s an old man and not a mean one at that.”

Your breath hitched as you felt his touch graze across the thin fabric of your bikini bottom. There was no way this was the same Dr. Reid that was so good at geographic profiling and cracking even the hardest of codes. You found your comprehension of the ongoing conversation starting to cut in and out as the fabric was pulled to the side and his fingers made contact with your bare skin.

“You had to be there I swear-”

“What would you have done if-”

“The vet was cackling when I told him the story and he said-”

You took a gulp of your fizzing drink as his fingertips brushed your clit, your need pulsating twice as much as it was just moments before. It took a great amount of control to keep your jaw from dropping when you felt one of his fingers slip inside you. It had been a while since you’d had any sort of sexual relations with anyone, probably too long by the way you were already shifting, wanting, needing to feel more. One became two and you couldn’t tell if your head was spinning because of the alcohol or because of what Spencer was secretly doing to you underneath the cover of the rumbling water. Most likely the latter. At the back of your mind the thought briefly formed that the feeling between you both was definitely mutual, but you honestly couldn’t spare it much thought currently.

His fingers were moving slowly, torturing you and your teeth came down on your bottom lip. You wanted—no you needed more. One hand left the glass you were holding and went into the water. You silently prayed no one around could notice what’s happening as your hand reached his, trying to push it harder against you. You pretended you were only trying to reposition yourself on the hot tub seat accidentally making you shift closer to him, his fingers moving deeper within you as a result. It was an extreme effort to keep from crying out like you came close to doing.

“You okay?” JJ asked frowning, “Too much champagne?”

“W-What?” you squeaked. You literally squeaked. For God’s sake you wanted to kill Spencer at the moment.

“You looked like you were in pain. For some reason a few months before I got pregnant with Henry, champagne would occasionally give me a stomachache.”

“Oh no, I’m fine.” I answered quickly, “Just got a little sore from sitting in one position for too long.”

She flashed you an understanding smile before merging back into the conversation Penelope and Spencer were having. How the hell was he so calm? You were practically sweating bullets.

His thumb moved in circles against your bundle of nerves. A moan just barely dies in your throat, but it came too close to escaping your mouth. There's pressure building in the pit of your stomach and you can feel your breathing become labored.

Your hand tugs at wrist trying somehow to alert him that you’re quickly coming undone. You’re not sure if you want him to quit or keep going at this rate. You’re almost afraid of what you’ll do if you end up orgasming in front of your friends. Your cheeks heat at the thought and thank the stars that the falling darkness is probably disguising most of this. Before you could say or do anything, his touch is gone completely, leaving you breathless and craving his touch once again.

“Guys, look!” Penelope gasped.

You looked up at the fully darkened night sky as a shooting star went by. You wondered if it was too much to wish that the events that occurred only moments ago, would happen again.

Spencer didn’t acknowledge you for the rest of the night.

Until now.

“I’m amazed. Especially after how calm and controlled you were earlier when you were ignoring me,” you mumbled.

His smirk faded from his lips, his hand coming to rest right next to yours on the edge. It was amazing how much larger his hand was compared to your tiny one.

“I only did that because I was afraid what I might do to you. Even if it was in front of everyone.”

You swore you could feel the blush from your head to your toes.

“So…” he continued, noticing your silence, “That was okay to do right?”

“Yeah, well yes, I mean yeah it was okay.” You inwardly groaned at your nervous stuttering.

“I’m just kind of shocked. Like I didn’t expect that. Where did that come from?” You half chuckled, half exhaled, trying to get a hold of your nerves.

“[Y/N].” His voice was soft, but serious.

You looked up at him, finally looking him in the eye for the first time since he’d joined you.

“I almost died last week.”

You winced thinking back to the last case you all had worked. In a shootout with an unsub, a bullet came close to ending his life. He wasn’t actually hit, but if that bullet had been flying at a slightly different angle it would’ve hit his femoral artery. Even though he was physically fine, the thought seemed to freak him out for days. Sure he’d been shot before, but there was nothing scarier than the knowledge he could’ve died.

You opened your mouth to comfort him, ask him if needed anything, but he interrupted you.

“I’m okay, don’t worry. It just got me thinking. I didn’t want to waste anymore time not letting you know how I actually feel about you.”

As cliche as it was, you were sure you felt your heart skip a beat.

“So I decided to take a chance,” he shrugged, finishing his explanation, his hand moving to rest on your cheek.

His lips were on yours before you could respond and God, did it feel so good to finally kiss him. Maybe it was because of the pent up frustration all your banter brought both of you, but your kisses quickly went from gentle, first kiss territory to more heated. Hands roamed and tongues interlocked before you gently bit his bottom lip eliciting a moan from him, the sound giving you goosebumps. It was so unusual to see him in a state like this, but you weren’t complaining in the slightest.

Your fingers were fumbling with the buttons on his shirt when he kissed a particular sensitive spot just where your jawline and neck met. You’d never had any particular favorite spots before, but it seemed like adding him into the equation made it possible. He sucked lightly before flicking his tongue over it surely leaving a mark, but the action caused you to falter, momentarily forgetting what you were doing.

You could feel him grin into your neck as his hands slid up your back towards the tie of your bikini top. That action snapped you back to reality and you finally got his shirt off between kisses. Your hands moved down his bare chest to his stomach wishing you had the time to cover him in kisses and bruises. But you had other things on your mind at the moment.

Your fingertips reached the top of the trunks he was still wearing and you could feel his breath hitch. It was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. He pulled away from the kiss as your hand gripped him, his breathing shallow, his jaw slackened. Your lips moved across his jaw innocently as you twisted your wrist tauntingly.

“[Y/N] I’m sure you want payback for earlier,” he croaked, his grip on your hips tightening, “But if you keep that up, I'm gonna be done for right now.”

“Well that’s no good,” you pulled away teasingly, sliding yourself back into the hot tub, “Because I want you to cum inside of me.”

You bit your bottom lip as you untied the last knot of your top and throwing it halfway across the tub. You watch him gulp and join you in the warm water, settling on the bench seat you both shared earlier. A part of you couldn’t believe you were being so brazen, with Spencer of all people. He had a way of making you extremely nervous, but at this moment you couldn’t care at all.

He reached out for you, his hands pulling you to him. You straddled his lap, feeling his arousal brush against your core causing you to whimper before you could realize it. His hands massaged your breasts as your lips locked once again with his. You arched into his touch, moaning into his mouth when his thumbs ran over your already hardened nipples. Every little touch of his felt like an electrical shock throughout your entire body, he was driving you wild.

Your hands were tangled in his curls as you kissed, before you pulled back to whisper, “I’m protected, it’s okay.”

He nodded, already knowing somehow in the time you’d known him from differing conversations that you’d been on birth control since you were a teenager for issues other than for not getting pregnant.

You helped him get the shorts just enough out of the way before he roughly pulled your swim bottoms to the side, his fingers once again sliding over you before lowering you down on him.

You thought you were gonna lose it just feeling him inside you, stretching your walls in such a delicious way.

“Holy shit, Spence,” you moaned, your hips moving slowly, almost as if afraid to lose this feeling.

He hummed, his lips on your chest, hands gripping your sides. Your hands wound into the hair at the back of his neck as your hips rocked together, moans and pants filling the air. Your head was tilted back, eyes closed when he brought your face towards his again, kissing you desperately, tugging on your bottom lip and grunting as your body repeatedly rose and fell against his.

He was watching you intently, knowing him he would remember and relive every second of this with no problem knowing that mind of his. He licked his lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly, curses falling off his beautiful lips.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “I want you to moan my name.”

You bit your lip harder when you shifted the slightest, the new angle making your pleasure intensify that much more. In addition to his words, you were coming undone faster than you expected to.

“I want you to moan my name in that southern accent of yours,” he grunted, eyes never leaving yours.

The knot in your stomach was about to give and he could tell. His hips thrust upward into you wanting to send you into a glorious abyss.

“Oh god. Spencer.”

His name was rugged, breathless and drug out from your lips as you fell over the edge. It felt like lightning shot through your veins, your hands gripping his shoulders so hard you were sure you were gonna leave bruises on the poor guy.

His release soon followed, his face twisted in ecstasy, lips slightly parted as his head fell back against the side in time with the low groan that left his throat.

It took a moment for you both to still, your breathing hard while you chuckled, looking at him still leaning back against the edge.

“You okay?”

“Just stargazing,” he laughs, “Although you might have killed me.”

You grinned shoving his shoulder lightly, repositioning yourself so you were next to him and clothed once again.

“Did you know that-”

“Spencer I swear if you’re about to give me some statistic on sexual relations, I’m leaving,” you laugh.

“I wasn’t!” he laughed, “I was going to say, did you know that the first constellation ever described was in a poem written in 270 B.C. by the Greek poet Aratus.”

“Really?” You asked, laying back to look at the stars with him. You listened intently as he continued with his lessons in astrology.

In the morning, the rest of the team found you both in the kitchen, still in swimwear from the night before. There were surprisingly no comments but there were several suspicious looks, that is until Luke walked in.

“What were you guys doing in the hot tub for so long last night? I got up for water in the middle of the night and saw the light still on out there.”

“Oh nothing,” Spencer replied from his spot where he was pouring orange juice at the counter, “Just a little astronomy lesson. I was teaching Y/N how to see stars.”

He winked at you, just as Penelope walked in, noticing the whole exchange.

And as usual for the BAU’s Tech Analyst to never miss a thing she groaned.

“Oh God, I’m gonna have to burn that hot tub now!”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Karen Renford and Carlotta Grant: Box Boy Kauri

This isn’t exactly holiday-themed, but this is Kauri meeting Karen Renford and Owen’s mother Carlotta Grant. Continues directly after the last Kauri piece. 

CW: Discussed/referenced/remembered noncon/dubcon, dehumanization, Owen engages in a lot of gaslighting/emotional abuse so stay safe on that

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @spiffythespook (I referenced Henry, let me know if I need to change anything!)

Kauri is already standing at Position One near the door as they wait for Karen Renford’s arrival, eyes on the floor. He’s wearing a new sweater Owen had to run out for, and Owen was so nice to go out on Christmas Eve to get him a new cashmere sweater after he had wrecked the one he was supposed to wear with the whiskey that had spilled on him the night before-

He spilled the whiskey, he threw the glass at me, it’s not my fault

What an owner does with a human pet after the three-month return period is up is their own prerogative

Kauri, why the fuck would you wear fucking cashmere just to get it ruined like this? Jesus, did you get your blood on this? Do you have any idea how crazy traffic is going to be tomorrow trying to get you a new one? You’re fucking lucky I care enough about you to do this, I should make you go in front of Ms. Renford in a fucking T-shirt.

“All right,” Owen says softly when the buzzer at the door goes off. Kauri jumps at the sound, his hands folded behind his back, heart pounding. He had hoped, when he woke up in a new place, to never ever see Ms. Renford or anyone from training ever again. 

Owen rubs at his shoulder, and it’s a comfort and it feels so good, and Kauri leans slightly into the touch, closes his eyes when Owen kisses into his hair. “You’ll get sent to your room before too long, Kor-Bore, my mom doesn’t like you. Well, things like you. But Ms. Renford is here to meet with her and she wanted to get a look at you first.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Owen.” Kauri’s voice trembles, and Owen must hear it, because he catches Kauri under the chin with his fingers and turns Kauri’s face to look up at him. Owen’s eyes search his face, and what they see there must be what he’s hoping for, because he smiles. 

Kauri smiles back, automatically.

“It’s okay, Kauri. No one’s taking you away from me, not today.”

Kauri breathes out a slow sigh of relief. His hands are shaky, his pulse is rabbit-fast in his throat. He’s never seen a rabbit except that he has, he thinks. He can remember its tiny heartbeat that seemed more a hum than separate sounds at all. His own heart feels like that. “You promise, Mr. Owen?”

“I mean it. I paid way too much money for you just to let you get refurbished just for fucking up a couple of times. You’re good, Kauri. You’re very good.”

Tears prick at Kauri’s eyes - last night had been terrifying and unsettling and had hurt more than anything else ever had with Owen. Owen had been cruel and his hands had been iron on Kauri’s hips, he’d left bruises that hadn’t faded fast enough. There were still marks today, and that had never happened before.

But still, even so… even so, he was good.

Keira rolled past them on the ground, beeping softly. Cleaning complete. Returning to docking station. Accept, Kauri?

“I wonder why it always talks to you,” Owen says, thoughtfully. “I’m the one that owns it. Return to docking station, Roomba.”

Directive Owen accepted. Return to docking station. Keira rolls back away to her little place under the couch, and Kauri watches her go with a slight smile.

“It’s because I talk to her-... to it more, Mr. Owen. The chip makes it learn who talks to it and respond to them. And I, um, I talk to it a lot.”

“Hm. Makes sense. Well, whatever, as long as it’s out of the way while Karen and Mom are here, that’s what matters. Well.” Owen squares his shoulders and takes a breath, and Kauri realizes with dim surprise that Owen is nervous, too - not of Ms. Renford, but of his mother. “Let’s get this over with, Kor-Bore.”

“Yes, Mr. Owen.” Kauri hesitates, then moves one hand out to slowly take Owen’s, giving it a squeeze. “You, um. You’re good, too, Mr. Owen. I love you and you’re very good.”

Owen stares at him like he’s grown three heads, and then laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck and pulling away from Kauri’s grip. “Thanks, Kor-Bore, but I don’t need praise. I’m not a pet, like you, don’t be stupid.”

Kauri’s eyes drop back to the floor and he folds his hands behind his back. He isn’t sure what he had expected Owen’s reply to be, but… some dim part of him feels hurt.

When Owen opens the door, Kauri locks his knees to stay standing, fixing his gaze on a single spot on the hardwood floors, a little swirling bit that he likes to pretend is a galaxy written in a tree. He wrote a poem about trees, once, the lives written in the cells of a tree’s trunk and a human body. There was a line, a line he’d had stuck in his head since this morning, when he’d woken up suddenly aware that he had been in college and wrote poetry.

The tree’s rings say famine, flood, or fire We write those years on ourselves in our cells and What we learn to be afraid of Do you fear the lack of love, its overabundance, Or the way love will burn you alive and leave nothing but ashes behind?

He wrote that, once. Didn’t he? In the Facility they said you’d get false memories, things that weren’t real, because of the training. Had to let it all go. Not your life now, they said, your life ended when you signed the contract, so that a new one could start.

Karen Renford walks in the door and Kauri’s thoughts all scatter at the sight of her thin, angled black heels with the red sole underneath. 

Kauri used to stare and think her shoes looked like she’d stepped in blood as she walked down the hallway at the Facility, every boy in his hallway standing at attention, a handler next to them ready to force a straighter spine, a lowered gaze.

“Ms. Renford, good to have you here. We’ve been working for two days to get ready for you.” Owen’s voice is warm, welcoming, and Kauri watches the black heels step further inside, coming to a stop just in front of him.

“645898, what an absolute pleasure to see you again.” Her voice is low and melodic, a trap of warmth in a cold cold body.

“N-Nice to see you, Director Renford,” Kauri whispers, fighting the urge to back away from her. His heart beats even faster, and he’s nearly dizzy with the rush of oxygen being pushed to his fingertips faster than it’s meant to go.

“I call him Kauri, here,” Owen interjects, and steps to Kauri’s side. It’s a natural movement, possessive of his property, and Kauri is reassured by the warmth of Owen beside him - a desperate sharp reassurance that cuts him as deeply as glass. 

Please don’t let her take me away from you

I love you like I’m supposed to

I haven’t told you that I’m broken

“I don’t utilize the pets’ names,” Karen says, sounding vaguely amused. “It’s better if they understand that they are always numbers to me.” She snaps her fingers and Kauri’s head jerks up with instant obedience, his blue eyes locking on hers.

She looks exactly the same.

645898, your handler has been putting in complaints. I’ve authorized deprivation for you.

The silver hair threading through the rich chestnut brown bob doesn’t read as signs of age but as frost that refuses to melt. Her dark eyes are sharp and narrowed slightly as she looks him over, lifting fingers to his chin.

Let’s see how 645898 does after this, shall we?

She is wearing what she is always wearing, so far as he knows - a pantsuit that seems like it was sewn simply for her, in a rich dark brown that sets off her hair and makes her pale skin seem nearly milky, a silk shell underneath that peeks up and out.

No permanent marks only refers to their bodies, Everly. 645898’s mind is yours to play with, as long as the end result of satisfactory to the prospective.

She is not the only monster in his nightmares, but she is in enough of them.

Her nails are long, and sharp enough to cut his skin. She has made him bleed with her fingernails before, and Kauri knows to hold himself perfectly still, a statue-man, marble boy, as she tilts his chin up and back. He feels Owen tense slightly next to him, and wishes he could rely on Owen to actually protect him here, but… he doesn’t think he can.

“What’s this, then?” She murmurs, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Kauri feels the blood rush to his face, knowing what she sees even though he can’t look in the mirror to check on it himself. His neck feels tender this morning, and he washed dried blood from it when he woke up in bed, saw more little spots of blood on the sheets when they pulled them off the bed for cleaning. The blue cashmere sweater he’s wearing - the exact same shade as his eyes - doesn’t hide the bruises he’s sure are there from Owen’s teeth, the places his skin tore open.

And Owen didn’t put any bandages on him.

“Sorry about that.” Owen shrugs, casually, unbothered and unashamed. Karen’s fingernails prick into the soft skin under Kauri’s chin and he swallows, hard, against the certainty that she will cut him there, make him bleed onto another sweater, and then Owen will put him back in the box to punish him, because it will be his fault for making Ms. Renford want to make him bleed. “Things got… rough last night.”

“Well, you paid for the product and it’s past the return period,” Karen says, with a lilt to her voice like she thinks she’s telling a joke. “What happens to it after that is up to you.” She drops his chin, but before Kauri can even hope to relax, she snaps her fingers again.

His eyes go right back to hers, wide and nervous blue on the slightly narrowed dark brown or black, he’s never been sure what color they actually are. There’s a twinkle of good humor there, but Karen Renford’s humor has never boded well for Kauri.

Oh, 645898 doesn’t like that, hm? Well. I suppose a few more hours of exposure might help it learn.

“Good, pet. Let’s try one more thing. 645898, respect.”

Kauri drops instantly to his knees into Position Two, hands on his thighs, eyes on the floor. When the sharp fingernails graze through his curls, scratch lightly against the top of his head, he bites his lower lip, feeling at the tender heat of the place he’d bitten it open last night, the low ache of the marks Owen had left dragging nails down his back.

NUMBERS. You have a visitor. Respect!

645898, you were given an order.

No. I’m not a fucking number and you can’t make me fucking kneel!

You’re causing trouble today? When my boss is visiting the newbies, that’s the day you decide to be a shit. Well, fine. We can take care of that.

Not so long, Everly! You’ll fuck its nervous system up again!

Renford doesn’t care if they’re still twitching; get her drunk and she’d probably admit she likes it.

I would pay good money to see that ice queen drunk.

“Good. I like to see them retaining the information even after they leave. 645898 looks to be in excellent working order. You said in your email you had some concerns?” She snaps again and Kauri leaps back to his feet, back into Position One, his eyes back on her face. Every obedient movement is instant, instinctive, made without pause for thought.

Pause for thought is pause for disobedience, and disobedience to Karen Renford’s command will not be tolerated.

“Nothing big, and we, uh.” Owen glances over at him, and Kauri sees a hint of true, genuine worry for him. “We actually worked all of that out. Can I get you something to drink while we wait for my mom?”

He would fall at Owen’s feet or hide behind him now if he could from sheer gratitude (Owen does love me, he does, he cares, he bought me and he cares about me and he’ll keep me safe from her) but he can’t, he can’t. He holds Position One as Owen steps away, gesturing Karen to follow him.

When her eyes break from their careful study of him, Kauri lets out a breath all at once, swaying slightly on his feet, relieved just to be out from under the eyes that he has seen staring down at him when they put the soft plastic thing in his mouth between his teeth, the circles on his skin with the wires that came out. He can remember the sound of his own screaming, muffled from the mouthguard, and Karen Renford never so much as blinked.

She steps away and walks past him, and Kauri shivers at the way the air seems colder as she moves into his space and back out of it.

“I thought you said you’d be bringing, uh, what’s his name?” Owen’s voice was perfectly charming and polite, and Kauri stole a glance over his shoulder. Ms. Renford did not look back at him, and so Kauri finally let Position One drop.

“Henry. I did originally intend to, but he requested to stay home with my retired Boys for this trip. He’s working on some particularly challenging coursework, and you know he’s very nearly ready to take his final exams. He’ll be eighteen in less than a year, and he’s very serious about his studies.” There was a hint of that humor back in her voice, the amusement that never meant good things for anyone, so far as Kauri knew. “He believes he would like to study mathematics and statistics in college.”

“You let him think about that?” Owen sounded genuinely surprised. “But in your email you said… well. That sort of thing won’t matter, will it?”

“It won’t. But he’s a darling boy, absolutely everything I ever hoped for, and I’d hate to hurt his ambitions before I absolutely must. What really matters is taking someone from such a troubled and tragic background and giving him perfect stability. My retired Boys are very kind to him. I’ve no doubt all his discipline is being spoiled while I’m gone, but-” She waved one hand, a hint of amused kids-say-the-darndest-things laughter in her voice. “That’s a retired Boy for you. They always dote on the soon-to-bes. I’ll take gin on the rocks, please.”

“Of course, Ms. Renford. Kauri, grab the door when my mom arrives, will you? She should be here soon.”

“Yes, Mr. Owen.” Kauri hurried to reply, to make sure Ms. Renford knew what a good and well-behaved pet he was. So she wouldn’t look at him anymore, maybe ever again. If he was just good, he wouldn’t get sent back for refurbishment, and if he was never sent back she’d never have to see him.

You are nearly complete. Will I have any reason to lay eyes on you again, 645898?

No, ma’am, not at all, n-never again.

Good. Because I do not enjoy seeing pets malfunction and return to this Facility. Next time, we would not be so gentle.

Yes, ma’am. I understand, ma’am. You won’t see me again.

Excellent. You are a very special custom order, 645898. Don’t. Disappoint. The. Prospective.

Kauri raises one hand to the tender spot on his neck, rubbing the pads of his fingers over the scabbing spots where Owen had broken the skin. They felt rougher, a little jagged by comparison to the rest of his skin, soft with the oils, the baths and showers he took.

He likes to think he keeps Owen happy.

He has to.

If he doesn’t, she’ll take him back.

Kauri shivers, but Owen told him to let his mother in when she arrives so he doesn’t dare leave his spot by the door. Instead, he crosses his arms in front of himself, running his hands back and forth over his sweater sleeves, the softness of the cashmere, trying to think of if there were other lines of poetry he remembered writing, even though he wasn’t supposed to ever know he’d written poetry before he signed the contract.

Kauri is not supposed to know anything about who he used to be, but the memories break through, and sometimes it doesn’t hurt like it’s supposed to if he tries too hard to think. He wasn’t bought to think, he wasn’t made to think, but some part of him remembers that he used to live all the time inside of his head, and when he focuses, the lines come again, sudden as a gasp, and the poem is there.

I was studying English and Creative Writing, Kauri thinks with a sudden blink of wide eyes. I wrote poetry and stories and I wanted to be a writer one day.

Then there’s a stab of pain behind his eyes, but it’s not fast enough to damp down the rest of the lines that float through him, in his own voice, reading in front of a class of other undergrads, the TA sitting against the desk in the corner.

The lines of our rings started the same, identical Down to the twisting curves of our genes Have they changed so much? Did her famine And flood and fire Burn brighter, bury deeper, grow emptier skin Than mine?

He can smell the room - the scent of old books and papers, his favorite smell in the world once upon a time, a smell like a used bookstore he used to go to with Keira. She liked listening to him read his but she didn’t write any, and he had been a freshman in college and his name is-

ERASED

Kauri blinks awake, crumpled on his side on the entryway’s floor, his heart pounding off-beat, feeling dazed and dizzy and with a pounding headache, knees nearly curled to his chest. 

He can still hear Owen and Karen Renford talking and tries to scramble hurriedly to his feet so they won’t realize what happened, that he was trying to remember again.

As he gets onto his hands and knees, Kauri realizes with sheer panic that he’s staring at a pair of brown leather loafers standing in the open doorway. Those loafers are attached to legs in dark jeans attached to a slim textured green sweater attached to-

“M-Mrs. Grant?” Kauri asks, his voice shaking, as he meets the exact same green eyes Owen has, the exact same sandy blonde hair, in a perfectly styled short trim cut.

“Senator Grant,” The woman replies, in a clipped voice, eyeing him as he pushes himself back onto his feet. “Were you sleeping in the doorway?”

“I was, um…” Kauri took a deep breath, the words come automatically and with a hint of the insistence in his mind that if he doesn’t remember the memorized responses, there will only be hell to pay. “‘The process of training is intensive and can have residual effects including sudden but brief loss of consciousness when resetting-’”

“Wonderful. I don’t care.” Mrs. Grant rolled her eyes, glancing around the inside of the condo. “I told him I didn’t want to see it, but what boys truly listen to their mothers when they think they’re grown and don’t need one any longer, hm?”

“I-I’m sorry, Mrs.-... Senator Grant. Would you, would you like me to tell Mr. Owen you’re here?”

She laughs, a harsh, barking sound, and Kauri flinches. Owen never laughs like that, except when he’s drunk, and then he laughs exactly like that. “Mister Owen? Good Lord, what an ego my boy has on him these days. No, you wretched little thing. I won’t have a pet announcing my presence. Look at you, though. I suppose I can’t say his money wasn’t well spent.”

“Ma’am?” Kauri blinks, trying to keep his head down and still look at her sideways, as he feels her eyes run from the top of his head down to his bare feet peeking out from under the loose black pants he has on, up over the blue sweater that matches his eyes, the white-gold collar with sapphires around his neck.

Owen’s mother reaches out, twisting a black curl between her fingers with fascination, then yanking hard on it until Kauri flinches at the sharp stab of pain in his scalp. “Is this what he would have done, if that little whore hadn’t left him in the lurch? Would he have wanted him tame as a mouse?”

Vince.

She’s talking about the Vince that Owen had made him pretend to be last night, Kauri knows that with a sudden perfect certainty. The name that Owen had hissed and spat and called out again and again with terrible, wounded affection, rather than Kauri’s own.

Kauri isn’t my name, it’s the name he gave me, there used to be another name

No don’t think don’t erase don’t think about your name

He catches himself just as the white begins to drift in at the edges of his vision, pushes it back and away. The fingers twisting in his curl let it go, pulling once more so it bounced back into place, before dropping to graze along the neckline of his sweater, over the scabbed marks from Owen’s teeth, the growing bruise. “Did he do this to you, little pet?”

Kauri swallows, but he is supposed to always be honest, and Owen hasn’t told him to lie about this. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Poor thing. Did you know this was what you were here for, when you woke up?” The hair like Owen’s, the eyes like this, attached to a face and a person who isn’t like Owen at all. Owen has warmth in him alongside the coldness, Owen curls around him at night sometimes, gives him the touch he can’t live without any longer-

Trained so I can’t live without it

“I un, understood the requirements my prospective had l-listed on the custom order form-”

“Fine, fine. I don’t really care what you knew. But I wonder…” She smirks, but there isn’t any affection there. Owen curls up with him on the couch to watch the videos on his laptop or movies and Kauri understands, looking into Carlotta Grant’s green eyes, that this is a woman who has never cuddled a single human being in her life. “Does he make you feel good, little pet? Or is it all about him?”

Kauri’s face flushes bright red in an instant, eyes dropping back to the floor. Shame floods him in a rush, nearly knocks him off his feet. He knows exactly what she’s asking, and even though he’s never supposed to, suddenly Kauri fucking hates what Owen does with him.

His silence - the blood-red burn on his face - isn’t good enough for her. “I asked you a question, little pet.”

He is trained to answer any question. He is trained to be honest. She has asked him a question, and the honest answer is-

“H-He makes me feel g-g-good, too, ma’am.” Kauri stumbles over the words, and something twists inside of him, something ugly and dark that training was supposed to eradicate. The dark parts of who he used to be were supposed to be gone, but they’re not.

She laughs at him.

Kauri doesn’t flinch this time, grinding his teeth together, even when she pinches the bruise on his neck. She looks him over once more, and something in her expression changes at his resolute stillness. She seems to see the stubbornness and determination in his eyes, and he thinks maybe… just maybe… she’s impressed.

“Mom?” Owen’s head pops around the wall, and he smiles brightly, moving quickly up to his mother and giving her a tight hug. She held him back, but with an air that suggested she’d rather not. “Kauri, you didn’t tell me she was here.”

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Owen, I-”

“Don’t fuss at the thing, Owen,” Carlotta Grant says with casual disdain. “I can’t believe you really had them find one that looks so much like him.”

“Total coincidence, Mom,” Owen says, but then smiles, a little shamefaced, at the slightly hostile stare his mother gives him. “Okay, okay. Not a coincidence. But-”

“I know what it’s here for. If it keeps you from doing anything supremely stupid like before, that’s fine. Keep it out of the news, that’s all I care about. Is Karen here already?”

“Yeah, she’s all set up with a drink in the kitchen. Would you like me to get you one, too?” Owen’s voice is softer, with his mother, and he sounds eager-to-please, a tone Kauri has never heard except when he speaks to her on the phone.

“Yes. Vodka martini, two olives. You still keep those on hand, I assume?”

“Yeah, sure I do. Kauri loves them.”

Kauri is surprised to hear that - he doesn’t like olives at all - but Owen is always telling people he likes things he doesn’t like, and so he just keeps his eyes on the floor and nods.

“Lovely.” Carlotta Grant’s voice is dry. “I’ll meet with Karen now, before your other guests arrive. Will you be locking the little pet up? I’d hate to have it wandering around pretending to be a person and ruining your lovely little dinner party.”

“Of course. Kauri, go back in the bedroom and just chill there, okay? I’ll get you if I need you.”

“Yes, Mr. Owen. Can I-... can I take Keira, please?”

Carlotta Grant’s eyes shift to her son. “Keira, Owen?”

Owen rolls his eyes. “Keira’s the name he gave the stupid fucking Roomba-”

“Language, darling.”

“Sorry. Keira’s what he calls the Roomba. He talks to it like it’s his fuh-... his puppy.”

She laughs again, quiet and dry this time. “Poor thing. What a life to live, talking to appliances and sleeping with you. Well, that’s how it falls out for the pets, isn’t it? Honestly, I think Karen Renford is the only person I’ve met who doesn’t end up in this situation with them…”

“What situation, Mom?” Owen asks the question with pure innocence in his voice, and the two of them meet eyes and laugh, ugly sounds, and Kauri blushes to the roots of his hair again, angry and embarrassed for reasons he can’t explain.

“Go on, Kor-Bore. Back in the bedroom. You don’t need the Roomba.” Owen waves at him, and he and his mother walk towards the kitchen without a single second more of thought about Kauri. He hears Carlotta Grant and Karen Renford greet each other with the distant, empty friendliness of two women who do not like each other at all.

Kauri stands next to the still-open door and for one wild second thinks, I could run.

The pulse of pain behind his eyes at the thought is instantaneous and he hisses, wincing against it. Then he closes the door, locks it, and walks with silent steps back down the hallway to Owen’s bedroom. He closes that door behind himself, too, walks across the room, and climbs up into the bed. 

New clean sheets don’t show a moment of last night’s roughness, they don’t tell the story of something terribly wrong.

They don’t tell him who Vince is, or how he hurt Owen, or why Kauri must be here in his place. They do not tell him about Owen being drunk and how he got the claw marks on his back and the bruise in his neck.

They don’t whisper about Owen’s drunken apologies afterward, the way he held Kauri and petted over his bruises and the marks and cried I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it wasn’t what I wanted into his neck until Owen passed out heavy and too warm behind him.

They don’t tell Kauri anything at all about how he knew the apologies weren’t actually for him.

He curls his knees up to his chest, arms around them, and stares at the sunlight streaming golden in the late-afternoon sky through the floor-to-ceiling window. There had been something he remembered, before he fell on the floor, but now he has lost it. Was there something he remembered?

Love will burn you alive and leave nothing but ashes behind.

Maybe he was just thinking about Owen, but Kauri can’t remember why that line is stuck in his head. He must have heard it in one of Owen’s movies, and it came back because he was thinking about last night.

Kauri should have been so sad for Owen - he was trained to love him and he did, he loved him so much and he was so lucky his owner wanted love and not just fear and pain.

So lucky.

Owen was so sad. Kauri should feel so bad for him, for being sad. 

The only way he had left to rebel was to remember Owen’s sadness and not feel anything at all.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Dangerous Liaisons Part 6

Catch Up here!

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Words: 3888 (It’s a long one guys)

Rating: L for Strong language! Is that even a rating?

A/N: Okay, this took me a while to finish because I kept getting distracted. Editing? What editing? Just ignore my errors for now! But! I really enjoyed the dynamics in this one. Writing for Karen and Ward was the most fun I’ve had in a while. Especially, the dark side of our heroine! Not a lot of Billy sadly, but he’s front and centre in the next chapter... and so is the prickly family dynamic! (I also tagged some new people to this update, hope you don’t mind). Don’t be afraid to ask to be tagged! Sidenote: I’ve been waiting forever to use this gif.

***

You made your way through the busy offices of the Bulletin. The room was buzzing with life. Employees in middle-class dress smarts hovered around from desk to desk. Some had files in hand, others typed away brutally at the clunky, old computer keys. The atmosphere was electric… productive. As a kid, your father had spent many hours dealing with interviews and alike, but always in the comfort and security of his own home. He always liked having the high ground, made reporters feel uneasy in unwelcome spaces. Except for this one reporter, Ben Urich.

You had been barely out of your teen years when you had watched through ajar doors as your Father lost his iron-clad composure after being accused of something malicious by the straight-shooting reporter. You had never seen anyone rattle your Father to that extent. Ben Urich had gained your respect in that moment, and it wasn't until this very moment that you realised just how much you admired him for that. The irony of Karen Page working for the same newspaper as the one reporter you respected did not escape you.

"Can I help you?" asked a balding man with a salt and pepper beard and drooping eyes. He was cleaning his glasses using his tie as he stood like a man of authority next to a door labelled:  'EDITOR' with a name underneath written: 'Mitchel Ellison'.

"Mitchel Ellison, I presume?"

"Just Ellison," he extended his hand once his glasses were fixed back onto his face. You shook it. "Still haven't answered my question." He said plainly.

"Ah, yes sorry. My name is Y/N Y/L/N." He raised a brow at the mention of your last name. He recognised you then.

"Ah, the elusive heiress to Armistice Security," he said knowingly.

You shouldn't have been surprised. Your Father was Carl Kurogawa, CEO and founder of one of the leading military contracting companies. The press loved him and after Henry's death… well, more and more people were digging into your family's history. That's one of the reasons you legally changed your last name to your mother's maiden name.

"Since my Father and I don't share the same last name, I'm inclined to correct you on that front. I have no affiliations with Armistice Security," You said rather harshly.

"If that were true you'd have sold your shares a long time ago," he retorted quickly. No doubt Ellison had a hard time trusting people, but at least he called things as he saw them.

You sighed, "I'm here to see Karen Page. I called earlier about giving her an exclusive."

"What about?"

You smirked, "Sorry, that's privileged information. You'll just have to find out about it in the editorial room." Ellison huffed lazily, you amused him a little.

"Her office is right through there," He pointed down the hall and to the right.

"Thank you." You smiled flatly.

You knocked on the door with a sign covered by masking tape with the name Karen P. written on it. It was obscuring the name of whoever owned this office space before her.

"Just a second," a soft female voice spoke out.

Impatient, as always, you opened the door anyway. Karen was about to speak from behind her laptop screen, but upon seeing you, her face had a confused look plastered on it.

"Who?--" She squinted her eyes trying to remember. She didn't seem to recognise you. Being in a room full of reporters who usually could pick you out in a crowd, this was certainly a refreshing first. A laugh tried to trickle out of you but you held it back and instead chose to introduce yourself.

You held out your hand, "Y/N Y/L/N. We have an appointment today..." Karen still had a hard time placing you, this time you did giggle. "The Rand Enterprise exclusive about expansion in Hong Kong."

And suddenly, like lightning hitting its mark, Karen finally put two and two together.

"Of course, sorry," She returned your handshake. "I've been swamped lately, and as you probably deduced for yourself, I'm a little new at this." She gestured to her desk filled with overflowing, loose paperwork.

"Reporting or an efficient filing system?" you joked. She laughed awkwardly.

"Both," she sat down and gestured to the chair in front of her desk for you to have a seat. "Which is why I am a little apprehensive as to why you chose me to handle such a story. In fact, why the New York Bulletin? Isn't the Hong Kong expansion something a business magazine would kill to get an exclusive on?"

You smirked, "Oh, it is. Which is why I'm not giving the exclusive to a business magazine. Also, I read some of your other stories. You tend to be discrete about who your sources are when they want to keep things hush, hush."

Karen pulled out a notepad and pen, clicking it once to jot down something on her notepad.

"Why the secrecy? It's not like you're reporting on anything the company doesn't want the world to know… right?"

"I'm just… beating a colleague to the punch," You felt proud at the prospect of Ward reading this exclusive in a small newspaper after he had spent months preparing to give this exclusive to the Wall Street Journal. The look on his face when he finds out he doesn't have an exclusive anymore filled you with delight.

"Sounds alarmingly ambiguous."

"It sounds like an exclusive."

Karen took hint of your tone and cleared her throat, "Okay, so what can you tell me about Ward Meachum's new merger deal?"

You crossed your legs and leaned back, but made sure not to look too comfortable. "For starters, I can tell you it's not Ward Meachum's merger. He shook hands and posed for photo ops but they were my contacts and it was my project. I worked in Hong Kong for several years before I returned. Suffice to say, I had the means, Ward had the poster boy look."

Without skipping a beat, Karen jotted down on her notepad in shorthand. You were curious to read what she had written down, but this story wasn't what was important right now. You needed to gain her trust and get her guard down before asking about the incident with General Schoonover.

"Why did you leave Hong Kong?"

"I'm sorry?"

Karen plastered on a genial smile, "You mentioned your posting in the Hong Kong offices as being your primary qualification for spearheading this merger. If you managed to accumulate such good connections, why leave such a promising post? Wasn't accepting the post at Rand a step down?"

Karen was a sly one, this explained why someone with no background in journalism got ahead so quick. She was fishing for two stories in one interview. The Rand scoop and why you were offering her the Rand scoop. You made a mental note not to underestimate her. "This story isn't about me, Miss Page."

"Is it not? You’re not a disgruntled employee as far as I can tell. And giving a small newspaper access to such an exclusive doesn't make much sense unless you're trying to gain all the credit, but that wouldn't exactly help moral at the workplace if they found out you leaked the story. And unless you're Mr Meachum's scorned lover--"

You snorted a little at the insinuation of you being Ward's scorned lover. "You want to know what I get out of this. What my angle is."

"To be frank, yes."

"That's easy Miss Page. An ally at a respectable paper. That's something of great value in my line of work."

"In corporate legalities or military law?"

You smiled. Karen had just given away her ace in the hole. She had done research on you, which meant she knew exactly who you were when you walked into her office. She really was a sly one. "In a competitive corporate world."

You both exchanged a look that carried the fake pleasantry smiles not uncommon with most of your social interactions, but both you and Karen's eyes held a glare that spoke volumes. It was a look of respectful rivalry and cautiousness.

"Look, Miss Page--"

"Karen is fine."

"Okay, Karen. We can spend hours going round in circles, continuing this verbal detente with one another, or you can ask what you really want to ask me and save us both some time."

"It's the same question. Why me? And no bullshit. Why come to me, out of all the other more qualified and respected reporters? Why come all the way down to Hell’s Kitchen?"

"To be honest. My father hates this newspaper. And my boss is an ass. So if I can manage to serve a big ol‘ 'fuck you' to the both of them, it's a win-win for me." Karen seemed pleased with your answer. "But, there is one other reason."

"Yes?"

"The Punisher."

Karen froze for a second, you noticed her battling for control to remain unreadable.

"Whatever do you mean?" She asked, trying to seem oblivious to what you were implying.

"You are the one who wrote of his demise, did you not? It was quite the… unexpected angle. You framed his narrative to be more sympathetic than most other news outlets."

"I wrote Frank's story. Everyone else had already written about the Punisher."

"And weren't you assigned his case when you worked for… Oh, what was their name again? Murdock and Neilson?"

Karen's brows knitted together and she straightened her back to appear slightly taller than you, "Nelson and Murdock." Karen huffed. "And here I thought I was the one conducting the interview here."

Strong-arming Karen was proving to be ineffective. It was time to play a different angle. You sighed and stood from your chair, gathering a file from your purse and presenting it in front of Karen.

"Look, Karen. I'm not here to accuse you of anything. If anything I commend you for writing the real story about Frank Castle. It shows your willingness to bring the truth to light. It's the reason I thought you could help. You worked with him and I know you were at the scene of General Schoonover's murder."

"How?" Her eyes skittered between you and the file.

"I also know that you've read up on me. You and me have something in common." Karen broke eye contact for a brief moment. "I just want closure. And I think… I think you knew the Punisher better than you let on. And everything that happened, all the people he killed… I think they were part of something bigger. Schoonover, Frank and… my brother’s death." You had to pause to take a breath. "It's all connected. And I've hit a dead end. You're the last thread I can pull. I know you know something. I'm just hoping..."

Karen looked at the file you gave her. It had your brother’s name printed on the yellow jacket. She sighed and slid it back to you. "I don't know anything. I'm sorry."

You smiled with disappointment, sliding the file back to Karen. "I've got more copies. Keep it." You grabbed your bag and headed for the door. "My numbers on the back. In case you suddenly remember something." As you walked out the door, you caught a glimpse of Karen burying her head in her hands and whispering a soft "Fuck" under her breath. That made you smirk slightly. Now you just had to wait and see if she'd call.

Even though you knew full well that you and Karen had kept your voices more than professional, you couldn't help but feel eyes on you as you walked out of the Bulletin's doors. Specifically, the judgmental eyes of Mitchel Ellis.

***

When you got into your car, you finally let the tough as nails act slide away and suddenly you felt limp. You closed your eyes and looked up at the car's roof feeling particularly aimless. As the seconds turned to minutes, your mind kept trying to make sense of all the puzzle pieces that didn't fit together in your investigation. Then, your phone chimed from inside your pocket. You half expected it to be Cecil and the other half… well, you reprimanded yourself for wishing it was Billy. What you didn’t expect to find was an email from Ward. Not just any email, a letter of notice.

He was firing you.

Over a fucking email.

The damn merger story hadn't even been put to print yet, even if it had, your name would remain anonymous. Which leaves the very probable reason for your contract termination being the result of a hurt ego and rejected advances.

"Asshole!" You swore. Rage bubbling to the surface, you typed away at your phone and sent a message you knew you'd come to regret, but your anger had gotten the best of you.

"Karen. About keeping my name anonymous, don't bother." You hit send and without missing a beat, you dialled Cecil's number. If Ward wanted to play dirty, you had no problem playing it his way.

"Heyyo," Cecil answered in a drowsy tone.

"Hey, I need a big favour."

***

You stormed your way up to Ward's office, ignoring the protests of his assistant clomping after you in heels she wasn't comfortable running in.

"Ma'am!" She whisper-shouted frantically after you as you burst into his office. Ward had turned to you with a shocked expression mid-sentence. A room full of important busy-bodies craning their necks to look at who cause this disturbance. Ward glared at you menacingly and then eyed his assistant who swallowed loudly. "I'm sorry Mr Meachum. I tried to stop her."

"That's quite alright. We're just finished in here," Ward buttoned his three-piece suit-jacket and motioned for the men to exit the room. A fake smile tugging at his lips. When you were finally alone, Ward closed the door behind him before walking over to his desk. He leaned his tall frame against it languidly. When he didn't speak, you did.

"A fucking text, Ward? You don't have the balls to fire me yourself, you had your assistant type up the fucking thing?" You tried to keep a handle on your temper. "What was the reason? Please tell me there's a better reason than your hurt pride!"

Ward gave you a cheeky smile, enjoying your anger a bit too much. "Well, you mean despite you showing up late to the meeting the other day, then feeding me some bullshit excuse of traffic being the reason you were late? And don't even get me started on all the other times you've put off work hours to do God knows what!"

"You're firing me for tardiness? I'm the one who spearheaded this expansion project in the first place. Without me-"

"I'm firing you for unprofessional conduct. You can do whatever you please after office hours, but social calls the same day you're late to the closure of the project you were in charge of? That's unacceptable."

"So this is about your dumb fucking ego!"

Ward's eye twitched and you could all but see his professional disguise begin to crack, "I expect you to remove yourself from the premises immediately before I call security. You can collect your things from rece-"

Before Ward could finish his threat, you took out your phone and pressed send on a video file. In an instant, Ward's phone chimed from his desk. He glanced over at it and saw your name on the email.

"The fuck is this?" Ward asked, an eyebrow arched.

"This is me choosing to stoop to your level, Ward." Your words were saturated in disgust.

"Is this a threat?" He gawked at you, completely surprised.

"Open it and find out."

Ward did as you suggested and his face went pale. The video showed him rifling through his desk drawer and pulling out a small tin, before proceeding to empty it of its contents and snort the white powder that came from it.

"I think that camera angle suits you. Does those cheekbones of yours the justice they deserve." You held up your own phone which played the same video.

"You bitch!" Ward snarled.

You took a step back and held up a single finger, "I'd be very careful about what you do next, Ward. One press of a button and I send this video to a very respectful reporter whom I was just in talks with a few hours ago. Then the whole world will know that the respectable and business savvy, Ward Meachum has a coke problem."

He clenched his fists till they went white, "How the fuck did you get your hands on that? Are you spying on me now?"

You laughed, "I have better things to do, Ward. But don't forget, I'm great at making connections. And this is a video from your security cameras in your office. I just know a guy who's good with computers."

"What do you want," Ward's words came out hesitantly.

"My job back for starters. I've worked too hard for someone like you to get in the way of it. Shouldn't be too hard to do, I'm guessing you hadn't consulted anyone about it. We can just keep your email between you, me and your lovely assistant."

Ward folded his arms and took a tentative step forward. He was trying to reassert his position of power, but you didn't budge. "And how do I know you aren't bluffing? I have a PR department available around the clock. We can spin this video however we want."

"Read tomorrows paper," you said snidely. "And once you realise I'm not bluffing. Add a raise while you’re at it." You added before walking out of his office. Adrenaline soaked your muscles and you felt powerful. As the door closed behind you, you heard a crash coming from Ward's office. His assistant looked at you with wide-eyes.

"Might want to hold off Mr Meachum's appointments for the day. Something tells me he won’t be in a very cooperative mood today." You winked at the assistant and rode the elevator to the carpark.

***

As you walked to your car, your phone rang. You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Jesus, I can't catch a break today." When you saw the caller ID you were pleasantly surprised. "Mom?"

"Honey, hey! I was worried I wouldn't get a hold of you, busy schedule of yours and all that," she rambled quickly in that shaky tone that had become her new default in the last couple of years. "I- Uh…"

Your heart began to race with worry, "Is everything okay?" You interjected.

"What? Oh, oh, yes! Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be? I'm calling because there's something important I have to… Umm. Why don't you come home for a bit and I'll explain everything."

"Mom, what is this about?"

"See you soon," she said hurriedly, cutting the line straight after.

"What?" You stood dumbfounded and slightly worried. You made your way to your car at a jogging pace and set off for the family mansion.  

When you arrived, you were surprised to find a car parked by the driveway. You didn't pay it much attention, you were more preoccupied with finding out what that weird phone call was about. You rang the doorbell and the house butler answered the door. He seemed baffled to see you. To be fair, you were surprised you hadn't talked yourself out of driving through that accursed gate brandished with your father’s initials.

"Weathermire." You greeted him professionally.

"Miss Y/N. It's been a long time. I last saw you at the--"

"Gala. My mother called me. Do you know where she is?"

"The kitchen I believe, miss."

"Thank you," you made your way through the grand opulent mansion with familiarity.

"Would you like me to inform your Father-"

"No," you said almost instantly. "It’s better he doesn't know."

When you got to the kitchen, you were greeted by the image of your mother and several cook staff preparing food.

"Oh, Darling. You got here quicker than I expected," your mother said gleefully. She walked over to hug you, wiping her wet hands on her apron. She looked elegant as usual. Weathermire entered the kitchen just then and with a simple glance, she instructed him to go off and do something. He complied with a simple bow.

"Mom, what's all this? When you called, I thought…" You didn't know what to say, you honestly didn't know what to make of her phone call. You shook your head. "Why did you call me here?"

"Oh, well I figured we could have a little family dinner. I have been sat at an empty table for weeks now. Your father always has his meetings, you always have yours. I figured today there would be no excuses for you to be antagonistic towards each other."

You snorted, "Whatever brought that idea on?"

Just as your words escaped your mouth, Weathermire opened the doors to your father's study and your father and his guest stepped into the kitchen. Everyone's expression -except for your mother's- was that of being caught unawares.

"Billy?" You asked in shock. But as soon as you said his name, you regretted it.

"Do you two know each other?" Your father asked with a stiff tone.

You shot Billy a look you hoped mirrored 'Don't tell them about us'.

Billy, like the chameleon he was, flawlessly kept his composure and replied, "Yes, we had the pleasure of meeting at your Gala a few weeks ago." He smiled at your parents dashingly.

"You never told me you knew my daughter," Your father said.

"Your daughter?" Billy pretended to be caught off-guard. Now it was Billy's turn to shoot you a knowing look, "It never came up."

"We only talked for a brief moment. There wasn't any polite way to bring up my parentage to a complete stranger." You said through gritted teeth.

Your fathers eyes squinted in your direction and your mother cleared her throat, "Come now, we can all get to know each other better over some food."

Billy and you simultaneously tried to object but your mother interrupted, "Hush, you're both staying for dinner and that's the end of it."

You put on a painful grin. Something in Billy's expression found this whole exchange humorous.

"You two go set up the table, we'll be right over." You mother ushered them out of the kitchen.

You sighed when it was just you and your mother in the room. "How long have you known?" You asked her, not even bothering to deny you were more than acquainted with Billy.

"Since I saw the two of you leaving the Gala together." She had a smile on that showed she was proud of her meddling. "When he came over to discuss business with your father… well, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have a reason for the both of you to be civilised and enjoy a meal with your mother while she got to know this very nice man I've heard nothing about, by the way."

"There's nothing to say. We went out for drinks once."

Your mother eyed you for a moment, not believing you for a second.

"Okay, maybe twice. But he's not--"

"I'm not what?" Billy asked.

Chapter Seven!

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[everything-person]

Good Night, Mom

A/N: So this came from a prompt I wrote 2 years ago. I came across it again and since no one picked it up I decided to give it a try. I just hope its half as decent as the original prompt. This story was also beta’d by @let-it-raines and @theonceoverthinker. It took sometime and alot of edits but we are finally here hope its okay.

Since there was only like 10 people that liked the original prompt I thought you might want to see the actual product so I tagged them I hope thats okay:  @iron-dreamboat, @perpetualwanderer398-2, @randomblog1981, @sprinklesofweird, @midnightswans, @allons-yandcustardcreams, @stefh2456, @godohammers, @katd2003, @snotelek, @ouatcountdown, @teamhook

Without further ado here it is.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

For a bunch of fairytale characters, the people of Storybrooke really knew how to celebrate. What was supposed to be a simple celebration felt more like a frat party, a far cry from the “luxurious balls” depicted in any story book. Our house was filled with half the town, all gathered together for what was suppose to be a simple family get together. But I guess that’s what’s to be expected when being raised by pirates and part of the most famous family in town.

I was managing my way around the crowded living room, occasionally receiving a pat on the back, a side embrace, or promises to catch up later from people I pass. Everyone wore a smile on their face. The air was filled with laughter, chatter, and the light music playing underneath it all.

As the night dwindled down to a couple of close friends and family, I was doing a sweep through the house when something outside the window caught my eye. I turned to see a familiar dark figure standing on the porch. I slipped out the door, quietly approaching my target as the soft sounds of what was left of the celebration seeped out of the house. Getting closer, I could hear his murmurs flowing on the soft breeze of the evening wind. I stopped a few paces away, seeing him lean against the railing watching the clear night sky. I waited until I thought he was finished.

“Papa,” I called, getting his attention. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just talking to your mother.”

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

From the moment I woke up, despite the warmth of my bed and the presence of my stuffed friends, I could tell that something felt wrong. It was as if the whole world changed, but I didn't know how. Something was missing, but I didn't know what. The first thing I thought was to go back to sleep. Maybe if I woke up a second time everything would go back to normal.

It didn't work. I opened my eyes to sunlight pouring through the window, the faint sound of birds chirping reached my ears. I was comfy wrapped up in my blankets, head buried in my pillow, but it all felt like a lie. From there, only one thought crossed my mind: Find Mama and Papa.

I jumped out of bed and ran to their room. I climbed up into their bed but they weren't there. The sinking feeling only got worse growing with every passing minute. My heart started pounding with one penetrating thought running through my head, where's Mama and Papa? Once I was able to wiggle my way off the bed, I made my way downstairs. I looked in the kitchen thinking maybe Mama and Papa were making breakfast, but they weren't there either.

My eyes were wet and my lungs started to burn when I heard something from the living room. I spun around and saw Papa sitting on the couch. I let out a relieved “Papa” and ran to him. He enveloped me in his arms, pulling me into his lap. I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his shoulder and seeking the comfort I desperately needed. After letting the few tears I had fall, I picked up my head and looked around. “Where's Mama?”

Papa didn't say anything for a moment, “Mama.” He looked away from me and coughed before trying again, “Mama went somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I’ll tell you later,” He said quickly before looking back at me. “Right now how about we have pancakes?” He lifted me into the air and carried me into the kitchen.

The strange feeling never went away.

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

That night, Papa took me on the Jolly Roger. I was so excited because it was the first time he let me help steer the ship. Papa stood behind me, supporting me as my feet rested on the inner wheel between the spokes. I was gripping the handles as his hands covered mine, helping me keep the wheel steady. I couldn’t stop laughing, I was so happy.

We sailed a little bit away from the dock before Papa dropped the anchor. Everything was so peaceful. I was never on the Jolly Roger at night, and the water made it look like we were sailing through the night sky.

I was on the deck watching the water glisten in the moonlight when Papa knelt down and showed me this golden triangle that had a picture of a horse on it. He called it a sextant and told me it was for looking at the stars. He then pointed up at the night sky and showed me all these pictures it held.

“Now lass look over there,” Papa said as he pointed to the sky. “Do you see those two big stars and the four little ones? It's a swan.”

“Like Mama?”

“That is Mama.” I looked at Papa confused. “Hope… remember how I told you Mama went somewhere?” After I gave him a nod, he continued. “Well, she had to go live in the stars. She drew that swan so we could always find her.”

“Why?”

“Because she had to.”

“Can we go to the stars too?”

He looked at the floor clearing his throat. “I wish we could little love…” He looked at me with a small smile, “But I promised Mama we would stay here and keep an eye on everyone.”

“But what about Mama?”

“Mama will always be with us. She's here.” Papa put his hand on my heart. “And we have the swan to find her every night. We can talk to her and tell her about everything she misses, and if you listen carefully you can hear her talk back.”

I looked up at the stars. I stood there for a moment before the wind whispered to me. “I hear her Papa,” I said before whispering back, “I love you too Mama.”

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

I was three when Mom died. Since that day, every night I insisted Papa and I go outside or up to the window to find the swan in the stars, to find mom. We used to have a whole routine where we would talk to Mom and tell her all that has happened that day along with anything else that came to mind.

I remember falling asleep at the window more than once in a state of peaceful bliss as my mother wished me a goodnight from above. It used to be my favorite part of my day. I couldn't wait for the stars to come out so I could “see my Mama.” Once they showed up, I would tell her about all the stories Henry told me, all the games Neal and I played, and even about the cookies Aunt Ruby had snuck me.

Papa would never talk to Mom, at least not when I was talking to her unless it was to remind me of something I forgot about. But this wasn’t the first time I caught him talking to Mom.

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

A couple days later, Grandma and Grandpa came over with Uncle Neal. Henry, and Aunty Regina came too. Everyone was in black and kept hugging me. Papa told me we were all going to Granny's to eat and that I needed to wear a dress.

When we got to Granny's everyone seemed sad. Everyone kept looking at us and saying sorry. Why were they sorry?

I didn't like it. I didn't like everyone looking at me. I didn't like everyone saying sorry. I didn't like everyone looking sad. I didn't like everyone wearing black.

The whole time, I stayed close to Papa and Henry as we sat at our booth and ate. Sometimes someone would come up to us, but Papa would tell them to go away. I heard him mutter, “Swan, give me strength.”

I didn't like Papa being so mad. I wished Mama was there.

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

I woke up on what I could immediately tell was our couch. The light of a movie playing on the TV helped me as I took in the space around me. Goosebumps ran up my arms and I realized that the front door was open. As I approached the door with intentions to close it, the sound of a familiar voice stopped me. Poking my head out, I saw Papa sitting under the bright canopy of stars, his voice sounded breathy, I couldn't make out what he was saying.

“Papa?”

“Oh, love, I thought you were asleep.” He scrubbed his face as I walked over to him. I curled up in his lap and once I was settled, he wrapped his arms around me. “I was just talking to Mama.”

“Hi Mama,” I yawned.

“I was telling her how much better you're getting with a sword. She wasn't at all surprised -- she always said you would be a great little pirate.” As he spoke, he rubbed my back in the soothing motion.

“Can mama come to my birthday?”

“I'm sure she would love to come.” He stood up still holding me, “Now, let's get you to bed.”

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

A boisterous laugh coming from the party inside pulled me from my memories. My fifth birthday party was the first party we held at night, and we had it in our backyard. Ever since then, we celebrated everything at night, just to make sure mom would be here. Ignoring the antics of our guests, I leaned my head against Papa’s shoulder settling in next to him.

“She’s quite talkative tonight.”

Looking up at the sky I whispered, “Oh, what's she saying?”

“You can’t hear her?” He bent his head down slightly to look at me, “No, you haven’t heard her in a long time.”

“Well, she’s saying how happy and proud she is of you.” His accent drifted on the wind as he looked back at the sky.

No not at the sky. At her. At Mom.

“She says you’ve become such a strong, smart, independent, beautiful woman. She misses her little pirate princess that you once were.” A gentle grin stretched out across his features as he continued. “She loves you so much and she couldn’t be prouder.”

I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face. “I love her, too. And I’m glad I could make her proud.”

We stood in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company. The wind whistled through the otherwise silent yard. A shiver ran down my spine. “Ooha, Papa it's getting a little cold. Let's go back inside.”

Rubbing my hand on his arm, I turned starting back towards inside. Leaving my hand on his arm stretching out my own until I was too far away letting my hand fall back to my side. I froze when I heard my father speak again.

“I wish I could join you, love.”

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

It was when I was watching “The Iron Giant” with Henry for the first time that I really gave thought to the concept of death.

“Things die. It's a part of life… it's not bad to die… Souls don't die.”

Those words triggered a thought I've been successfully suppressing for years. They were the start of accepting the reality no one would dare say aloud. Mama’s dead.

“Hey. Hey it’s okay. It’s just a movie.” Henry's voice made me realize my face was wet. I didn’t even realize I had started crying.

I looked over at Henry and asked, “Henry,” my voice quivering despite my best efforts. “Did Mama die? Is her soul in the stars?”

Henry's eyes went wide, “Um… well…” He looked at me and then sighed. “I promised never to lie to you, right?” I nodded my head. “Yeah. Yeah, Mama died.”

I sat there for a moment fighting with a lump in my throat the size of our house before asking the one thing most prevalent in my mind. “Is Papa gonna die?”

Before Henry could answer, the sound of the front door opening broke through the atmosphere. I ran over to see that Papa was home. He was on the phone, still half in the doorway, but regardless of the manners I had been taught, I couldn’t leave the matter unaddressed. “Papa, when are you gonna die?”

Papa glanced over at Henry before speaking into his phone once more. “One minute.”

A sob burst out of me as I lunged myself forward grabbing onto him. He knelt down holding my shoulder so I would look at him. “Wow, lass. It's alright, I'm not going anywhere. Do you know how old Papa is?” I sniffled, trying to get a control of my breathing and once I had it, I shook my head. “I'm over 300 years old and I promise I will live for another 300 years okay?”

I nodded, still trying to calm down as he embraced me, whispering soothing words in my ear until I finally felt at ease once more.

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

I was still processing what he said as I turned around. “What,” I asked hoping that I heard wrong.

I walked up to him and faced him. I placed my hands on his arm as I pleaded, “Papa what did you just say?”

Papa sighed. “She said she’s feeling lonely and missed her favorite dashing rapscallion.” He let out a small chuckle before the smile dropped from his face. “That's when she asked when I was going to come to her,” he explained.

The weight of what he was saying hit me and I pulled away from him slightly. His eyes remained forever on the stars. On his wife.

“I was just telling her I can’t join her. Not just yet. I still have another 300 years before we can be together again. I can’t leave you just yet.”

I took a moment to look at my father, to really look at him. The big strong pirate I looked up to my whole life melted away. His hair was a mix of gray with the black it used to be, he had bags under his eyes and his face was slightly wrinkled. But it was more than that. His body was draped in a tiredness I never saw before. His eyes shined with a sadness and longing I never noticed. He looked as if he held a great weight on him waiting to be relieved. I couldn't help but feel the promise he made when I was ten was apart of that weight.

Memories flooded my mind but it was as if I was seeing them through new eyes.

On that first morning, his face was red and slightly puffy, his voice was gruff. It all clicked together -- how tightly he held on to me, carrying me everywhere, refusing to let me go. Like if he did let me go even for a moment, he would lose me too. Then there was the tremble in his voice when he first told me how mom was in the stars, the way he stiffened when I asked if mom could come to my birthday and the concern and fear in his eyes when I asked when he was going to die.

I saw my papa's’ eyes glisten with unshed tears. Every hitch, quiver, and tremble in his voice when he spoke of her was now as vocal as the roar of a lion. The way his body went stiff and rigid anytime I asked about her was now so obvious. Everything he tried to hide to protect me, to stay strong for me, became clear and I wondered just how I could miss it.

This whole time, he had to be the strong one because he had to raise me. Because I lost my mother, but he lost so much more. He lost his wife, his true love, and the happy ending they never fully experienced. He lost a part of himself, his Swan, and never got to properly mourn for her because he had to push forward and be my Papa.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I placed my hand on top of his and told him, “It’s okay, Papa. If you want to, you can go. Go be with Mom. I’ll be alright.”

A kind smile spread across his face as he finally turned to look at me. Shaking his head, he teased, “Nah. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I have a promise to keep. I did my waiting, and now it's her turn. Besides, she has your grandparents to keep her company.” He then leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “It's getting late. We should head back inside.”

With that, he turned and went inside, not bothering to see if I was following and leaving me with my thoughts.

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

“Where is it? It has to be here. Where is it?” My hands shook as I frantically searched to pile after pile of papers. Papers scattered on the ground had me on my knees trying to collect them all, wishing that just one held the information I needed, when the lights turned on.

“Hope. What are you doing?” My eyes flicked up to see Papa standing in the doorway his face scrunched up, eyes scanning the room as he tried to figure out what the scene before him was.

Not bothering to stop my search, I casually said, “looking for something.”

“What are you looking for?”

I dropped the papers, placing my hands flat on the floor, let my head hang. The only person that can stop my search stood five feet away. After a moment of thought I stood facing him. Looking him in the eye I asked the question that had been driving me insane since Grandma died two months ago. “What happened to Mom?”

The silence was deafening, but I refused to waver. “I deserve to know.”

“You do know-”

“No,” I yelled as I let all the anger, and desperation consume me. “She is not! She is not in the stars! My mom is dead! She is dead and her body is six feet under the ground in the Storybrooke cemetery! My mother died when I was three years old and I didn't get to know what killed her! That's not fair!” I felt like I was drowning as I gasped for air.

He took a step forward reaching for me but I took a step back. I came here for an answer. “How did she die?”

He opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off before he could even start to question me, “I want to know! I deserve to know! Everyone else gets to know! Everyone else gets that closure! So why don’t I?”

My heart was pounding, my eyes burned with angry tears, and my breath heaved through grit teeth. “Tell me.” It came out as a plea more than anything else.

He just stood there watching me. His gaze in steeled. “She was shot.”

The whole world felt like it stopped and slowed down at those three words. “What?”

He looked down at his shoes taking a deep breath, as if he was preparing himself, before he eyes returned to mine. "She got an emergency call. We went to see what was going on and someone shot your mother."

My ears were ringing, my stomach turned into knots before I stamped it all down. ‘Your telling me the Savior, who held the most powerful magic in all the realms, got shot? And thats- thats just it? She just died?”

“Lass-”

“Why couldn’t she heal herself?! Or-or Regina?! Why couldn’t Dr Whale save her?! Why didn’t you?!” I was near screaming at this point, my fist clenched at my sides.

“We tried everything we could-” He once again tried to come to me but I walked to the other side of the room distancing myself as far as I could from him.

‘Why are you lying?! Mom didn’t just get shot! She fought dragons and giants an-and caught bad guys for a living! She had Henry and Grandpa and Grandma and you.” I paused letting the next part out as a whisper, “She had me.” Shaking my head glaring at my father I allowed for my anger to consume me again, “she wouldn't have just gone off and gotten herself shot!”

“Lass your mother loved you so much. She wanted to be here for you. She was very careful but she also knew the risks of being the town protector. It shouldn’t’ve happened but it did.” His voice wavered as he croaked out, “I’m sorry, love. I’m so so sorry I couldn’t protector her or you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save her. And I’m sorry there isn’t more to the story but that’s just it. Someone shot your mother and she died.” His voice softened as he said “ But we shouldn't have her memory sullied but how her life ended. We should treasure the time we had with her even after she went to the stars.”

Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head, “if your not going to tell me what really happened then fine but I’m done talking to a cluster of balls of gas billions of miles away waiting for a voice I'm never going to hear again.”

I stormed out of the room and we never spoke of it again. I refused to speak to anyone for the next following weeks.

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

One day, I was helping out at the Sheriff's Station. While searching for paper cups, I came across an innocent enough looking box. I was in the midst of going through it when Papa came in.

“What are you doing, love?” His eyes were trained on the box with his eyebrows furrowed.

“I found this box. It has all this random stuff in it. A shoelace, glasses….” The next thing I saw made my throat go dry and my heart skip a beat. I picked up an old photo and realized what all this stuff was. “Is this mom’s?”

“Aye. It was.” He came over to the box and looked inside. He picked up what looked like a tape. He motioned to follow him, putting the tape inside the tv in the station. What appeared on screen shocked me to my core.

“Killian look. Henry and I found some old empty tapes. Now we can make a movie of this little one.” Papa was holding a small baby that began to squirm before letting out a shrill cry.

“I think this little one wants her Mama, love.” The camera moved and shook before stilling.

“Okay, hand her over.”

And there she was. My mom taking me from Papa cradling me to her chest. “I think she’s just hungry. I’ll go feed her. Can you turn that off? Just press the red button.”

The screen went black before going to the next clip. Mom was standing directly in front of the camera. “You sure you got it?”

“I’m fine, love.”

Mom turned while explaining what was going on. “Okay so we put these things in front of her and see which one she crawls to.” Mom placed me on the floor in front of some random items then sat opposite of me. I started crawling and went right past everything right into Mom’s lap. “Well, if that didn't prove she's a Charming I don't know what will.” Mom was laughing as she held me up in the air. I couldn't help but laugh with her. I never thought I would hear that laugh again.

The next clip was me in a high chair with Mom and Papa sitting on either side of me. A couple of cupcakes sat on the table. They started singing happy birthday, the rest of the clip consisted of me smearing cupcake over my face and trying to feed some to Mom and Papa.

The next scene was Papa rocking me back and forth while singing. The camera was placed down and Mom walked over to join, wrapping both of us in her arms as we all swayed back and forth.

The tape kept going like that, playing a bunch of random clips of Mom, Papa, and a baby version of me. The last clip showed Mom sitting in a rocking chair me laying on top of her while she hummed. I didn't realize I was crying until Papa wiped the tears from my face. “I didn't realize how much I missed her.”

“She misses you, too. But you can always find her.”

I shook my head as I let myself cry through my confession, “I haven’t talked to the stars in years, Papa.”

“Shhh shhh.” He pulled me into his chest cupped my head with his hand. “It doesn’t matter. Your mother can always hear you, and you can always find her.” He pulled away slightly to look at me, placing his hook on my chest. “She’s here. She is always right here.”

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

I looked up at the sky. My eyes easily settling on the familiar cluster of stars I was shown so long ago.

When I was little, some nights Papa would read me a book. Some nights, he would tell me stories of being a pirate. Some nights, he would sing to me. Some nights, we would watch a movie and fall asleep together. My favorite nights were when he would tell stories about him and Mom. But every night since the first, we would go up to the window and look up at the stars. Sometimes it was a quick trip, and other times we would sit there for a couple minutes and talk about the day along with what was new. But we would always say three words before going to bed.

This night I looked up the giant swan in the sky, a small tear running down my cheek, and spoke three words I haven't said in a long time.

“Good Night, Mom.”

[takumeat]

pls friend. hit me with all the ephrom goodness u can muster. my children are starving

I AM HERE TO SERVE MY FRIEND.

What to talk about… What about more on theAwakening universe idea?

(PS: I basciallywrote an entire story outline (this is literally Awakening to Chapter 13 andthen some), so this is absURDLY LONG (IT’S 3400+ WORDS). It’s like a story with no dialogue. Also spoilers for Sacred Stones andAwakening. If I get anything wrong from SS, I apologize; I haven’t played thegame, but I know how it ends.)

This all starts out after Southtown as Chrom and the othersare heading to Ylisstol. They pass by another plain and instead it being empty,there’s a body laying down near the tree. Chrom, finding it ironic, leads hisgroup to see who the mysterious person is this time. He’s immediately struckwith surprise.

There’s a green haired man lying down underneath a tree. Anintricately designed lance is laying nearby and the armor he wears is just asdesigned and well-kept. His soft aqua green hair sways against his forehead andhis lips are parted slightly, small breaths falling out. Lissa has to elbowChrom multiple times to get his attention.

The group resolves to bring the man with him for he’s toowell dressed to be a common thief and his lance is one none of them have everseen before. They strip him of his armor and Robin, the little sneak, says thatChrom should carry the man since Frederick no longer has room on his horse.Chrom doesn’t know if he should love his new tactician or hate his newtactician.

Good news, the man eventually wakes as the four of them chowon their bear meat. But upon waking up, the man grabs the closest blade he couldfind, grabs the closest person in reach, and points the blade at the person’sneck. The person in question is Chrom and the blade in question is Frederick’sSilver Lance. Needless to say, the camp dissolved into chaos and panic.

Once everything calmed down and the man was assured that no we’re not kidnappers we just saw youunconscious on the road and found it necessary to bring you to safety, theysat him down to introduced himself. He said his name was Ephraim and that wasall he knew. Well, that and that he could maneuver a lance’s blade likenobody’s business but that’s beside the point. Chrom (Robin and the otherscould see how smitten he was with this man he just met) introduces himself andthe other members of his party. Robin and Lissa greet him kindly whileFrederick looks ready to pounce on him. An uneasy truce is set up between themembers of the group as Ephraim decides to sleep away from them so he won’tbother them. Chrom is obviously saddened by this. Robin jabs him in the ribs.

The Risen come as a surprise to all of them and Ephraimproves his worth to them. With his lance—Siegmund, Ephraim tells him—he’s able to tear apart the zombieswith just a swing. Not only that, he was absurdly good on the battlefield,making it look like he was born to be in a fight. He’s quick and tactical,though also a tad bit impulsive since Chrom actually had to grab his collarbefore he ran into a group of Risen. With that. Chrom resolved to add Ephraimin their band of Shepherds and offers this to him, saying that he could stayfor as long as he wanted to. Ephraim agrees and Chrom’s heart can’t help butsing.

Ephraim is taken to by the Shepherds just as well as Robin is. He’spolite at first to everyone he meets, but he’s such a sucker for sparring, hegoads nearly everyone in the army to go at him at least once. He’s battled withalmost everyone in the army but doesn’t leave them hanging. He advises them ontheir techniques and what they could improve on. For anyone who uses a lance,he shows them his own techniques in case they want to apply them to themselves.Not only does he get along with the warriors of the army, he’s on good termswith the more reserved members. He indulges anyone he talks to and, while hesucks at conveying his emotions sometimes, he’s a supremely good listener.

Robin, the ever-observant tactician, can’t help but smile wheneverEphraim comes by the chat about strategy or with an offer to spar, but he knowsChrom would enjoy it much more. So, under everyone’s noses, he makes sure topair the two up as much as possible. During the fight against the Feroxi BorderGuard, he instructs Ephraim to look for Chrom as soon as possible. In thearena, he makes the two stand next to each other. When off to get Maribelleback from Gangrel, he doesn’t even have to tell Ephraim to go to Chrom when heneeds aid.

Due to Robin’s intervention, Chrom and Ephraim gradually getcloser. They’re seen talking to each other more in the barracks and Ephraimusually asks only Chrom for a quick clash or two now. They chat about moremenial things more often, wondering about each other’s likes, dislikes,interests, etc. The other Shepherds, picking up on Robin’s plan, silently cheerfor the two in the background. They could practically taste it in the airnow—they were falling in love!

But as Gangrel’s efforts to start another war began to increase,Chrom and Ephraim’s budding relationship had to be put on stasis. The attemptedassassination of Emmeryn was only proof of that. The Shepherds were all on edgeafter the ordeal, but there was something nagging Chrom about the girl who hadsaved him. Marth was an odd character, but had seen the future. She knew thatEmmeryn was going to be killed and did her best to save her. But there wassomething about her that was vaguely familiar. Was it Falchion that she held inher hand? Or was it Siegmund that she tried to hide behind her back?

Any remaining thoughts about Marth disappears from his mind once Emmerynis stolen away from him.

The Shepherds, not letting this deter Chrom and Ephraim’srelationship, push the two together as much as possible. Robin often letsEphraim deal with Chrom whenever he needs to vent, ignoring the spearman’sprotests. They progress through the mission, slowly opening up to each othereven more. Chrom can’t help but worry whenever Ephraim isn’t by his side andEphraim finds himself heading in the prince’s way without even realizing it.They’re drawn to each other like moths to a flame.

It was cute, Emmeryn sometimes thought. She was as knowledgeable asthe other Shepherds when it came to Chrom’s little crush on the aqua greenhaired man. She could see how close they were getting and how they just neededa little extra push. She smiles. Ephraim will be good for Chrom and they’lltake care of each other, even when she’ll no longer be there with him. Take good care of Chrom, Ephraim, shethinks before she falls.

Chrom is a mess after Emmeryn’s death. Everyone in the Shepherdsis. Even as they rally against the soldiers that Gangrel sent after they ran,there’s a distinct air of loss and crushing anguish around the group. Theyfight without care, with neither hide nor hare until Basilio breaks the mold,voing for revenge for Emmeryn’s death. However, as most of the Shepherds’sspirits lift, Chrom notices someone who was still grieving.

He walks into Ephraim’s tent to find the man curled up in a ball onhis makeshift bed. He’s clutching onto Siegmund tightly,staring at it unabashedly. Chrom, fearing the worst, hastily snatches theweapon and forces Ephraim to look him in the eyes. The man tells him that heremembers something. He remembers that he had a sister, a younger twin sisterby the name of Eirika. She looked just like him, just with bluer and longerhair. He remembers as he watched Emmeryn fall, seeing his sister near him,broken and bleeding profusely as a large demonic creature descended on her,attacking her. He remembers screaming her name before the memory whited out,leaving him with a hole in his heart. The next thing he knows, he’s pouring hisheart out to the lord in front of him.

He says how he’s afraid to lose Chrom. He always wondered about thelife he led before he lost his memories, about the friends and family he leftbehind. Now with the memory of Eirika’s bleeding form, he’s afraid that he’lllose those he cares about like he lost his sister. Was the pain he felt fromhis sister’s loss enough to kill himself? Was that why he was here, in anotherrealm with nothing to his name except the clothes on his back, his lance, and hisskills? Were the gods cursing him for his inability to protect his sister?Would they take him away from his new family as well? Would they take Chromaway from him, just when he admitted to himself how he felt?

Chrom, taking this all in stride, wanted to prove to Ephraim how hewouldn’t let himself be taken away. So, he cups his hands around Ephraim’s faceand brings their lips together.

After parting, he explains how he’ll always be at Ephraim’s side,no matter the circumstances. Even if he forgets again, even if they getseparated by the very gods themselves, he’ll find his way back to him no matterwhat. He wouldn’t ever be alone again. Not on Chrom’s watch.

The next day, Lissa and Robin find the two curled up in Ephraim’sbed, both with content smiles on their faces. Lissa silently whoops and Robinsighs, defeated. As they walked away from the tent, Robin pulls out severalgold coins from his pocket and hands them to Lissa, who gleefully races to theother Shepherds to collect their bets.

It’s after the fight against Gangrel does their relationship reallystart to pick up. With Chrom as the new Exalt, the need for an heir starts toget bothersome. The Council demands it so that the throne of Ylisse will besecure. Ephraim, now official assigned as Royal Consort, can’t bear childrenand neither can Chrom, so the Council decides there to be a surrogate. Robin,officially the halidom’s tactician, secretly applies for the help of Tharja andHenry. He knows that Chrom wants a child of both his and Ephraim’s blood, butknows how impossible it is. Luckily for him, they have two mages willing to gettheir hands a little dirty. So, after a little discussing with Tharja andHenry, looking in age old books, and creating a multitude of differentincantations, they’ve come up with a little something-something to make theimpossible possible.

Just snatch Ephraim here, knock him unconscious for a few minutes,cast the hex there, maybe a little aphrodisiac too to get the mood going, plophim in their bedroom, and wait for the results. Just to make sure they had theutmost privacy, a little soundproofing spell was casted on the walls in casethey got… noisy.

Nine months, several bouts of fainting, vomiting, screaming,squealing, and constant trips to the kitchen and bathroom later, Lucina wasborn to the Exalt and Royal Consort of Ylisse. She had inherited her father’shair and eye color, though in bright sunlight, her hair takes a greenish tinge.The Brand of the Exalt sits in her left eye, glimmering as she watches her fatherand her dad (no matter how much they insisted on it, Ephraim refused be calledmother by his daughter; he doesn’t care if he’s the one who gave birth to her,he will be called dad instead). Ofcourse, several weeks after Lucina’s birth, there’s unease coming from acrossthe sea.

(Chrom had insisted that Ephraim remain in the capital for Lucinawas still so young, but Ephraim did not allow it. He nearly whacked him overthe head with Siegmund for even thinking about the idea.)

With their daughter left with the wet nurses, the two royals andthe Shepherds departed for Regna Ferox and deal with the threat that came fromacross the sea. The Valmese are relentless in their quest to conquer andbattered the town of the invasion. Realizing they need help and with reluctancefrom Chrom, the group departs for Plegia for aid. Aid which they gladly gave.With enough ships for their army as well as a fully paid campaign, the tripmust have been too good to be true.

And it was, as Robin was mind tortured in front of Chrom’s eyes.Validar raced towards his friend, helping him up and finding out that he wasValidar’s son. Chrom reassured that being someone’s child didn’t make him anyless than who he is. Thanking him, the two were ready to withdraw for thenight, until, Frederick comes, bearing ill news.

The Risen came upon all of them and the Shepherds who came out tofight were hastily dressed. There was no time for formation as they all delvedinto the battle, slashing and stabbing at the Risen soldiers. Chrom couldn’t helpbut cringe as he was separated from Ephraim, but at least his husband was withthe axe swinging Lissa, ready to aid when needed. Together with Robin, theyraced for the lead Risen, who was perched on top of a bridge. As quick aspossible, the pair of lord and tactician slew the Risen, watching as the thingdissolved into black smoke. All at once, the other zombie monsters dissolved aswell. Chrom could almost hear all the sighs of relief from his army as hewatched the healers make their rounds on anyone who was injured. He had let hisguard down.

A shout of “Father!” met his ears as Marth swoops in, parrying ablow from the Risen assassin before it disappears. She looks relieved when theymeet eyes, but then, she realizes her mistake as her eyes widen.

The brand in her eye is obvious once he takes a closer look. Awayfrom all others, he sees Marth for what she truly is: Lucina, his daughter. Shebreaks down in front of him, hugging him as tight as she could as if she hadn’tseen her father in years. Her uniform, her sword, the lance on her back… oh,what life had she led? What had led her to have both Falchion and Siegmundunder her possession? Chrom smiles as Lucina giggles at the prospect of callinghim Father. She grew up to be a strong girl, that’s for sure.

Father and daughter hear footsteps come from nearby and they bothlook to see Ephraim, Robin, and Lissa approaching, Ephraim leading them.Ephraim walks up to them, mildly suspicious of the girl. Robin and Lissa hangback, uncertain. The aqua green haired man demands to know what’s going on, aswith a situation like this are rumors born and Chrom happily obliges. Lucinaventures to her dad as the man is in disbelief, as are the pair standing behindthem. She shows him the brand in her eye, which Ephraim remarks to be the samein his daughter’s eye. She tells them that the Lucina in the castle isperfectly fine and that she hails from a time distant from now.

In her time, Ylisse was ravaged by the resurrection of the FellDragon, Grima. Whole cities were destroyed, millions perished, and Lucinawatched with her own eyes the fall of her father, of her dad, of all theShepherds she had grown to love. She gestures to her Falchion on her hip, thelast gift from her father and from behind her back, she pulls out Siegmund, thelast gift from her dad. Chrom insists that Lucina truly is their daughter fromall her proof. But, Ephraim wants to know one more thing before he believesher.

He asks her of the origins of her middle name.

He and Chrom had resolved to keep her middle name as somethingbetween themselves, never making it known to the public. All of the Shepherdsknew her middle name but didn’t know where it came from. They both decided thatthey would tell Lucina who she was named after when she grew older.

Lucina smiles and says that she was named after her dad’s twinsister, Eirika.

Lucina finds herself in her dad’s tight embrace and she can’t helpbut sob. She buries her head into his shoulder and clutches him tightly. Hownice it was to hear her dad’s voice again, cooing at her as he stroked herhair. From behind her, Chrom wraps his arms around his family and kisses hisdaughter’s and his husband’s heads. Lucina laughs wetly between them. She’sfinally back with them. She’s finally home.

(After that, the story progresses just as it would, with addedbonuses.

Having never learned how to use a lance, Ephraim takes it uponhimself to show his daughter the ways to wield a lance and eventually, ParallelSiegmund. Thus, she’s able to use both her parents’ weapons when she promotes.

Upon meeting Owain and him freaking out about “SACRED STONES”,there’s a little pull in Ephraim’s mind but that’s all.

The Outrealm Gate is revealed and is put to use. Anna pulls Chromand Ephraim away one day and tells them that the gate might lead them toEphraim’s true home, but she’s not 100% certain. They take the chance away andwith loads of magical power, a small group of Shepherds find themselvesstanding before a rejuvenated Renais. Anna advises them that they only have afew days before they’ll be kicked back to Ylisse, so use their time wisely. AtRenais, the group find out that it’s been several years since the end of a warand prince Ephraim’s disappearance. Because the prince was no longer there, theprincess took his place and became the queen who led Grado and Renais back tostability. The entire group is surprised that Ephraim is a prince of allthings, but all Ephraim wants to see is his sister.

Slowly, the memories begin the flood back, first with familiarfaces. Seth, Forde, Franz, Innes, Tana, L’arachel, friends of old began to comeback to him. In order to hide Ephraim’s identity, Chrom forces the man to weara cloak to not draw any suspicion from anyone else and he asks for an audiencewith the queen. Surprisingly, they were let through to see the Queen of Renaisherself, Ephraim’s twin sister, and technically Chrom’s sister-in-law, Eirika.She is kind and warm hearted to them even though they were strangers. She askswhat their business was with her and, at the sound of his sister’s voice,Ephraim breaks down into tears.

Chrom hastily reaches out for the man and pulls him in as Lucinaworriedly pitters around her dad. Eirika looks worried as well, descending fromher throne towards the crying man in the cloak. Ephraim pushes himself awayfrom his husband, reaches up, and pulls down his hood.

Eirika gasps before she launches herself at her long lost brother,crying. They grasp at each other, clutching the other as tight as they could astears pour from their eyes. They’re babbling nonsense to each other, butthey’re both smiling. Chrom looks around to see the other guards in completeshock. One in particular, a red haired man, approaches them with uncertainty.Ephraim and Eirika separates and Ephraim greets his old friend with a smile.Needless to say, even the perceived cold man was driven to tears at the sightof an old friend.

The days pass slowly as Ephraim reacquaints himself with those ofhis older life. He tells them he’s a married man now and introduces Chrom. Theamount of death threats Chrom gets is absurd. Ephraim then tells them that healso has a daughter and introduces Lucina. The girl ends up getting coddled byher aunt the entire time she’s there.

Eventually, the days they can stay are used up. Anna says that theycan come by again, but only after every six months. They all agree and theYlisseans are ready to leave for home, but Eirika looks reluctant to letEphraim go. She just got her brother back and the next time she was going tosee him was going to be six months from now. Call her selfish, but she missedher brother for a number of years. Thus, she and Chrom make a deal: after theirwar against Grima, Ephraim would return to Renais for as long as he wants to.He could stay there for six months or indefinitely; it was his choice. Withthat, the Shepherds all return home to Ylisse with a battle to be won.)

Well, that’s all I guess! THIS WAS ABSURDLY FUN TO WRITE HA HA HA.