#and then you get to my au which is meant to come after and evelyn very clearly distains philip

[jess-the-vampire]

In the Evelyn lives alt au I'm not sure who has it worse. Evelyn when she realizes she and Caleb are moving in with her brother in law, who she has a VERY complicated relationship with.

Or Philip when he realizes that Caleb and Evelyn are just as lovey dovey towards each other as they were 400 years ago, and now they're living in his house.

They have such a funny dynamic honestly

Evelyn would probably make their couple interactions even louder and more annoying just to irritate her brother in law tbh

[chameshida]

Your idea of a LN musical is great! It inspired me and now I’ve got some ideas for the little nightmares musical au/concept you were talking about .

Like I have some ideas for the types of songs Mono and The thin man could sing and I think Six would mostly hum her music box song (maybe before/during the first time she meets Mono) and she would probably accompany/sing along with some of Mono’s songs as they become friends, while the Thin man could sing the opening of the musical with songs similar to “Into the unknown”. “Lullaby in frog land” and “wayward souls” from Over the garden wall.

I imagine Thin man’s songs would get transmitted mostly by and through the TVs and initially his songs would have a very comforting, warm and alluring tone to them at least till the Thin man gets Mono to free him and takes Six, then when he starts chasing Mono then The thin man could sing a more villain-like and/or sinister song until Mono is able to defeats him (something similar to “wayward souls”) and because the mechanic of the game has us/Mono copy the Thin man’s movements during his fight maybe in the musical they could have Mono need to echo/recite the song The thin man is singing for him to be able to defeat him/until he is able to defeat him.

Now with Six I don’t personally think she should get a villain song, I imagine she wouldn’t sing that much on her own except as a support or accompaniment of Mono’s songs who would mostly take the Lead till the end of the musical. Although I’d like to imagine she would be the one to initiate the song they sing when they both meet for the very first time.

Maybe Mono would try to sing a song similar to the one they sang when they first met after rescuing Six from the city tower (maybe about how glad he is that she is Ok and that now everything will get back to normal) yet Six does not follow his song’s lead this time and/or doesn’t respond nor echoes his melody, she would only do that when they are about to reach the exit when she turns back to catch Mono’s hand just like she does the game, then she stops singing and then the betrayal happens and that’s when Six starts humming (just the melody) of her music box once again.

Mono could sing a lament song about the loss of his friend maybe regretting and thinking it was somehow his fault and wondering what he did wrong, then the melody could start taking a darker tone and start sounding like the “villain song” or the “Intro” of the Thin man, till Mono starts to grow up into the Thin man and the last song he sings could be something like “Into the unknown” finishing the song that was featured at the start of the musical to show that all this time they were either the same person and that the story is repeating or that Mono was always meant to take The thin man’s mantle (just like in the game)

If dreams can't come true, then why not pretend?

Oh how the gentle wind

Beckons through the leaves

As autumn colors fall

Dancing in a swirl

Of golden memories

The loveliest lies of all

The loveliest lies of all

I can imagine the musical playing with concepts of the TVs, old nostalgic memories and with the music as a form of escapism, by illustrating how the melodies/songs have a great power behind them which are able to affect the people surrounding them, just like in the game in which the TVs and the programs/music were able to hypnotize the viewers.

And because many theorize that the game is a loop, I think the musical could play with this concept by starting the musical with a song similar to “into the unknown” from over the garden wall and then at the end of the musical they could close it by having the intro being completed and/or repeated.

This concept was done with musical of Hadestown in which the story in universe is said to be a very old song/story which is being implied to be sang/repeated over and over with the last notes of the musical being the intro implying it’s gonna start/going to be sung over again.

I really want to try to develop this concept. (It seems great and I like it a lot!) it also seems fun to try to interpret a mostly silent game through other medium.

From my LN musical post

Oh wow that's the long one! It gets me really happy when I get long response like these for my ideas! Sorry it took me a while before I response

Yeah! LN (2 especially) did really remind me of OTGW too!

Having Thin man sing the opening song is the interesting idea, something I haven't considered. It works well if you want the musical to be the perfect loop. Although if it's to capture the OTGW feels of it I also feel like the Eyes would be the good candidate. Regardless, whoever singing the opening number is going to give off the very difference feels. I also kinda still want the kids singing. Maybe like Beauty and the Beast it can happening all at once, The town folks(Kid, establishing the universe) Belle (Mono, I want song) Gaston (Thin man, Villain song)...not as in having the eye/thinman singing like Gaston but as in part of their song being feature in the opening number. Maybe they could be the one to start, the kids being the chorus, Mono juxposition the mood.

I agree that Six wouldn't sing a lot or have her stand alone song in any of the LN2 duration. I can even imagine her voice to not like...how should I put it,...doesn't sound like a singer. She'd only sing along with Mono and it mostly sound more like a talk than a singing (at least at the start. She will get more into it as the story progress) so when she does eventually have her own stand alone song it feels special and people'd grew on her voice. As for the humming, I'd have her hum the same way in game with the scene she's only shown humming in(with exception for the last scene) as in it's isn't really the add in musical element as it is just happen organicly....FOR THE SEQUEL/LN1 however. Imagine if her song has that humming we're so familar as part of it.

(I also should clarify for my original post that Six doesn't have the villain song. at least not in LN2 and even if it's for LN1 it's still arguable if it counts as villain song since she’s the main protagonist in that one. Her last song (or her I want song as I put it) is still being sung together with Mono. I don’t know what’s the musical term for it but it’s kinda like they’re screaming on top of each other until eventually Six’s winning. Kinda like for the first time in forever reprise or Evelyn Evelyn. In this musical version Six would be explicite about the reason of why she drops Mono, a major changes in adaptation)

There are some scene I wasn't sure about like how the musical element is incoperate into the scene I wasn't sure if it should be musical , like when Six and Mono first met. I think for my version I'd like to keep it as it is with them not singing like how it happens in game but the imaginary of Mono bursting into Song at hopes of finding friend then get shove aside by Six is pretty funny to me. I think most of my song, with some exception like the letting go scene all happening in the period that can be extend/expane upon or has extra scene to it like Mono and Six first together song wbeing sing on the raft. Thin man and Mono song though I wasn't sure myself. I think they should have a sing off or song together like you mention but will it happening as Mono is killing Thin man or seperately I wasn't sure. (They could sing right before they fight maybe but the fight itself is mostly action)

(For me the song that most similar to Like ship happens similary to Like ship; the love song happens in the middle of the story)

Oh  and now that you point it out For some reason in my version I completely forgot that Mono turned into the Thin man--I mean I didn’t forget that he is thin man but my version it just end without showing him turning into Thin man XD. Maybe that’s why I haven’t consider having him singing the opening number. If we follow the game and keep the scene and play fully into the concept of the loop then yeah your idea is really spot on. I think for mine since it end with him as the kid, the song is only hint in similarity of thin man without the song fully turn into his song. and the concept of loop is more of the musical element of First song and last song being the same song more than he play of actual loop.

But we do have similar idea of having the repeat song even if it happens differently XD Mono singing to Monster Six call back to their early song and Six song as she letting go is the twisted version of that same song too...Mono last song call back to his first song etc.

But yeah our version could be seperate and totally different! That’d be fun to have various intrepetation of how the musical would turn out to be. Mine is very disney-esque  and steven universe-y lightheart compare to the original material but yours would be closer to that and Over the garden wall. One thing to keep in mind though is that Animated (movie? series?) with musical element in it and Musical theather is also a very different meduim and my idea is made with animated musical in mind since why I do still want a lot of scene without song in it. If it’s for musical theather then I can totally see Six and Mono sing as they meet or Mono and Thin man sing as they fight. Mybe your idea and my idea will be like the total different version/take on this

You (and anyone else who’d interest) are allow to play and tinker with this concept however you like! I’d love to see it!

[laraslandlockedblues]

In the Chantry

Last share of old smut comes from Moments Passed, Ch. 8, which was my AU where Cullen went to Ostwick first instead of Kirkwall, where he met a young mage named Evelyn. Just as with the Eye of the Storm share, I admittedly did edit this before posting here to better reflect my growth as a writer (and to remove how many sentences began with “he” or “she”). Content is otherwise unchanged.

This is for Smutty Slutty Weekend, so check out the rating explanation before proceeding. Under a read more for length and content <3

Summary: Cullen finds Evelyn praying in the Chantry once more, but this time the soft way she says “I love you” breaks his resolve.

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford/Evelyn Trevelyan, Templar!Cullen/Female Mage (M/F)

Words:

Content Warning: Explicit for sexual content, including: loss of virginity (for both parties), wall sex, established relationship, secret romance, risk of getting caught, first times, porn with feelings and declarations of love

~~

He was distracted from his thoughts by a sound from the Chantry, and frowned as he approached. His heart sped a little, thinking he knew who it might be. For a long moment he considered not walking through the door, considered not seeking her out. 

Instead he continued forward like a man possessed, unable to resist. 

He was curious why she was out, but if he had to be honest with himself – he was secretly thrilled that she was.

“Evelyn, what are you doing?” Cullen asked as he approached where she knelt before the statue.

She looked up at him sheepishly. “I hoped maybe I could sneak in here before you caught me…I wanted to pray in the Chantry, for once, instead of my bed,” she confessed.

His brows furrowed. “What prayers brought you out after curfew again?”

Evelyn sighed and looked back at the statue of Andraste. “I was praying for the Maker’s favor, that – that we can stay together. That maybe no one will ever…”

As she trailed off he stared down at her, unsure of what to say. He often prayed similarly, hoping against the odds that their romance wouldn’t go the same way the tragedies that lined the library shelves always did.

“You should get back, Evelyn, it’s cold.” He tried to avoid the sight of her pert nipples under the thin material of her shift, but his eyes kept lowering to that view despite himself. It was difficult not to remember that only an hour or two before he had been holding one in his hand, caressing it to his heart’s content, and he cleared his throat.

She merely raised her gaze to his and stared at him for a moment, as if considering something. After several moments passed she stood with a sigh and took a few steps toward him.

“All right, I’ll go back. May I have a kiss before I go, Cullen?” she asked sweetly, smiling up at him.

With a crooked grin he leaned forward immediately to oblige. He pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, but after several moments he twisted his mouth to deepen their embrace.

She moaned lightly, her arms wrapping around his neck, and they swayed together. With several steps toward the wall beside them, he slowly guided her back against it. He had only meant for it to be a brief kiss, but he was overwhelmed by the memory of their earlier declarations, of the sound of her voice saying –

“I love you, Cullen,” Evelyn murmured against his lips, and he stared down at her.

He was lost.

Cullen fumbled with his gloves for a moment, trying to pull his gauntlets off. He wanted to feel her skin, he wanted to hold her cheeks, to caress her.

When he dropped his gloves beside them the clatter they made echoed through the still air. He had wanted to touch her face but his hands instead brushed over her shoulders, and he slipped the thin straps of her shift off her shoulders until her chest was bared.

“Evelyn,” he moaned when he saw her full breasts finally exposed to him. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She bit her lip and leaned her head back against the wall as he began to caress her with his rough hands. Her skin was cool to the touch, and a faint blush was spreading across her chest and up her neck. Cullen palmed her breasts and lightly pinched her nipples, trying to steady his overeager nerves. He’d never touched anyone so intimately, and he swallowed hard before he leaned forward to kiss her again.

Her fingers were running through the hair at the nape of his neck, her nails lightly dragging along his scalp as she gasped and moaned against his lips.

“Cullen – I want you, I want this. I love you,” she whispered breathlessly. “Please, love – please. Please.”

For a long moment he stared down into her face, his eyes boring into hers as his mind churned. He wanted her, too. 

He wanted this more than anything.

“I love you, Evelyn,” he murmured, and like a man possessed he reached down to her thighs and began to slide her shift up over her hips.

She sucked a sharp breath in and her eyelashes fluttered as he slid his fingers into her smallclothes. His heart was racing, the blood pounding in his ears as it raced through his veins. He pressed gentle kisses to her lips and her neck as he clumsily slid his fingers along her slit, finding heat and wetness between her lips. 

The urge to blush at his inexperience seized him, and he would have if he hadn’t also known she was just as untouched as he was. He vaguely knew what to look for, and he felt certain he had found it when he heard her breath catch in her throat.

“Yes, Cullen,” she breathed, her fingers twisting tighter in his hair.

For a few moments he simply touched her, watching her response and trying to still his mind. When she let out a soft whimper he felt himself throb in his breeches and finally removed his fingers from her. She glanced up at him, confused for a moment until he pushed her smallclothes down. Eagerly she shifted her legs and let the fabric fall, stepping out of it to leave at her feet on the floor.

He fumbled next with the sash that draped his hips, pushing it aside so he could reach the laces of his breeches. Hurriedly he undid them and freed himself, but he paused when he heard her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him.

“Evelyn, are you sure —” he asked, suddenly concerned.

“Yes,” she whispered, trying to pull him down to her once more.

He crushed his lips against hers, the kiss turning sloppy as he tried to reassure her. With a hand he reached down to grab one of her thighs, pulling it to the side and wrapping it around his hips. His sudden impatience seemed matched by hers as she clung to him in an attempt to steady herself against the wall. Neither of them took the time to consider moving or lying down, and he lifted her with his powerful hands until he could reach her entrance.

Cullen hesitated for only a moment before he slowly pushed himself into her tight, wet opening, easing himself past the resistance he encountered. She inhaled sharply and he stared into her face to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were closed and she was biting her lip, but the corners of her mouth were twitching like she wanted to smile. Once he had pushed as deep as he could, she moaned and finally opened her eyes to look up at him.

He stayed still, taking deep breaths to get his mind back in hand. Closing his eyes for a moment so he couldn’t see her naked breasts, he did his best not to lose himself too soon. When he felt confident he could continue, he slowly started jerking his hips, moving at a slow pace to ease them both into the new feeling.

Evelyn was moaning softly, little cries escaping her lips each time he thrust into her. She gripped his armored shoulders more tightly, clinging desperately to him as he held her against the wall and moved within her. Again and again whimpers were pulled from her, until she was gasping his name and uttering desperate pleas to the Maker. He watched in awe as she began to tremble and hastily pressed his mouth to hers, hiding how she sobbed his name more loudly as she came undone.

Cullen gasped as he felt her clench around him, experiencing a sudden tingling and throbbing around him as she tried to roll her hips against his in response. It was too much, the feeling overwhelming him with pleasure. He pulled away from her with a groan as he spilled his release, coating her thighs in a hot, sticky mess.

They were breathing heavily, gasping for air and trying to steady themselves. He rested his forehead against hers, feeling like his world was spinning.

The realization of what he had just done hit him, and he was overcome with a mixture of emotions.

He had taken her.

He had taken her in the Chantry, when he was supposed to be patrolling the halls.

But she had enjoyed it, and Maker forgive him, so had he. He felt as though he had found heaven.

“Evelyn,” he murmured after a long moment. “Love, are you all right?”

She gave a small, breathless giggle. “Yes,” she whispered. “Are you?”

He looked at her with a crooked grin. “I’m better than all right.”

She furrowed her brows a little and her eyes wandered over his face. “You don’t regret it?”

Cullen shook his head. “I could never regret you.”

[thran-duils]

Watch Me Burn (P.6)

Title: Watch Me Burn (Part Six) Summary: Fem!Reader x AU!Cas. Fem!Reader x AU!Sam. This fic was inspired by both parts of “Love the Way You Lie” by Eminem & Rihanna. Castiel and the reader are toxic for each other and keep falling back together until the reader moved away. It’s been years and now she is back home, waltzing back into Castiel’s life. She is determined to do better this time, to make them work, but outside forces as well as the scars the two have left on each other weave their way into their reconciliation. Will they be able to overcome the past and new threats to their sustainability? Words: 2,111 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Extreme angst, domestic violence, smut, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM trust breaking, fluff, language, alcohol abuse, !!! eventual !!! happiness Author’s Note: Italics are the past!

Chap 5 || Chap 7 || Fanfic masterpost || Masterpost (mobile)

You managed to drive yourself, claiming you had to make a few stops on the way back to the office after lunch. Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Tara had carpooled together and were already seated when you arrived. The only chair open was fortunately by Charlie but unfortunately across from Sam. The double decker sandwich looked good and you could take it home for dinner. But having Sam staring at you across the table… you ordered a salad. You did not miss the quick uptick on his lips, satisfied by your choice. You felt shame clawing away at you inside for succumbing to his shadow. Focusing on the conversation happening around the table and pretending to be okay was proving hard.

“Today’s a good day. I am so excited you’re here,” Dean said slapping Sam on the back. He looked beside himself.

“Likewise, man,” Sam said in turn.

“And Dean did get himself out of a ticket this morning apparently. He’s having a great day,” Tara jested.

Sam laughed asking Dean what she meant. And Dean explained he had talked his way out of a speeding ticket; that was no surprise, he was suave.

“And I got an extra cookie at the coffee shop by accident!” Charlie piped up, looking pleased with herself. She took a long drink of her milkshake before offering you the straw. You laughed, waving her off, gesturing at your water. “Party pooper.”

Dean pointed at you and you sat up straighter, “And Y/N is having a good day too. Getting flowers.”

“Aw, did Cas send you flowers?” Charlie exclaimed teasingly. She was only poking fun and normally that would be okay, but Sam’s gaze was burning into you. Charlie did not know better, how could she? You had not told her the specifics of your time at Austin, specifically who you had had the relationships with.

Tara cocked her head in curiosity. “Cas?”

“Her man,” Charlie informed her, and you wanted to melt into the ground.

“You move fast,” Dean chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. He was giving you a knowing look before shooting a quick one at Sam. He brought his glass to his lips, taking a drink, looking amused.

Him and Sam must be closer than you initially thought. There was no mistaking he knew about you and Sam with the way he was acting.

Stumbling, you opened your mouth to say something, but you were having trouble gathering yourself. For better or worse, Charlie was having no problem.

“Oh, he’s not new, don’t worry. Y/N isn’t foolish,” Charlie told Dean, coming to your defense.

“No, no. We’ve known each other for years, actually,” you said, finally finding a steady voice.

Sam’s nose twitched as he cleared his throat. The food came interrupting the conversation for a few moments, giving you time to breath. But not for long.

“He’s got a bar,” Charlie intoned, digging into her fries. “Real good bar food too.”

“Is that so?” Sam asked, looking at you pointedly. You nodded, faking a small smile.

“It’s a dive bar,” you explained and then wondered why you felt you needed to downplay Castiel’s place. Who cares if it was a dive or a high-end bar? It was his and it was special to you.

Scoffing loudly, Charlie said, “It’s a hell of a lot of fun is what it is. Heyyy!” She clapped her hands and you already saw the words forming. Your stomach tightened, wanting to slap your hand over her mouth. “Since we are supposed to be going out next week, maybe instead of that other place, we could go to Cas’ place! That would be cool. The drinks aren’t badly priced and I am honestly sick of sushi restaurants. Evelyn can eat it – sorry, Tara – because she’s gotten to choose the last couple places!”

There were murmurs of agreements around the table, as well as chuckles shared at Charlie’s expense of her lack of a filter.

“Yeah, maybe. It’d be nice to see where you set your roots down, Y/N. You’re missed in Austin,” Sam commented, taking a sip of his water.

You were sure you were.

Shrugging, smiling around the table, you said, “I am sure Cas won’t complain about the business.”

“Of course not, I’ll be there,” Charlie chirped, drawing another chorus of laughs.

<> <> <>

It had taken everything in you for the rest of the day to keep yourself together knowing Sam was so close. You tensed every time someone knocked on your door, let alone walked by. He had not popped in after lunch, much to your relief. But still, you had spent all afternoon waiting for him to appear in front of your desk, peering down at you, making you feel small.

That first time when he had ignored the rules should have been the moment you walked away. But you had not; you had let him make it up to you. And he did.

Until it happened again. And he told you he would make it up to once more.

He had managed to begin wedging himself into your life outside the bedroom. He talked you up at parties, told people you were planning on going for more education – something you had flippantly mentioned and he latched onto it, insisting that that was the right path for you. Whispers fell on you as he passed about your outfit, encouraging you to wear more dresses because that was more suitable, and it was pleasing to him to see you walk by. Whispers about how many calories were in the tenders and fries you had ordered along with a few others from a local restaurant for lunch.

Sam talked about you coming back after school and taking a leadership position. He talked about your future, like he was in charge of shaping it himself. There was no mistake he was plotting to get you firmly in his clutches, mold you into the perfect little wife for himself.

Educated, pretty, and good in the bedroom.

As soon as you had heard about the opening back home, you had jumped on the opportunity. You had asked Jerry to keep it under wraps that you had applied, praying he had no idea about the relationship between you and Sam. When he agreed, you assumed he had not, and you had been relieved. Seeing the look on Sam’s face when you were clearing out your office was worth it. He had cornered you and you told him with more bravery than you thought you possessed that the other office had a better position, and you were leaving that night. You had planned it out to be able to escape from the city, so he did not have an opportunity to try to persuade you to stay by showing up at your place.

He could not cause a scene in the office and you were able to slip out the door and away.

If only he had just stayed in Austin.

<> <> <>

You slapped a twenty on the counter in front of Castiel, plopping into the bar stool. “Double. Please.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Castiel leaned forward, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

Shrugging, you said, “Nothing. I just need a stiff one. Quickly.”

He studied you for a few moments before taking the twenty and moving back hesitantly. He fetched you the drink and you exchanged a hello with a regular that passed by. You had gone home, thrown your bag on the couch and come downstairs immediately to the bar still in your work attire. There was no wonder why Castiel seemed confused and concerned about your demeanor.

When he placed it in front of you, you gave a quick, ‘Cheers’ before downing half the drink. When you came up for air, you exhaled deeply, closing your eyes, feeling the drink move down.

Opening your eyes again, you saw Castiel down the bar topping off the other patron’s drinks before whispering something to the cook, Raphael, who had come out. Raphael nodded at him and Castiel came back towards you.

“Come on for a minute,” Castiel said, beckoning you with two fingers. You opened your mouth to protest, but he said, “Bring your drink if you need to. To the back.”

Reluctantly, you followed him, drink in hand.

He led you to the back room and closed the door behind the pair of you. He turned on his heel and asked, “Alright. Cut the shit. What’s wrong?” You again opened your mouth, but he held up his hand. “And don’t feed me bullshit, Y/N. Be honest.”

Castiel was not going to let it go until you told him. Maybe it was just better to get it off your chest now rather than hold it in. You did promise yourself you were going to do better by the two of you this time around and keeping something like this from him was not going to serve you well in the long run.

You wet your lips. “Do… do you remember that guy I told you about?”

Castiel looked confused for a moment. “Which…?”

“The one who… who didn’t, you know, listen to me? With the safe words?”

It was hard to get it out.

Realization dawned on Castiel’s face. He straightened up, staring you down. “Yes. Why?”

“He’s here!” you blurted, your hands shaking, holding tightly to your glass. Castiel cocked his head, his forehead creasing. “He moved here. To the office, I mean.”

“Wait, what?” Castiel asked, stepping closer.

“He’s working on a project here.”

“He was an ex coworker?”

“Yes. One of the junior partners. One of my superiors.”

Castiel looked in disbelief for a moment before he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Christ, Y/N. Really?”

Defending yourself, you snapped, “I didn’t ask him to come here!”

“No—That’s not it,” Castiel sighed, running his hand through his hair. “You don’t get involved with coworkers. Especially your bosses!”

“You are really going to chastise me right now?”

“Fuck. No. I’m sorry. Just…” Castiel trailed off, hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

You took the silence as an opportunity to take another long gulp off your drink.

“How long is he gonna be there?” Castiel asked after a few moments.

“I’m not sure,” you told him honestly. “Projects vary. This one is a big one. He is thankfully working more so with Dean and not just me directly.” You took another drink. “But they wanna come here. To the bar.” Castiel looked at you expectantly and you explained, “Well, Charlie – and she didn’t mean to because she has no idea what happened, believe me – suggested everyone come here sometime after work. And Tara agreed. And of course Sam did because he knows about you now and he is gonna wanna–”

“Sam?”

“That’s his name.”

“You hadn’t said it yet. And what is exactly gonna wanna do?”

Throwing your hand out at him, you said, “To see you. Size you up.” Castiel cocked an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “You know how people are when they wanna see their competition.”

Castiel closed the space between the two of you and he asked seriously, “Am I competition?”

Realizing how that must have sounded, you quickly said, “Of course not! I left Austin for a reason.” Castiel did not look convinced and you grasped his hand tightly. “Seriously. I almost threw up when I saw him. And not in a good way! No excitement there. Just… dread, I guess.”

He was quiet for a few moments before saying firmly, “You should tell your boss.” You started to shake your head and he cut in roughly, “Why? Why would you not if you are not feeling safe?”

The absolute last thing you wanted to do was rehash anything that happened with Sam with anyone else other than Castiel. Not right now or maybe ever. Who would believe you in that company anyway? Sam was a golden boy, loved by everyone and a superstar at his work. Trying to talk to someone, especially your boss, about what had happened could cost you your job.

“I don’t want to,” you said thickly, tears forming. “I don’t wanna talk to anyone else about it. I just… wanna forget it.”

“You can’t.”

“I know. But I want to try to. He’ll be gone soon enough and…” you exhaled shakily, squeezing Castiel’s hand once more and he returned the gesture. “I can get back to normal after that.”

Nodding knowingly, Castiel enveloped you to him, holding you close.

“I’ll kick his ass if he tries anything,” He told you quietly.

You laughed, letting out some tension. “I know. I know you would, Cas.”

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas

[nadisabug]

First Meetings

Prompt: kinda based off a little idea I had

Fandom: Daredevil

Pairing: Ben Poindexter x female OC

AU: No Fisk (aka not in the show's plot line/universe so spoiler free!)

Warnings: cursing

A/N: I tried to write this in an “x reader” format, but I do not have much experience writing in second person (I am more of a third person kind of gal) so I quick drew up an OC for this. If anyone wants an reader insert or actually wants their own OC in a fic, just let me know in my inbox! I can definitely do either (I need to practice second person at some point). Thank and enjoy!

****

Kira was getting ready for her morning walk with her dog when her phone began to ring. She was currently trying to wrestle Liam in his harness, but the mutt lab was too excited over the prospect of an outing to calm down. She sighed, dropping the harness, and turned to see who it was. If it was another one of those spam calls, she swore she was going to toss her phone out of the building. 

Luckily, it wasn't. It was Evelyn, her best friend, which was weird since she was never up this early unless she had a shift, but Kira swore she was off today.

"Hey Evie," she greeted her best friend warmly before setting the phone down on the kitchen counter on speaker. "You're up early."

"Yeah, Clay woke me up on his way to work. Lame, but I thought I could catch you before you head in to the office."

"Oh yeah," she nodded as she reached down to grab the harness again. "I'm not in until nine, so I am taking Liam on a walk." Eve was referring to her job where she worked as a therapist. It was a government job, so she wasn't paid too well, but she got to help a lot of people in need and that is all that really mattered. She got a good mix of clients, from hyperactive children to adult addicts, so no day was ever the same. She had a few regulars though, one of which she was supposed to see today at one. She was on the schedule for new patients until then today.

"Aw, okay I'll make this quick then. I will pick you up after my shift ends at seven. Be dressed nice. Kay?"

"That is a solid no from me. Evelyn, you know I do not want to go on another blind date. The last one turned out so bad!" Kira turned to Liam and told him to sit. The mutt barked and ran off into her bedroom. Kira sighed and gave up on the harness for the time being.

"Oh, come on Kiki. It wasn't that bad," Eve groaned. "And the worst part wasn't even your fault."

Eve had somehow managed to convince her to go to some crazy fancy restaurant to go on a double date with Eve's boyfriend and one of his coworkers. Early into the night, Kira managed to knock a wineglass into her date's lap and then later the waiter accidentally lost their grip on the platter and dumped all of the food onto her date. While the second part definitely was not her fault -the waiter had said something hit their had and made them lose their grip or something- she still felt awful about the wineglass part. The worst part was she didn't remember touching the glass, or feeling the impact that caused it to tip over.

"Eve, I still feel bad about drenching the poor guy."

"Kira, like a little wine mattered once our dinner was all over him. Besides, dinner was free and he gets to go again without the klutz of the century, on the house."

"Eve," Kira groaned.

"It's a different guy who has no idea about your last stunt. There is no reason not to, unless you have finally asked out Mr. Benjamin Poindexter, which would be the only way I would let you out."

Kira was glad  that Eve was not there to see her, because her face instantly flushed. Needing a moment to collect herself, she picked up the harness again and called over Liam, pretending to be too preoccupied to answer. Once she felt like the charade had gone on long enough, she finally bit out a tired response. "Uh, and if I say I have?"

"I would call you a liar and a stalker because your dumb ass hasn't said a single word to him. Ever."

Eve technically wasn't wrong. About the talking to Ben part; she never had actually spoken to which honestly was the only abnormality she would admit to. She was used to the tight knit community back home, so the curt nods they shared seemed odd to her at first. Then again, this was Hell's Kitchen. It wasn't like Ben had something against her, it was just normal here for people to ignore each other. So again, it wasn't like it was her fault that she had never spoken to her next door neighbor, that was just the norm here.

But Eve was wrong about the stalker part. Kiara McKinley was not stalking Benjamin Poindexter. She just had a healthy interest in her impossibly attractive next door neighbor. How could she not? With a jawline that could cut glass and a body that rivaled most others, no one could blame her for staring every once in a while, and it wasn't her fault that she just happened to see him relatively often. He would go on a run when she normally walked Liam, he just so happened to go to the same restaurants and coffee shop where Eve worked, and they had almost identical work schedules. Besides, they were neighbors. Of course they would see each other often. Those parts she explained away easily. However, Eve gave her grief about them when Kira learned the problematic man's name.

"I am not a stalker." Liam seemed to sense her attitude and came to a rest at her feet. She quickly slipped the harness under him while he gave her the chance.

"You committed mail fraud to learn his name!"

"I did not! The mail man just mixed our doors up and I gave it back to him! We are neighbors, it's bound to happen." A simple mistake from an over worked postal worker was the proverbial nail in the coffin for Kiara. After she began referring to Ben by name, Eve would not let it drop. That and the fact that she knew he worked at the FBI, also something that also not her fault. He came home in a uniform that had the bold letters plastered across it, it didn't take a genius to guess his occupation.

"Likely story. Just how you seem to see him everywhere and just happen to know where he works." There is was. Kira sighed. "Likely story, but makes more sense if you are totally following him everywhere he goes." Her tone was light, and they both knew she was joking. Besides, stalkers were so uncommon, weren't they?

"This is all besides the point Eve. I am not going." Kira finally managed to get a hold of Liam's leash and made her way to the door, picking up her keys on the way out.

"Well, I wouldn't have to set you up like this if you would just ask your victim out."

"He is not a victim, let alone my victim," Kira groaned and threw open the door. She locked it quickly behind her, fumbling with the keys. "For the last time, I am not stalking Ben!" Because of her frustration, she dropped her keys onto the ground, which was an opening Koda did not hesitate to take. He darted away, the leash slipping through Kira's fingers. Kira cursed and hung up on Eve. She could explain later, she had to catch Liam first.

But when she turned to go after him, she saw that there was no need to rush in the first place. Liam was not making a beeline for the stairwell, he had his paws on the shoulder's of  man, happily trying to lick his face. Once Kira processed who the man was, she nearly died on the spot.

"I am so, so sorry," she quickly sputtered, rushing over to grab Liam. "Liam, down boy, down!" She went to grab the leash when she realized that she didn't have to. It was already in Ben's hand.

"No worries," Ben laughed, nervous twinge to his voice, handing the leash over to her. Once his hands were free, he scratched Liam behind the ears with a heart melting grin. Kira was so fucked.

Kira laughed nervously and shifted her weight back and forth on her feet. "Sorry," she repeated for the second time. "He's a really friendly guy. It feels like he wants to go home with everyone except for me sometimes, the way he acts around strangers."

Kira thought that Ben frowned at the last part, but his smile was back before she could really be sure. "I don't know why he'd wanna do that, with an owner like you," Ben said softly, almost as if he was talking to Liam.

"Um, thanks I think?" Kira laughed nervously and tugged Liam away from Ben. Liam finally released Ben and flopped down on the ground next to Kira.

"Sorry, that probably sounds so weird cause I don't know you, well I mean I know you're my neighbor but like I don't know you like that-"

"Hey, it's okay," Kira laughed. Ben was pretty cute when nervous. However, Kira's laid back nature and words must have not reached Ben because he still looked a mess.

"I just meant cause you're pretty."

Wow. Well Kira wasn't expecting that.

Kira looked away from him, her face flushed an practically tomato red. "Uh, wow... thanks... I um..."

"Sorry," Ben groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I did not mean to say that out loud. Or at all. Now it's all weird and all I wanted to say was-"

"Take me to dinner," Kira blurted.

Ben blinked, as if unsure that he heard her right. Kira mustered all of her confidence and smiled at him, looking him right in his eyes. "You wanted to ask me to take you to dinner as an apology for my dog jumping all over you." Kira lifted up the leash as if to remind him that the dog was still there. "You free tonight? I can take you somewhere just so that Liam here doesn't crash the party again. We can talk, actually get to know each other since we do live right next door to each other."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that would be nice, actually." Ben smiled. "I get off at six."

"I'll see you here at seven then, sound good, Ben?"

Ben's mouth twitched and he cocked an eyebrow. "Ben?"

Kira's stomach dropped. Fuck. Shit fuck shit. "Uh..." She mumbled, immediately losing all the confidence she had before. "I am so sorry, I just the mailman gave me your stuff one day and your name was on it that must sound like such a shitty excuse I swear I am not stalking you or anything..." Kira winced. She said the word before even he could accuse her of it. Great. Fantastic job Kira. Way to go, you get idiot of the year award.

But then something insane happened.

Ben laughed.

"It's okay, I just thought it was weird. I usually go by Dex. That makes sense though, I mean we are next door neighbors."

Kira let out a huge sigh of relief and looked up at him sheepishly. "You don't think I am some sort of creepy stalker?"

Ben laughed. "No of course not."

"So the date's not off?"

"Date?" Ben smirked.

Kira flushed bright red again. "I am just putting my foot in my mouth over and over I am so sorry, I said it was a get to know you dinner now it's all weird-"

"No, it's okay. It can be a date."

Kira squinted up at him. "Really?"

"Yeah," Ben nodded again, still smiling, somehow even brighter than before.

Kira nodded. "Should I call you Dex too?"

"Nah," he waved her off. "I was just thrown off. I think it's cute that you already have a lil stalker nickname for me."

Kira furrowed her eyebrows and puffed out her cheeks. "I though you said you didn't think I was a stalker."

"I don't," Ben grinned and started walking backwards towards the stairwell. "I just think it's fun to tease. I'll see you tonight Kira!" And with that, he was off, presumably to start off his jog.

Kira stepped into the elevator with Liam, she smiling about her new date with her unbelievably cute neighbor. She pulled out her phone to call Eve back, both to explain why she hung up and what just happened, but something stopped her. Then she realized.

She never gave Ben her name.

[joygaytrash]

Things weren’t suppose to be this way(Spiderverse AU)

Word count: 3071

Notes: Fucking finally, I finished this. It’s a bit rushed but I didn’t wanna make it too long. Anyways, this is for @sugarglider9603 and @galaxy-lilies-main AU and I hope you enjoy this~

The plan was to stay there for dinner then leave, not to stay and listen to his dad talk to his friends.

Emile never enjoyed going to the dinner parties for his and his dad's job. He always felt uncomfortable at them. He knew his mom didn't like going to them either, the other reporters there always hit on her despite being told that she's married.

Which leads them to here, Emile and his mom, waiting outside the entrance of the boss of the Daily Bugle's house, already annoyed by everyone there. Emile was on his phone, texting Remy and Dolion while Evelyn was also on her phone, currently having a conversation with one of her co-workers.

"Helen, listen, take as much time as you need. Your baby comes first, not your job and I will be telling Michael that tomorrow. Just take it easy, okay? Great, talk to you soon, Helen. Bye," Evelyn sighed softly as she hung up the call, putting her phone in her purse.

"Is Helen finally having her baby, Mom?" Emile asked, looking up from his phone.

"She's getting there," Evelyn replied as she looked back at the doors, "What is taking your father so long?"

Emile shrugged, putting his phone away. "I'm not sure, do you want me to go check on him?" He asked. Evelyn shook her head as she dug out her car keys and handed them to Emile. "No, I will. You go start the car, okay?" She answered, opening the door. Emile nodded, gripping the keys as he made his way to the car while his mom went back inside to get his dad.

He unlocked the car and got in, putting the keys in the ignition, starting it up then put it in idle mode. Emile then sat in the back seat, going back to texting Remy and Dolion as he waited for his parents.

But then 5 minutes became 10 minutes, 10 minutes becomes 15 minutes, and 15 minutes becomes 20 minutes. This worried Emile. What if something happened to his parents? What if his mom or dad got hurt? What if-

Emile's racing thoughts were cut off by his phone ringing. He grabbed it, seeing the caller I.D. and answered the call right away, "Hey mom, is everything okay?"

"Emile, listen to me carefully. I need you to take the car and leave," Evelyn said, not answering Emile's question.

"What? Leave? Mom, what's going on?" Emile asked, the worry in his voice was clear. Why would Emile leave his mom here? What about his dad? What was going on with him?

"Em, hun, I don't have much time to explain. All I can tell you right now is your dad isn't the man we all thought he was," Evelyn quickly explained.

"What do you mean?"

"Hun, please, I will explain when this is all over. Just take the car and drive and shut your phone down so you can't be traced. There's a non-traceable phone in the glove compartment, okay?"

His mouth felt dry. What was going on? Why was his mom acting like this?

"Okay," He replied as he crawled into the driver seat, tossing his bag on the seat next to him.

"Good. I love you, Em," His mom cooed, trying her best to keep calm. Emile smiled a little, already feeling the tears in his eyes.

"I love you too, Mom," He responded before ending the call and powering down his phone. After setting it in the middle console, Emile started the car up fully before driving away from the house as quick as possible.

Once Emile was a few miles away from the house, he opened the glove compartment and dug out the phone his mom had mentioned earlier. He turned it on and dialed a familiar number before putting the phone up to his ear, listening to the electric buzz.

"Hello?" The tired voice asked on the other end.

"Thomas, it's Emile. Listen, I need your help," Emile said, stopping at an empty intersection.

"Okay, where are you, kid? I can come get you right now and-"

"I'm practically nowhere right now,"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm currently driving, without my parents,"

The other end was silent for a few moments, making Emile shift anxious in the car seat as he started driving again.

"Look, Thomas, something is going on with my dad. We were at the company dinner for the Daily Bugle and after we finished eating my mom and I waited for my dad then she went to get him while I started the car. Then 20 minutes later, my mom called me and told me to drive and said my dad wasn't the person we thought he was and oh my goodness, Thomas, I'm scared," Emile explained, his voice breaking a little at the end.

"Hey, hey, everything's gonna be okay. We'll figure this all out but I need you to calm down and focus on driving. I'm sure your mom wouldn't want her son getting hurt," Thomas suggested. Emile nodded, taking a deep breath and released it before focusing on driving.

"Better?" Thomas asked, keeping his voice down.

"Yeah,"

"Good, good. Now, how about you come over to my place so you're not alone tonight, deal?"

Emile felt a small smile on his face as he started to relax a bit, "Deal."

"Great. See you in a bit, kid," Thomas said.

"Same to you, Thomas," Emile added before ending the call and putting the phone in the center console of the car by his phone and then started to make his way towards Thomas' place.

***

Emile got to Thomas' place about 15 minutes later, grabbing everything of his from the car and went inside. Thomas had tea ready for Emile in order to help him calm his nerves.

"So, if I'm correct, your mom told you to leave after being gone for 20 minutes to go get your dad and said your dad wasn't the man you guys thought he was?" Thomas asked, looking at Emile.

Emile nodded, taking a drink of his tea. "That's correct and I'm super worried, Thomas. I mean, what if my dad did something to my mom? What if my dad's holding my mom, our boss, and our co-workers hostage in our boss's house?" Emile rambled.

"Hey, hey, breathe. We will figure this out, Emile. We will find out what your mom meant and we will find her and everyone else. And right now, you should get some rest. It's late and you need it," Thomas said.

"But-," Emile began to argue back, but Thomas quickly cut him off.

"No buts. As your temporary parent, you need to get some rest so we can focus on this tomorrow, understood?" Thomas stated, cracking a smile as an attempt to lighten the mood.

Emile couldn't help but giggle a little, making Thomas chuckle a bit. "Okay, okay, I'll lay down. The tea's making me tired anyways," Emile responded.

"Good. I'll see you in the morning, kid," Thomas said as he got off the couch.

"Same to you, Thomas," Emile said back, taking his glasses off and set them on the coffee table. They said one last 'good night' to each other before Thomas disappeared to his room, leaving Emile alone on the couch. The teen sighed and laid down, covering himself up with the blanket that had been draped on the back of the couch.

"It's gonna be okay, Emile. Thomas and the others will figure this out and your mom will be safe," Emile mumbled to himself before falling asleep.

***

It's been a week and they found nothing yet. The police had gotten involved and searched the boss's house, but found no signs of the boss themselves, the employees, or Emile's parents. This only added to Emile's paranoia.

He had gone to school and to work that past week, hoping that one day, his dad would be at work to greet him and his mom would be at home, waiting to hear about his day. But they didn't show up.

After the disappearance of his boss, co-workers, and parents became public, the school allowed Emile to take as much time as he needed off. They didn't want him to worry about his parents and his school work at the same time.

Now here Emile was, sitting in the spider lair with Joan and Talyn, watching them go through some files.

"So, what's this for?" Emile asked. He saw Joan and Talyn glance at each other quickly then back at Emile.

"Well, Thomas thought that if your dad was behind this, there would be red flags in his bank statements or something, so, he asked Talyn and I to look through his things," Joan explained as Talyn nodded in agreement next to them.

"Have you tried looking through his email?" Emile suggested.

"No, not yet. We were just about to though," Talyn answered, pulling up Emile's dad's email. None of it was what they expected to see.

There was probably a couple hundred emails all coming from or going to the same person; Dragon Witch. Emile could feel his stomach perform a full 180, making him run to the nearest trash can and lose his lunch. His heaving and coughing drowned out the footsteps behind him but not the voice talking to him.

"Hey, you okay, Picani? Do you need some water? Does that name seem familiar to you? Does-," Joan started to shoot questions off left and right but Talyn stopped them right in their tracks.

"Joan, go get Emile some water and probably some pain killers. I'll stay here with him," Talyn said, their words sounding more like a demand than a suggestion. Joan nodded and stood up from the floor, jogging away from the two.

"I recognized that name, Talyn," Emile mumbled, catching Talyn's attention.

"Really?"

"Yeah. According to my mom, my dad used to be a conspiracy theorist before I was born and had his own website and every time he shared a theory, he'd sign the post off with 'Dragon Witch'. Now, I'm not sure if he still has that website but I am sure that he is still the only one who uses that name, no one but him, my mom, and I know that name,"

Talyn nodded, patting Emile's back gently as Joan came back with the water and pain killers.

***

Joan and Talyn had spent days on end analyzing Emile's dad's emails when they finally managed to find a location of an abandoned building at the edge of the city. They both told Thomas as soon as they found it and Thomas got a hold of the Spider gang right after.

The group of heroes now we're standing in range of the building, discussing on how they wanted to go about this. Emile was sitting near the group, looking at the abandoned building while listening to the discussion.

"Okay, gurl, like lowkey, I want to deck Emile's dad in the face," Remy stated.

"Same," Dolion added, Venom growling in agreement on his shoulder.

"You guys can but we need to figure out how to get in, get every worker out of there then we can fight him," Thomas said.

"Well, I suggest that two of us does a quick perimeter of the building, just to see how big it is and how many entry points we have," Logan suggested, "Virgil and I can do it but only if he's okay with that, of course."

"I'm down to do that," Virgil replied. Thomas nodded and the two of them were gone, swinging over to the building.

They came back a few minutes later, standing on the ledge. "There's doors and a garage door in the back and a door in the front," Logan described.

"And a bunch of windows," Virgil added, Logan nodded his head in agreement next to him.

"Great, now, let's get a moving. You ready, kid?" Thomas asked, looking at Emile. The teen nodded, standing up from his spot. "Yeah, I'm ready," Emile answered, looking back at Thomas. Thomas nodded and pulled down his mask, the seven others doing the same while Dolion allowed Vemon to cover his body.

Then the group made their way to the building.

***

If any of them were being honest, it had felt like they've been fighting for hours. Robot soldier after robot soldier, their muscles became sore after taking them down. Once they finally finished fighting the robot soldiers, the spider gang went to find the boss, the employees, and Emile's parents.

Patton was the first to find the boss and the employees, who were being held in a old storage locker in the basement. One by one, him and Roman checked to see if any of them were injured before safely removing them from the building. But Emile's mom wasn't in the crowd and he could feel the lump in his throat.

"We'll find her, Emile, I promise," Thomas told him softly when he noticed the uneasy look on the teen's face. Emile nodded his head, still a bit on the edge.

Crash!

Thomas and Emile turned their heads towards the crash before Thomas turned his head back at the group. "Remy, Dolion, Emile, and I will go check that out while you four wait outside with the civilians," Thomas stated.

"You got it, Rainbow!" Roman yelled as him and the other three ran outside.

Thomas then ran off in the other direction with Dolion, Remy, and Emile following behind him. Once they got to the source of the crash, the four of them saw Emile's dad looking at a large computer screens with multiple smaller ones around it. On the floor by him were scattered pieces of metal and next to him was Emile's mom, bounded down in a chair.

Emile felt his breath get caught in his throat as the sick feeling in his stomach returned.

"What the hell, Evelyn?! That took me weeks to make!" Emile's dad exclaimed, looking at his wife. Evelyn rolled her eyes, slouching in the chair. "Oh, boo-hoo. Poor Richard, you spent your free time building some machine instead of being with your family, I feel so bad," Evelyn faked cooed with a deadpan expression on her face.

"At least I am actually home at night!"

"At least I actually give a damn about our kid!"

"Okay, okay. That's enough,"

Evelyn and Richard turned their heads to see Rainbow Weaver standing in the doorway with his hands resting on his hips.

"Ah, you finally arrive, Rainbow Weaver. Took you long enough," Richard commented, stepping away from the large computer.

"Quit the chit chat, buddy. I am already tired of your bs and this is the first time I met you face to face," Rainbow shot back, earning a loud cheer from Dream Catcher and Vemon behind him.

"Drag him by his wig, gurl! Drag hiiim!" Dream Catcher yelled. Rainbow Weaver sighed, turning towards Dream Catcher and Vemon. "Guys, I am not gonna drag him by his hair," Rainbow said.

Dream Catcher and Vemon argued with Rainbow, still attempting to get Rainbow Weaver to drag Richard by his hair. While the three of them argued, Richard pulled a small remote from his pocket with a smirk on his face. He was about to press the button when a string of web came from behind him, grasping the remote and pulled it out of Richard's hand.

"The hell?!" He yelled, catching the attention of Rainbow, Dream Catcher, and Vemon.

"Missing something, Richard?" A voice asked, making the four of them to turn their attention to the source of the voice. There they saw Emile in his normal clothes, holding the remote with a wicked smirk on his face. Evelyn was standing next to him, a sledge hammer in her hands.

"What-? Emily, the hell are you doing here?!" Richard asked, clearly annoyed.

"Emily hasn't been around since eighth grade, Dad. And to answer your question, I'm here to put this all to an end," Emile answered, taking the remote in both hands and easily snapped it into two(okay, Emile really loves his super strength, so of course he's gonna show it off). His dad stared at him with a shocked look on his face, his eyes were wide with confusion.

"But, how?!"

"How what, Richard? Your inventions break easily. For example," Evelyn lifted the sledge hammer and swung the hammer down on the control panel of the large computer, "In reality, anyone who have made their panel with stronger metal and would have hidden the sledge hammers," She explained, clearly happy with her actions.

Richard's confusion was soon replaced with anger as he grabbed something from his tool belt. As soon as he found what he wanted, Richard got ready to throw it, only for his whole torso to be covered in spider web.

"Come on now, gurl, you know better than to hurt your own wife and son," Dream Catcher pointed out before punching Richard in the face hard.

***

Once Thomas had gotten Richard all bounded together in webbing, he carried him outside with the help of Dolion and Remy. Emile and his mom had decided to stay behind because Emile wanted to make sure his mom was okay.

"Did he hit you?"

"No, he didn't,"

"Are you sure? Because if he did then I can punch him in gut or I can have Dolion to do it or-"

"Emile," Evelyn stopped her son mid sentence, placing her hand on his shoulder, "I am fine. Your dad did not hurt me in any way, shape, or form. I wasn't even worried that he would hurt me, I was worried about you more than anything."

The teen was quick to hug his mom and Evelyn returned it, holding Emile close. "I was worried about you too, Mom. Scared, even," Emile mumbled into his mom's shoulder.

"I know you did, Em. Now, let's get out of here. This place gives me the hibby jibby," Evelyn suggested, making Emile laugh a little.

"Sounds like a great idea. We can go through the back to avoid the reporters," Emile said, pulling away from Evelyn. His mom nodded, wrapping an arm around her son's shoulder before making their way to the back door, finally happy that this nightmare was over and that they had to deal with one last toxic person in their lives. 

[blasphoeme]

Falling in Love Under the Stars

Jonerys The Mummy AU

Thanks to the inspiration from a certain image of Emilia’s from a photoshoot and @ashleyfanfic for bringing up the need for an AU with Dany as Evelyn and Jon as Rick from The Mummy, this little fic was born :D. 

This is my take on the very iconic scene with Evie screaming “I am a librarian!”. It’ll be Dany this time though hehe. Spoken dialogue taken and adapted from the movie with additional ones of my own creation. 

Moodboard made in collaboration with my partner in crime @midqueenally. Love you sunflower~

I hope you guys like this! Can be read on Ao3.

“Take a swing at me. Try a right hook. Hit me right here.” Pointing at his open right palm with his left index finger, he waved it before his student’s face. “Like you mean it.” Mister Snow was giving her an impromptu lesson in self-defence. How fun! Her alcohol addled mind cheerily supplied. Shifting her weight, keeping her legs firmly planted as best as she could to the shifting sand with her hands balled up into fists by her cheeks, Daenerys Targaryen pursed her lips, a look of determination slipping onto her face. Taking a deep breath, she swung her fist at him as instructed. Only to miss her target completely. The momentum of her punch however, sent her toppling forwards. Not into the sturdy body of her coach, but just off to the side. “Oopsie!” Her giddy voice came out from behind her broad grin on the backs of a giggle and down she went. With nothing but air and a solid ground of sand awaiting eagerly to receive her face. 

Thankfully, what would have been an ungraceful landing was averted by a strong, muscular arm shooting out to catch her. One across her chest and another around her back, coming around to clutch at her shoulders. Effectively saving her from enjoying a mouthful of grainy particles. 

“I think you’d better take a seat. Time for another drink?” Jon offered, chuckling to himself whilst pulling the woman in his arms to stand upright. More or less. Her teetering new born fawn like legs and imbalanced equilibrium from the alcohol meant he had to prop her up with his whole person. Though the warmth of her petite body aligned along the entire length of his front was not the least bit unpleasant at all and if he kept his arms around her longer than necessary, well, desert nights were rather chilly. He needed to keep her warm. “Unlike my brother, Sir, I know when to say no!” Through the haze in her tipsy state, she could sense the heat radiating from Jon’s fingers around her arms, holding her in case she took another tumble. She didn’t need assistance for she wasn’t even drunk yet! Batting lazily at his hands, Dany stumbled out of their confines, wobbly legs carrying her back towards the seat she had chosen as her own by the fire. Spotting the bottle of whiskey cradled within said snoozing brother’s arms, Dany reached for its neck and yanked it free from his embrace. Viserys merely snuggled deeper into his makeshift beds barely stirring at all. Triumphantly, with bottle in hand, Dany plucked the cork stopper off and took a swig. The amber liquor coursed down her throat like liquid fire. But, she didn’t mind at all. “Unlike your brother, Miss, you I don’t get.” “I know.... what you’re wondering.” Clumsily swiping at the dribble of alcohol escaping from the corner of her lips with the back of her hand, Dany shifted off of her knees to sit on her bum. “What’s a place like me doing in a girl like this?!” “Something like that, yes.” Jon watched her sway, body rocking to and fro beside him. How had he not seen that the very moment he clapped eyes on her? Under all that English sensibility was a gorgeous, intelligent, courageous, not to mention feisty rose waiting to bloom. This woman was adorable. Even while dozing on the back of a camel with her mouth agape and a little drool dribbling down the side.

“You see, Egypt is in my blood” Daenerys told Jon, tugging at the chain around her neck until she located the oval shaped object hanging from it. Her fingers found the familiar grove along its side. Prying the halves apart, she presented it to the man before her, gingerly placing it in his hand. The locket contained the faces of her darling parents that she carried with her everywhere she went since they passed. “My father was a famous explorer. He loved Egypt so much that he fell in love with an Egyptian woman, who later became my mother.”

By the light of the fire, Jon’s eyes could make out a pair of miniature black and white faces. On the left, a strapping man in a dark coloured suit with piercing, intelligent eyes that seemed to hold an immense amount of knowledge within them stared right back at him. To the right was a woman who looked nothing like the typical women of the desert. Very different, almost the complete opposite in fact. Her skin was fair and her hair was light. Jon imagined it would have been just like Daenerys’. Silver locks interwoven with gold. The woman was smiling, not at the camera but at the bundle in her arms. He could see so clearly, the happiness and love this woman held for the infant she had pressed close to her heart. She must have loved her children very much. Daenerys and Viserys were very lucky to have had both their parents in their lives for as long as they did. Parents who cared for them and protected them and watched them grow. Closing the locket gently, he released it from his grasp, letting it dangle from Daenerys’ neck once more. 

“I get your father and your mother. I even get your brother. But you. What are you doing here?” Jon asked earnestly. This place, this journey they were on was treacherous and not the safest for a lady, not safe for any human no matter how brave they were.

A scowl came over Daenerys’ face. Was he implying that she wasn’t good enough?

“Look here!” She yelled. Her entire being was thrumming with agitation. She was a very capable woman in her own right for goodness sake! Did he not see that? Scrambling to her feet, Daenerys glared down at the man sitting cross legged on the ground. She would just have to attempt to set him straight. “I may not be an explorer or an adventurer or a treasure seeker or a gun fighter, Mister Snow! But, I am proud of what I am!” “And... what is that?” “I am a... a…” What was that word again? A furrow took its perch between her brows as Daenerys swam through her murky mind searching for it. Oh yes! Throwing her head back, she shouted her profession for all the world to hear. “Librarian!”  The blatant pride in her voice tugged on Jon’s heartstrings, pulling his lips into a smile. Her exclamation drifted away up towards the inky black midnight sky but not before his ears caught hold of each syllable. If he could see himself, he would have noticed the softness in his deep brown orbs as well. 

Her display seemed to suck all the energy from her and she plopped back down onto her knees soon after. This time much, much closer to him than before. Daenerys was so near that he had to tip his head down to look at her. So close now that Jon could feel the warmth of each exhalation of breath from her parted lips caressing his face like the fingers of a lover. The intimacy of her proximity had a thrill swirling up his spine. Once again, he was struck by how stunning this woman was. Through lowered lashes and bleary eyes, Dany couldn’t help lingering on those lips of his. Too pretty to belong to this filthy, rude, complete scoundrel of a man. Who cleaned up really, really well. His shaggy hair and bread caked with dirt and who knows what now still looked shaggy but in a good way. A ruggedly handsome kind of way. Those deep brown eyes of his were so changeable. A steely near black as he cocked his gun just before a fight. A mellow, lighter brown, the tint of a perfectly brewed cup of Earl Grey that sparkled in the light of the setting sun when he smiled at her as they raced each other towards Hamunaptra. She longed to watch them all day to see what array of tones she could find within those orbs. 

The more time she spent in his company, Deanerys realised that this man was growing more endearing and less insufferable by the minute.She wasn’t even mad anymore about the kiss. 

That first kiss that he robbed from her, catching her off guard, pulling the air right out of her lungs and made her heart stop. It was a peculiarly wonderful sensation one which she had never in all her life experienced before. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. She couldn’t stop thinking about the sensation of his lips on hers, no matter how hard she tried. Pouting, the librarian sighed wistfully. It certainly didn’t help now that those lips of his were right in front of her, right there, like an enticingly juicy ripe peach dangling before her eyes, close enough to nip a taste. Oh, how she wanted another taste and this time, she was going to get one from him instead.

“I’m going to kiss you, Mister Snow.” The huskiness in her tone would have ordinarily brought on a wave of shame but in that moment, Daenerys couldn’t care less.

The hungry gleam in her eyes, staring intently at his mouth had him swallowing nervously.

Oh boy.

“Alright. Umm... Only if you call me Jon.” Even so, smirking, he couldn’t resist a tease at the lovely woman who had all but glued herself against the side of his arm, much like a cat asking for a good cuddle. Was this actually happening?

Peering down at Deanery’s face, Jon’s breath did a jaunty little jig. How could someone be so effortlessly beautiful? Her dazed violet eyes glittered like the stars above their heads with a dance of fire light within them. That pert little nose of hers. Those defined eyebrows. The comely flush in her cheeks and those lips of hers. They looked so tantalizingly plump with the lovely pink hue of a desert rose blooming wild in the heart of an oasis. He desired another sample. “Jon....” Daenerys tested the feel of his name upon his tongue like a child enunciating their first word. Just saying it aloud made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Her lips curled up on their own, reacting to an involuntary reflex into a broad goofy grin. She liked his name very much. Just like how she was growing to like his person. No one had stolen an archaeologist’s tool kit for her before. He’d be the first. Now, for that much anticipated kiss that was agreed upon. Eyelids at half mast, Jon observed with bated breath as those pretty lips approached his own. Just a bit more now. So close, he could practically feel her petal soft touch already. Almost simultaneously, their eyes slid shut. Inching forward as one, each tilting their heads incrementally to the side, they moved in anticipation for the contact they most craved. There was naught but a finite space between their lips. A little bit more now! And.... There was nothing.

Eyes snapping open in astonishment, Jon blinked owlishly. Where did her lips go? Where was that zing that he had experienced the day before? Where was that spark he knew would come from her touch? A solid weight landed with a thump and a sleepy groan in his lap. Looking down, stunned, all Jon could do was laugh. This woman would be the end of him. Using his lap as a pillow, Daenerys wriggled to find a comfortable position in the sand before promptly diving into the realm of sleep. Her shiny silver locks flowed like the glittering Nile River reflecting the glow of the moon, down her back. The ends mingling with the sand beneath her. Under the watchful eyes of the stars above, Jon tenderly sifted through those locks of silver with one hand. The strands were so smooth like spun silk. Tucking some of her hair behind her ear, he smiled again. His eyes traced over her features, completely relaxed in peaceful slumber. This lady truly was magnificent. Her bravery and wits impressed him to no end. So passionate was she in her search of ancient knowledge that even in the face of more than one gun aimed at her head she stood her ground and acted as the voice of reason, settling an argument with her own brand of feminine wisdom ensuring no violence or blood was shed. Even in the midst of a gun battle, she still persisted. Any lesser woman would have given up and insisted she be escorted back to civilization. Perhaps, she’d make it out of Hamunaptra after all. 

Either way, he’d do his utmost best to make sure she remained unharmed. If not for her own sake, then for his. If he lost her to the horrors that lay dormant in stone tombs beneath the sand, he was certain that his heart would surely shatter into bits. And then, like dunes crumbling under the blow of a gust of wind, there would be nothing left of him. Whether he liked it or not and whether she knew it or not, that beating organ within his chest belonged to her already.

[artificialqueens]

You won a seven nights stay in Paris, ch 2 (Branjie) - Evelyn Bubbles

Ehy there! It’s your girl Ev back on the beat, so happy for all the love on the first chapter, this is a slow burn so stay tuned you won’t regret it. I want to gradually build some tension and in this chapter we’ll see some. Enjoy! Also just wanted to add that this fanfiction doesn’t take in consideration canon, so take this as they never had a thing on the show and they’re falling in love just now.

Waking up alone in Paris is one thing, waking up besides a handsome man in a beautiful bed in an even more beautiful apartment in the best part of the city is another. Brooke yawned, lazily turning off the alarm set for 8 am, and gradually lifted Vanessa’s arm from her waist. “Please mom, five more minutes…”. “I’m not your mom, Vanjielina… and you’re heavy”, Brooke giggled sitting on the bed and gently running her fingers through her friend’s messy hair. She wasn’t much of a touchy-feely type, except for her cats, which she loved to cuddle with, but Vanessa had that warm and welcoming aura to her, she couldn’t help but relax and open up. The day before they had just walked to Notre Dame (a quite long walk actually), got an ice cream, took some nice pictures on one of the bridges, hanging out like life long friends. Then, they had come back to their apartment, quite wasted from the crazy jet lag, and they had fallen asleep almost immediately; Vanessa still had her t-shirt on. Brooke thanked her for forgetting to take that off: she didn’t know what she would’ve done seeing her toned chest naked, with that amber skin exposed and flushed. Brooke went to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of comfy jeans and a t-shirt, and took a nice shower, casually leaving the door open. She didn’t know what she meant with that: was it an invitation? Was it just because they were close enough at that point? They had in fact spent so many weeks shoulder to shoulder, but the atmosphere during Drag Race filming was radically different from the relaxing vacation they were having. That many men all together, cut off from the rest of the world, it was hard to resist. It was then when Brooke had started to look at Vanessa differently. But when they came home she thought that it had been just a consequence of the situation, a casualty. Instead, as the words of the iconic song said, the cause had been removed… but the symptom stayed. She immediately switched the water temperature from hot to cold. She needed it.

////

“Where we going today sis?”, Vanessa asked as soon as they stepped out of the house. “The Mus��e d’Orsay. There are a lot of beautiful sculptures and paintings there, even some Van Goghs. I planned this trip hoping to go with my best friend, and he’s kinda into arts, so I hope you don’t get too bored”, Brooke said slightly worried. Classic Canadian courtesy. Vanessa smiled and patted her arm: “Don’t worry sis it’s all good. I love arts. Plus, you could explain some shit to me. You’re giving me this cultured vibe”. “I’m really not, but thank you. In the museums I usually try to listen to a guide who’s telling stuff to a group of tourists, and I grab some info from them. We could do the same thing”. “Yeah, I love mooching culture. Agreed. Let’s go”. “I wouldn’t call it mooching”. “How would you call it”. “Oh, we’re just there… casually listening”. “Why don’t you get an audio guide then”. Brooke smirked: “I’d rather listen to your weird comments about the paitings and sculptures. You can be really funny Vanj". “Maybe that’s the best compliment you’ve ever given me. But how can I blame y'all, it’s true”. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. Now let’s get on this subway, it’s damn late”.

////

Vanessa was completely silent, staring at one of the biggest paintings in the whole museum, “L'école de Platon”. She bit her lip and got closer to the painting. Brooke found her like that, eyes scanning every single inch of the painting with an inquisitive stare. “Hey Vanjielina”, she asked, “What are you looking at?”. “This painting. I know no French but apparently it’s like a lesson or something. Plato is teaching. Beautiful, isn’t it”. Brooke approached her to look at the painting, but Vanessa grabbed her by the arm and brought them a few feet back. “Here. You have to watch it from afar first, and then you can get closer. Just like with another person”, she said, unusually soft. Then, she went back to her previous spot, standing perfectly still, captivated. So, Brooke let her eyes admire the stunning painting from the perspective Vanessa had chose for her: the scene depicted was a garden in Ancient Greece, where many beautiful young men, barely clothed, were listening to the philosopher talk. Brooke got one step closer, and as she walked towards the painting she started noticing more and more details: the veins of the leaves, the single strands of hair, the lights and shadows of the boys’ muscles. Vanessa became part of the painting herself: the curve of her back, her hand on her hip, the tight fabric of the jeans agains her legs, her short, dark hair hidden under her hat, they all seemed to fuse with the painting, as if she was listening to Plato as well, covered in only a piece of pastel fabric, with laurel leaves on her head. Brooke walked right besides her, and stood still as she examined the lines of her nose, lips and chin from just a few inches away. “Have you noticed?”. “What?”, Brooke asked. “All the details. Amazing”. Vanessa had never sounded more serious. Brooke nodded: “Were they all this gay in Ancient Greece?”, she asked jokingly, referring to the boys’ naked bodies all so close to each other. Vanessa chuckled: “If so, gimme a damn time machine girl because this looks like literal heaven. I mean, look at their abs and thighs. Fuck. Perfection. Look, they even have a goddamn white peacock there. It can’t get any gayer than this”. “Trust me, we can find a gayer painting”. Vanessa smirked: “Wanna bet?”. They shook hands: “Bet”.

////

Vanessa and Brooke spent two hours total, almost running all around the Musee D'Orsay, trying to find a gayer painting, failing miserably. They found each other again in front of which was probably the biggest work of art in the whole museum, called “Les Romains de la Décadence”, a scene of daily life in the Roman era, at the baths. “Found anything?”. “Nope”, Vanessa shook her head. “Well, that ecol of something something was pretty gay. I doubt we’ll find anything better in the whole damn vacation”. “So you give up, mh”. “I’m not giving up, I’m just saying it’s fucking hard. And also I’m hungry, I wanna eat. Let’s get out of here”. “Agreed”. They turnt around, going towards the entrance, when Vanessa stopped suddenly and pointed at the big painting. “Wait, Brooke, sis!”, she laughed, “This lady looks like you in drag”. Brooke followed Vanessa’s finger as she was guided to a beautiful woman wrapped in white clothes, laying in the centre of the painting. She looked slightly bored, but beautiful indeed, and she has a long nose and big lips. “She only kinda looks like me”, Brooke said, “But thanks, it means you find me as beautiful as a work of art”. Vanessa’s big brown eyes were all over her. Then, she said simply: “Yes”.

////

They had lunch at a local café, sitting alone at a table eating pan au chocolat, a classical french sweet with bread and dark chocolate, and got coffees. T hey weren’t in the mood for an actual lunch, they would’ve had plenty of occasions for that in the next few days. “It’s so fucking good”, Vanessa said biting into her pan au chocolat. “I know right? We don’t have this in Canada. Or at least not this good”. “I’m a slut for good chocolate”. “You’re a slut in general”. “Excuse me, I’m a respectable young lady!”. Brooke laughed and took a sip of her coffee. “What’s up next then?”, Vanessa asked after a couple of seconds of silence. Brooke looked at her notes app: “Mont Martre tonight, and I’ve also found the best crepes place in all Paris at the bottom of the hill. You like cheese, right?”. “Bitch have you seen me? I ain’t got this thick eating fruits and shits. I love cheese”. Brooke chuckled: “Happy to hear that, because they do excellent cheese crepes. And also sweet ones, like with nuts and strawberries and whatever you want. It should be super good”. Vanessa smiled widely: “You got me excited now, fuck! You’ve really planned this mh?”. “Yeah I did, even though it’s a plan shaped around Steve and me, so like… do you wanna go to the Louvre some time?”. “That’s where the Mona Lisa is, right? Of course I wanna go, I wanna see what’s the buzz all about. Like, is she really that special? Miss Thing thinks she’s a legend but they haven’t seen my portrait yet”. “Do you have a portrait?”. Vanessa hesitated for a second: “Well, no, I don’t, but I’ll have one”. “Where?”. “In the painter place. Isn’t it in Mont Martre?”. Brooke smiled, suprised: “Oh, so you know about it”. “I do know shit bitch! I’m very eloquent”, says Vanessa taking another sip. They didn’t get up until the sun had started setting in the beautiful Parisian sky.

[lunaschild2016]

Worth Fighting For: Chapter 84 - Disclosure

Rated: M

Summary: He was ruthless, cunning, and completely committed to protecting his city; but her arrival to Dauntless called everything he ever thought he believed into question. She was haunted by a past she vowed to make amends for and resolved to sacrifice her very life it meant she could protect her family, faction and city. Duty and following orders were no longer enough and they both found more than they ever hoped for. They both found something worth fighting for. Eric/OC AU M (Language, Sexual Content, Romance, Fluff, Angst, Tragedy)

@kenzieam  @pathybo  @jaihardy @every-jai @ericdauntless @beautifulramblingbrains @bookgirlthings @jojuarez26 @oddsnendsfanfics @offroadinjandals @singingpeople @iammarylastar @irasancti @captstefanbrandt @clublulu333 @fuckthatfeeling @tigpooh67 @ex-bookjunky  @jughead-wuz-here wuz-here @badassbaker @beanzjellly @beltz2016 @meganbee15 @affabletimelady @scorpio2009 @gylisaa @geekybeyondallreason @violetsonthelam @kyloswarstars @emmysrandomthoughts @kgurew @beltzboys2015-blog @slytherin-princess-25273 @whatwouldbuffydo666 @jaiboomer11 @holamor @wealwayskeepfighting @original46  @blakefc @xtheserpentx @artisthedgehog  

**I promise I have put the read more option in but it has been glitching. If I have forgotten someone or you want to be removed please message me!**

Chapter 84 - Disclosure

Kat

“How long have you girls been here?” Dad asked once he was sitting at the table with us and has his own tea to warm himself from the cold.

“Not too long. It was just about dinner time at Dauntless when we left.” Tris supplied with a small smile.

He nodded and sipped from his tea then swallowed with a grateful sigh. “This weather seems to actually be getting colder rather than warming up.”

“How has that made things for you and the others?” I ask, genuinely worried and mentally make a note to check in with Evelyn and that group.

“It’s been quiet. Too quiet to be honest,” His brow is furrowed deeply with worry. “Which was a major part of what that meeting was about that held me up.” He paused and weariness seemed to start weighing him down by the way his shoulders started to sag. “There’s a proposal for Dauntless to be allowed to do more in-depth sweeps and not just limited to the factionless sectors. I honestly believe would be best for everyone. But there’s a bunch of in-fighting and procrastination going on from other council members. The way it seems to be going right now, the weather will be warm before we see any kind of progress made at all.”

Tris and I share knowing looks and twin scowls.

“I hear those same complaints when the leaders come back from council meetings,” I say with a frown. Raze and Eric have both been pretty vocal, but then again they always are. Especially with those they consider friends or are comfortable enough to open up like that.

Eric has been complaining about the last few meetings pretty often, saying that there have been serious bullshit stall tactics coming from all the other factions whenever proposals are made to make very needed changes.

Erudite is using the ousting of Marcus as a platform to have a complete change in leadership of the government, favoring them of course.

Candor has some of their leaders that want it to go to them, saying that it only makes sense, as they are the ones in charge of the judicial system.

Others have been split between panning for Erudite or keeping it how it’s always been; while Amity hasn’t given any input in any regard to the proposals.

Eric said that as far as he can tell, Abnegation mostly wants to do what it takes to get the city back on track, but that doesn’t include giving up control of the government. I don’t know where my dad falls on that issue, but I want to find out.

Tris must have been thinking along the same lines and asked the question for me.

“What’s Abnegation wanting to do about all the changes now that Marcus is gone?”

Dad quirked an eyebrow and swallowed his tea before answering.

“I don’t see that it would be necessary for Abnegation to hand complete control of the government over, and definitely never to Erudite. The other council members are taking on a wait and see approach so that we can all get a better idea of what kind of damage has really been done. A lot of that is dependent on various inventories and inspections that are still pending. However, I have always felt that what the city really needs is all of the factions having at least one representative that acts much in the same respect as Marcus did before by himself. He was the final say in all matters regarding the government and that was just too much power for one person to hold, never mind one faction. If we had to make a change of any kind I would lobby for that. I guess a ruling body of five people, one from each faction that would have the final vote on anything put forth by the council. The problem with that will be establishing how that person from the faction is chosen and then how the final say is proclaimed. It would be a lot of work just to get it put in place but I think if we really want to move forward, that would be the way to go.”

“And it would be heavily supported if we could ever get it put up for a vote.” My mom agreed firmly as she made her way back to the table to deposit the first two bowls containing steaming rice in one and stew in the other. A cutting board with the thick sliced brown bread followed soon after.

“We can only hope.” Was the only addition to that conversation my father made before talk stopped.

Grace was said as we joined hands, and the food was passed around for plates to be filled. My mom has always been a ringmaster of sorts in navigating conversation at the dinner table. She was always mindful to keep conversation to topics that could be considered lighthearted and that we could join in on. She always jokingly said it was better for our digestion that way.

That’s what she did now and allowed me and my sister to share some of the lighthearted things with our dad that we shared with her earlier. He surprises us with his humor at some of our stories and even interjects a few things of his own.

“I know being prideful is selfish, but I can’t express enough how proud I am of the two of you,” Dad says after dinner has been finished and we are sitting around the table companionably.

The mood shifts slightly at this new line of conversation, and I know I’m blushing at the smiles from both of our parents as they look at us. Still, as wrong and shameful as my former faction and upbringing might have made me feel about it before, I’m proud too and I have no problem sharing that sentiment with our parents.

“I’m proud of us as well,” I say while looking at my sister and smiling. “We worked really hard. From the start, there was just so much going against us that I wasn’t sure what would happen and if we could both make it. I don’t know if you know, but there were supposed to be cuts this year and I was completely unsure of what was going to happen.” I focus back on my sister and admit something to her. “I know I might have seemed overconfident and brash at times, but inside I was scared out of my mind and so worried,” I admit with a shrug while looking at the table and rubbing my fingers against the wood idly.

“I’m sure it didn’t help that you had so much weighing on your shoulders, Kat.” My mom says as she places her hand over mine, then looks at Tris and repeats the gesture after reaching out to her too. “Both of you went into this with more than just the normal worries you should have had and I can admit that this was something we worried about as well.”

“It didn’t help that for our own reasons we couldn’t confide in each other,” Tris admits quietly while looking at her cup of tea. I nod with a small sigh that she hears and looks up to catch my eye then gives me a small smile. “But we worked through it and I think we now have a stronger bond because of it.”

I bite my lower lip and nod as I tear up.

“Well, I’m glad you both have each other at least.” My dad says after he clears his throat. Clearly trying to refrain from getting too emotional.

Now that I know about him being from Erudite. Now that I’ve met and grown close to Eric, who is much the same. And now that even my mother has confirmed this all for me, I can clearly see his demeanor for what it is and I have true regret for every time I mentally might have lost patience or felt anger at him for it.

Despite this, I know we need to get to why we’re here tonight. Time isn’t on our side when I don’t know how long the guys night will hold Eric back from trying to check on me in some way. Not to mention Peter being a wild card currently. He wasn’t with the guys but he also wasn’t going to be with the girls either, so who knows if he will discover I’m not there and if he will go to Zach with that knowledge.

“We also have our family,” I state softly and share a look with Tris, who gives me a nod. That gives me the confidence to continue. “We found family there that have really helped us through this, been there for us.”

Mom and Dad look at each other and dad sighs before he nods. “I’m guessing you two are here to ask about Hana and Raze?”

My sister and I nod at the same time in answer but I also do so vocally. “Why didn’t we ever know before now? Was it because of Marcus?”

It was my mom who answered us after covering my dad’s hand on the table and giving it a gentle squeeze. “No. There were a few reasons, but it was mainly because of something that happened years before then. It was actually how your dad and I met. You’re both aware now that I was Dauntless and he was Erudite. While we were in the same year and shared classes together, we never really interacted with each other.”

She paused, and in a rare show of affection or support, my dad entwined his fingers with hers with the hands that were already together on the table.

“Things with the factionless have always been tense but before we transferred and when we were still dependents ourselves, they were very unstable. For a while, there wasn’t a week that went by that there wasn’t a report about factionless attacking or causing some kind of trouble.”

I can see the strain their faces as she starts to tell us these things and I can’t help the shudder I have imagining them myself. I realize that like mom, Tris and I can see it from the Abnegation and Dauntless points of view, and it is not a pretty picture she’s painting already.

“But, it wasn’t just things with the factionless that were unstable. The fighting and hostility between the factions started to spiral out of control and the factions communicating or just blaming each other, as well as with factionless. Erudite started their vying for control for the first time in the cities history. It wasn’t just more say in the government that they wanted like in years past, they wanted all the control. I can admit, with good reason from their point of view. It came as a response to the fact that the most violent or aggressive of the attacks seemed to all focus on them. In truth, they did, but they also hit Abnegation and Dauntless just as hard. With faction relationships so deteriorated, no one could agree on how to handle things. Dauntless was stretched thin just trying to keep up as it was and then the tensions started to really rise and took to the streets with faction members getting into altercations right on the streets. Amity’s visiting Candor or Erudite was just as much a target as an Abnegation in Erudite.”

She stopped speaking when I held up a hand, almost as if raising it to be able to ask a question but really I was just trying to process what she said and raised it unconsciously. But since she looked to be waiting, I asked the question anyway.

“How is that even possible? Why would an Amity be anywhere near Candor or Abnegation in Erudite of all places?”

She nodded in understand and went on to explain.

“We weren’t always so cut off from the other factions as we are now. When your father and I were much younger, the credo of faction before blood wasn’t enforced so strictly. Family members were able to have contact between other factions and there were monthly visiting days instead of just every three months like now. I can remember things slowly changing as I got closer to choosing and people became warier of venturing into the other faction sectors as tensions started to rise. It wasn’t until things reached a boiling point that all of that it changed to what we have now.”

“A group of older faction members, consisting of members from all factions, started to meet. Most, but not all, had some kind of family relationship between them and that was really how it started. Friends and family coming together in those trying times, sharing their burdens. But it started to slowly grow beyond that, adding more people as the troubles started to escalate. They began to meet in secret to discuss the things going on in the city in more specific terms and to try and come up with something that could end the spiral the city was in. Their meetings, while not technically illegal, definitely were walking the line. Some people would and did consider them treasonous especially considering those meetings started to lead to plans. Because in those meetings it moved beyond musings and venting and it was determined that if there was going to be peace again in the city radical changes would need to be made.”

Once again my mom pauses and reaches to take a drink of tea, her hand shaking slightly but for me, a thousand questions are begging to be let out even though I know her story isn’t done yet.

“How do you know all of this?” I blurt out the first of those questions, not even bothering to hesitate like I would have before going to Dauntless. I do stop at that single question before I bite my lip so the others don’t slip out in rapid fire.

My dad gives me a strained smile. “I think you two might have an idea of how we know.”

“Someone you knew was part of the group?” Tris blurts out her own question.

“Yes.” My dad replies sadly, taking over after a short shake of her head from my mom. “We both knew someone involved with the group.”

“What happened?” Tris prompts our parents softly.

“Word got back to others that the group was making plans, though we weren’t told the details on what the plans were exactly from those we knew. I’m sure now it was to protect us from being accused of being involved if they were found out. When the group was discovered, it was publicly proclaimed those involved had tried to attack and take over the government. The result was that the people, the leaders of these groups, were arrested and tried for treason. They were found guilty but there was a great debate and civil unrest when execution was the suggested punishment for them. I think even then not everyone could believe the people said to be involved were guilty of anything but there wasn’t anything that could be done at this point to keep them from being punished completely. So, a compromise was reached instead. They were banished from the city. Sent outside the walls with a single backpack of provisions and belongings with the instructions that if they tried to re-enter, they would be shot on sight.”

“Afterwards, many changes were made to the government and the laws we have to follow now. Communication between family members of different factions was all but cut off completely with the belief that was mostly to blame for what happened. Visiting days were changed to what they are now. The interaction between factions had already been fairly limited but it was even more limited afterward to cut off any more collaborations. Investigations continued to find any other people that might have been involved and when someone was found, their punishment was the same. Banishment. By the end of it, over two hundred people were sent away from the city. Our borders and fences already existed before this happened, set up at the foundation of the city, but they were reinforced and guards posted to keep watch.”

“As if all of that wasn’t bad enough,” my mom finally spoke up again in a tone with hard anger. “Erudite came forward with evidence, that the people responsible for everything were more dangerous than they had first believed. The term divergent made its first real appearance during this time frame. They used data to whip up a frenzy of fear and used that to get permission to begin deeper investigations. They got permission to begin searching for and testing divergents.”

“What does that even mean?” I shout in frustration and slap my hands on the table, mainly to keep them from shaking in fear. “What is divergent really other than just being resistant to serums? Which, by the way, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and doesn’t make someone invincible. It doesn't mean they don’t have any effect at all on a person other than maybe dulling the damn things slightly. So what the hell kind of danger is that really when in the end we are just as susceptible? ”

Tris reached for my hand to grab it and give it a comforting squeeze while our parents looked between us. My sister, they had known about, but me they hadn’t.

“You too?” My dad asks softly. I sigh and nod in answer. “You didn’t have an inconclusive test though. Anyone with an inconclusive or interrupted test usually is, but there have been cases where it was just a fluke or mistake made on the part of the tester. That was how we knew your sister might be divergent.”

“I don’t know what happened exactly.” I start to answer with an exasperated huff. “The person that did my test said that it kept going too fast between the different factions, but in the end, Dauntless was the most common one and the one it seemed to go to first. So towards the end of the testing, she had to do something to the terminal that made it break, forcing me out of the very last scenario, and she told me it registered my result as Dauntless just before that. Even then she didn’t say I was divergent for sure, just that she had a suspicion I could be. It wasn’t until, well, it wasn’t until I was hit with a few darts by some factionless during our capture the flag exercise and then how fast I recovered from the effects of the serum, that it was really confirmed.”

They were speechless for a moment before my mom took a breath and nodded then shared a look with my dad. A conversation of some kind being shared between them.

“To understand how I know about divergence and what I am going to tell you, I need to tell you about my life before coming to this faction.” My dad began to speak slowly and is it pained him to be talking about this at all. “Before I transferred to Abnegation and before the incident we told you about, I was part of a group of gifted children in Erudite. The parents of these children usually recognized their intelligence and willingly handed them over to the faction leaders to raise and educate how they saw fit. I never really knew my parents, although I knew their names and on formal occasions, they would pay visits or I would attend functions with them as I got older. Emotionally, I had no connection to them and they had no connection to me either. Emotionally, I had very few connections to anyone in Erudite. There were a few of the other children that I was fond of and there were a few adults that I looked up to, even loved. One of them was my biological uncle. He was one of the people in charge of the gifted children programs. Because of our relation, he was forbidden from overseeing my specific group, but he made it a point to see and interact with me as much as he could without it looking suspicious. I wasn’t supposed to know who he was to me. When I was younger, I didn’t realize there was anything wrong with our relationship so didn’t understand the secrecy. It wasn’t until I grew older that I realized, with his help in seeing it, that the children were being groomed to put aside all emotions that would hinder their growth mentally and the ability to look at problems objectively without the nuisance of emotions getting in the way. Our lives revolved around intellectual pursuits, even in the very early years, rather than any real socialization or recreation. Sometimes it was made into games and competitions to engage our younger minds. Things that would keep us interested but also inspired fierce competitiveness between the children too. As we got older, we were allowed slightly more freedom in the subjects we learned and the projects we engaged in. They allowed us to pair up, guided by them of course, to become more social. These pairs would become arranged couples in later years, but at the time we weren’t told that is what was being set up.”

“Before the shake-up to the government and the alleged attempted coup, there were rumblings about abnormalities, or potential abnormalities, in the people of the city. The term divergence hadn’t made an appearance yet and wouldn’t until a few years after the failed government take over. The beginnings of it though came about from a thesis on genetics and their mutations from one very brilliant young girl and her partner.”

“In it, they pulled from data dating back to pre-war times when the subject of genetics was still in its infancy. They paid particular attention to old data regarding how different peoples genes mutated, that then manifested into various traits outside of the norm for people of their time. The mutations were various and could result in anything from a different eye, hair or skin color; to higher metabolism or tolerance for pain. The list of how they could all present in a person are too various and not all of them were benign because some of them were indicators of diseases or potential diseases.”

“It was this last thing, the potential to be able to detect diseases early on, that had originally drawn the attention of at least one of the pair. The boy felt that if they could pick up where things were left off by the scientists centuries ago, they might better be able to understand, cure or prevent those diseases we still have in the present day. But the girl saw something else, another potential, that would replace the entire tone of the project. It was quickly picked up instead by their guardians, teachers and many of the faction. Other projects were set aside and this became a high priority and high security. Research could only go so far using old data and it wasn’t long before new data was needed, but the problem was getting it. The methods that would be needed were questionable at best, completely unethical and totally inhumane, at worst. So it stayed a secret project, only spoken about in certain circles of the most obsessed and fanatical.”

“For years it stayed that way until those in charge saw an opportunity presented to them. An opportunity to use the events that lead to those people being banished from our city as the ammunition to point out an even bigger threat and provide the means to stop it. Divergence became the enemy because the real one, the corruption that was and still remains rampant, was being ignored.”

My dad stopped speaking finally. His tone had gone weary at the end until it looked like I was seeing someone with the weight of centuries on his shoulders across the table from me.

My mom tightened her grip on his hand and faced us. “It was Erudite that put in the parameters for what should be normal or not in our behavior. It was Erudite and those led by that faction who put out the mandates that all citizens needed to fit into certain molds, all in the name of keeping the peace when really it is a way to trap and control people. It was the founders that broke our society up into the different factions but it wasn’t until recently that the idea a person should only act a certain way, the way their faction dictates, came about. Divergence, by the words own definition, is being different or developing in different directions. All the faction dictates, the rules about family interaction, the changes, and upgrades to the aptitude tests; all of this has been to highlight anyone that might be even the slightest difference.”

“But why? Going by what you are saying, I can guess that my divergence has to be something to do with my ability to resist serums, but how does that make me dangerous?” I spew out in frustration and horror at what I have been told.

“It makes you different, Kat,” Tris said sadly and with knowing. “It makes us both different and to them that makes us dangerous. Either because they don’t understand what we are or are not capable of, or because they do and they want it, but can’t have it.”

I close my eyes and breathe in and out slowly. Trying to regain my calm. When I open my eyes again I look at my dad again.

“You were the boy weren’t you?” It comes out as a question but there is a bit of an accusation to it as well. I can hear my sister gasp a little at my tone, or the question, I don’t know which.

“Yes. I was the boy in the story and I have lived with the guilt from that among many other things for all of my life. It was also my uncle that was among those banished. Something that was in large part because of me and the role that was being asked of me to further what I started with a school child’s project. He tried to help keep me out of the plans that were made to make me and my partner the leads in what was to eventually happen. I was horrified when I realized what had been unleashed and went to him. Despite all of that, it wasn’t until he was arrested and sent away that I realized my disgust for Erudite and all it stood for. It wasn’t until meeting others outside of my faction that I realized how indoctrinated I was. It wasn’t until meeting your mother that I found the strength to break away and try to atone for my sins.”

For years I knew there was something lurking behind my father’s eyes but I had never been able to determine what it was. Then after the incident, he could never quite look me in the eye again or so I thought.

Maybe, it was really a mixture of both of us not being able to look each other in the eye?

Maybe the reason for that was because when we did, we saw ourselves and the guilt we carry within reflected back at us and we became too afraid to see that again so avoided any possibilities of it happening.

I see it now though, as our eyes are locked over the table, and I’m not afraid anymore.

I take a breath and nod slowly at my parents, in acceptance but also in thought. “I think there is more to this that you have to tell us and we need to know. No more secrets.” I say firmly and look between the rest of my family. “This family has been burdened with guilt that isn’t all of our own making but it’s time to move past that. Events in the past seem to be designed to break us but we haven’t and we won’t.” I look at Tris to see her nodding along with me.

“Kat’s right. We can’t continue to keep each other in the dark and if we want to be able to make things right like I know my sister has vowed to do,” She smiles at me briefly before continuing, “We need to know everything.”

“That’s a fair demand,” My mom says and puts her hand over my dad’s when he looks like he wants to object. “They aren’t children anymore, love.” She looks at him while speaking. “And you know I say this with no blame to you, but recent events have shown that despite our best intentions, we have failed in protecting them.”

His shoulders start to slide forward in defeat and his head hangs forward in shame, breaking me apart at the seams as tears come forward finally and I bolt up and over to him, throwing my arms around his shoulders. He tenses for a second before he shudders and reaches out to wrap an arm around first me than the other around Tris as she joined us.

I couldn’t have spoken words if I wanted to through my crying but the three of us listened as mom spoke them for us, her hand moving between us in soothing gestures. Murmuring words of comfort and strength until some time later we were able to pull apart and resume our seats.

During this, mom disappeared only to return with a small black box that looked similar the lockboxes Eric has in hidden compartments of the apartment closet. His are larger and meant for storing bigger items and he uses them to house weapons of all kinds. He called it a fire safe because it is supposed to be tough enough to withstand the heat of fires and strong enough to take beatings. I only know about them because he showed me where all his weapon caches are hidden.

You know, just in case. As if the ones he leaves laying out in the open aren’t enough.

Besides the smaller version of a fire safe, my mom also carries out an item that has me laughing in disbelief. She sets all her items down and holds up a bottle then indicates our cups of tea.

“I thought we could all use a little fortification.” She says with a smirk.

I look over at Tris even while I hold my mug of tea up for her to pour a bit of the whiskey she produced from somewhere and see my sister staring at our mom with her mouth hanging open.

When I have my combination of tea and whiskey I lean over and use my fingers to lift her mouth back into place, causing her to snap it closed and look at me with a glare. It doesn’t last long because she is soon looking at my mom while blushing and holding her own mug up for a dash or two of the amber liquid.

I take a careful sip and shudder at the strong taste that can’t be changed by the delicious tea. It does the trick of warming me inside and I relax a little bit at a time. My mom is a smart lady, I decide giddily while I watch my dad drink his own mixture and see the tension start to ease from him as well.

He sighs, the sound still a bit wearily before he looks at the two of us, ready to begin again. “No more secrets between us but what we tell you next has to stay secret from anyone not in the family. Agreed?”

I hesitated, flinching even and feeling a slight bit of panic not knowing if I was going to be able to agree to something like that when it meant keeping something from Eric.

“Kat,” Someone calling my name seems to come from far away at first, until I feel a firm hand on my shoulder, putting gentle pressure on it and look up to see my father looking at me with kind eyes. “Kat, I did say to keep it within the family.” He repeats but this time he puts emphasis on that last word. “But you have to be certain that when discussing anything with them, there will be no chance it can be heard.”

My breathing starts to normalize and I nod in response. “Agreed.”

When I look at the table, I see the small firebox is open and on the table, there is now some kind of electronic device that is blinking a green light and a small bundle of paper sits beside it.

“Now that we’ve made sure that we can’t be heard and you both understand, your mom is going to continue,” Dad says to us while he gestures to the device that is steadily blinking its green light.

“The first thing you need to know, that you are already partially aware of, is that our city has cameras in most public places. What you might not be aware of is that they are in more than just public places and even more importantly it isn’t just video feed that devices are capable of picking up. There are some that are capable of picking up audio feeds from great distances and other devices that are made specifically to filter all the sounds to be coherent. This device acts as a bubble, protecting against that. While we know by the blinking green light there aren’t any listening devices inside this home, there are some on the cameras around this sector. This will prevent them from picking up our talk from here on in. While we don’t know for certain that Erudite is still employing the use of those devices, they are what helped to apprehend those people we were telling you about before.”

I let out a shaky breath and nodded while taking another sip of tea, larger this time.

“The next thing you need to know is that everything you have been told about the world outside our city, how it is mostly a wasteland and that we are the only people who survived the wars and diseases and other various disasters, is a lie. There are other cities out there, other people, and those borders and fences that were set up around our city were as much to protect them from us as it was to protect us from them.”

Tris doesn’t even make a comment that now I am the one with my jaw hanging open in disbelief. Maybe because she’s right there with me.

[raywritesthings]

E1!Layriver and coming home (specifically after 11:59)

So I’m just gonna say I know the prompt meme said ficlet/drabble but this got...a bit out of hand. Hope you don’t mind a longfic for this one, not to mention a fixit au!

It wouldn’t have caught his eye if it hadn’t been so soon after, but as it was the photograph made him stop at the front desk.

His newly appointed personal assistant looked up. “Mr. Queen?”

Oliver blinked. “Uh, sorry. Would you mind if I took a look at this?” His fingers tapped the front page of the paper sitting there with that picture in the upper-right corner.

“No, go right ahead.”

He took it and continued on to his office. There were already forms on his desk, but Oliver sat down and unfolded the paper instead.

ER doctor wanted for questioning

Accompanying the headline was that photo, the one that had stood out to him. Because he recognized this particular doctor. She had been Laurel’s doctor.

If she was wanted, was it because she’d helped them? Even if public opinion about vigilantes was currently mixed, he couldn’t just let that happen. Yet as Oliver read further, it became clear that wasn’t the case.

Suspected for taking bribes. Connections to laundered money. What was going on?

He took up his phone and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Felicity? Have you seen the paper?”

“Uh, no. Technically I have a digital subscription, so I wouldn’t be seeing a paper — but that’s not what you meant.”

“The ER doctor who treated Laurel is wanted for questioning by the police.”

“Oh. That’s bad.”

“We need to find her.”

If she was an innocent, then they owed it to her to help clear her name. If she wasn’t, then he had some questions about the level of care she truly afforded her patients.

He thought again of the promise Dr. Schwartz had made that Laurel would be fine. The suddenness of the embolism. True, things could honestly be missed, but how closely had this doctor been keeping a watch on things if she’d been busy accepting bribes? And for what?

It didn’t take Felicity long to track a location. Schwartz had shown up on a traffic cam just outside the city limits. The only thing of note in that direction was a roadside motel. Clearly she was planning to lay low for the time being until the police interest died down and she could make her next move.

Too bad. He was making his first.

It was almost too easy to open the single window in Schwartz’s room so he could slip inside.

“Oliver?”

He paused. Felicity had been planning to go out that night; if she was still in the base, it was probably important.

“Did Schwartz move?”

“No, but I got into the SCPD files on the case. They’re working with the federal government on this one, because the money put in her account — well, it’s been traced back to HIVE.”

HIVE. He hadn’t expected to hear that name ever again after Darhk had been killed. But his efforts to infiltrate and corrupt the city had been extensive. It made perfect sense Darhk would have had influence over every public institution he could, whether through bribery or threats.

“Oliver, if Schwartz was paid off by Darhk and was Laurel’s doctor—”

“It can’t be a coincidence,” he finished. His hand clenched around his bow. “I’ll get the truth out of her, Felicity. Good work.”

“I can stay on the comm,” she said. “I’ll just ask Billy for a rain check.”

“No, you should go. I can handle this.”

He was done asking Felicity or any of the others to put their lives on hold for him. And truthfully, Oliver wanted this confrontation to be just between him and Schwartz. It was personal. When it came to Laurel, it always would be.

He waited just over half an hour, still as a statue as night slowly fell outside.

Schwartz unlocked her door and trudged inside, only to gasp and spin around in his direction.

“You!”

“Yes.” Oliver didn’t bother with disguising his voice. She already knew exactly who he was. “Damien Darhk. How much did he pay you to kill Laurel Lance?”

“Kill? I didn’t kill anybody.”

An arrow embedded in the door right where her hand had been about to reach kept her from getting ideas about leaving. To further make his point, Oliver began to circle around her, placing himself in the way of escape.

“You told us she would pull through. The next minute, she’s seizing from an embolism. When did Darhk make the call? When did HIVE order you to do it?” He took a step closer. “I know you took their money. Don’t try to tell me that you didn’t do their dirty work for them.”

“I took the money, yes, but I’m not a killer! I didn’t kill your friend, please, you have to believe me,” Schwartz begged.

He took out an arrow. “But you were working for the man who did.”

“No, no, please.” Schwartz had both hands raised as though that would offer her any protection. “I know I shouldn’t have taken the money. I had so much debt—”

“I’m not the judge,” he said, nocking the arrow on the string.

“She’s alive!”

Oliver froze. “What?”

“Laurel Lance. She’s alive,” Schwartz gasped. “She survived the stab wound, you were right.”

“But the embolism—”

“It was fake. They paid me to fake an emergency so they could take her. The staff helping me weren’t with the hospital. They were his people. They switched her out for a double — I don’t know where they found the body, I swear,” Schwartz explained in a rush. Her hands were still raised.

He wasn’t sure if any of this was even real anymore, but Oliver demanded, “Then where did they take her?”

“I don’t know! All I had to do was give them the time to switch her out. That’s all I knew. I got my first payment a month after. The second never came.”

Because Darhk was dead, what remained of his ghosts scattered to the wind. Was there even a way to know she was telling the truth?

And if she was...then Laurel—

Oliver stowed the arrow back in his quiver. “Give me everything you have that tied you to them. Contact numbers, names, anything.”

He couldn’t let himself think it just yet. He didn’t know if he could come back from discovering Schwartz was wrong.

The base was still empty when he got back from the motel. That was good. He didn’t want to discuss this with anyone until he had tangible proof. Even if the clock had to be ticking.

If Darhk had had Laurel taken captive, it must have been for some part of his plan that was scrapped after Ruve’s death. What if he had given the order to have Laurel killed in retaliation? What if his men had done so after he had been killed and they had no use for her?

Oliver worked into the early morning, back-tracing the information Schwartz had given him as far as he was capable. He lost Darhk’s pointman on this mission somewhere after crossing the Rockies.

He’d be expected at the office soon. Oliver frowned, thinking through his options. Eventually, he picked up his phone again.

“Oliver, not all of us are public servants who need to be up this early,” Felicity groaned after the second ring.

“You’re awake.”

“Yeah, well I made Billy some coffee before he left — which was more information than you needed to know.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. But this was familiar, comfortable. He was relieved things had gone back to how they used to be between the two of them and that Felicity was happier. “What I do need to know is where some of Darhk’s former ghosts are now. I tried following the trail from Schwartz, but—”

“You hit a wall? I can trace them. What are we doing this for specifically?”

Oliver paused. He hadn’t thought of an alternative reason. But he also couldn’t bring himself to get her hopes up, or to have his crushed when she told him Schwartz had to be lying.

“They still have some of HIVE’s supplies. Weapons.”

“Why does this feel like when you used to ask me to do things without telling me it was for vigilante purposes?”

Oliver was thankful this was over the phone so she couldn’t see from his face how true that was. “I just think it’s important to tie up any loose ends this time. Make sure something isn’t going to come back to bite us.”

“You mean like Malcolm always does?”

He grit his teeth together. “Yeah.”

Felicity’s sigh came through loud over the phone. “I’ll get on it. Soon as I’m actually awake.”

“Thank you.” He knew it would be suspicious to urge her to hurry, yet it was hard to end the call there. Harder still was preparing for and going into work that day. He couldn’t even pretend to be focused on the papers on his desk. All he knew was that there was the smallest, most impossible chance that he hadn’t lost her, that there was still time.

He tried to imagine it. Laurel, alive and returned to them the way Lance had been hoping when Evelyn stole her costume. Lance would have back the rock he desperately needed. They all would. Thea wouldn’t be so alone in the apartment. John wouldn’t have to keep carrying that guilt over Andy’s actions. The team could be whole again.

And as for him? He couldn’t count the number of nights lost in dreams where Laurel had healed and come home from that hospital. Where she had been by his side as always helping to bring Darhk back in. Where her smile as he accepted the appointment of interim mayor was near-blinding with radiance. Where she loved him, and he loved her.

He could say the words back this time. He could show her she was the great love of his life. But only if Schwartz was right. Only if he made it in time.

Oliver left the office early and barely avoided speeding on the way back to the base. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor of the elevator as it descended.

“Felicity, what do you got?”

She swiveled around in her chair to face him. “I’ve traced them up to about three nights ago.”

“How far east does that put them?”

“Actually, that was your problem. They doubled back after reaching Midway City, which is where you lost them. About three weeks after everything was over here.” She turned back and pulled up another window on the computer screen. “Their most recent stop was in a gas station outside of Opal City. Looks like they were still traveling west.” Felicity looked up. “Maybe they’re coming back?”

That didn’t make sense. If they had Laurel, they wouldn’t just bring her back without some way of leveraging the situation in their favor. A random notice, something. But if they were traveling west...

His expression hardened. “They’re heading to the shore. Felicity, I need their location now.”

“Oliver, what’s really going on?”

He was already marching to his case for his suit and shook his head. “There’s no time to explain.”

He couldn’t afford to waste a single second, not when it meant the difference between finding or losing Laurel for good.

—-

What stood out the most was the stench. She couldn’t even remember how long it’d been since she’d last had a shower. Of course, it was hard to know how long it had been at all when she was chained to the wall of a shipping crate and blindfolded whenever she was brought out of it for her single bathroom break of the day.

None of that was the worst part.

Laurel had done her best to listen in whenever she could. It was Darhk’s people holding her hostage, though that much had been easy to guess on its own. Back home, everyone thought she was dead. She couldn’t even imagine what her father was going through right now. She’d never wanted to put him through that. And what about the others? The team, her sister, Oliver?

She’d been such an idiot to tell him the truth. What good would it have done? What did he have to be going through, thinking she was dead after that kind of confession? She knew the kind of pain that could cause, the marks that left on a person even if they couldn’t be seen. Laurel could only hope the others were there for him, that they’d all managed to find some form of happiness and moved on.

In the last two months, the talk amongst her captors had changed. Darhk was dead; how, she didn’t know. But that left whatever threads of his plan hanging. Including her.

Laurel knew she had a very short window of time left. There were arguments most nights about what to do with her now. How best to get rid of her.

The first few weeks of her captivity, she’d still been too weak from her wound to attempt a workable escape, though upon waking she’d struggled as much as she’d been able. They were clearly aware of her abilities as well, and she was never allowed a moment alone where her hands weren’t chained down.

That couldn’t stop her forever, though. She’d started off by scraping the edge of one of her cuffs along the floor, sharpening it into something she could use. The next step was one she had to be careful with, because if they noticed her progress it would be all over.

Laurel had been steadily cutting at the chain holding her with the sharpened cuff, as close to her arms as possible so she could better hide it whenever someone entered the crate. The chain was about a meter long and was fed through a metal loop bolted into wall before fastening over each of her wrists at either end. If she could break it, she’d have both arms free and a potential weapon.

There were cuts all over her wrist she could only hope weren’t infected, some deeper than others. It was hard to see with her arms stuck behind her, and misses happened especially during those long stretches between the pathetic meals they afforded her.

But she could deal with those consequences later. Right now, her first and only priority was escape. She was the only person who could make that happen. No one else even knew she was alive, much less where she was.

Laurel had woken to the taste of saltwater heavy in the air, what little of it filtered through the air holes of her crate. They’d reached a coast. She was going somewhere, and she didn’t imagine it was anywhere she’d like. Escape had to be now. Who knew how long it’d take her to find her way home if she was taken out to sea?

She slowed her cutting attempts as the sound of footsteps approached, and Laurel held her breath while straining her ears.

“...want to see what I’m buying.”

“She’s not in the best condition. We’ve had to keep her chained up. She’s too strong, otherwise.”

They were selling her. Her breath quickened without her say so, and Laurel began taking mad swipes at the groove she’d cut into the chain.

“This photo shows her off better.”

There was an agreeing hum from somebody. “How do I keep her from fighting back if she won’t be chained?”

“By the time you’re across the Pacific, she’ll have given up. She hasn’t even tried fighting us in weeks. She knows no one’s looking for her.”

“Couldn’t even send the father a ransom note,” a third voice claimed. “He’d skipped town with his girlfriend.”

Laurel did her best to shut the voices out and focus on freeing herself. It wasn’t her father’s fault. He thought she was dead. He was doing what he needed to do to keep going. Everyone was. She hadn’t been left.

There was a rattle as the chain snapped in two, falling to the ground. Laurel sat up and listened. The men had stopped talking.

Before she could decide what her next best move was, a yell of pain sounded some distance from the shipping crate. Then another. And another, closer this time. And if she listened…

She knew that sound. Arrows flying through the air.

Laurel’s heart leapt into her throat and she stood, pulling the chain free.

People were shouting outside and guns were firing, but the most important noise was that of the padlock on the crate rattling. Laurel hugged the wall and moved closer, the chain held between both her hands as she watched the lock rattle.

“Shit, shit,” one of her captors burst through the door with a ring of keys in his hand, blinking at the spot where she was supposed to be. “Shit!”

Laurel stepped out from the wall, throwing the chain over the man’s neck and pulling him back tight. “Drop the keys,” she hissed in his ear.

He did, both hands going to pull at the chain. Laurel released him first, kicking him forward into the opposite wall. He smacked against it and crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

She bent down and scooped up the key ring. She’d need it later. For now, she crept to the door with the chain held tight between both hands again, peering out into the night.

Laurel couldn’t hold in a gasp. Bodies littered the ground, arrows sticking out of chests or backs — and they were green-tipped.

“Oliver…” This couldn’t be him. Could it?

Another howl of pain beyond the next row of crates had her running, though it was a pitiful effort compared with her usual. She rounded a crate to find a man in a suit who she didn’t recognize on the ground, clutching at his leg. An arrow had pierced through it, and another embedded in the top of a crate as the Green Arrow zip-lined down. He didn’t even pause to speak as he took out another arrow.

Laurel darted forward. “No!”

It was Oliver that froze and looked up at her. Oliver’s eyes that widened behind the mask. Was it coincidence that he was here? Had he not even known she was?

She took halting steps forward, bringing herself level with the man that would have bought her. “He’s a trafficker. He’ll have information about other women and girls that prosecutors and human rights organizations need.” Laurel took a final step to put herself between both men. “And this isn’t you.”

The arrow he’d meant to draw back in his bow slipped from his grasp. He drew in a breath, but whatever he meant to say seemed stuck.

There was the rustle of cloth behind her, and Laurel spun around, Nyssa’s training sharp in her mind, to crack the man over the head her wrist cuff. He dropped to the ground like a stone, knife falling harmlessly from his fingers.

“Typical,” she muttered, wincing as she rubbed at her wrist with her other hand; the cuff had scrape over half-healed cuts, some of them reopening.

“Laurel.”

She looked back over her shoulder. Oliver was watching her with both pain and wonder in his eyes. His fingers twitched where they hung at his sides.

“Yeah, it’s me.” She faced him again, but her eyes lowered to the ground as she added, “Sorry about...all this.”

“Laurel, you are the last person who needs to be sorry.” He places both hands on her arms, and when she glanced up his smile was delicate but beautiful. “You’re alive.”

He pulled her into his chest, arms enfolding her, and her breath left her in one shaky whoosh of air. The weeks or maybe months of stress and fear and loneliness were over. Oliver was there, real and solid and holding her back. She was safe.

“How did you find me?”

“Schwartz confessed. The doctor in the ER,” he clarified. “Darhk paid her to help them fake your death.” One of his hands rose to cup the back of her head. “I almost didn’t make it.”

“But you did.” Her hands shifted at his back, and the chain still hanging from her wrist rattled with the movement.

They both pulled back, and Oliver looked her over for a second time, his smile fading.

“I took the keys,” she said, holding out the ring. “Not sure which one works.”

“Here.” He took a gentle hold of one of her arms, testing out each key in the lock until he found the right one. The cuff over her wrist fell with a clatter. When her reached for her other arm, his expression darkened as his thumb rubbed over the cuts.

“Who did this?”

“I did.”

He looked up at her in shock.

“I had to cut the chain, and it was behind my back, so sometimes I missed.” She shrugged, looking away as she added, “It was the only plan I had.”

He unlocked the second cuff and placed both hands on either side of her face, leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I should have figured this out sooner.”

“Well, Darhk died, so it wasn’t as if he could’ve told you,” Laurel remarked. Oliver went still, and she looked up at him. “How- how did he die?”

A distant siren caused them both to turn and look. The police must have been alerted to all the noise from the fight.

The way she clutched at his suit was at odds with her own words. “You have to go.”

Oliver frowned and nodded. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“No!” She hadn’t meant to sound so sharp, and she looked down, the mess of her hair hanging over her face. “I mean, I’ll just go to the station with them. I’m sure they’ll have questions.”

“Laurel, you’ve been through too much to be interrogated right now. You’ve been starved, you’re probably dehydrated, and someone needs to take a look at your arm.” He bent down to meet her eyes. “I promise, I’m not gonna leave your room for a second. Not even if they try to force me. Nothing is going to happen to you there.”

She drew in a shaky breath and nodded. The sirens were growing louder with each second. “You need to go. Now.”

Oliver pulled away from her, looking as though it caused a physical pain. She had to wrap her arms around herself to avoid reaching out. He took another arrow with a line on the end and shot it into the top of another container. Then he was rising up and over the top, disappearing into the night.

Red and blue lights washed over her as a squad car rounded the corner. Laurel lifted both hands into the air as the driver and passenger doors opened, two cops getting out with their guns unholstered.

“I’m unarmed! Please help me, these men have been keeping me captive since April.”

“Stay right there, Miss.” One of the officers slowly approached her while the other went to the still unconscious trafficker. “What’s your name?”

“Laurel.” She cleared her throat. “Dinah Laurel Lance. I’m sorry, I don’t have any ID. Where are we?”

“Just outside of Coast City, Laurel. You say these men abducted you?”

She nodded. “Except him. I think he was planning on buying me.”

The officer looked to his colleague, who stared back in shock. “I’ll run his driver’s license. See what we can find.” She turned to Laurel and stood back up to full height. “Have they abused you, Laurel?”

She shook her head. “Mostly I just didn’t have enough to drink or eat. I, um, cut my arm trying to escape.”

“We’ve got arrows! Green ones, like that Star City maniac,” a third voice proclaimed as another officer walked into view. Laurel winced; it had been a while since she’d heard Oliver referred to that way.

“How many dead?” The first officer asked.

“Seven, and there’s one unconscious inside a shipping crate.”

Seven men. Oliver had killed seven men. Why? What had happened while she was gone?

“Should the victim be taken to a hospital, Jones?” The second officer asked, eyeing Laurel. She’d probably mistaken her distress over Oliver’s return to killing for a more general upset.

“Yeah. Yeah, Martin and I’ll finish up here. You stay with her.”

“Right. If you can come with me to the car, Laurel.”

Laurel followed after her police escort, arms folded over her chest once again. She was free, but somehow life only seemed to be more complicated than before.

Oliver had found her, had held her in his arms with a tenderness she hadn’t thought to hope for in a long time. But why were seven men dead? And where were the others?

—-

Oliver paced back and forth in the hallway outside Laurel’s room. This was the closest he was being allowed while a doctor and nurse did their preliminary diagnostics, but he was confident in his position. He had the only door to Laurel’s room covered, and he was keeping a mental tally of each and every person who entered and left through that door. Darhk’s men were gone, but he was done taking chances any longer.

He was tempted to ask Felicity to run background on the entire staff of the hospital, but that would involve actually telling her what all this was about. She knew he was in Coast City, that he had been down by the docks, but that was about it.

Oliver knew he should text her and Thea, that he should find out if they had some way to contact Lance. But this still felt so new, so fragile. He had to see her again first, he resolved. Then he could confidently tell the others this was real.

“Mr. Queen?” A nurse poked her head out into the hallway, and he stopped his pacing. “You can come in.”

Laurel was in a hospital gown again, which was hard to see, but she was sitting up and totally alert. There were bandages around her one arm and an IV inserted into the other.

“Hey.”

Laurel’s smile was a little tight as she looked up at him. “Hey.”

He glanced between her and the doctor, a little uncertain. “Is everything okay?”

The doctor nodded. “She’s been deprived of nutrients and water, but there shouldn’t be any lasting effects once properly treated. We’ve dressed and bandaged the cuts on her arm, and she’ll be taking an anti-bacterial medication to ensure there’s no chance for infection.” He glanced down at Laurel. “You’re certain about no painkillers?”

“Yes. I, um, I’ve had a history with them.”

“Ah.” The doctor made a note on his clipboard. “Then we’ll just proceed with the treatment plan as-is.” He looked up and afforded them both a pleasant smile. “We’ll give you both a moment.”

Once the door was shut behind him and the nurse, Oliver took the chair at her bedside. “Was everything okay with the police?” He’d noticed an officer sniffing around the front desk, but Laurel obviously wasn’t under lock and key here.

“Yeah. They didn’t ask too many questions.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she added, “Probably because they were more worried about the bodies Green Arrow left behind.”

He couldn’t meet that gaze, and he couldn’t find anything to say.

The bedsheets rustled as Laurel sat forward. “Ollie...what happened? This isn’t who you wanted to be anymore.”

“No, but it’s who I have to be. It’s the only way to stop what happened — what almost happened to you from happening again.”

“You killed Darhk.” It wasn’t a question.

“I know that’s not what you would have wanted,” he said quietly. He’d already admitted as much to her grave. Which was no longer her grave.

“Then why do it at all? Killing Darhk wouldn’t have brought me back to life if I’d really been dead. Killing other people wouldn’t do the same either.” She wasn’t yelling, yet somehow that was worse. Because he knew she was right.

“I’ve tried doing things the right way, Laurel. The way you would have been proud of, or Tommy. But all that does is just give people like Darhk another chance to hurt others.”

“And what about the hurt you’re causing yourself? I don’t believe this doesn’t weigh on you.”

He shrugged. “I can handle it. There was already too much darkness in me to be some kind of hero. It’s better for everyone else if I stopped pretending to be one.”

Laurel was silent for a moment, though when he looked up, she was frowning. “Where exactly did you get that idea?”

“An immortal sorceress in Hub City told me.”

She blinked, but worked immediately to school her features. “Well, just because she’s immortal doesn’t mean she knows everything. What about the others? The team, what do they think about this?”

He grimaced. That question was bound to come up at some point, but he didn’t have much to tell her that she’d like to hear. “The team is kind of over.”

“What?”

“It’s been hard, Laurel. Without you. A lot went wrong, and a lot of decisions had to be made. Thea doesn’t trust herself to be Speedy anymore, your father took time away from Star City, and John went back for a fourth tour.”

“In the army? But what about his daughter?”

Oliver shrugged again, though this time more out of helplessness. “He’s dealing with a lot of guilt, and this is the only way he knows how to process it.” At her look, he explained. “Andy threatened Lyla and Sara. After he turned on us, and what we thought happened to you, John wasn’t willing to take the chance. He killed his brother.”

Laurel covered her mouth with one hand, eyes wide.

There was a knock on the door and it opened, revealing the police officer he’d noticed before. “Excuse me. They’ve finished pulling up your information, Laurel. It looks like you’ve been declared dead while you were missing.”

Laurel took her hand away to reply, “Yeah, my friend was telling me.”

The officer nodded. Then she stepped further into the room, shutting the door. “I was also hoping to ask you some questions about tonight, seeing as the vigilante called the Green Arrow was involved. You might be able to tell us more.”

Laurel’s head tilted. “Because I’m from Star City?”

It hit him a moment before the officer spoke where this was going, and Oliver felt a spike of horror go through him. What had he done?

“Because you’ve been named as a partner of his. The Black Canary.”

Laurel’s mouth fell open. “What?”

This was going to require some quick thinking. He couldn’t let her go to jail for a mistake he made. Oliver stood. “Actually, officer, I was the one who named Laurel—” he didn’t miss the way she whipped about to look at him and could only imagine the expression on her face. “—but I was mistaken. You see, we were having issues with a terrorist named Damien Darhk, and Laurel was the one who initially prosecuted him. When he broke out of jail, he had her abducted while paying off a doctor to fake her death, and I was led to believe by them that she was killed fighting him as the Black Canary.”

“And she wasn’t?”

Oliver shook his head, keeping his tone level and sincere. “No.”

“Why would a terrorist have wanted you to think she was?”

“People back home really love the Black Canary,” Oliver honestly replied, thinking of the proposal for a statue he’d signed only last week. “I think he hoped that by making us all believe she was dead, it would demoralize the city. As for what the vigilantes are up to in reality, I couldn’t tell you. The Green Arrow is the only one who’s been seen the last few months.”

The officer was frowning, but seemed to realize that was the only story she was going to get from him. She looked to Laurel instead. “Is there a reason the Green Arrow was there tonight?”

Laurel shrugged and rather expertly feigned innocence. “None that I’m aware. Damien Darhk was the one who had me abducted, so maybe the vigilante was following up on Darhk’s people? I don’t know if he knew I was even there.”

“I see.”

“If that answers your most pressing questions, officer, I’d appreciate if you let my friend rest,” Oliver said. “Laurel’s been through a lot.”

“I understand that, Mr. Queen.” The officer glanced between them, then turned and headed for the door. “I hope your recovery goes smoothly, Laurel.”

“Thank you.”

The door shut, and Oliver let out a breath. For a story on the fly, it would have to do, though some of the kinks would need to be worked out before they returned home.

“You told people I’m the Black Canary?” Laurel hissed.

“I — there was an issue with an impostor, and — pretty much anything you ask about, you’re not gonna like, okay?” He dropped back into the visitor’s chair. “Nothing good happened while you were gone.”

She didn’t look like she wanted to believe that. “What about Felicity?”

Oliver considered. “She came back to the team after you — after we lost you. She wanted to see Darhk finished. And she still helps out on the comms and everything now.”

“Well, that sounds good to me.” Laurel paused. “Have you two…”

He shook his head. “Felicity has a new boyfriend she’s very happy with.”

Her face fell. “Oh. Oliver, I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’ve always wanted Felicity to be happy, and it’s pretty clear that was never going to happen with me.” He looked down at his hands in his lap. “Making people happy hasn’t ever been my strong suit, Laurel. I can’t change who I am.”

The island hadn’t cured him of his lying or keeping secrets. If anything, it had made those problems worse, made it so that he lied and kept secrets because he didn’t trust. And Tommy’s death hadn’t kept him from killing, hadn’t taken that instinct away from him. Felicity was right that he would always be the same person, and that was why he was alone.

Laurel swung her legs over the side of the bed and leaned over to take both his hands. “But you did change, Oliver. You have. That doesn’t mean it’s easy or that once you’ve changed it’s permanent, and you can never fall back on your old ways. You just have to keep trying, and that’s something you’ve always done.”

“Trying isn’t enough.”

“It is to me.”

He looked up and met her eyes. Those same, familiar eyes he had known most of his life, that had taken on pain and hard-fought wisdom, compassion and love. It was humbling, to be looked on that way after all the intervening years and everything that had happened between them.

Oliver opened his mouth, swallowed, then tried again. “Laurel, what you told me in the hospital, before they took you...is that still true?”

Her breath caught, and her hands shook in his grasp for a moment.

The door opened yet again, this time to admit the nurse. “I’m sorry, Mr. Queen. I know the circumstances of Laurel’s case are unusual, but it is long past visiting hours and she needs to be resting.”

Oliver squeezed Laurel’s hands briefly before letting go to stand up and turn around. “I understand you have policies, but without meaning any offense, the last time I left Laurel alone in a hospital room, she was taken from me. I promised her I’d stay this time.”

The nurse sighed. “As long as it does not interfere with the patient’s ability to rest.”

“Of course.” He stood aside to allow her to help Laurel back under the bedsheets without disturbing the IV, which she also changed the bag for. He was fixed with a meaningful, no-nonsense look before they were left alone again, though not before the lights were shut off.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and when they did he headed for another chair sitting in the corner of the room.

“Ollie?”

“You really should rest, Laurel. And I’m pretty sure she’s gonna kick me out if she even thinks we’re still talking in here.” He was hit with a serious wave of deja vu as he said the words, visions of a taser-wielding Lance dancing in his head. He barely held in a snort.

She rolled onto her side to face him, her knees curling in. How could someone so strong be simultaneously so adorable? “You don’t actually have to — you should get some rest, too.”

“I can do that here.” He made a show of tucking both arms behind his head and kicking his shoes off. “Goodnight, Laurel.”

God, he almost wanted to say the words over again, they awoke something so warm inside him. He wanted to be able to tell her that every night, for those to be some of the last words he said before sleeping.

“Goodnight, Ollie.” She shifted onto her back again and within minutes was breathing deeply. He couldn’t imagine the last time she must have gotten real, sound sleep.

A part of him was angry; at Darhk and his special brand of cruelty; at Schwartz and her willingness to go against her oath for money; at himself for not realizing the truth for so long, for making Laurel wait again.

But he knew that wasn’t what Laurel would want him to focus on. She was alive, unlike what he had thought, and she was safe now. They had her back.

And with that calming thought in mind, he drifted off to sleep himself.

—-

Laurel did not wake up until the nurse returned to take her off the IV and change her bandages in the morning. She felt somehow more tired and groggy after sleeping than she had the previous night. Probably a lack of adrenaline.

Oliver was asked to step out while the nurse set to work, and she was barely able to exchange a sleepy good morning before he did.

Laurel finally got her much-needed shower in between changing the bandages, and she stood under the hot spray for much longer than strictly necessary. It just felt too good to be able to run her hands through her hair again and be clean. It wasn’t coming back to life, but it was coming back to feeling like she should be among people again.

Laurel dried off, the cool air in the bathroom helping to wake her up. She poked at the dark scar on her abdomen from the stabbing that put her in this situation in the first place. It was the first time she’d really been able to look at it. It almost didn’t seem like a part of her yet.

There was a knock on the door. “I’ve brought you a change of clothes,” said the nurse.

“Thank you.” Laurel opened the door a crack to reach out and take them. They were more like pajamas, but better than the thin hospital gown she’d been in before.

She walked out and sat on the bed to let the nurse wrap her arm and give her a glass of water to take the anti-infection medication. Laurel drained the whole glass before setting it aside.

“Is Oliver still out there?”

“I think he’s trying the cafeteria coffee. Your breakfast should be here soon.”

“That’s okay. I’ll just go down there and eat.” She was tired of the small room, anyway, and she needed the walk to think.

Oliver had asked her about what she’d said before Darhk’s men had taken her. Whether it was true.

She couldn’t just lie. For one thing, that would make her a massive hypocrite. For another, she wasn’t sure he would believe her.

But what did that sort of confession do to their friendship? She didn’t want things to feel awkward or strained when they’d finally reached a sort of equilibrium. Not to mention how the others might feel.

There were a few people seated in the cafeteria when she reached it. Oliver was at a table in one corner facing the doors, and she caught his eye as she walked in. He was on the phone, so she continued to the line to get some food. By the time she joined him, he was still on the phone.

“I wanted to be sure before I told any of you. It wasn’t — yes, she’s fine,” he was saying. Laurel touched his shoulder briefly before sitting beside him, and he looked at her with a smile. “Better than fine.”

She fought back an answering smile of her own and mouthed, “Who is that?”

Oliver covered the phone with one hand. “Thea and Felicity are yelling at me on speaker phone. Apparently Felicity hacked the Coast City Police Department and your name came up.”

“You didn’t tell them?”

He opened and shut his mouth, then listened again on the phone. “Yeah, I’m still here. Look, I know. I know I always do this. You’re right. I just didn’t want any of you to have to go through this if Schwartz had been wrong.”

Of course he’d been planning to shoulder that pain by himself, if it had come to that. Laurel couldn’t even be surprised. That was just who Ollie was.

“Here.” She held out her hand for the phone, which he gladly passed over. Laurel put it up to her ear. “Hi, guys.”

There was a shriek and an exclamation of, “Oh, my God!” loud enough she was pretty sure Oliver still heard it.

“It’s really you,” Thea said, her voice sounding choked. “Laurel.”

She felt a pang in her chest even as she smiled. “Yeah, yeah it is. I’ve missed you all so much.”

“I’m so sorry, Laurel.” Felicity definitely sounded like she was trying not to cry. “I would’ve found you in five seconds if Oliver had actually told us that was what we were looking for.”

“That’s okay.” She snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her fondly, and she decided to try and help him out. “I’m okay, really. There’s nobody to blame here.”

“Except Dr. Schwartz,” Thea growled.

“Yes, well, she better have a good lawyer.”

“Which hospital are you checked into?” Felicity asked. “I’m looking up flight times.”

“No, you guys don’t have to come out here. I should be able to leave soon, and I just want to be home with everyone.”

“Are you sure? We don’t want you to be alone out there.”

“I’m sure, Thea. And I’ve got Ollie, so I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, he should probably make sure he’s back in the office by tomorrow morning. Unscheduled personal days for the mayor kind of make people nervous,” Felicity commented.

“The what?”

“Yeah, Ollie’s been named the interim mayor. Ruve kind of died in an explosion,” Thea muttered.

“Well. That is news to me.” Laurel was hesitant to ask if anyone they’d met in the last year was still alive, at this point. “If it’s okay, I’m gonna eat my breakfast now. I promise I’ll call you when we know more about when we’re leaving.”

“Yeah, of course. Please eat things,” Felicity replied.

“And come home once they say you’re better. Take care of yourself,” Thea added. “We love you.”

“I love you, too.” She had to wipe at the corner of her eyes after she hung up. It was so good hearing everyone’s voices again.

Oliver took the phone back. “You’re a miracle worker.”

“And you are a liar.” She cheated in on the bench to face him. “‘Nothing good happened’? Is being the mayor a bad thing suddenly?”

His eyes widened a moment. “Oh. Right.”

“Yeah. When was that gonna come up?”

He sighed. “It- it is a good thing, I suppose. I just...it’s been hard even noticing any of the good, lately. I wasn’t even sure about running once they get the election process started.”

“Why not?” She knew the passion Oliver had developed over the campaign was real, and that being forced to quit in the first place had been a hard blow even if it had been the only choice to make at the time.

He smiled for some reason, even as he shook his head. “I don’t know how to get through to you that nothing was the same when you were gone. I’m the Green Arrow and I’m the mayor, but I’ve just been...going through the motions. We all have.”

Laurel pushed her plate away, not really feeling hungry after all. “I know this is going to sound weird, but if I were actually dead, I wouldn’t want that for you. For any of you.”

“I know. I can only tell you it’s how I’ve felt.”

Laurel looked down. Feelings, right. “Oliver, about what you asked me last night...I meant what I said in that hospital. I love you. And that doesn’t have to change anything about how we are, or our friendship, because—”

“I love you, too.”

Laurel looked up sharply. “What?”

“I do. It’s one of those things that isn’t going to change about me, no matter how much I try or how little I deserve it.” His brow furrowed as he drew in a breath and continued, “The truth is, I never ran after you, Laurel. I was always running away. And I expected more than I deserved from you, more than I was willing to give back.”

She wanted to speak, but she had no idea where to start. It was hard, hearing him speak that way about himself, yet they were words she’d needed to hear for a long time now.

“But losing you made me realize how much I can’t do this without you. I need you in my life.” His lips twitched, just the barest of smiles. “From now on, that’s on your terms. As friends, partners...whatever you need me to be, I swear I’ll work every day to be that person. The man you fell in love with.”

Her eyes were stinging, and her chest felt tight. Laurel took a shaky breath, then threw her arms around him. He hugged her back, and it almost hurt how perfect a moment this felt. This sort of thing didn’t happen to her. But here it was.

“Ollie, I just need you to be yourself,” she said in his ear. “That’s who I fell in love with.” She leaned back and brought her hand to his cheek. “Past all the masks and the things you’ve tried to hide behind. You are a hero.”

His eyes were closed, and she wasn’t sure when she’d last seen him looking so peaceful.

Then his phone buzzed on the table again. His eyes blinked open, and Oliver sighed before glancing at the caller ID and answering.

“Yeah, Barry? It’s true. I’m with her right now.” Oliver smiled. “Yeah, it is great.”

Laurel felt herself smiling as well. It was touching to know that her friends cared that much. She reached to pull her plate back over, even though the eggs were definitely cold by now. She’d want to have something in her stomach before they started working on getting her discharged.

Oliver was still talking to what sounded like at least four members of Team Flash at once, so she took his free hand with hers under the table. He paused and looked at her, then leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek.

Laurel finished her food and leaned into his side. Even if she couldn’t wait to get back to Star City, she already felt like she was home.

[blackberrywidow]

Cut My Heart Out

Summary: Murder/Serial Killer AU. Detective Bucky Barnes had planned to spend this year’s Purge the same way he spent all of them—locked safely inside his home, avoiding trouble. However, his plans are unwillingly changed when a woman breaks inside his home. 

Warnings: It’s a Purge AU, so there are a lot. Language, violence, implied rape threat, blood, attempted murder. I promise there are also some nice things too!

Word Count: 8k (I'm so sorry)

A/N: This is my submission for @chrisadoodle‘s writing challenge. I struggled with deciding to do a reader-insert or oc, but felt that given the nature of the story, the oc fit better. So I’m sorry, but I hope you still like it! 

I also have a taglist now, so if anyone wants added to any of my one shots or series, just send me an ask!

“Yeah, Steve. I know. I’m locking up now,” Bucky said, continuing to shovel food into his mouth, decidedly not locking down his apartment like he had promised.

“No you’re not, Buck. I can hear you chewing,” Steve retorted, and Bucky knew that he was shaking his head the way he tended to when he was annoyed with him.

“No, I swear I’m doin’ it right now Steve.” Bucky chewed the slice of pizza even louder, earning him an exasperated sigh from his best friend. “Relax, man. It’s still thirty minutes until commencement. I’ve got plenty of time.”

“I know. I just wish that you would have come over tonight. I feel better when we can all spend this terrible night together.”

Steve was clearly stressed, as he always was on this night. Bucky and Steve were partners at work, where they were both detectives with the Brooklyn PD, but they had been partners for far longer. They grew up together, had been through everything together, so Bucky knew Steve better than anyone. And Steve had trouble saying no when he saw someone in trouble, which made the Purge incredibly difficult for him.

He had a family to protect—Peggy and the kids needed him to be there to keep them safe and he couldn’t go out on the streets to save the innocents that were targeted by the Purgers. Steve had always had too big of a heart, something that Bucky couldn’t fault him for, but it didn’t mean that he understood why he got so worked up about it. The Purge had been around for most of their lives and there was nothing they could do to change that. Terrible shit happened to good people—that was just life.

“I know,” Bucky sighed. “But you’ve got your own thing goin’ on. I’d like to just stay home and deal with this shit on my own.”

“You mean by getting drunk?”

“Hey, you have your coping methods, I have mine.”

“Listen, Bucky,” Steve said, sounding resigned, but stern, “I know that you like to deal with your… problems on your own, but just know that you don’t have to. I’m here for you. I always will be.”

“’Till the end of the line,” Bucky replied as he took a long pull from his beer, the line a reflex at this point.

“”Till the end of the line,” Steve repeated back, ending the call.

---

Twenty-five minutes later and Bucky was actually doing what he promised Steve and locking down his apartment. He triple checked every entryway and ensured that the locks were secure. It wasn’t exactly high-tech stuff, but it would do. Usually any sort of barricade was enough to deter Purgers in this area, and anyone that knew who he was knew better than to target him.

The sirens wailed as Bucky made his way to his living room, cold beer in hand, with every intention of riding the night out in relative peace. His years of getting worked up over the Purge had long since passed.

At least, that’s how he assumed he would be spending the night. Until he heard a thump sound from his bedroom.

Bucky tensed, every muscle contracting as his hand drifted to the gun he still had strapped to his belt and waited. After a moment of heavy silence where no one came into view or made another sound, he slowly stood from his chair, drawing his handgun as he did.

He cautiously made his way down the hallway that connected his living room to the rest of the apartment, gun expertly raised and ready to shoot whoever he found. His tolerance of the Purge was already thin, he definitely was not in the mood to deal with whatever bullshit had found its way into his apartment.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar, but Bucky was certain he had closed it the last time he was in there. He kicked it softly, turning quickly into the room eyes roving over every inch to locate whoever had broken in.

It was empty.

He scoured every inch of it with all the caution of a good detective before determining that it was clear. He furrowed his brows, processing his situation as quickly as possible.

It should have been impossible to break into his apartment without alerting him—he had an alarm system that he set during lockdown and breaking through steel bars wasn’t exactly a quiet business. And while not impossible, it was unlikely that someone would be able to sneak out of his room before he got there without him noticing.

But he had heard something, and he had a feeling that that something meant trouble—and if there was one thing Bucky trusted, it was his gut.

He made his way back out of the room, keeping his back to the wall and his gun raised. He inspected the laundry room and guest room in the same fashion, both empty and showing no sign of a break-in. He had just begun to suspect that maybe he was losing it when he heard the scraping of a chair coming from his kitchen.

He whirled around to face the other end of his hallway, eyes narrowed. “Jesus Christ,” he growled under his breath, beyond irritated at this point. Whoever was fucking with him was in for it the second he got in that kitchen.

He held this thought as he made his way back down the short hallway, ready to pull the trigger the second he laid eyes on his intruder.

Despite his determination, the sight that greeted him in his kitchen made him hesitate, luckily for the woman that was currently lounging at his island.

She appeared to be an average woman, with long caramel-colored hair and sun-kissed skin. She was sitting at his counter as though she had been there a thousand times before, eyes focused on a manila file as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

It was the exact opposite of what he had expected, which was enough to shock him into hesitating against his better judgement. He had been prepared for a previous perp back for revenge or a random thug looking to be “cleansed” in the wrong place. Not a seemingly harmless woman reading in his kitchen.

His foot shifted slightly, causing the floor under him to creak. The woman’s gaze snapped up at the sound, taking him in with one quick glance.

“Hello,” she said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. As though she hadn’t just broken into his home on the most dangerous night of the year. “You must be Detective Barnes.”

Bucky inched inside the room a bit, hands still clutching his gun and aiming it at the stranger’s chest, analyzing everything about her. She was still sitting at his island, legs crossed as she stared at him, a calm sort of challenge in her eyes. She didn’t seem to be armed, and she didn’t seem to aggressive—but anyone crazy enough to break into his house and act like they owned the place was clearly some sort of threat.

“Who are you?” He finally asked, eyes locked on hers as he continued to make his way inside the kitchen, gun unwaveringly steady.

“My name is Evelyn Mason. And you,” she said, finally breaking eye contact to stare back down at her file, “are Detective James Barnes. Four years in the Army, two of those served overseas before you came back and joined the police force, working your way up to be a detective. And you’re a good one. You’re a good guy, James Barnes. That’s why I’m here.”

She locked eyes with him again, the green of her irises seeming to pierce him with their ferocity. He wasn’t sure what kind of crazy shit this woman was going on about, but he wanted no part in it. “How did you get in?”

The woman’s lips curved up into a smirk. “Your bedroom window. You left it unlocked before commencement—not the safest of moves, especially for a detective.”

“So you broke in before the Purge started?” Bucky asked, ignoring the dig at his “safety.” Generally speaking, he didn’t have to worry about people breaking into his home on any other night—his job was actually almost obsolete thanks to the Purge. “That’s still considered illegal, you know. I could have you arrested in twelve hours.”

“I’m not too worried about that.” She said without emotion, her eyes cold as she stared back at him. It almost seemed threatening.

Bucky eyed her, trying to piece together all of this information and see the bigger picture she was after. “You here to kill me then, Sweetheart?”

It seemed like the only logical explanation—people didn’t just break into other peoples’ houses on Purge night to compliment them. So he was surprised when she rolled her eyes and sighed as though he was being ridiculous. “Do I look like I’m here to kill you, Sweetheart?”

Bucky cocked a brow at that. “Can’t say for sure at this point.”

The woman—Evelyn—huffed, but rose slowly from her seat, hands raised. Giving him a meaningful look as if to say are you happy now, she turned in a circle, moving painstakingly slow, giving Bucky plenty of time to take her in. She was wearing dark, form-fitting jeans tucked into knee high black boots paired with a loose white t-shirt and a black jacket. No outward signs of any weapons, but Bucky had enough experience and common sense to know that she could be concealing something in her boots or her jacket.

“So, if you’re not here to kill me, why are you here?” he finally asked, deciding to play along for the moment, after she had made a full turn, coming to a stop to continue looking at him with that look of impatience as though he were wasting her time.

“I need your help,” she answered, gaze steady and tone serious as she looked back at him.

“Explain,” he said after a moment of hesitation.

“Everything you need to know is in there,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the island.

His eyes left hers long enough to take note of the file that still lay there, before snapping back to hers. “So you broke into my house to make me read a file? Why don’t you just fucking cut to the chase so I can decide if I need to shoot you or not?”

“Shoot me or don’t,” she replied easily as though they were simply discussing the weather. “It won’t matter if you don’t help me.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bucky snapped, beyond annoyed with the woman and her riddles.

She moved slowly, maintaining eye contact as she took something out of the file and held it out to him. “You ever heard of the Reaper?”

Bucky blinked at her, taking in her serious expression before refocusing on what she was holding. A letter. And based on what she had just asked him, he had a pretty good idea of what it said. This whole encounter suddenly made a lot more sense.

Bucky sighed deeply, cursing whoever he could think of for bringing this shit to his doorstep, before gesturing at Evelyn with his gun. “Sit back down. Hands flat on the countertop.”

He saw her clench her jaw before wordlessly complying, placing the letter on the corner of the island before doing as he said. As soon as she did, he shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans and snatched the letter up.

Dear Ms. Evelyn Mason,

Today marks the first day after the 19thannual purge. Which means that it also marks your 364thday left to live.

By this point, I’m sure you already know who I am and what I will do to you once the clock strikes 7 on March 21st. You may think that you have time—to run, to hide, to save your life. But I must confess, Ms. Mason, that none have succeeded in escaping me and neither will you.

You may use the time you have left on this Earth to try to evade your fate, but we both know that in a year’s time, I’ll be holding your still beating heart in my hand. I do hope you’ll try though—it’s always so much more fun when I have to hunt you down.

So consider this your warning: on the 20thannual Purge, I will be coming for you, Ms. Mason. You have been marked. I hope you wear fear well, as it will be your constant companion for the next 364 days.

With Admiration,

The Reaper

Bucky felt sick. He had seen a lot of twisted stuff during his time overseas and as a detective, but it was rare that he saw evil of this variety.

Serial killers went almost extinct with the creation of the Purge. There were, of course, the exceptions who loved the thrill of the chase and couldn’t help themselves. But to hold a letter like this in his hand and to have the woman it was threatening sitting in his kitchen was a very different feeling than working a case from the precinct.

“So…” she said, and Bucky heard what sounded like the beginnings of fear in her voice as he read over the letter a second time. “Do you understand now?”

Bucky nodded slowly, hesitantly, because he understood what the letter meant but not how it applied to him. Though he had a feeling. “This the only one you got?”

“No,” she replied calmly, as though they weren’t discussing the details of her upcoming murder, though he could tell from the set of her shoulders and the glint in her eyes that she was more affected that she wanted to let on. “I received more letters like that one randomly throughout the year—counting down the days or commenting on my outfit that day. Random shit to remind me of what I had to look forward to. I received sixty-three, in total.”

“So,” Bucky started, placing the letter back on his island in an attempt to distance himself from it and the grip it already had on him. “Why are you here then?”

“Why do you think?” Her eyes flashed at him, showing him all the rage and fear that had likely had a hold on her for the past year. “I already told you, Detective Barnes. I need your help.”

“What can I do?” Bucky nearly shouted, throwing his hands up. “It’s the Purge. It’s legal and there’s nothing I can do about that. I’m off duty for the next twelve hours, lady. I couldn’t help you even if I wanted to.”

He was pacing now, something he didn’t even realize until he noticed the way Evelyn’s eyes were following his movements. He stopped abruptly, turning to face her again with a huff. “I’m sorry.”

That seemed to be the final nail in the coffin for her: her shoulders dropped, and her eyes went distant as they filled with sorrow. She didn’t look at him as she said, “That’s what they all said too.”

“What?” Bucky asked, eyes going wide as Evelyn stood and moved toward the front door. She didn’t answer, just turned to face him with an expectant expression.

They stood there like that for a long moment, neither of them saying anything as they watched each other. “You’re already locked down,” she finally said with a sigh and a jerky motion at the door. “You’ll want to unlock it quickly to let me out and then be ready to lock it back as soon as I’m gone. I’ll figure something else out.”

They both knew she wouldn’t.

Bucky shook his head, hating himself for it as he dug even deeper. “What did you mean? Who else said they were sorry?”

Evelyn cocked her head to the side and almost looked surprised, as if she hadn’t even realized she had said that. “You weren’t the first one I went to, you know. I took the letters to precincts all across the city, trying to get them to do something. But technically receiving mail isn’t illegal, and considering he was threatening to hurt me on Purge night specifically, there wasn’t anything they could do anyway. They were all sorry—I could even tell that some of them meant it. The second they saw the letter, they knew I was dead. I was the only one foolish enough to think I had a chance.”

The life seemed to be leeching out of her the longer she spoke—she had seemed so strong and sure before, but she was growing paler by the second and any will to fight for her life had faded. She had been counting on him to help her—she knew that there was no way to escape the Reaper and the death he brought with him without help. No one ever did.

And Bucky was just going to let her die.

“Why me?” Bucky asked, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

Her eyes snapped back to his since the first time he had told her no, and Bucky felt like he couldn’t breathe. “I asked around, and you’re the best detective in Brooklyn, James Barnes. A lot of police are content to live an easy life handing out speeding tickets since the Purge took care of a lot of the day-to-day shit. But you still do your job—you go after the people who deserve to be taken down. I thought if anyone would help me, it would be you. And I know that I put you at risk by sneaking in here like this, but I figured you would be more likely to help me if you didn’t know about it before. It’s easier to say no to a girl with a letter than a girl with 12 hours to live.” She finished her explanation with a wry smile, and Bucky felt like he had been punched in the gut.

“I am sorry,” she continued after a moment of him not saying anything, smile fading. “But I won’t force you to keep me here. I’ll go. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t sure who she was trying to reassure, him or herself, but it didn’t work either way. They both knew she was dead if she went out there alone, Reaper or not.

Ultimately, the fact that she was apologizing and trying to alleviate his guilt with false promises was what made his decision for him. Bucky had felt like a monster for years now, ever since… well, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t save them, but he would save her.

“What else you got in that folder?” he asked her, jerking his chin in the direction of his kitchen.

She blinked, processing his question before slowly answering. “All of the information I could find on the Reaper—the women he’s killed over the years, how he does it, past letters. Anything I could get my hands on.”

“Good,” Bucky nodded, turning and walking back to the kitchen. “Hopefully some of that will give us an idea of our plan of attack.”

He heard Evelyn follow him after a moment of hesitation, and once he stopped in front of the island to start riffling through her notes, he looked up to see her smiling at him in clear relief. “Thank you, Detective Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he said, extending a hand and feeling ten pounds of weight drop from his chest when she placed her hand in his and looked at him as though he had just saved her life. Even though he had been an ass at first and they still had the whole night to make it through, she was trusting him to get her through this.

“Evie,” she responded, dropping his hand and turning her attention to the folder. “So, where do we start Bucky?”

---

“Are you sure about this?” Bucky asked two hours later, looking at Evie with rising panic.

“Yeah,” she said, gripping the railing of his balcony and looking at the street below with none of the concern Bucky was currently feeling.

He wasn’t sure what it was about reckless blondes that he seemed to attract to him, but he was sure that he wouldn’t survive this night if she didn’t show just a little more care. He’d say she was worse than Steve, but Steve wouldn’t have waited this long to make the jump.

“You know the whole point of this is to keep you alive, right?”

Evie rolled her eyes, turning away from the metal railing to face him. “Yes, Bucky, I understand. But we’re not going to do that by locking me up in your apartment. We’ve already established that it’s not exactly Fort Knox. And based on his previous… Purges, we can guess that he’s been following me all night, just waiting to make contact. He already knows I’ve met with you, which means I need to get my ass on the street if this is going to work.”

“And what if it doesn’t?” Bucky asked, suddenly unsure of the plan that they had concocted. He knew it would be dangerous but knowing that and actively letting Evie do it is another thing. He’s a cop—he shouldn’t be allowing a civilian to do something batshit crazy like this.

“Then I’ll die.” She said this without a change in expression or any emotion. It was a fact that they both knew well, and Bucky was honestly impressed. Just a few hours ago she had shut down and given up at the thought of dying, but now that she had hope—now that he had given her some reason to hope—she was calm and ready to fight once more.

He was almost upset that the first time he got to meet a woman like this was after she had broken into his house during the Purge. It didn’t exactly allow for much time to consider the way his heart picked up when she smiled at him or that he liked the way her hair smelled.

There was a high chance that they were both about to die, so now was definitely not the time to be reliving his past as a man who could actually appreciate a beautiful woman. If anything, it was a reminder of why he couldn’t.

He took a deep, steadying breath. “Are you ready then?”

“Of course,” she replied, lips quirking up in a small smile.

“Good luck,” he said before shoving her over the edge.

She stumbled back, hitting the railing and toppling over it with a piercing scream. Bucky clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to go down and check on her. He knew that she should have landed on the dumpster below, and that from just one story up it wouldn’t hurt her too bad. Of course, that’s if everything went well.

He shook his head, stepping back inside his apartment. The next part of the plan was on Evie, so he could only hope for her sake that it went well. He’d be sure to be ready for his part, but it was up to Evie to get that far.

---

Evie hit the top of the (thankfully closed) dumpster with a crash before rolling off and onto the hard ground with an oompf.

She groaned, pushing herself up, careful to keep her cursing under her breath. The theatrics of her exit were painful, but necessary if they wanted to trick the Reaper.

She looed around, taking in her surroundings. The alleyway was dark and damp, as alleyways tended to be, and was thankfully empty of people. She stood on shaking legs and made her way to the street.

She could hear people screaming and bursts of gunfire from further down and squashed her fear down. This night would end one of two ways: with her death or the Reaper’s. Evie knew that, and she knew that her fear wouldn’t help her take down her would-be murderer. Remaining calm and collected would.

She took deep breaths as she creeped down the street, careful to stay to the shadows as much as possible. She thought of Bucky in an attempt to keep her mind occupied as she tried to stay out of trouble until thereal trouble came for her. She was surprised he had agreed to help her and beyond grateful. She just hoped that he would follow through with their plan—if he decided to go back on their deal, she was dead.

She was winding her way between streets, trying to make it seem like she didn’t have a destination in mind in case the Reaper happened to be watching her—which she was sure he was. It’s what he had promised he’d do, after all.

She had spent an hour or so like this, relatively close to her designated meeting point but still waiting for any sign of the Reaper when they saw her.

Shouts were thrown at her across the street seconds before gunfire was. Evie leapt for cover behind a car, peeking around the front at the men that were converging on her. They had stopped firing, knowing that she had nowhere to run. She could hear them talking to each other about what they would do to her, how they would kill her, things they may do before they did.

She closed her eyes, forcing down the bile in that was rising in her throat, and tried to come up with a plan that wouldn’t get her killed. She was prepared to face a serial killer that she was familiar with, not a group of assholes just looking for a quick kill.

Her hand went to her boot as her eyes snapped open, and she pulled out the pocket knife that was hidden there. It wasn’t much, and she was hoping to keep it hidden in case she needed it to use on the Reaper, but she was more than desperate at the moment.

“Hey there, honey,” the first man cooed at her as he reached the car. “If you’re good, we may let you—”

She didn’t let him finish, shooting up from the ground to slash at him with her knife. She swung wildly, given her inexperience and fear, but she hit him in the chest, slashing through his shirt and causing him to stumble back with a startled yell.

She took off down the street, taking advantage of their momentary distraction, but they were already hot on her heels.

They seemed to be enjoying the chase, based on their whooping and the disgusting words they were screaming at her—which was lucky for Evie, in a way, as that meant they weren’t shooting her.

However, she didn’t feel lucky when the first one caught up with her and grabbed a fist full of her hair.

“Where do you think you’re runnin’ off to, sweetheart?” he sneered down at her as he yanked her to the ground. “We weren’t finished yet.”

Evie screamed as the grip on her hair tightened, and she tried to turn and slash at him with the knife she still had in her hand. He laughed, grabbing her wrist and twisting it until she dropped the knife. “Didn’t you hear me? You ain’t gettin’ off that easy bitch.”

He pulled her forward by her wrist and let go of her hair to grab her chin, grinning down at her. Evie froze, blinking up at him. It was the first time she had gotten a look at him and his asshole friends, and she was suddenly struck by how normal he looked.

He probably worked a normal, nine to five job. Maybe had a wife and kids. She wondered if they knew where he was, what he was doing. If they knew that he was the kind of man who, given the chance, would murder a woman for doing nothing more than walking by him.

She doubted they cared.

“See sweetheart?” he leaned in to whisper in her ear as his buddies circled them like sharks. Evie shuddered, unintentionally remembering the way Bucky had called her that only a few hours ago—how it didn’t sound so horrible coming from him. If only he could see her now. She couldn’t even make it far enough to make their plan work. He was right.

“I’m not too bad to look at,” the man continued to breathe in her ear, but Evie wasn’t listening anymore. Bucky was not going to be right about her. “I promise it won’t be too bad. If you’re good, you might even en—gah.”

Evie, finally gathering her wits enough to do something, had just kneed him in the groin. Probably not the smartest move, considering the men surrounding her with guns, but she wasn’t going to go down without some sort of fight.

He dropped her wrist and steeped away from her, clutching himself and cursing her. Evie only had a second to feel proud before another one of the goons grabbed her from behind, spinning her around. She punched him in the throat before he could restrain her, and she moved to run again, but was quickly stopped by the next one.

It continued on like this for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes: Evie scrambled to fight back, using what power and defensive moves she had to hold them off, but there were more of them and they were all larger than her. It didn’t take long before she was being pinned to the ground, laying face-down with a gun to her head.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” he snarled, breath hot against the side of her face as he panted. “As much as we’d love to have fun with ya, I think I’m just gonna have to put you down.”

Evie struggled fiercely but unsuccessfully against his hold and felt a single tear roll down her cheek. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all.

“Unfortunately,” a smooth voice cut in. “I can’t let you do that.”

Evie heard the gunshot only a millisecond before she felt the spray of blood against her neck and the man’s hold on her release as he fell to the side, dead.

She screamed, scrambling back from the body as best she could as more gunshots sounded all around her. She had just lifted herself up onto her knees with shaking arms when the last shot hit its mark and silence consumed her.

“Hello, Ms. Mason.”

Evie whipped around, eyes wild as they landed on the neatly-dressed woman in a black trench coat and dress pants. She smiled at her, blood-red lips striking against the night, and Evie felt her stomach drop.

��I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

---

Bucky paced around the roof. Again.

He checked his watch. Again.

He swore under his breath and regretted agreeing to this insane plan. Again.

Evie had been gone for two hours now. That was plenty of time for her to draw the Reaper out and lead her to the corner across from Dot’s Diner, just as they had discussed.

Bucky was waiting on the roof of an apartment building across the street, gun out and ready to shoot the Reaper the second he came in his sights. But it had been two hours and there was still no sign of Evie or her psychopathic shadow. Plenty of the normal crazy Purge bullshit, but not Evie.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was worried.

Bucky tried to tell himself that he should just go home. He had no obligation to Evie and her baggage. He didn’t even know her six hours ago, but he was out here freezing his ass off for her.

But he knew that if he left, said “screw it” and went home, Evie would die. If she wasn’t already dead.

“Fuck it,” Bucky mumbled, packing up his gun.

A sniper was supposed to be patient—the key was to be ready the second the target presented themselves, not to go out hunting for them. But he may have only known Evie for less than a day, but she reminded him of what it was that the Purge took away from people like her. People like them.

And if he were in the business of being honest with himself—which he fortunately wasn’t—he would admit that he had felt some sort of spark between them as they had plotted their asinine plan together, and he wanted the opportunity to get to know her better, preferably when her life wasn’t at stake.

And he couldn’t very well do that if she was already dead or dying.

He stepped out on the street, one hand on the gun strapped to his hip, the other clutching the strap of the one that was slung across his back. He had been watching this area for the past two hours, so he was very familiar with its traps and the people that were stalking it, and he set out on the path that he knew would keep him out of the line of fire and would hopefully lead him to Evie.

---

“Who are you?” Evie swallowed thickly, staring at the woman with what she hoped was a detached expression.

“Oh, I think you know, Ms. Mason.” The woman’s smile turned mocking, and she looked at Evie with feigned pity. “Get up,” she ordered, gesturing at her with her gun. “I’ve come to collect, and it’s no fun if you just lie on the ground like that.”

Evie stood slowly, mind racing. “Collect? You mean my heart.”

“Of course,” the Reaper replied almost cheerfully. “I’ve already told you. I’m going to cut your heart out of your chest and add it to my collection.”

“Right,” Evie acknowledged. “Your collection. Why do you do that exactly?”

The Reaper blinked, her smile slipping for the first time. “What?”

Evie immediately wanted to kick herself—why the fuck would she say that? She was facing the person who had been threatening her for the past year, someone she had wrongly assumed was a man at that, and now she was asking her why she was a murderous hag. Well, she might as well lean into it if she was going to die anyway.

“I mean why are you doing this? Why me and why do you cut people’s hearts out? You have to realize how fucking crazy that is!” Evie rushed out, moving to back away from her before freezing the moment she retrained the gun on her chest.

“It’s my right, given to me by the Founding Fathers,” the Reaper said, stepping closer to Evie. Now that she was standing in the light of a streetlamp, she could see that she had light brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a softly rounded face. Again, Evie was struck by how normal she would look if not for the half-crazed smile and the gun in her hand. “I’m going to kill you because I can. But I’m going to enjoy it because I love the feeling of a dead woman’s heart in my hands. Now, turn around and start walking. We have places to be.”

Evie hesitated, looking from the barrel of the gun to the Reaper’s eyes. This looked bad. Really bad.

She obviously couldn’t lead her to the corner where Bucky was waiting for her, considering it was in the opposite direction and the Reaper seemed to have an idea of where she wanted her to go in mind. She had no more weapons on her and the Reaper had the gun. She needed more time.

“So, you can kill me and you want to kill me, but that still doesn’t answer why. I mean, if you’re gonna cut my heart out, don’t you think I deserve to know why you picked me? Why are you doing this to me?”

The Reaper sighed, looking impatient, but replied. “There’s no rhyme or reason, Ms. Mason. That’s all part of the fun. I pick my target out the day after the Purge, and planning begins then. I saw you in a coffee shop—we ordered the same drink, and I noticed that you had the same taste in books. I like to see a little bit of myself in all of my victims, you see. Though I’ll admit, you were much more resourceful than I would have been. Going to a man like James Barnes for help was smart. Did you know that his entire family was murdered six years ago? It was on a Purge night, just like this one.”

Evie felt nauseous as she shook her head no. She hadn’t done that much research on Bucky, but now she wished she had. She didn’t know that his family had been killed during a Purge. If she had, she never would have pulled him into this. He had suffered enough because of this holiday. She got the feeling that the murderer knew what she was thinking as her painted lips curved into a sly smile.

“Ah,” she sighed. “Well, I’m sure you can see why he threw you out—quite literally I might add. He’s not been much of a people person since I’m afraid. A nice effort on your part, but some things were just meant to be. He had to tell you no so that I can look you in the eyes as I cut your still-beating heart out with my knife. It’s the way you were meant to die, Ms. Mason, and there’s no shame in that.”

Evie’s breath caught. So she had believed their little stunt—she didn’t expect for Bucky to be waiting on her. And she had just reminded her of the Reaper’s biggest flaw: she liked routine, and she liked for things to follow her plan.

She wasn’t going to shoot her if she wanted to get her heart before she died.

With that thought bolstering her, Evie charged at the Reaper.

It caught her off guard, if the woman’s wide eyes and gaping mouth were anything to go by. Evie knocked her to the ground, causing her to lose her grip on the gun and send it skidding away. She had briefly considered trying to end it there, kill the killer before she could kill her, but Evie wasn’t a fighter, let alone a killer, and she was sure there was a reason that the Reaper’s victims never survived. It would almost be arrogant to think that she could end it herself when so many other’s couldn’t—Evie wasn’t anything special.

So she hopped back up and took off in the direction of where she could only hope Bucky was waiting for her.

As she anticipated, the Reaper had regained her wits after only a second of confusion and was now hotly pursuing her. Evie was close—she had been relatively near the meet point when she had run into the Purgers, and she was just a couple of streets away now. But it was still too far. Over the beating of her heart and her feet slapping against the pavement, she heard a soft thwipand felt something bite into the back of her thigh.

She tried to ignore it, to keep running and make it to Bucky, but her whole leg was suddenly numb and she was falling.

Evie caught herself on the sidewalk with a gasp, feeling the numbness spread. What the fuck did she do?

The Reaper’s smiling face reappeared in her vision and Evie felt every last scrap of her will to live fall away. She hadn’t made it. All of this, and she still wasn’t strong enough to make it.

“A tranquilizer gun,” she happily explained, holding it up to show her. “Of course, I need something to ensure you can’t fight me back. Everyone always expects some big, strong man, but ladies like us? We need a little help to make things go smoothly. Usually I slip a sedative into their food or drink before the Purge if I can—technically illegal, I know, but who are you going to tell? You were a little overly cautious today though and I couldn’t, so I brought this just in case. Good thing, too. You had more fight than I thought, Ms. Mason. Which is always a lovely trait, but I’m afraid it means we’ll have to cut this evening a bit short.” She whipped out a long knife and grabbed Evie’s shoulder, rolling her onto her back and straddling her hips. “I can’t have you running off anymore, you see.”

She brought the knife down in a sweeping arc, and without even noticing, Evie’s arms came up to stop it. They were still mostly responsive, thankfully, but Evie could feel the numbness taking over her body and knew it was only a matter of time.

“Just. Let. Me. Kill. You. Already,” the monster grunted between gritted teach, pressing down with more force.

“How about no,” Evie spat back, her mind working double to formulate even that response. She knew it was pointless, that the Reaper had won the moment Evie had received the letter, but she wasn’t going to just let hermurder her.

Her arms ached from the effort before the numbness slowly seeped in to relieve it, and Evie had resigned herself to her fate when she heard the gunshot crack in the night.

There was warmth on her face and suddenly the woman on top of her was crashing forward, Evie just barely managing to jerk the now limp hands away from her to drop the knife next to her head.

Her mind was cloudy and muddled and she was just so tired. The last thing she saw before she let herself fall into sleep was the frowning face of what must have been an angel.

If this was death, she didn’t mind it so much.

---

Evie awoke slowly and painfully with mumbled curses and a lot of confusion.

She sat up carefully, taking in her surroundings. She was lying in a bed with a blue comforter, in a room with bare, white walls and little else. She recognized this room.

As though to confirm her suspicions, Bucky breezed into the room with a bottle of water. “Oh,” he said, coming around to sit on the edge of the bed next to her. “You’re awake already. Good.”

“Already?” Evie asked, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and shaking her head. “How long have I been out? What happened?”

Bucky handed her the bottle of water, allowing her to take greedy gulps of it as he answered her. “Just about six hours or so. She hit you with a tranq, and I wasn’t sure how big of a dose it was. I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and got all of the blood off of ya—couldn’t really tell how injured you were with all of it. Good news is that other than a few scrapes and bruises, you’re fine. You survived.”

He gave her a small smile, and everything seemed to rush back to her, including her drugged-out thoughts about angels. Her cheeks burned as she handed back the water bottle. “Yeah, thanks to you.”

Bucky shrugged, but still seemed to be happier than she had ever seen him before. Which wasn’t saying much, honestly. “Maybe, but you’re the one who dragged me into it. So really, it’s still kind of your doing.”

Evie nodded slowly, debating on whether she wanted to say anything or not. It didn’t take long to decide; her mind was still a bit muddled and Evie had always been one to say what she was thinking anyway. “She told me about your family. The Reaper, I mean.”

It was all she needed to say to gain Bucky’s understanding. “Ah.”

That was all he said, and Evie immediately regretted bringing it up. “I’m sorry. I would have never dragged you into this if I had known. I don’t know how or why she knew, and I wish she hadn’t told me, but I just wanted you to know that I am truly sorry for all of this.”

Bucky shrugged, eyes trained on the water bottle as he picked at the label. “It’s fine. It’s not like it’s some secret. I just—I’ve always hated this night and what it represents, and I used to dream about doing something about it. But after my family—after they were killed, it just seemed so pointless. The Purge destroys lives. It’s what it was meant to do. So why try to fight it? The best I could do was keep my distance and hope I never had to watch it destroy mineagain.”

“So why did you? Fight for me, I mean,” Evie pressed, voice soft and quiet in the overwhelming silence of the room.

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to hers. “You gave me a reason to, I guess. I couldn’t save them from the Purge, but I could at least try to save you.”

“Thank you,” Evie breathed. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the shrill sound of the siren. Evie looked out of the window, surprised to see the first tinges of sunlight streaming in, and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was over.

“Well,” Bucky said, smirking down at her. “You’ve officially survived the Purge. What are you going to do next?”

Evie shrugged, smiling back at him. “I don’t know. I was pretty sure that I’d be dead, so I didn’t exactly make any plans.”

“Well,” Bucky drawled, leaning back against his headboard so that he was reclined beside her in the bed. “How do you feel about taking a long nap and then getting some food?”

Evie’s smile turned mischievous as she raised a slender eyebrow. “With you?”

Bucky shrugged, but his eyes flashed down at you playfully. “If you want. I figured the least I can do is let you stay here and feed you after you almost died.”

“Mmhmm,” she agreed, rolling over so that her back was facing him, giving him enough room to lay down. “Sleep first, then you can take me on a date.”

Bucky laughed, and she felt him lay down next to her, though he was careful to stay above the covers and not touch her. “I never said it was a date.”

“I know,” Evies said, closing her eyes and nestling into the blankets. “But I did.”

Bucky chuckled, but didn’t disagree. “Goodnight, Evie.”

“’Night Bucky.”

*One Year Later*

“You ready, Sweetheart?” Bucky asked, glancing back over his shoulder to see his girlfriend lacing up her boots.

She looked up at him, rolling her eyes. “Yes, Bucky. We’ve been over this a million times.” Evie stood, readjusting her belt and the gun that it held. Once she was satisfied with the way everything was situated, she strode over to Bucky with the coy smile he loved so well. “We’ll be fine.”

Bucky grabbed her by the beltloop of her jeans, inclining his head down to kiss her. He tasted the familiar cherry of her chap stick and hummed happily into her mouth, causing her to smile. He didn’t like that she was risking herself, but he couldn’t deny that seeing her like this did things to him.

“I just need to be sure you’ll be okay,” he mumbled against her lips, reluctant to pull away.

Evie planted a hand on his chest and stepped back with a breathy chuckle. “I know, and I will be. I’ve been training all year to do this, and we’re going to do what we can to fight the Purge. Together.”

“Together,” Bucky agreed, eyes raking over her tactical attire and numerous weapons. If anyone were ready to take on the city’s worst Purgers, it was his girl. “Alright, Baby,” he said, opening his door as the sirens blared. “Let’s do this.”

Taglist: @everythingbooknerd

[the-sloth-woman]

Life After Life: Alternate Ending

Header by @there-was-evelyn

Dracula Au.  Introduction // Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six

Happy November everyone!  I couldn't get the idea of an alternate ending for my Dracul Au out of my head, and I felt the need to make amends because the original ending makes me pretty darn sad.  I actually have many headcanons for this ending but I didn’t want to end up writing another book, especially so close to NaNoWriMo.  But thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy! And I mean, hey, if you want to tell me which one you like better than I’m all ears. 

Words: 1006

An ear-splitting screech shook the walls of the chamber.  Lilly gasped and looked around.  “What was that?!”

Alrick scowled and stared up at the ceiling.  “Dammit.  They’ve killed Jilaiya.” He tilted his head.  “They’ve discovered the staircase.  Come,” he threw his arm over the edge of the coffin.  “We have little time.”

Alrick leapt out of the coffin and took Lilly’s hand firmly in his.  He moved over to the opposite wall near the window and pushed aside a large bookcase.  “We need to hide,” he muttered, moving the bookcase until a small hole in the wall was visible.  Alrick gave Lilly a push into the darkness and followed after, tugging the bookcase behind him.

He lead her down a long passage that opened up to a deep, rocky ravine.  Lilly looked up and saw the entire castle stretched high above her, the wall behind her widening to a sheer cliff face.  Her heart was pounding so hard that she could barely hear Alrick over the rush in her ears.  “Hurry, and stay out of the sunlight,” he urged, tugging her down the ravine and into the dark forest.

Miguel, Burai, Ayato, and Dr. Klein burst into the chamber, covered in cuts and blood from the dead vampires.  Miguel frantically looked around the chamber, desperate to find any trace of Lilly.  “She has to be here!”  He cried, overturning every piece of furniture that he could find.  “Rosenfeld has her, I know it!”

“Oh wonderful,” Burai muttered.  He had staked Yuma just after he killed the blonde monstrosity on top of him out of necessity, fearing that Yuma would join the army of the undead.  Unfortunately, that meant his shirt was absolutely soaked in their blood, and he was extremely irritated about it.  

All of a sudden, low rumbling filled the castle walls.  Everyone but Miguel looked up to see the stone ceiling shaking, and bits of dust fell to the floor around them.  Burai shouted for them to evacuate before the castle killed them all.  Miguel ignored him and shoved the bookcase in the room aside, laughing in triumph as he found a secret passage.  But the castle walls shook harder than ever before and he was helpless to watch as Burai and the others rushed towards the staircase just as the ceiling gave way and fell down with an enormous thunder.   “No!”  Miguel cried out.  A sudden pain stabbed at his left hand but it faded away as everything faded to black.

Five Years Later, Paris

Miguel walked down the moonlit streets of Paris and turned his coat to the cold wind that ghosted down the Parisian lane. His left hand still bore the scar from the castle walls crashing around him, but it no longer pained him.  After waking up in the rubble sometime later he discovered he was the only survivor of the castle.  The bookcase which he had fought so hard to remove ended up shielding him from the falling rock.

Miguel had spent the last five years hunting down every single vampire and creature of the night he could find.  He was in Paris now following up on a reported werewolf sighting, but he had little hope that he would find anything.  More often than not people blamed disease or a pack of wild dogs on the superstitious, but he always took whatever job he could just in case he ran across a real monster.

Miguel told himself that the reason he had been hunting creatures of the night was to rid the world of evil, but he knew it was a lie.  The whole reason he abandoned being a solicitor and started his new line of work was so he could hunt down the vampire that took his wife away from him so many years ago.  He would do anything to kill him and take Lilly back, if she was still alive to be taken back.  In all his search he had never found anything that indicated either of them were still alive, or undead. He was beginning to lose hope.

Paris was especially painful for him.  When they were together Lilly had always dreamed of seeing the French city, and he was constantly pained that she could not be with him.  He went to all the things she would have wanted to do in memory of her.  He saw her face reflected in every painting the museums he happened across, smelled the scent of her hair in every garden. Even now the wind reminded him of the way her fingers would caress his cheek.

He stopped outside a theater promoting Carmen and blew on his hands.  Such thoughts were nonsense, and he needed to purge them from his mind.  She was dead or worse, and she was never coming back.

Up ahead a young couple ran to the theater, their coats flying out behind them. The wind threatened to blow their hats off, so both of them had their hands firmly clamped down on the tops of their heads. Miguel glanced at the nearby performance schedule and nodded to himself.  It was almost showtime.

The man and woman reached the crowded steps in front of the theater with seconds to spare.  They looked at each other and laughed, relieved that they could make the performance.  Miguel could barely make out their faces, but he saw the woman reach out and touch the man’s cheek with a gloved hand.  He took her hand gently and removed his hat, running his own fingers through his windblown hair.

The man’s hair was white.

Miguel froze, his heart pounding.  The woman took off her hat and shook out her own mass of red curls.  Curls that Miguel recognized anywhere.  Curls that he used to wake up next to, curls that still haunted his dream.

The theater doors opened at precisely the stroke of seven, and the couple disappeared into the crowd clamoring to find their seats.  Abandoning all thought of the pseudo-werewolf, Miguel shoved his hands in his pockets and followed after.  

[themutantunderground]

Let Your Heart Be Light Ch. 7

John is home on leave from the Marines and Clarice is home on winter break from grad school. While they used to date in high school, Clarice and John haven't been together in a long time... But it’s Christmas time, and it seems like everything and everyone in their small, holiday-obsessed hometown is trying to get them back together. Modern Thunderblink AU!

(The formatting looks weird to me, like it is adding weird symbols! Can anyone else see that?)

AO3 | FF.net

By the time they pulled into Ms. D and Karl’s driveway, Norah and Riley were both asleep. John glanced at the quiet backseat. Riley curled up against James, his jacket tossed over her as a blanket, while Norah slept against the door. It had been a crazy couple of days for both of them, and they were both exhausted.

They weren’t the only ones. Over in the front passenger seat, Clarice was leaned against the window, her forehead pressed against the cool glass, her cheek resting on her arm. She had been struggling to stay awake for the past few minutes, but it looked like she had lost the battle. Her plane had come in that morning, and John doubted she had gotten a nap since Karl, Ms. D, and Norah would have wanted to talk to her. John let her sleep. Hopefully she wouldn't be embarrassed or anything when she woke up. It wasn't like it was the first time she had fallen asleep while John was driving.

"Are we still going to get the tree tomorrow?"

John looked at the mirror again and met James' eyes. "What?"

"The Christmas tree. You told Aunt Evelyn we'd get it tomorrow." Riley shifted against James, and he absently rubbed her shoulder and pulled her closer. For all their bickering and teasing, the two of them were close. They just normally showed their affection through gently tormenting each other.

John nodded. "Right. Yeah, we'll get it tomorrow." Aunt Evelyn would want a fresh tree, so that meant a four hour drive to the nearest Christmas tree farm. It was Saturday, so he could take James and Riley without having to worry about school. They would make a day of it.

James dropped his voice to a whisper. "You should ask Clarice to come, too."

John nearly jerked the wheel, but he stayed cool and instead flicked his eyes over to Clarice, making sure she was asleep. Judging by the smudge of fog against the glass, she was. "They probably already have a tree."

"Ask. Clarice. To go with us. Norah can come, too, so it won't be weird."

John trained his eyes on the road ahead and wondered what kind of twilight zone he had wandered into if his little brother was trying to talk to him about his love life. James used to steer clear of that sort of conversation. Then again, he was eighteen now with his own romance troubles. And he had always liked Clarice. He was probably still having trouble adjusting to the new dynamics, like Riley. You would think after all those years he would've gotten used to it.

James took his silence as reluctance, and he leaned forward, putting a hand on John's seat. "You've gotta ask her."

"I don't have to do anything," John said, reaching back and prying James' hand off the seat.

"Okay, then I'll ask her."

"James. Seriously."

"Fine, but I bet she'd say yes." James leaned back and scooched Riley closer, wrapping his arm around her. "Then you guys can maybe talk instead of doing the whole moony eye thing when you think the other isn't looking. It's annoying."

John glared up into the mirror, but James wasn't looking at him. "There aren't any moon eyes, thank you," he whisper-hissed.

"Yeah, sure," James said, "You should've seen your face when she came down the stairs." Now James turned back toward the mirror, an exaggerated awe-struck look on his face. "You're a mess."

"Wait 'til we get home," John said, pointing at the mirror.

"I am really very scared." James rolled his eyes and carefully lifted Riley's hand, waving it carefully. "Meet my shield."

"That's low."

"I'm into self-preservation these days. Got a lot to live for. Like college."

The rest of the drive was silent, which John was grateful for, though it left him alone with a new dilemma. Ask Clarice or don't ask Clarice. Would she say yes? Did he want her to say yes? Would it be weird if he asked? Damn, this was a lot harder than it used to be. He didn't want things to be awkward between them, but he didn't want to pressure her either.

A few minutes later, he pulled the car into the Fergusons' driveway and put the car in park. He reached over to wake up Clarice, but her head jerked up the moment the truck stopped. "Wha-huh…" She brushed her hair out roughly out of her face with both hands, sitting up straight and nearly getting strangled by the seat belt.

John couldn't help but smile, though he was quick to smother it before she saw. "We're at your house."

"Uh, yeah, see that," Clarice said, closing her eyes for a moment and smudging her face with her palms. "Ugh, how long was I out?"

"Not long."

"Long enough to start snoring," James said, "Got a deviated septum, Clarice?"

"I'm going to deviate your septum with my fist, junior," Clarice grumbled. She always had been such a joy whenever she woke up.

"Such a good example for the kids," James teased.

Clarice gave him a grouchy smile and flipped him off before she unbuckled her seat belt.

In the back seat, he reached over and shook Norah awake, careful not to jostle Riley, who was somehow sleeping through everything. John and Clarice both got out of the truck, and Norah climbed out too, eyes half-lidded with sleep. John picked her up and carried her toward the house, Clarice at his side.

"She's too big to carry," Clarice mumbled, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand.

"Nah, she's fine," John said, "Sorry about James."

"He's just jealous he doesn't have epic snoring skills," Clarice said.

"Sure, maybe that's it." They walked up to the door, and John's stomach flopped. Okay, decision time. He needed to figure out if he should ask or not, which was crazy, since normally he was a very decisive person. He knew what to do and when to do it.

Clarice destabilized him.

He set Norah down, and the nine-year-old gave him a tired 'thank you' before wandering into the house. Clarice was about to go, time to make up his mind.

"Clarice, wait," he said and then paused, looking from the door to her then back to the truck, where James was undoubtedly watching him.

Clarice turned toward him, her sleepy eyes half-lidded. She looked adorable. "Yeah, big guy?"

"Tree?"

She blinked and scrubbed at her eyes again. "Going to need a little more than that, working on a few hours of sleep and a cat nap here."

"Sorry, just…do you guys have a Christmas tree yet?" he asked, feeling like he was eighteen and tongue-tied again. "We're going tomorrow to get ours, and we could work on lines on the way there, since we got dragged into this play." Good, nice.

Clarice seemed to wake up. "You're going to Petersons?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding a little. The last time they had gone there together, they had been dating. Maybe he shouldn't have asked. "Lorna and Marcos are coming too." Or they would be after he called them. That would make it easier, right, having them around?

Clarice's eyes brightened, and John crushed the slight ache at the idea that she was more excited about seeing their friends than being with him. That wasn't why he was asking anyways. They just… If Karl and Ms. D needed a Christmas tree, then he needed to help Clarice get one.

"I haven't seen them yet," she said, "Sure, I'm game. Want me to bring Norah to keep Riley busy?"

"Yeah, that'd be good. James might bring some friends, I don't know." What was he saying? It was originally just going to be them and their siblings, and now… What was he doing.

"Sounds like a party," Clarice said. She raised an eyebrow an him. "You're not big on parties."

"I'll live," he said, giving her a small smile.

She reached out toward him, her fingers just grazing his arm before she pulled back, shaking her head as if shaking away the need to touch him. "Sure will." She grabbed the door and looked back at him, purple hair sliding over her shoulder, begging to be tucked behind her ear. "What time are you picking us up?"

John laughed. "Oh, I'm chauffeuring?"

"No, you're the Uber," she teased, "Come on, you're the one with the truck."

"I'll be here at 6:30."

"You're killing me, Smalls," she said, invoking the Sandlot quote with a grin. "That's so early."

"I'll blow an airhorn if you're not out here at 6:30," he said, making her groan.

"Fine, Proudstar. See you at the butt crack of dawn."

She headed inside while he went back to the truck, his hands in his pockets. Okay, he needed to call Marcos and get James to ask some of his friends to tag along. It'd be a caravan.

[sad-trash-writing]

You Want Me To Annoy Your Family Again?!

Part 2 of the Want to Annoy Your Family This Thanksgiving? Call Skye! AU

Part 1: Here

Back by popular demand (and only 2 years late) is this lovely Thanksgiving AU! So many people requested a Christmas follow-up that I had to do some kind of sequel to the first one, but I could not make a Christmas one work, so here this is! Hopefully, you all enjoy it as much as the original!

Jemma prodded the the chicken she was cooking up on the stove absentmindedly. She stared in the direction of the clock on the microwave without really seeing the numbers. She just knew it was about five minutes until Skye was supposed to be home from work. She hadn’t settled on how she was going to broach the subject to her. 

Skye had been dodging family holidays with Jemma for a full year now. After that (intentionally) disastrous Thanksgiving, Jemma’s parents invited Skye and Jemma to nearly every event, mostly at the request of Jemma’s grandmother (who had also coerced Jemma into setting up an internet router at her house because she wanted to 'read up on the lesbians.' Jemma rolled her eyes at nearly everything Helen said, but at least she was trying to understand). 

Despite her family’s effort at hospitality, Skye found a way to dodge every invite. She frequently used work as an excuse. Skye being a freelancer meant she did have an unpredictable schedule most days, so Jemma couldn’t call her out for it. If that didn’t work, she claimed she was deathly ill or found a dog on the way home from the grocery store and had to return it home, which would somehow take seven hours. 

Inevitably, Jemma ended up going to family events alone, when she couldn't weasel out of them herself, and it always led to the same conversation.

“Where’s Skye today?” Evelyn would ask with forced politeness. 

“She’s insert this week’s excuse here,” Jemma would mutter. 

Henry would grunt something along the lines of 'good' or 'don’t need that rabble ruining X holiday.'

“Henry!” Evelyn would scold, sounding scandalized, but secretly agreeing. 

Lance would mutter some agreement, since he was still bitter that Bobbi brought Skye up rather frequently. 

“I just read a story from the internet on the Stonewall Riot. Have you heard of that, Jemma?” Helen would pipe up. 

Shortly after everyone would roll their eyes, down their wine, and move into the living room to sit in front of the TV in silence while Helen tried to teach them about gay rights. 

Jemma sighed and jabbed the chicken again. There was probably too many greens in this recipe for Skye’s liking, but she knew she would grin and bear it. Finally, the door swung open and Skye clattered her way inside. Jemma heard Skye sigh heavily, kick off her shoes, and toss her bag on the sofa. Normally, Jemma would remind her to put it away, but she figured she could let it slide this time. 

“Jemma?”

“In the kitchen,” she replied. 

The shuffle of Skye’s feet on the tile floor of their apartment announced Skye’s presence before the lips on Jemma’s cheek did. 

“I thought it was my night to cook dinner,” Skye muttered as she wrapped her arms around Jemma’s waist. 

Jemma smiled. “It was, but I got off early and thought I’d make something a bit special.”

Skye’s attention turned to the simmering pan in front of Jemma. “Looks…great.”

“You won’t even be able to taste the brussel sprouts,” Jemma responded with an eye roll. 

Skye groaned and buried her face in the back of Jemma’s shoulder. “You’re killing me, woman.”

Jemma sighed and bit back the 'I’m actually extending your life' argument that usually followed and just enjoyed Skye’s closeness for a moment. She knew Skye would not be very happy after this conversation. 

Jemma clicked off the heat and moved the pan to one of the cool burners to set for a few minutes and spun in Skye’s arms to face her. 

“You know what I was thinking?” Jemma began. 

“Hm?”

“Are you busy this Thursday night?” 

Skye scrunched up her face and thought for a second. “No, I think the office is actually closed that day, for some reason.”

Jemma mentally breathed out a sigh of relief. It was a pretty safe gamble that Skye wouldn’t keep track of the date, but it was still a gamble. 

“Great,” Jemma replied with a wide, forced smile. “I was thinking we should have a nice, big, fancy dinner that night.”

“Oh?”

Jemma nodded and snaked her arms around Skye’s neck to gently pull her closer. “Yes, we can cook up a big main course, lots of sides and desserts. Then, once we’ve stuffed ourselves, we can just sit and drink a bunch of wine and relax.”

Skye was close enough that their lips were nearly brushing and Jemma had lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. Skye at least had the forethought to shift Jemma a few inches to the right of the hot burner before pressing her up against the counter.

“Sounds fantastic,” Skye muttered. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Great, because my family’s coming over for Thanksgiving,” Jemma blurted.

“What?!”

Skye’s hands on her waist stiffened and the heated look in her eyes was instantly replaced by abject horror. 

“It’s been a full year since you’ve seen my family and they’ve been asking about you at every event,” Jemma said. 

“Yeah, because they want to know if you’ve broken up with me yet,” Skye retorted. She disentangled herself from Jemma and leaned on the opposite counter, taking deep calming breaths. 

“That’s…probably true, but the longer you keep skipping out on holidays, the weirder it’s going to look,” Jemma said. 

“Yeah, but I…I can’t—I don’t wa—I mean, the last holiday that I went to wasn’t exactly a Hallmark movie waiting to happen.”

“Yes, well I didn’t originally bring you to make it a Hallmark movie,” Jemma replied. She crossed the kitchen and took Skye’s face in her hands. 

“Why did I originally call you?” Jemma prompted. 

“To annoy your family,” Skye replied sullenly. 

“Yes, which you excelled at and—”

“But, I don’t want to always annoy your family,” Skye cut in. 

Jemma paused and waited for Skye to elaborate. Skye took Jemma’s hands off her face and held them in her own. 

“I was fine being obnoxious to your family, because I wasn’t planning on sticking around. I didn’t know you and I didn’t know them and the odds that I was ever going to see any of you again after that night were slim,” Skye explained. “But then, I actually met you. And you were really cute and for some reason actually liked me, even when I was purposely destroying a family dinner and, now…”

Skye trailed off and took a deep breath. Jemma noticed there were the beginnings of tears in Skye’s eyes. 

“I just want to show them that I’m a person who deserves you and isn’t just a screw up.”

Jemma pulled her in for a tight hug. “You’ve never been a screw up, Skye. You’ve always been a survivor. I have some bad news for you, though: You’re never not going to annoy my family.”

“Thanks for the pep talk. I feel much better now,” Skye grumbled into Jemma’s shoulder. 

Jemma chuckled. “No one is ever going to be good enough in my parent’s eyes.”

“What about Bobbi? They love her,” Skye countered. 

“Bobbi’s a master manipulator. She can make anyone like her,” Jemma replied. “She also with Lance and is better than anything they could have hoped for with him. For me, they won’t be happy unless I bring home a neurosurgeon who graduated from Harvard and comes from old money. And even, then, only if they’re a man.”

“Which I’m sure you could find,” Skye retorted. 

“Possibly. But I don’t want that and I didn’t call one of them last year to impress my family. I called you.”

“Weirdo,” Skye teased. 

Jemma shrugged. “You never had to impress my family. You impressed me. And I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side to annoy my family. But I do want you by my side.”

Skye pulled back to look at her, as if trying to find some way to get out of it. When she found only resolve in Jemma’s face, she sighed heavily. 

“Fine. I’ll go to Thanksgiving.” 

Jemma smiled and kissed her firmly on the lips. “Thank you. Now, let’s eat.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Skye muttered so quietly Jemma barely heard. They had been together for a full year and Jemma had never once heard Skye say those words out loud. She turned to respond, but Skye had already shuffled off to the bedroom. 

Jemma let it slide and distributed dinner onto two plates while finishing up her mental preparations for later this week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Skye, are you sure you don’t—”

“I said I got this!” Skye shouted irritably up the stairs. Of all days for the elevator to break in their apartment building. 

Jemma trudged up the last few stairs with her bags and down the hall to unlock the door. 

Skye stomped slowly up the stairs a few paces behind, arms laden with groceries. Each arm had several bulging bags filled with their Thanksgiving fixings slung over them and balanced between them was a massive turkey. Skye was wheezing as she mounted the last steps, but Jemma wasn’t going to make the mistake of offering to help again. 

Skye waddled through the door that Jemma held open for her and unceremoniously dumped everything on the counter. Jemma shuffled around her and started lining things up on the counter.

“So did you volunteer to host Thanksgiving?” Skye asked grumpily, half-laying on the pile of groceries. “Because this seems like an insane amount of work to do voluntarily.”

“I volunteered. It was supposed to be Bobbi and Hunter’s year but they asked if I could take over since they just eloped to Las Vegas and didn't think they would have time to prepare,” Jemma replied.

“Huh.” Skye looked impressed. “I can see Hunter doing that, but Bobbi doesn't seem the type to elope.”

“You'd be surprised,” Jemma muttered. “Anyway, ready to start cooking?” Skye looked at her like she had grown a second head. “I’m ready to go back to sleep, if that’s what you meant. It’s barely seven in the morning.”

“Not an option! We need to get the turkey cleaned, seasoned, and in the oven within the next—” Jemma checked the clock, “—twenty-three minutes if it’s going to be anywhere near done when everyone arrives. Not to mention we have to squeeze in the sweet potatoes, the stuffing, the pecan pie—”

Skye’s loud groan cut her off. “Fine, let’s get to it. I’ll start mashing the potatoes.”

The three days between Jemma breaking the news to Skye and the morning of Thanksgiving passed way too quickly. Skye was a constant ball of nerves, pacing and fretting over every detail out loud. 

Jemma was more quietly panicking. This was the first year she had hosted Thanksgiving and she had no idea what she was doing. She read thousands of cooking tips online, organized their apartment and rearranged the dining area at least a dozen times, and spent that last 48 hours assuring her mother that yes, everything was going to be fine and no, she didn’t need any help. 

Skye quietly mashed the potatoes in the corner of the kitchen with a bit more force than Jemma thought was strictly necessary, while Jemma got to work on the turkey and gradually crossed off each task according to Jemma’s strict schedule that she had mapped out. 

Eventually, they fell into a rhythm like they always did when they cooked together. They moved around the small kitchen with ease, deftly sliding past each other with mixing bowls or trays held over their heads to not jostle the other’s work. Full sentences didn’t needed to be spoken to pass knives and spices back and forth. 

Once everything was in the oven that needed to be, Jemma grabbed dirty dishes to throw in the sink. She turned back toward the sink with a pile of dishes in her arms to find Skye planted in front of her holding two pies. 

“Pies are done,” she announced proudly. One was pecan and the other pumpkin and, though they wouldn’t be winning any beauty contests anytime soon, they looked edible and that’s what mattered. “Why do we need two pies, though? Aren’t there like six of us?”

“Eleven, actually. The kids can't eat pecan and the adult can’t stand pumpkin.” Jemma sidled around Skye and dumped everything in the sink and started running the water. 

“That’s fa—wait, kids?” Skye squeaked.

“Yes, my cousin is bringing her triplets. I told you this.”

“Triplets?!”

“Yes, they just turned five.”

“Five?!” 

Jemma turned toward Skye. “Why are you panicking? You’re great with kids.”

“Yeah, but—” 

“Skye, it will be fine. They’re only children,” Jemma consoled. “And they’re going to be here in an hour, so you may want to start getting ready.”

“Shit,” Skye hissed. She set the pies down and darted into the bedroom. 

Jemma finished drying the dishes and tidied up the dining room again. Everything was set out already, from the wine glasses and utensils to the few matching plates that they had. A smaller table was set up just beside the main dining table that the triplets would sit at, since there was barely enough room at the table for all the adults. Jemma smoothed out the tablecloth one last time and she decided to go get changed as well. 

Skye was in the bathroom, very gingerly putting on makeup and cursing to herself. Jemma let her be and rummaged through her closet to find the outfit she had picked out. 

“Damnit. Jemma, is my eyeliner too thick?” Skye asked. 

“Given that the last time you saw them, you had used up an entire eyeliner pencil, I wouldn’t….what on earth are you wearing?”

Skye stood in front of her wearing a button up shirt and a cardigan that she had definitely stolen from Jemma’s closet and her hair was done up in a loose bun. Her makeup was extremely conservative, but she had just enough on to look like she made an effort. 

Skye looked herself up and down. “Does it look bad?”

“No! No, it just doesn't look…like you.”

“Well, 'me' is black leather jackets and torn jeans, and we already tried that one,” Skye replied with a shrug.

“Yes, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Skye fidgeted with the end of her cardigan while Jemma located the shirt she was going to wear. Jemma tugged off her gravy stained T-shirt and tossed it into hamper across the room. Then she noticed Skye’s eyes fixed on her. 

“What?” 

Skye sidled up to her. “You know, we have some time to kill. Maybe we could do something to take the edge off a bit.”

“Anything to make you unwind,” Jemma responded. She slipped an arm around Skye’s neck and pulled her in for a kiss. 

In the millisecond before their lips met, the doorbell rang and they both froze.

“Shit.”

“I’m not ready,” Jemma said

“But—”

“You have to go let them in. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“But—”

“Go!”

Jemma shoved Skye towards the door and scrambled to pull on her clothes. Skye shot her one last look that read more like 'I’m marching to the guillotine' than 'I’m answering the door.'

Jemma tugged off her dirty jeans and fished around for her nice dress pants while listening to who was at the door. Once she was dressed, she ran a brush through her hair and then hovered at the closed bedroom door a minute. 

It was her cousin, Stacy, at the door with her kids. Jemma could hear Skye introducing herself with a tone that sounded, to Jemma, very forced. It seemed to mirror Stacy’s tone perfectly though, so Skye was doing well so far. Stacy introduced herself in return and the triplets, Sara, Terra, and Bradley, and they mumbled their quiet hello’s.  

“Would you like some wine?” Skye asked Stacy. 

“Yes, please. Do you have any Chardonnay?”

“Of course. How about you guys, do you want some wine?”

“…They’re children,” Stacy deadpanned. 

“R-Right, duh. Of course. Would you kids like some….uh….non-alcoholic wine?” Skye stammered. 

Well, that didn’t last long. Time to go save her. 

Jemma bolted out of the bedroom into the kitchen. “The word you’re looking for is 'grape juice,' Skye.”

Jemma shifted some things around in the fridge and dug out a large bottle of grape juice, which she passed to Stacy who was digging plastic cups with lids out of her bag. 

“So good to see you, Stacy. I see you’ve met my girlfriend, Skye,” Jemma greeted. 

“I’ve heard so much about her. It’s nice to put a face with the stories,” Stacy replied. 

“Great,” Skye muttered, once Stacy turned her attention to her kids.

The ding of the oven timer saved them from any more awkward small talk. 

“Oh! Turkey’s done. Go ahead and make yourselves comfortable while we finish up dinner,” Jemma said. 

As soon as Stacy left the kitchen, Skye groaned and flopped against the counter. 

“You’re doing fine, Skye. Relax,” Jemma soothed. 

“I offered her children wine,” Skye hissed. 

“Honest mistake. But I believe you also offered Stacy wine and never opened the bottle.” Jemma handed Skye the bottle of Chardonnay. 

Skye's eyes went wide. “Don’t make me go out there alone again.”

“Would you rather baste the turkey?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means deliver a glass of wine and come right back,” Jemma whispered. 

Skye grumbled the whole time she was uncorking the wine and took out two wine glasses. One she filled up to the brim and took a long drink of before she filled the other a normal amount and took it into the living room. 

While she was gone, the doorbell rang. 

“Shit,” Jemma muttered. Daisy was going to have a heart attack. Jemma made sure nothing was going to overcook and called, “I’ve got it” into the living room.

  She swung open the front door to find Lance and Bobbi and ushered them inside. 

She led them into the living room where Stacy seemed to be regaling Skye with a graphic account of the triplets’ birth and Skye was looking rather pale.

“Stacy just got here and you both remember Skye,” Jemma said loudly. 

Bobbi smiled brightly. “Skye, good to see you again.”

“What a pleasant surprise,” Lance grumbled stepping a bit closer to Bobbi. 

“Skye, can you help me with the—”

A knock at the door interrupted Jemma’s attempt to extract Skye. Jemma stared at her, trying to gage whether Skye would prefer to stay hear the rest of the birthing story or answer the door. Skye looked too shell-shocked to decide, so Jemma just headed for the door. 

Her parents gave her a quick hug each when Jemma opened the door. Jemma noticed a bulging bag on her mother’s shoulder. 

“What is all that?”Jemma asked. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Evelyn waved her off. “Just a few little things in case you needed some back ups—”

“Your mother cooked a whole Thanksgiving dinner in case you messed something up,” Henry deadpanned. 

“Mother!”

“Henry!”

Henry just shrugged. 

“Mother, I have two doctorate degrees. I think I’m capable of not messing up a turkey,” Jemma snapped.

At that exact moment, the smoke detector in the kitchen went off. Jemma darted into the kitchen and pulled the turkey out of the oven. It only got a little bit extra browned on the top, no major harm done. Jemma would have never heard the end of it. She already needed a drink. 

Jemma pulled everything else that was out of the oven and set it on the stove. She poured herself a glass of wine and brought the rest of Skye’s out to her in the living room. Thankfully, the conversation had switched to something less gruesome, but Skye still looked extremely relieved when Jemma sidled up next to her with a glass of wine. 

The conversation stayed miraculously away from Jemma or Skye for a while as everyone got reacquainted. Jemma tried to hold Skye’s hand at one point to give it a reassuring squeeze, but Skye slyly shifted her grip on her wine glass. Jemma frowned a bit, before she noticed that Skye was standing quite a bit further away than she usually did. And that she was strategically avoiding any kind of display of affection, when usually she was extremely handsy.

Jemma was only vaguely paying attention to Stacy telling everyone about the triplets’ expensive school, when she heard Skye’s name.

“Skye, where did you go to pre-kindergarten?” Evelyn asked.

Skye tensed. “I…um. I didn't?”

Evelyn looked only mildly surprised. “Oh.”

“I had an...unconventional childhood,” Skye admitted.

“Oh,” Evelyn said again. “I understand. Jemma took two years off in middle school to work on her first biology degree at Oxford.”

“Yeah, mine wasn't quite like that. I just went to the public school near St. Agnes’ from first grade to high school,” Skye responded. 

“Oh, my hairdresser’s daughter went there and I think she's about your age. What year did you graduate?” Evelyn asked.

Great, Jemma thought. Leave it to her mother to bring up all the sensitive subjects off the bat.

Skye fidgeted under everyone's intense gaze. “I...I didn't.”

Evelyn, Stacy, and Henry looked visibly affronted. 

“Well, when you're about to age out of the foster system and your only possession is an broken-down van, you have slightly different priorities,” Skye said bitterly. She instantly seemed to regret her tone. “Does anybody else need more wine? I need more wine.”

Everyone was silent as Skye stalked out of the living room. Luckily, they only had to sit in awkward silence for a few seconds until the doorbell rang. 

“I got it!” Daisy called, grumpily, from the kitchen. 

“Must be your grandmother,” Evelyn muttered. 

Sure enough, Helen’s voice filtered through the apartment following the creak of the front door. 

“There she is! My second favorite lesbian!” 

Oh my god. Jemma fought the urge to bury her face in her hands and had another sip of wine instead. 

“Um. Hi, Helen,” Skye muttered sheepishly. Skye and Helen appeared in the living room moments later and two of the triplets ran up and gave her a hug. Terra held back and tugged on her mother’s shirt. “Mama, what’s a lesbian?” she asked loudly. 

Every adult in the room froze. 

“Um...it’s where...I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Stacy replied. 

“Why can’t she know now? It’s not inappropriate,” Helen defended. “It’s when girls like other girls, honey. Like your cousin Jemma and her girlfriend.”

“Cool! Can I be a lesbian?” Sara asked. 

“No,” Stacy deadpanned. 

“I wanna be a lesbian, too!” Bradley announced. 

“That’s not how—”

“Now that everyone’s here, shall we start dinner?” Jemma asked loudly.

Everyone quickly agreed and shuffled into the kitchen. Jemma grabbed Skye and started handing her serving dishes to put out on the table. Once everything was set up, she quickly lit the candles in the centerpiece and directed everyone to sit and start serving themselves. Helen and Bobbi both wanted to sit by Skye and Hunter insisted on sitting on the Bobbi’s other side, so Jemma ended up squished in between her father and Stacy on the opposite side of the round table as Skye, who just stared at her with a panicked look.

The family spent some time complimenting all the food and then conversed about their various jobs. When Stacy started describing the most gory infections she had seen working as a nurse, Evelyn hurriedly shifted the conversation onto Skye, who had been trying to make herself as small as possible. 

“Skye, what do you do for a living?”

“I, um. I’m a freelancer for an IT and cyber-security company,” she replied.

  “That’s really interesting,” Bobbi piped up. “How did you get into that?”

Jemma noticed Lance’s face shift into a glare when Bobbi’s attention turned towards Skye. 

“I’ve just always been interested in computer languages and how security programs work,” Skye said. “Then, earlier this year, I got into tro-- got into contact with some of the higher-ups at SHIELD and they offered me a job.”

Henry made a noise of recognition. “We’ve had some people from SHIELD come work on our systems at the office. Good thing, too, because this past year has not been a great time to be in politics. We’ve had Anonymous and The Rising Tide and  all those other rabble knocking around our servers all year, trying to find dirt on everyone in the building. Oh, but I forgot. You’re an anarchist, they’re probably some of your friends,” Henry finished, gruffly. 

Skye gulped. Jemma knew for a fact that Skye did know people in the Rising Tide. 

“I’m, uh. Well, I do think that there’s a lot that could be changed about our political system,” Skye said, delicately. Jemma tried to stifle a laugh. If she didn’t think about how hard Skye was trying to not make any waves, this was almost as amusing as last year.

Henry huffed. “Kids your age just don’t understand how hard the government works--”

“Henry, no one’s saying you don’t work hard,” Evelyn countered, in attempt to keep the peace. 

“No! No, I definitely wasn’t saying that,” Skye agreed. 

Henry grumbled something under his breath, but let the subject drop. Luckily, Lance and Bobbi picked up the slack in the conversation. 

Jemma didn’t hear what they were talking about. She was just trying to get Skye’s attention. When Skye finally looked up from poking the remaining food on her plate, her eyes were wide. Jemma mimed taking deep breaths to her, hoping she would mirror, and gave her a reassuring thumbs-up. 

Skye took a deep breath and smiled in return, looking slightly more calm. A tiny, blonde head popped up between Jemma and Stacy. 

“Mama, can we have dessert now?” Sara asked. 

“Did you all eat your green beans?”

“Yes,” three voices chanted in unison. 

“Okay then, ask Jemma and Skye,” Stacy replied. 

A different tiny head popped up next to Skye and she jumped so violently she nearly knocked over her wine glass. 

“Miss Skye, can we have dessert please?” Terra asked. 

Skye caught her breath before responding. “Yeah, of course. Let me go grab it. Is everybody done?”

The adults assured her that they were and Skye started gathering up plates and utensils. Jemma was impressed. Most of the time when they had guests (usually just their friends), Skye was more the ‘you have legs, don’t you?’ style of hostess. 

Jemma stood and helped clear the rest of the plates and followed Skye to the kitchen. 

“It’s going well, I promise,” she whispered into Skye’s ear when they were away from the family. 

“Why do I still feel like I’m screwing up then?” 

Jemma shrugged. “My parents have that effect on people.”

They dumped the dishes in the sink for now and each got to work cutting up a pie. Skye distributed the pumpkin onto three small, plastic plates and then delivered them to the kids, and then circled back to help Jemma bring out the pecan to everyone else. 

“This pie tastes funny,” Bradley commented.

Stacy looked aghast. “Don’t be rude.”

Skye just chuckled. “Sorry, kids. It was my first time making a pumpkin pie.”

“That’s okay. I can’t make pie either,” Bradley said. 

“That’s...reassuring,” Skye muttered. 

The conversation was muted while everyone enjoyed their dessert. Until one of the triplets started wheezing. 

“Skye, is there anything with peanuts in the pie?” Jemma asked, slight panic rising in her voice.

“A little bit of peanut butter, why?” Skye replied. 

Stacy darted from the table and grabbed her purse. Jemma’s eyes went wide.

“Sara’s allergic to nuts!” Jemma hissed. 

Skye’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn’t. You just said that they wouldn’t eat pecan pie.”

“I said they couldn’t eat pecan pie.”

“That doesn’t translate to ‘deathly allergic to it!’”

“Why did you put peanut butter in a pumpkin pie anyway?”

“We didn’t have enough pumpkin! I thought it was fine to fill it out!” Skye shouted.

Stacy finally returned with an Epipen and jabbed it into Sara’s thigh. In a few moments, her wheezing slowed and her breath returned to normal while Stacy rubbed her back reassuringly. 

“Alright, she’s in the clear for now. I’m going to take her to the hospital to be safe,” Stacy announced, scooping Sara up into her arms. “Can you all keep an eye on Terra and Brad until we get back?”

“Of course,” Evelyn replied. 

“I. Am so. Sorry,” Skye said to Stacy. 

“It’s okay,” Sara chirped brightly, her voice a little raspy. 

“It’s fine. Honest mistake,” Stacy replied distantly, grabbing her coat. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

And then she was gone and the apartment was silent. Jemma darted into the kitchen to open another bottle of wine. Skye was definitely going to need it. 

When she returned, everyone was muttering vaguely about how they hoped Sara was going to be okay and Skye’s eyes were fixed firmly on her untouched pie. Jemma slid a generous glass of wine in front of Skye before taking her seat again. 

“That was nothing,” Bradley announced. “One time, Sara had peanut M&M’s at school and said she saw Jesus.”

“Bradley! Don’t be dramatic,” Evelyn scolded lightly. 

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Skye,” Bobbi consoled. “Even after I was with Lance for a year, I forgot he was allergic to shellfish and made him take me out to a seafood restaurant for our anniversary.” Bobbi chuckled. 

“Hey, that was not funny,” Lance replied, but with a good-natured smile. “My face swelled up so badly I couldn’t drive us home and I had to let you drive my bike.”

“Hm, that was a sweet motorcycle,” Bobbi replied. “I should have poisoned you with crab legs earlier and stolen it.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Evelyn said after the laughter at Lance’s expense died down. “We never did hear how you and Jemma met, Skye.”

Skye blanched and Jemma could feel the color drain from her face as well. They still never worked out their story. At least not one that Jemma’s parents would approve of. 

“Oh, well. It’s, um, it’s really not an interesting story,” Skye muttered. Before anyone could press, she turned to Bobbi and Lance. “How was your Vegas trip?”

Uh oh. Now it was Bobbi and Lance’s turn to go white. 

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “Vegas?” she asked. Her voice didn’t change tone much, but it suddenly had a dangerous edge to it. “I thought you went to Denver last weekend.”

Lance and Bobbi both sputtered and looked at each other as they tried desperately to get their stories straight. Skye panickedly looked Jemma. She didn’t realize she should have told Skye that the elopement wasn’t common knowledge yet. 

“Did you go get married by one of those tacky Elvis impersonators?” Evelyn accused. 

It was dead silent for a moment. No one dared to breath. Terra whispered to Bradley, “What’s Elvis?”

“....it was actually Darth Vader,” Bobbi whispered. 

It was like that sentence set off an explosion. Evelyn was yelling about how her only child that’s going to be able to get married eloped to Las Vegas, despite all her Pinterest planning. Helen was yelling that, actually Jemma and Skye can get married now; the Supreme Court said so. Lance was yelling that he was a goddamn adult and could decide how and when he was going to get married. Henry was yelling that Lance shouldn’t speak to his mother that way. 

And Jemma and Skye just sat there. Jemma slumped down in her chair and sighed. Skye’s eyes darted between everyone screaming over each other, like she was trying to figure out how to make this better. 

Skye eventually jolted to her feet to try to restore some order, but ended up bumping the edge of the centerpiece and knocking over one of the candles. The thin, stick candle bounced once on the table, before igniting the linen tablecloth like it was a dead leaf. 

On the upside, it definitely worked as a distraction. All the yelling turned from anger at Bobbi and Lance to oh my god, the table’s on fire. 

“Shit!” Skye cursed loudly, forgetting about the small children in the room. She grabbed the nearest glass of wine and dumped it onto the fire. 

Luckily, it put out the small blaze. Unluckily, it doused both Jemma and Evelyn in red wine. 

Skye gingerly set the empty glass back on the table. “I’ll go get some towels.”

Jemma dabbed her shirt off with her napkin and followed Skye into the kitchen.

  Skye was pacing when Jemma found her, mumbling ‘oh my god’ to herself over and over. 

“Skye, you need to relax. It’s not that bad,” Jemma tried. 

“I nearly killed your cousin’s kid and set everyone on fire. I’d say that’s pretty bad,” Skye countered. 

“Well...on the upside it can’t get any worse.”

Skye shot her a glare. “Really reassuring. I feel much better now.”

“I don’t know how to make you feel better. I mean, last year, you threatened to fight my grandmother in the front yard. At least this is all just accidents and accidents happen,” Jemma said.

Skye groaned and leaned up against the counter. She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by a quiet buzzing. 

That’s when Jemma noticed Skye had her phone in her hand.

Jemma narrowed her eyes. “Who’s texting you on Thanksgiving?”

Skye flushed. “It’s, uh…it’s work. Coulson needs me for some emergency—”

“No.”

Skye quirked an eyebrow. “'Scuse me?”

“I said no,” Jemma repeated. She leaned in close so she could whisper, “You are not leaving me alone here.”

“But—”

Before Skye could form a full protest, Jemma snatched Skye’s phone out of her hands and stuffed it down her shirt. 

Skye gaped. “You think I’m not going to go for it now?”

“You better not,” Jemma replied. 

Despite the threat in Jemma’s voice, Skye dove her hands under Jemma’s shirt. Jemma yelped slightly at the coldness of Skye’s fingers on her bare skin. She clamped her arms down to try to stop Skye from finding the phone. 

“Stop it,” Jemma snapped.

“Just give it to me.”

“No!”

“Come on, I’m gonna get it anyway. Just make it easier.”

“I said no. Get off.”

“What the hell is going on here?”

Skye and Jemma both froze. Lance stood in the doorway with a murderous glare on his face as he took in the situation. 

Which was Skye, pressing his baby sister against a counter with her hands up her shirt, apparently against her will. 

“This is not—”

Lance crossed the room faster than either of them would have expected, grabbed Skye by the front of her shirt, and pushed her up against the opposite wall. 

Before Lance could hiss out any number of the threats that Jemma could see brewing in his head, Skye knocked his hands away and punched him in the face. 

“Shit!”

“Shit!”

“Motherf—”

“What the hell?”

Now, Jemma’s entire family congregated in the doorway of the kitchen wearing matching expressions of concern. Blood was pouring out of Lance’s nose and he was cursing up a streak. Evelyn frantically tried to cover two pairs of impressionable ears at once. 

Jemma’s gaze went to Skye. She looked stunned. Her hands were still halfway raised in a defensive posture, but her eyes were darting between Jemma, her family, and a bloodied Lance. 

“I—I’m…I’m sorry,” Skye stammered out. She bolted into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. 

Jemma wanted to run after her immediately, but she had to do some damage control here. Mostly because Lance was bleeding all over her kitchen floor (and blood was impossible to get out of grout). 

Jemma grabbed a handful of towels and thrust them into Bobbi’s hands, who was trying to get a better look at Lance’s face. Next, she grabbed a plastic bag and stuffed it with ice from the freezer to pass over to him as well. 

“Will someone tell me what the hel-heck just happened?” Evelyn demanded. 

“Jemma’s crazy girlfriend punched me in the face,” Lance groaned. 

“Why would she do that?” Bobbi asked. 

“I was trying to defend my little sister.”

“From Skye?”

“Yes!” Lance shouted and then groaned in pain. “I saw her...assaulting Jemma.”

“You saw nothing of the sort,” Jemma snapped and jammed the bag of ice onto his face, not caring when he whimpered in pain. “What you saw was me trying to keep Skye from leaving because you all were scaring her off!”

No one had anything to say to that. They just shuffled their feet awkwardly. 

“Honestly, she’s trying her best to impress you and you all keep acting like absolute assholes!” Jemma continued. 

Evelyn gasped and covered the nearest triplet’s ears. 

“She wasn’t all that concerned with impressing us a year ago. What changed?” Henry asked. 

“I—I…”

Every eye in the room was on her. She couldn't lie her way out of this one. “I found her online,” Jemma mumbled. “We had only met for the second time last Thanksgiving because… I hired her specifically to annoy you all.”

An audible gasp circled the room. Skye would probably be pissed at Jemma for telling her whole family this, but Jemma couldn’t lie about it anymore. 

“So has all this been a lie?” Evelyn asked. 

Jemma shook her head. “That only part that was a lie was everything that happened last Thanksgiving. After that, well, Skye took me by surprise.”

A small smile pulled at Jemma’s lips as she thought back on all the memories she and Skye had made over the last year. From their casual Christmas (since they had a snowstorm last year, so Jemma got out of her family holiday) where they spent three days in their pajamas watching Christmas-themed slasher movies, to Skye’s manic joy when she got her job and everything in between. Jemma couldn’t believe it had only been a year and Skye was already in integral part of her life. She couldn’t imagine Skye not being with her anymore. 

Jemma’s cheeks flushed slightly when she realized her family was still staring at her, waiting for more of an explanation. Well, except for Lance, who was trying to peer around his rapidly swelling face and an ice pack. 

Jemma grabbed another bottle of wine from the fridge and smacked it on the counter in front of her family. 

“I’m going to go talk to Skye now. The rest of you, have another glass of wine, relax, and maybe try to be a little less overbearing when we come back,” Jemma snapped. It was strange to have all the appalled looks directed at her this time instead of Skye, but she was willing to take it. 

Without another word, Jemma turned on her heel and marched towards the bedroom. 

The lights were still off when Jemma entered and it took her a few seconds for her eyes to adjust once she closed the door. She couldn’t find Skye at first, but once she fully got used to the darkness, she spotted the top of Skye’s head peeking up from the side of the bed.

“Skye?” Jemma tried softly. 

No response. 

Jemma rounded the corner of the bed to where Skye was sitting on the floor. Even in the low light, Jemma could tell Skye had tears streaming down her face. Skye kept her eyes fixed to the ground until Jemma sat beside her with her back against the bed. 

“I’m sorry,” Skye whispered. “I tried to just not ruin something for one night and I ruined it anyway.”

Jemma sighed. “You didn’t ruin anything, Skye.”

“Your entire family hates me, Jemma. Except maybe your grandmother, for some strange reason.”

“Nobody hates you.”

“What about Lance?” Skye countered. 

Jemma sighed. “Well, he’ll probably be unhappy with you for awhile, but this isn’t the first time he’s been punched in the face. Though, you know he’s all talk and wouldn’t have done anything to you so you didn’t have to punch him.”

Skye sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. “I know, it was just...instinct, I guess. You forget that I was legally homeless for quite a few years. I got into some hairy situations and had to learn how to get out of them. One of which is to hit before the other guy can.”

Jemma didn’t know what to say to that. She just slipped her hand into Skye’s and squeezed firmly. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Jemma muttered, after a few minutes of silence. 

Skye scoffed. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do. I forced you into this family dinner thing, even though it made you uncomfortable and everything that’s happened tonight has just been because it stressed you out so much,” Jemma said. “I shouldn’t have pushed it and just accepted that you and my family weren’t going to mix.”

Skye huffed a laugh. “Well, I’m going to apologize again for being such a baby about all of this. Last Thanksgiving really was fun. I don’t know why this was had to be so stressful.”

“Last Thanksgiving, there were no expectations. You knew you were walking into a disaster from the start.” Jemma laughed. 

“That’s true. I should have gone in with that mindset again.”

Jemma chuckled to herself and laid her head on Skye’s shoulder.

“You know, we’ll have to go back out there at some point,” Jemma reminded Skye. As much as she didn’t want to move from this position, her family was still waiting in the living room. 

Skye groaned and buried her face in Jemma’s shoulder. “I know.”

Jemma handed Skye’s phone back to her. She had seen the message from Coulson that said, “Nothing that we need you for tonight. Happy Thanksgiving!” but she figured she would give Skye an out anyway.

“You can go into work if you need to. I can just tell everyone it’s urgent,” Jemma said. 

Skye hesitantly took the phone from her and stared at it, trying to decide what to do next. She tossed the phone up onto the nightstand and shoved herself to her feet. “Let’s go face your family. Maybe you should change clothes first.”

Only then did Jemma remember that she was still covered in wine. 

Skye tugged off her cardigan, handed it over to Jemma, and headed to her closet. 

“What are you doing?” Jemma asked. 

“I’m going to put on something a little more comfortable.” 

Jemma changed out of her wine-stained shirt and into the cardigan (that was definitely hers in the first place, but now had the benefit of smelling like Skye) and waited for Skye to be ready. 

Skye resurfaced looking much more like herself. She had opted for a simple flannel shirt that was casual, but still looked great on her. She took her hair down and let if fall over her shoulders in loose waves, rather than being tied up so tightly. 

Jemma couldn’t help, but smile. She held out a hand and walked with Skye (her Skye) back into the apartment. 

The family had adjourned to the living room with the remaining bottle of wine, as Jemma had hoped. She could hear the muted conversations filtering through the kitchen. 

Before they headed in, Skye detoured to the fridge, dug into the back, and pulled out one of the nice beers from the package they only broke open on special occasions. Skye grabbed Jemma’s hand and then marched into the belly of the beast. 

The already hushed conversation died the minute the pair stepped into the room. Skye took a deep breath and beelined over to the couch that Lance was draped across, moaning about his nose while Bobbi looked on without pity. Skye held the beer in front of his face so he could see it beyond his swollen eyes. Lance eyed the beer, and then Skye, suspiciously, but eventually took it from her hands and sat up. 

“I’m—I’m sorry I punched you,” Skye said to Lance. “You startled me and I just kind of reacted, but that’s no excuse. And I want you to know, I would never do anything to hurt Jemma, ‘cause I—I love her and never want anything bad to happen to her, especially not because of me.”

Lance silently stared at her for a few long moments. He seemed to be sizing her up, looking for any trace of dishonesty in her statement. He finally just shrugged and cracked open the beer. “You’ve got a mean right hook, I’ll give you that.”

The entire room, Jemma included, seemed to let out a breath. 

“Is it true you met online?” Sara asked.

“My mom says you’re not supposed to talk to people on the internet, ‘cause they’re all crazy,” Bradley followed up.

Evelyn made a quiet noise of agreement with that statement. 

Skye spun towards Jemma and shot her an exasperated look. Jemma just shrugged sheepishly. 

Skye sighed and turned back to the rest of the family.

“Okay, well. Cat’s out of the bag, then. No need to pretend otherwise,” Skye announced. “Before anyone asks, I’m going to put all my cards on the table. Yes, I put an ad out last year to go annoy someone’s family at Thanksgiving. You guys are the lucky ones who got me. Yes, I was aiming to be as obnoxious as possible in order to piss everyone off.”

Evelyn and Henry huffed and shared a look. Helen looked almost disappointed. “Also, I’m not really an anarchist, but I will fight you politically on everything you believe, Henry. Just be ready for it. No, Jemma and I don’t use gross pet-names. And I’ve never slapped her ass, except that one time to elicit a reaction from you all. Well, actually—”

Skye glanced towards Jemma, whose eyes went and she made a ‘cut it out’ gesture. 

“Nope, that was the only time. Any questions?”

The door swung open and Sara trotted in, followed closely by a frazzled-looking Stacy. 

“Hello again, everyone. What did we miss?”

No one had the heart to retell every mishap that had happened while they had been gone. Instead, Jemma made some hot cider for everyone and they took turns asking Skye questions, which she answered frankly, even when she knew it wouldn’t go over well. 

Jemma had to give her parents credit, because they were trying very hard to police their reactions to not offend and even occasionally asking for details (even when Jemma could tell her mother was horrified by the tales of Skye’s previous living situation. 

Still, the rest of the evening went by amicably and without incident. Skye even relaxed enough to pull Jemma in for a chaste kiss when the conversation turned to someone else. 

(Eventually, someone told Stacy what all had transpired while she was in the emergency room with Sara. Never had Stacy been more thankful for a peanut-laced pie than she was at that moment.)

[darby-drabbles]

Yesterday on twitter I asked for questions from this post,,, specifically for Andre just because, I wanted to talk about him? Feel free to ask me Even More!!! For Andre or other ocs from his story or anyone, I don’t mind. I feel like it’s been a while since I’ve done oc talk so it was good to get back into it. A few questions asked by both @duck-n-clover and @agentchimendez Thank you so much!

4. Has your character ever witnessed experienced something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

(“witnessed” seemed different from “experience” and I just couldn’t think of a witness thing for some reason so I CHanged it to have an actual answer.. IT Is more serious tho now so.. LETs see.)

In general,, he always felt second best compared to his sister and that shaped SO MUCH of what he’s done. Whether it was trying so hard to succeed, overworking and feeling horrible when he failed,, or when he started his intense Rebellious Phase in protest. Sibling favoritism shaped him to crave attention no matter how he got it. And YEAh, people know. He definitely talks about/complains/has breakdowns about not feeling good enough or his family often enough so all his friends know that that’s why he’s Like This sometimes. It only really comes up with his family in the form of snappy angery comments so they get kind of brushed off as Andre being moody AGaiN.

“Adopting” the droid changes him, for the better! (eventually..) He’s reluctant to care for her at first,, he’s a bit, impatient and short-tempered with her? and kinda in general, actually. And since he doess end up messing her up/can’t fix the glitches she had, he feels guilty and like a bit of a failure again. But he also eventually gets more patient, starts to open up more, and meets/becomes closer to people because of her! He’s happier.. Delilah is a very good droid daughter whom he loves and owes a lot to. He might not specifically talk about it too often,, but,,, I think people can tell he’s doing better now because of her.

To get even more serious now, sorry, TW for sexual abuse. I’ve talked about it before so I’m not gonna get too into it, (just the next paragraph, the rest are his reactions to it) you could read more of the details here. (the last question) Skip or read as much as you feel comfortable with, I don’t talk abt anything else until the next question.

He met an older man through his sister and saw him at the bar once. The guy started talking to Andre because he was familiar~ (he also knew Andre snuck in and wasn’t 21 yet and probably had drugs on him 🙃 He holds that against him later.) They go back to this guys place, blow each other. It was an okay little fling at first,, Andre wouldn’t have found the guy memorable. They lay in bed a while until Andre says he wants to go home,,, guy says he still wants to fuck or at least get another bj. Andre refuses but he pins him down and basically did a whole guilt trippy “who are people gonna believe?? you’re a druggy delinquent sneaking into bars to get blowjobs” speech. This guy definitely has a Good Guy image with a lot of people INCluding Andre’s sister Zahra, so Andre figured he was right. They’d believe this guy first, and wouldn’t be on Andre’s side because he’s Always Like This. Acting out and sleeping around and not being in the best situations. “This is all you’re good for.” 🙃 And Andre ‘low self-esteem’ *last name* UH. Totally believes that and feels pretty worthless, unfortunately, and blows him so he can just go home. He was pretty rough with him, which Andre normally likes, so he felt pretty, weird, about that for a while. Andd so he gets it over with and just, tries to go home. The man still teases him a bit trying to get him to stay but he’s very much over this guy and is ready to sleep and shower already.

~~ It makes him angry and defensive for a while and his drug use spikes, he feels used and worthless and gets Even More Self Destructive and a bit destructive in general. He says it wasn’t a big deal, it didn’t affect him he’s fine,, because he wants to avoid it, but it clearly obviously affects him for a while. He’s mad that it happened to him. He does eventually get help for that which in turn helps with stopping the drug use for coping and, that’s goood. He still sometimes insists it wasn’t a big deal it could’ve been worse, but he’ll get upset over it too.

He wouldn’t tell a lot of people, Evelyn and Kriss would know. Avery and Nicki might.. But Evelyn was the only one who knew him at the time, she was one of his few friends, and they’re really close. He goes to her really upset about it soon after it happened. He doesn’t explicitly tell her what happened but it’s sort of implied and she understands. He does tell her later, after the whole thing has calmed down and the memory and trauma isn’t as fresh,, she was a good friend through it and he wanted her to know what was wrong.

He’d tell his more serious partners which would really only be Kriss? (plus maybe some mix n match in that ship/au Perhaps) It happened before dating Nicki, but I don’t think* he would’ve told her just because he still hadn’t really dealt with those emotions himself yet? And their relationship was pretty quick and intense already. Like they’re friends again now but I don’t think they get tooo deep into emotional stuff often anymore. I think he’d want to explain and apologize for some of his actions including the drug use, so he’d find a way to tip toe around the topic a bit?? But probably wouldn’t tell her details. Avery is another of his closer friends and I feel like they vent to each other sometimes, it’s possible that he told them something about it.

*I mentioned in the other post that Nicki might know,, but I’m leaning more to her not knowing now, so, updated info I Guess.

His sister knows he slept with the man but Andre wanted to drop that conversation REal Quick.

5. On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

Whats! In! His! Bag!

There’s the obvious, phone wallet and keys,, spare change. Maybe a pack of gum or a peppermint or someth. A band aid, jic. He’ll bring earbuds if he knows he’ll be alooone and get to listen to music. (I couldn’t find it by itself but the very first vine in this video Is Andre walking down the street. .. Bouncin’ around..) Occasionally, a pocket knife,, maybe a lighter. He doesn’t smoke often anymore but still nice to have. Uhh that’s all I can think of. Pretty Simple. (in baby au he has a bag so he can carry So Much Junk and snacks and toys and just. Anything.)

6. Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

He kinda rarely has memorable dreams, and I don’t think there’s a ton of recurring themes in them? Maybeb a few Anxiety dream thoughts but they’re probably different from each other,, or at least not repeated often enough to notice. ‘OH my teeth fell out This TIme,, last time I just showed up to class naked. That’s fine I guess.’

I think he gets that *feels like you’re falling so you jerk awake really suddenly* feeling kinda often though.

8. Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target?

I haven’t thought about this?? But no I donn’t thiink so, he’s not a gun guy. If anything he only would’ve been practicing shooting at targets or cans, something like that.

10. Does your character feel more comfortable with more clothing, or with less clothing?

More often than not,, less clothing. 👀 To an extent. But, probably when he was younger it would be more clothing bc he was hiding things and felt guarded and comfortable in layers of clothe. How could someone suspect ur on drugs and bruisey from fights and not eating enough if they can’t see your body at all, hmm??? Check, Mate

16. Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

HMm this is a tough one. I mean I wanna say happiness but he doesn’t actually seek that out for himself for A While, and for a long time he kind of struggles with the need to prove himself and show that he’s good enough and not a failure. Sometimes he’s trying to succeed in something that would make his family happy and other times it’s trying to prove it to himself. So when he’s younger I’ll say success, but currently, happiness.

45. What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

One of his grandmother’s died when he was prettyy young and so death was explained in a very,, kid friendly way and + his lil imagination, I think that stuck with him?? They weren’t a particularly spiritual family, they probably said something like, she won’t come back but she’ll always be with you,,, like,,, in your thoughts and in ur heart but he was an imaginative easily spooked kid and kinda took that to mean Ghost. OBVIously…. But that’s not what they meant… That kinda freaked him out as a kid, he didn’t want A Ghost followin him???? Not even a nice gramma-ghost, no way. That’s a haunting! SPooky???? His parents eventually had to explain that no she’s not a ghost she’s just,,, not here any more. But I think he was already pretty set on these thoughts and the thought of not existing anymore At All seemed even scarier tbh? But he did get more comfortable with,, if there was a gramma-ghost,, then she would be nice like gramma.

But he still kinda, believes in ghosts and spirits in some way more than anything,, like your spirit or energy might stick around somewhere familiar or someone you love perhaps. He’s never really had a ghostly experience to back up these thoughts, though, and he sometimes doubts if that’s really what will happen. Maybe reincarnation, maybe u just blink out of existence, he doesn’t know. His afterlife beliefs don’t scare him per say, but I don’t think he’s really comforted by it, either. Death in general scares him a little, so he Tries Not To Think About It.

[impracticaldemon]

Nalu Week 2017 Day 5: He Sees Beneath Her Mask

A/Note: I wasn't able to write as much as I wanted for NaluWeek2017, but here is my third story, using the prompt for Day 5: Mask Day

The story is set in a kind of early 90s university AU, but the concepts and characters are mostly canon. I hope you enjoy it!

Words ~ 2300 | Also available now on FFN and AO3 (Impracticaldemon)

He Sees Beneath Her Mask Prompt: Mask Day

Lucy's first day of university was unremarkable—at least, it was unremarkable if you were the sole heiress to the Heartfilia fortune and used to your father being far more concerned than you were about outward appearances. In the midst of rushing walkers and bikers of all descriptions, Lucy was ushered onto the sidewalk in front of the registration building by the reliable, middle-aged chauffeur whom she'd known for years. While the majority of the students around her wore t-shirts of all descriptions paired with "lived-in" looking jeans, Lucy looked trim and demure in a crisp white blouse, perfectly-tailored navy capris, and pretty, matching sandals. She had the kind of accessories that didn't need a logo to tell you that they were expensive.

Her father didn't get out—he was already taking time out of his busy day to ensure that Lucy arrived on time and in proper style—but he did roll down his window and briefly clasp Lucy's hand. His words of farewell were more admonishing than encouraging, however:

"I'm still not sure about this place, Lucy, so remember our bargain: you can go here as long as you don't let yourself get dragged into any trouble by some of the weirder types you sometimes seem to hang out with—and as long as you meet your social obligations for the family and the company."

"Yes, Father. I understand. And I haven't forgotten next week's charity ball on Thursday evening." Lucy's serious, deep brown eyes stayed focused on her father, despite the stares she could feel from her soon-to-be classmates, especially the girls—women, she corrected herself silently.

Jude Heartfilia accepted Lucy's assurances, cast a last, scathing look at the chattering, excited students, and waved the chauffeur back to the car. He managed a tight, unconvincing smile for his daughter, and then put up his window and leaned back in his seat, a big, shadowy figure behind the tinted glass. Lucy's smile in return was more convincing and yet somehow also sad. She watched the big car glide away, and as soon as it had disappeared around a corner she sighed, squared her shoulders, and turned to hurry toward the registration area. Unfortunately, she stepped right into somebody's path—although 'trajectory' might have been a more accurate word.

"Ow! Sorry!" Only long years of dance and gymnastics kept Lucy upright.

"Hey—look where you're going!" cried the human missile, as he spun around with Lucy in a rather tight, although apparently unintended embrace. He was more agile than he seemed, though; he didn't stagger as they parted, and his hand under her elbow helped her own efforts at balance.

Not surprisingly, they eyed each other curiously once the world stopped spinning. The human missile was actually a young man of medium height and decidedly athletic build, with spiky, cotton-candy pink hair, dark grey-green eyes, and a dusting of freckles. Lucy saw the dark eyes widen slightly as he examined her in turn. The clothes and shoes and so on were bad enough, she thought, but anybody would stare at her up-swept golden hair, which had been formed into a perfect chignon at the back. It was very pretty—and made her look like a 1940s actress at an evening party rather than a regular university student of many, many decades later.

"Are you going in to register?" Lucy asked, determined to be friendly and polite.

"Huh? Oh, yeah—I think so?" The pink-haired guy ran a hand through his spiky locks and then grinned cheerfully. "I mean yeah, yeah I am! That's a pretty good hairstyle—is it a new thing? I'll bet you could hide notes and weapons and stuff in it!"

From behind Pink-and-Spiky, a slightly taller, leaner man muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "idiot". Lucy realized that she hadn't even noticed the second man, and then flushed slightly when she realized that he was wearing cargo pants belted loose over boxers and not much else. He was a bit less odd than Pinky—Lucy had a tendency to first give and then refine nicknames—but he also seemed slightly dangerous. Maybe it was the stylized bird tattoo on the right side of his chest, or his very dark eyes and hair. If I wrote these two into a story, he'd be Emo-Guy for sure. I'll bet he broods well. And Pinky would be Leaps-Before-Looking-Guy or Runs-Into-Trouble-But-Likes-It-Guy. They're both pretty attractive though.

"I can hear you, you know," Pinky said to Dark-and-Tattooed. Lucy jumped slightly: for a moment she'd thought he'd heard what she was thinking.

"I wouldn't bother to call you an idiot if you couldn't hear me," retorted D-and-T. He held out a hand to Lucy, and gave her a small, but apparently genuine smile. "I'm Gray. Flamebrain here is Natsu. We're in second year, but our friend Erza asked us to help out with registration—she runs the welcome table where you pick up your registration kits."

Gray's handshake was firm and literally cool, despite the warm sun. He was immediately elbowed out of the way by Pinky/Natsu. "Yeah, it gets us out of this afternoon's mega-line-ups with the general upper-year registration crowd," he told her. "Can't wait until everything's completely automated."

"Like that'll help you," scoffed Gray. "You're still in trouble for trying to hit a campus computer last year because it said your code had errors. Good thing Erza was there to stop you."

Lucy jumped in before things could escalate.

"Oh… Well, um, I'm Lucy—nice to meet you. Both of you." Natsu's hand was dry and calloused, without a hint of sweat. In fact, he seemed impervious to the heat, although wearing a white Fairy Tail U scarf wound loosely around his neck seemed excessive. Sometimes Lucy thought it was her fate to meet the strangest people at any given location. Then again, she was okay with that.

After a few more courtesies (cut short by Natsu "accidentally" stepping on Gray's foot) and a few more discourtesies (cut short by Lucy with the tact of one forced young into the cut-throat politics of charitable fund-raising), the three of them went in. Erza turned out to be a rather frighteningly helpful third year with honest-to-goodness red (not orange or auburn) hair. These people apparently spent a fortune on hair dye. Lucy had meant to change as soon as her father had left, and before talking to anyone, but fate and Natsu had conspired against her. One look at Erza's face told Lucy that she'd been recognized. The upper-year didn't say anything though; instead, she made Lucy's day by handing over her registration package without calling out her last name.

"Is-is there a washroom nearby?" Lucy asked, heartened by this kindness.

Erza was getting both guys set up with registration packages (and smacking them upside the head for hitting each other, which Lucy found slightly counter-productive as an example of good behaviour). She nodded at a doorway and said: "Down that hall, first door on the right.

When Lucy slipped back into the room several minutes later, she went quietly to the back of the registration line without speaking further with the upper-years. After all, Gray, Natsu and Erza were obviously friends of long-standing. In fact, Lucy had already realized that Erza was a well-known student leader and a competitive athlete of national standing—she should have recognized the name sooner. That probably meant that Gray and Natsu were just as important within the school community. Lucy didn't want it to seem as though she was presuming upon her chance encounter with Natsu earlier. He'd seemed very nice, though; she hoped that maybe she could find a way to get to know him better by proving herself as an up-and-coming Fairy Tail student. There was something about Natsu's grin that somehow stood out even more than the pink hair.

Lucy drew no attention at all as she patiently waited her turn, clutching at the key forms from her registration package. She was now wearing slightly worn cut-offs, a cute, rose-pink t-shirt, and the current popular choice in (cheap) canvas running shoes. The bracelet on one wrist was pretty, but not expensive. She had also managed to extract all hundred or so bobby pins from her hair (only a minor exaggeration!). After a moment's thought, she had decided to put most of her hair into twin-tails in order to beat the heat; she left her long bangs and a few other locks to frame her face, in order to escape from her overly-sophisticated "matchy-matchy girl" appearance of earlier.

When somebody jostled her slightly—clearly by accident—she decided to try out her new-found anonymity. She turned and smiled brightly.

"Kind of brutal in here isn't it?" she said to the pretty, dark-haired girl—woman—behind her.

"Yeah, seriously."

They exchanged the conspiratorial grimaces of strangers commiserating over shared misfortune.

"I'm Lucy—I'm taking English with a focus on creative writing."

"Oh hey—me too! I'm Evelyn. Nice to meet you, Lucy! Sorry about bumping you—gotta admit, I was admiring your bag. It looks like it won't fall apart like my 'student special' here."

"Well, um, yeah… it was a present from my… dad. He believes in practical gifts and things that keep their value and functionality." Ev laughed and Lucy relaxed. Switching clothes was one thing, but the expensive leather schoolbag was actually something she'd chosen and liked, even though she realized most normal students couldn't afford it.

Lucy wasn't used to referring to her father as "dad"; she have to work on that (though not with the man himself). And technically he had bought the bag for her. Her mother's estate provided her with a moderate allowance, but since her father had either inherited or managed the bulk of Layla Heartfilia's money and business interests, he paid for all of Lucy's living expenses. In a bid to retain as much independence as possible, Lucy had learned how to make her allowance stretch without being too obvious, which provided her with less expensive, more normal clothes and paid for the occasional unsupervised outing.

She had only been chatting with her new friend for a few minutes when she spotted a familiar head of pink hair weaving through the crowd toward them. Her first thought was that it was a coincidence, since she now looked very different—and why would Natsu be looking for her anyway? Once or twice she saw Natsu pause for a moment and wrinkle his nose, as if to sneeze, but otherwise nothing interrupted his brisk stride directly to where she was standing (well, there were people in the way, but most of them moved as he approached).

"Hey Lucy! You didn't come back to the table! We could've helped you register you know… Oh, is this a friend of yours?" Natsu didn't even seem to notice that Lucy looked entirely different now. Or if he did he didn't comment.

Somehow—Lucy couldn't quite fathom it—Natsu convinced her to leave the line (she'd already traded numbers with Ev) and come back to the table for registration packages. Partway there, he slowed down a little and started to frown.

"Lucy? Did you change something? Erza said you'd probably gone to put on your mask—or take off your mask, I can't remember which. You seem pretty much the same to me." He came to a full stop right in the middle of the room and squinted at Lucy. Then he started to walk around her, checking her out from all angles. "Heh. Well, it's good to see Erza wrong for once! And Gray backed her up, too! This'll be great!"

"Wait! Natsu!" Lucy tried to pull away, but her escort seemed very determined.

When they arrived, Natsu slung his arm around Lucy's shoulders. "See Erza! No masks! I don't know how she slipped by Gray! You going blind or something, bro?"

Lucy found herself turning a little red. Natsu's arm was heavy and warm, but also comforting and even pleasant, despite the sticky weather. Erza gave her a sympathetic smile; Gray, busy a couple of feet away, rolled his eyes and muttered something that only Natsu heard. He was wearing a t-shirt now, which struck Lucy as more appropriate.

"Natsu," Erza said at last. "Lucy has changed every article of clothing and her shoes and hairstyle."

"What? You did?!" Natsu held Lucy out at arm's length. "What did you do that for? We might not have found you again!" He paused, and then peered closely at Lucy. "You know… I think you're right Erza. Lucy! You messed up your hair! I'll bet that's why you had to change. You shouldn't worry about us, though. We don't mind if you want to dress like a stuck up rich girl—right Gray? Erza?"

"I refuse to be associated with that statement," muttered Gray.

"Natsu…" Erza sounded deeply chagrined.

"Besides, it doesn't matter. Lucy can change her clothes as often as she wants—or even put on that mask you were talking about, Erza! I'll always know it's her!"

Natsu sounded so certain that Lucy wasn't inclined to disagree. She still didn't know him very well, but that didn't seem to matter. When he grinned at her, she grinned back. How odd to think that there might be people who didn't care about masks, when she'd lived with them all her life. Her heart seemed to thump just a little harder against her rib cage at the thought and she didn't object when Natsu gave her another one-armed hug before getting back to his job for Erza.

Epilogue

Lucy didn't find out how Natsu could always track her down until several days later, at which point her vision of the power of love (or something like it) suffered a severe check. Erza kept avoiding the subject, but Gray answered her question directly, once she thought to ask him. It turned out that Natsu had a ridiculously good sense of smell.

"He… he smelled me?" Lucy demanded. "I smell?!"

Gray tried to reassure her, but she found herself putting on extra layers of deodorant for quite a while after that. Eventually, Natsu complained that she smelled like a chemical factory, and Lucy delivered a rather incomprehensible rant. Erza led her away murmuring that strawberry cream cake would help.

Eventually—after Lucy had been pacified by cake—Erza said thoughtfully:

"I think that you are losing sight of something important, Lucy."

"Oh." (sniff)

"I agree that Natsu could track down almost anyone, because of his sense of smell. But you are the one he chose to find."

[END]

A/Note: I don’t know if I’ll be able to do another chapter for Nalu Week, but I’d like to do at least one “more snuggly” one if I can manage.  I have a number of other writing commitments underway, so we’ll see!  All comments, notes, tags, likes and reblogs are much appreciated!

~ Impracticaldemon

@fic-writer-appreciation @ftfanfics @shell-senji @unashamed-shipper @nalufever @eliz1369 @nalu-natic @naluloverforever @miss-zei (humour me on this one, zeiyuu, I think it’s kind of fun!) @fury-ous