#and we’d crawl into bed and look at the moon from my window (I’d let you have the window side) and we’d stay awake laughing until the birds

[earthpit]

can we have a slumber party in the blazing blue of the vast ? i would bring eye covers so it's not too bright for us, and i think it would be a perfect mix of hot sun and cool breeze. do you get it

YEAH. YEAH we’d let the ultra violet cover us up and fall forever… enjoy sky blue <3

[enviedear]

miss moonlight, put in a word → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which draco sees the same annoying hufflepuff he’s enamored within his dreams every night, but can’t muster up the courage to talk to her in waking life. so instead he talks to the moon, telling the rock that’s miles away, everything he wants to tell her. little does he know, she does the same thing.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 3k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

its a little angsty im sorry. but im nervous abt this and have been sitting on posting it for almost a month now so please lmk if you like it :)

based off the songs talking to the moon by bruno mars and please mr sun by tommy edwards

she waves at him, her eyes holding a happy glimmer. he walks closer to her and wraps his long arms around her, pulling her close. he breathes in her scent and she giggles. it sounds like heaven. he holds her like that for what feels like forever before she pulls away.

he watches as she sits down in the grass, patting the place beside her.

“sit draco.” she commands. he complies.

“i love it when i’m asleep. you’re here and the world is so much more peaceful.” he smiles, a real true smile. not like the ones he usually gives now.

“but imagine if we were awake. the world might not be so wonderful, but we’d have each other. and the sun. and the wind. and the trees. and missus moon.” she grins, looking up at the bright blue sky.

he wants to agree, and tell her that’s all they’ll ever need. but he knows he can’t. because truth be told he needs more. he needs to know his family will be safe. he needs to know if he’ll make it out of his sixth year alive. he needs more than the sun and moon.

instead, he places his head in her lap, relishing in the way her fingers card through his hair. she sings a song he can’t place as he falls asleep. 

“i love you y/n” he whispers, right before he dozes off.

that’s how the dreams usually end. he always slips off to sleep so peacefully in your arms. but when he wakes up, he’s still in the slytherin dorm, lonely and afraid.

yours end in the same way, and when you wake, you’re clutching your pillow as if it’s him. you don’t dare tell anyone about the dreams. your friends and family would think you mad. but it’s enough for you to be able to have them, even if you’re not sure if they’re shared or not. 

you see the way he looks in the dining hall, potions, and in passing. he’s always so monotonous. so unlike the boy you’ve grown up with.

you of course have dreams, where he’s told you everything that has happened to him. he’s confessed to you that he’s working with voldemort, for his parents' sake. he even told you about dumbledore. but no matter how much you beg him to leave that life behind, he can't. besides, you’re dreaming all of this. who’s to say it’s even real. 

so you stay away, yearning for bedtime. where you can talk to the boy you love more than anything else in the world.

you’re not sure how the dreams started but you have an idea.

and so does draco.

he reckons he must have used some sort of wandless magic the night he was thinking to himself on the astronomy tower. it had been a humid night and he was all alone. his eyes deadset on the bright moon in front of him. he had just started talking.

he knew the moon wasn’t someone that could actually listen but then again, maybe that’s what he wanted? he didn’t want someone to place any input on his situation. he just wanted to speak and let his thoughts travel into the void and maybe out from his aching head.

“i just want everything to be okay. mother deserves a son who can protect her and.. father needs me. i can’t fail.  i just wish i had someone to talk to when the sun goes down. someone kind and someone warm. i know they’re somewhere out there. but maybe all i’ll ever have is you missus moon, at night when it’s just the stars to listen in to our conversation.” the boy had mumbled, before making his way to his dorm room.

you had been having a word with missus moon that night as well, alone in your hufflepuff prefect dorm. you thought yourself lucky to have a window so that you could see the stars and the moon. you were fighting sleep and had no one else to speak to, so you watched the bright yellow moon as you recounted your troubles.

“my dreams have been so bad recently missus moon. i think it’s because i’m still so scared for everyone and myself. they say the dark lord could strike any day. i’d hate for anyone i love or even myself to end up like poor cedric. i wish i had someone to talk to, someone to understand. everyone thinks i’m crazy, but they don’t know what i know. the world is getting scary. at least when the stars light up my room i have you missus moon.” you had sighed getting off the floor and laying down in your bed.

that night draco dreamt of flower fields and you. at first, the boy wondered if maybe it was real. it seemed real. he could see you and everything around you so vividly. and the same for you, you made out his platinum hair and could smell his crisp cologne. but when the two of you awoke, you knew it couldn’t be real.

until the next night, where the both of you met again in your dreams.

“are you following me?” you had asked draco.

he narrowed his eyes at you, “how could i follow you into a dream. what a stupid thing to ask.”

“you’re supposed to be nice to me. this is my dream after all.” you had pouted.

draco snorted, “i need to stop drinking tea before bed. i’m having dreams where the people in them think they’re the ones doing the dreaming.”

“but i am the one dreaming! this is my dream. i can control it, watch!” you’d grinned, before commanding a nearby tree to grow apples.

draco’s eyes had widened, “no, this can’t be right.”

you watched as he wished for the tree to grow taller before glaring at you, “smack yourself.”

you glared back at him, “no, but you can shove your fist down your throat if you’re going to be rude.”

draco circled you, “so you don’t have to do what i tell you and neither do i. strange.”

“why would i have to do what you tell me to do in my own dream?” you’d asked.

the boy had shrugged, “maybe it’s not just your dream. maybe it’s mine too.”

that’s the most the two of you ever discussed the shared dreams. after that there wasn’t a need. you both enjoyed them. both of you needed them.

once in study hall you caught draco reading a book about dreams but you didn’t ask him about it. in truth, you were too afraid to have him label you as insane.

draco found himself wanting to speak with you too. countless times. he had grown quite fond of you after the dreams he found you in every night. so in the daytime, he would sneak glances at you. he took notice if you did your hair differently or if your makeup was done. of course, he knew he couldn’t talk to you. you’d think him mad. still, he found himself dropping subtle clues to see if you’d come over to him, like reading a ghastly book about dreams in a class the two of you shared. it hadn’t worked but he could have sworn he caught you looking his way.

draco spends hours obsessing over you, the dreams, and the few glances you would give him. but the vanishing cabinet is almost fixed and he knows it’d be foolish to speak to you now. no matter how much he wishes to run into your arms and tell you to take him away from here, he won’t. 

it’s a dreary day in june and you’re getting snacks for some of the first years when you hear it. maniacal laughter and breaking glass. your first thought is to check on your house. you rush into the hufflepuff common room and make sure everyone’s ok and then urge them to stay safe. they nod and bolt to their dorms.

then, you make your way to the source of the noise. the dining hall, which is torn to shreds, is crawling with death eaters. you feel lightheaded as you watch them. out of the corner of your eye, you see professor snape making his way to the astronomy tower.

curious, you quietly sneak behind him, careful not to make yourself known. you hear a voice above you. a voice you recognize.

draco. 

you’re trying your hardest to figure out what he’s saying but you can’t. all the sounds around you are blending together and you can’t seem to calm down enough to hear anything. when the professor reaches the tower, underneath the scene of whatever is going on, you stay behind.

in a flash, the teacher is out of your vision and upstairs in the chaos.

“severus, please.” is all you hear before the killing curse bolts out of snape’s mouth.

you stand in shock as the footsteps trail out of the tower. draco. snape. dumbledore. death eaters. it was all so much.

“y/n! are you ok?” a watery-eyed harry potter asks from beside you. you don’t even question how he got here or if he saw what you did. instead, you fling your arms around him and stare at the wall petrified. no tears can escape your eyes, you’re in disbelief.

“come on. you have to breathe and we have to get down there. get your wand ready. we have to do something!” he shouts, voice breaking.

you look at him for a second before he bolts out of the room, wand in hand.

instead of trying to fight, talking to anyone about what you saw, or even going to look at your headmaster’s dead body like everyone else, you slip quietly into your prefects dorm.

you watch the moon until she’s gone and when you see mr sun the tears finally fall. you mumble, “talk to him please, mr sun.”

draco glanced at the blinding sun from the malfoy garden, where he had spent the night. he couldn’t be in that house. not after everything that happened. so instead, he sat in the garden thinking of his best thoughts, you.

he watches the sunrise, listens to the winds and the robins singing, and mutters to himself, “tell her how i feel. it shouldn’t end this way. since you are all her friends, she’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

a baby robin sings a little louder, almost like it’s agreeing, and it causes the boy to cry.

it’s an eerily quiet early morning in the room of requirement on the second of may. you’re in the back of the room, trying to sleep. sleep has become your only form of happiness. your dreams have become a wonderful fairytale. draco is still prevalent and he holds you tighter and tighter with each night.

almost as soon as you drift to bed, you hear gasps. you look up to find harry, ron, and hermione. without a care in the world, you rush to the three just like everyone else. harry gives you a weak smile and you return it.

the three of them explain that today is the day. today is the day the world is split into two and voldemort attacks. plans are arranged and everyone holds each other close.

selfishly, you wish you could see draco. 

minutes later, a meeting is called by snape in the dining hall. You watch as neville and ginny procure robes for the green-eyed boy and walk to the hall.

the carrows look at everyone with malice in their eyes as snape drones on about a sighting of harry in hogsmeade. soon after, harry shows himself and begins arguing with the black-haired man. he tells everyone about the night in the astronomy tower.

mcgonagall throws curses at the man along with harry before he flies out of the hall. The woman looks at all of us, eyes wide but determined.

in a rush, everyone is scattered about. you follow neville to the bridge and help as much as you can. when the death eaters, led by greyback, enter hogwarts, you stand your ground. you’re ready to fight.

draco easily locates blaise and goyle before heading off to find his wand and harry potter. his chest aches with looming fear but he tries to repress it the most he can.

“i guess this is it boys.” blaise sighs.

draco looks at his friend, “we’ll be fine. just stay safe and together. don’t go weak on me now zabini.”

you’re doing your best to fight off corban yaxley but every time you’re ready to throw a killing blow his way he narrowly hits you with the killing curse. your fighting in a state of pure unadulterated anger. it’s been hours of fighting but your anger remains.

“stupid little girl, you’ll be dead before nightfall.” yaxley spits before hitting you with a weak spell. 

you still double over a bit, but hold your ground enough to raise your wand and hit him with the cruciatus curse. in the corner of your eye you watch professor flintwick begin dueling the vicious man, before running inside the castle.

fire burns everywhere around draco. he’s about to turn to blaise and say his goodbyes before potter snatches him up and leads him out of the room of requirement. the second he’s on the ground he makes a run for it. he loses blaise on the way and can’t seem to figure out where to go. he’s on the second floor, tears are pooling out of his eyes and the ache in his chest has grown when his body collides with another.

you fall back, hitting your head against the hard stone of the castle floor. when you look up, your vision is hazy and shaky.

“y/n?”

you know that voice. it’s the same voice you’ve heard every single night for a year.

“draco?” you ask, hands reaching out.

“you’re bleeding. let me help,” he says before gently healing your head.

you stare at the boy, “you know it feels weird to see you. i’ve never really spoken to you besides the dreams.”

his eyes grow wide, “you know about those?”

you smile a little, “yeah, i do.”

the two of you find yourselves entering the great hall, helping whoever you two can.

draco is comforting a teary-eyed second year when blaise zabini comes in, eyes bloodshot and clutching his right arm.

you watch as the two embrace, pulling apart so that draco can tend to his arm.

minutes that feel like hours pass as the three of you silently process the commotion going on around you.

a tattered luna lovegood emerges through the rubble and towards the three of you.

“everyone’s outside now- harry he... i think you all should come with me.” her shaky voice requests.

draco looks to you and nods, helping you rise. his hand grasps yours and you all follow luna outside.

all around you is destruction. the place you’ve called home for years in now a bruised battleground and at the very center of it stands the man you’ve come to fear more than anything in the world. voldemort. 

“harry potter, is dead.” the creature laughs.

you grip draco tighter and he looks at you with an expression of sorrow.

“from this day forth you put your faith in me. and now is the time to declare yourself! come forward and join us. or die.” the man spits, smiling at the broken faces opposite him.”

it is quiet for just a moment before lucius malfoy calls for his son. you watch the man and his wife plead with him. but his hand remains in yours and feet right beside you.

you look up at him and give him your brightest smile, a smile you would give him in dreams. as he peers down at you he knows that nothing in the world means more to him than you and that smile he’s spent hours telling missus moon about.

“you insolent boy, draco!” the snake-like man hisses.

you turn to face him, eyes wide with fury and hate.

neville begins limping toward the band of villains.

“i’d like to say something.” the boys breathes out.

voldemort smirks at him, “well neville i’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear what you have to say.”

“you’re wrong! harry’s heart did beat for us, for all of us!” and with that, he pulls the sword of godric gryffindor out of the sorting hat he’s been clutching and aims it at the deatheaters and their leader.

draco’s head cranes in harry’s direction, and in an instant, the boy flies out of hagrid’s arms and throws a spell at voldemort.

you cry out along with everyone else before watching voldemort’s followers disappear.

“come on, we’ve fought enough. i won’t let you die now!” draco commands, leading you to the bridge.

you follow, but turn to look at the castle one last time. draco stops as well and you see him meet ron and hermione’s gaze. ron nods his head and draco returns the gesture.

“let’s go draco.” you sigh.

he didn’t know he’d see you again. the two of you had gone to your home to bathe and sleep and when the boy found himself in his dreams, he saw you.

you smile at the platinum haired boy, “sit draco.”

he complies. 

“i hope you haven’t gotten tired of seeing me. i suppose it will be a lot now. to have me in waking and in sleep.” you giggle.

draco stares at you deeply, “i could never get tired of you. i’ve spent a year talking to the moon, trying to get you. in hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too. i’ve asked the sun to tell you all the things i couldn’t, the wind to whisper all the things i love about you, all the rainbows to make you smile, and the trees to take you under their branches. i’d want nothing more than this.”

you lean your head on his shoulder, “i’m here now and we have eternity to tell eachother the things we haven’t said yet.”

the two of you can’t help but to stare at the moon some nights, silently thanking missus moonlight for putting in a word.

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 1, Episode 1: Wolf Moon (Part One)

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

Notes: Welcome to Episode One! Buckle in, this series really takes on a mind of it’s own...

I enjoy writing it so I hope you have just as much fun reading it! Let me know what you think! I love hearing from you lovely people. 

I rested my head against the cool glass to my right and let out a tired sigh. We’d been in the car for what felt like days. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to get comfortable against the door. It was a couple hours past sunset by the time the first sign of our new home came into view. It was made of wood and looked no less than a hundred years old. Four words were sprawled across it in big, white letters.

                     WELCOME TO BEACON HILLS

As soon as we passed it, moms fingers tightened against the steering wheel.

“Hey, no more incidents, okay honey? This town is our last option.”

I closed my eyes tightly and tried to ignore her condescending tone. I was well aware of my mistakes and the fact that this was our fourth move in the last year. I knew it was my fault. I didn’t need her to remind me.

The rest of the drive was silent. It wasn’t exactly tense, but it wasn’t pleasant either. This unspoken rift had formed between us not long ago, and it grew with each of my slip ups. With every new move. She was trying her best, that much was obvious, but there are only so many new places to go. I guess that’s why she said this is our last chance.

My last chance.

It was nearly midnight now, and I was no closer to sleep than I had been when I plopped myself down onto my new bed. Mom bought everything and had it delivered before we got here, like she always does. It was kind of our routine at this point.

Just then, I heard screaming from outside my bedroom window. It was like two people were taking turns scaring each other. One yelled out, then the other, until they eventually fell into silence. I sat up in bed and wandered over to my window. I peered toward my neighbors house, where the noise had come from, and saw two boys out on the porch.

One had a baseball bat that he was waving around animatedly, while the other was somehow hanging upside down from the roof. I opened my window as quietly as I could and let my elbows rest on the edge. A shiver ran down the back of my neck as the chilly night air brushed against it. I stuck my head outside to listen in on their conversation.

“Look, I know it’s late, but you gotta hear this.” The upside boy said excitedly. “I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called, they’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon department and even state police.”

The other boy lowered his bat. “For what?”

Despite being outside in the middle of the night, the two weren’t talking quietly. I could hear everything they were saying clearly as their voices echoed my way.

“Two joggers found a body in the woods.” Upside down boy gracefully fell into the bushes below.

My breath caught and my stomach tightened uncomfortably at his words. A body was found nearby? I thought Beacon Hills was a secluded, safe town. 

“A dead body?” As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I noticed that one of the boys had slightly shaggy hair and was wearing a red zip-up hoodie. He leaned over the wooden railing to look at his friend.

Upside down boy popped back up and slammed his hands on the railing. “No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass! A dead body.”

I couldn’t help but snicker at that. The guy was funny, although this didn’t seem like a joking matter. 

“You mean like...a murder?”

Upside down boy, who for some reason was wearing way too many layers to count, swung himself over the porch railing. Seriously, he had on a t-shirt, a flannel, and a thick jacket. It wasn’t that cold. “No one knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.”

“Hold on. If they found a body, then what are they looking for?” They were facing each other now, the bat forgotten on the floor.

“That’s the best part! They only found half!” My brows pinched at the guy’s excitement. Why would either of them care about a dead body? Especially if it were as gruesome as that? 

I stepped back into my room and shut the window tightly, my stomach churning. I chewed on my bottom lip anxiously. That was weird. They were weird, and I wanted no part of it. I padded back toward my bed and crawled under the covers. I sighed as warmth enveloped me and tried to forget everything I’d overheard. I needed to get some sleep. The first day of school was tomorrow and I had to make a good first impression. It was only my first night in this town. I couldn’t be tangled up in anything weird.

I couldn’t make the same mistakes already.

                                                     ————————

I woke with a harsh gasp, my throat constricting in pain. I blinked rapidly, trying to force my eyes to adjust to the darkness around me. My palms were damp, and the tips of my fingers numb, as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. I stilled at the squishy feeling under my ass and brought my hand up toward my eyes slowly.

My breath caught again at the sight of dirt on my skin. My head whipped both left and right as I realized I was outside. Not only was I outside, but I was nowhere near my house. I was in the middle of a forest.

“No, no, no...” I muttered, staggering to my feet.

This cannot be happening again. Not already. I haven’t even been here for one freaking night. My teeth started chattering as the freezing air brushed against my bare skin. I was only wearing a pair of leggings and a short sleeved shirt. It was enough to keep me warm inside my bed, but not here. 

I took a few steps forward, but stopped as the sound of crunching earth echoed my way. Lights flashed, and a dog barked aggressively. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden noise and moved to hide behind a tree. I peered around and saw one of the boys from before—the one with buzzed hair and too many layers—fall to the ground with a shriek. His friend ran off somewhere to hide.

“Hang on! Hang on!” An angry voice shouted. “This little delinquent belongs to me.” 

A man who I quickly registered, due to his uniform, as the Sheriff stepped between the boy and a still barking dog. The few officers around him backed off at the wave of his hand. He turned on a flashlight and shined it in the boys face, who bounced back to his feet and wiped his hands on his loose-fitting jeans.

“Hey dad, how ya doin?”

So the Sheriff is his dad. Makes sense given the two boys earlier conversation. Maybe that will prevent all of us from getting into serious trouble if we’re caught. I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. How the hell would I explain why I was here?

“Oh hi, I’m the new girl by the way, and I just sleep-walked myself deep into this unfamiliar forest. No big deal though. It’s not like this has happened before.”

Yeah. I don’t think so.

“So...you, uh, listening to all of my phone calls?”

“No! Well, not the boring ones.”

“Where’s your usual partner in crime?”

“Who, Scott?” The boy tried to catch his breath while he thought of a believable lie. “Scott’s at home. Said he wanted to get a good nights sleep for the first day back at school tomorrow. It’s just me. In the woods. Alone.”

Not bad, actually. Except for that last part. I got the sense that he talked a lot when nervous, but figured he had more than enough practice lying to his father.

“Scott, you out there?” The Sheriff’s voice echoed through the dense trees. He moved his flashlight in my direction and I quickly pressed my back against the other side of the scratchy bark. I winced as it bit into my skin through my thin shirt. “Scott!”

My heart was threatening to burst out of my chest, it was beating so hard. I sealed my eyes shut as a moment of quiet passed.

“Well, young man, I’m going to walk you back to your car, and we’re going to have a discussion about something called invasion of privacy...”

Their voices slowly faded away. I stood painfully still for several seconds afterward to make sure they were gone. Just as I was about to move, I heard a twig snap to my left. My gaze fell on the other boy—Scott, apparently—who’s back was to me. He took off running before I could even fully register that he was there.

I blinked once, twice, three times. My body sagged against the tree in exhaustion. Whatever I had just witnessed was not good and I needed to get home before mom noticed I was gone. Or now, preferably. I groaned in pain as my head suddenly began to throb harshly.

“No, no. Not right now...”

My knees hit the wet ground and I clamped both hands over my temples. Images flashed behind my eyes as I squeezed them shut tightly. 

Scott running, glowing red eyes, a guttural scream of agony.

I let my eyes pop open with a gasp. Before I knew what was happening, I was sprinting in the direction he’d gone. I could hardly control my body as it took me to where my vision was about to happen. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Scott rolling down a hill. I grimaced as his body practically bounced with each hit to the ground and ran to the top so I could see better.

Once he stopped moving, I took a step to check on him, but stopped almost instantly. A pair of glowing red eyes illuminated in the depths of the forest, just a few feet away. My jaw went slack in shock and fear. Whatever the hell it was, it wasn’t good. It was almost like the air had shifted into something darker with its presence. I watched in stunned horror as a huge black mass ran by Scott. It was only visible long enough for me to see the thing dig it’s teeth into his side. He screamed in pain, just like I’d heard before, and I covered my ears.

It was all too real.

The monster ran off and Scott looked around, startled. He groaned and clutched his side tightly as he slowly managed to get to his feet. A moment later, he was gone. I wasted no time in following him, hoping he’d lead me to the edge of the forest. I stayed far back, not wanting him to know I was there. 

Within minutes I was standing in the middle of an empty road, Scott nowhere to be found. I was surprised I hadn’t gone into cardiac arrest already with how fast my heart was racing. I was exhausted and on edge after what I’d just seen. Whatever it was. 

I ran a shaky hand through my hair and started what I knew would be a long journey home. 

Episode 1, Part Two

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 31: The Very Secret Diary

Remus felt a deep pull on his core, one he instantly recognized that had nothing to do with once again blinking into new surroundings they had not been in moments ago. Moonlight glinted in through the arched windows of the Gryffindor dormitory, but he cared not what or who he stumbled over as he lurched to the ledge and peered out helplessly beyond. The clouds were wispy, the moon bright and high in the sky, but not full. Two, perhaps one day tops.

He pressed his sweating brow to the glass with gratitude, already sensing the others getting much more slowly to their feet and recognizing Sirius placing his hand on his shoulder before he even looked over to check.

"You have got to be kidding me!" James began loudly causing a distraction. "We get blocked from entering the Slytherin's dorms, but we just get plopped into ours! Who's controlling this mess, I demand a refund!"

"I wasn't aware you were paying for this ride," Peter huffed as he rubbed his forehead against the offending trunk it had crashed against. "Mind if I get my share back?"

"Urgh, I don't know how on Earth we're going to find the book in this mess," Alice scowled about the place as she brushed a sock from her head.

"Charming little place," Frank agreed, having half landed under a bed and getting the joy of a toad leaping away from his face in surprise. Trevor, if he recalled correctly.

"Don't know what you lot are complaining about, we've finally got some beds!" Black cheered, pulling his friend away from the window and collapsing on the nearest one with an exhausted look in place that, to be fair, likely was not faked.

"How long have we been at this?" Potter agreed, flouncing on the floor and yanking the blankets off of the perch his friends had claimed. "I say we don't even bother looking for the next part of this mess until morning and get some shut eye!"

"Well I'm glad you lot can get comfortable," Lily sighed, staying where she'd landed at the foot of the available mattresses, eyeing it as if fearing it was going to consume her in her sleep. Even in the familiarity of being back up in her tower, if not the girls portion, she could not shake the feeling this castle seemed to be clutching even without the mass of students present. There was something going on she'd never had to fear even in her own time.

Regulus watched silently as, to his surprise, Potter actually ignored her and kept chatting up his three friends in their one space. Alice and Frank blushed scarlet at the sudden implications before them and went to separate beds, Regulus stayed where his was nearest the door, and Evans realized after a moment she was going to be ignored and tentatively began trying to organize the blankets into a more suitable position. Regulus found it quite clever. The last thing Potter could have done to force Evans to sleep in a bed was going all chivalrous and making a space for her. Now she was settling into one with orange drapings all along it silently while just as thoroughly ignoring him.

He decided to take the suggestion himself and stretched out on the last one, the canopy of which had shamrocks dancing along the perimeter and a few pictures of a sandy haired bloke and a tall black kid laughing. He didn't know which was the beds owner, and he didn't care as he closed his eyes and rolled over, trying to get comfortable. It took quite some time to fall off to sleep, though he was surprised Sirius still whispering incomprehensibly was helping. It reminded him of home, where he could often hear Kreacher going about the place at all hours, and the portraits whispering, the wind ripping through the old house.

It didn't take that long before Peter decided to risk it, transforming into Wormtail and creeping along to each bed and checking carefully to see all others asleep. He went so far as to give their noses little licks, but the worst reaction was Longbottom tossing violently over in his sleep and muttering, his snores nearly knocking Wormtail off the bed. Then Peter popped back over to his friends, who all had heavy lidded eyes themselves, but were grateful to stop whispering about Quidditch statistics for once upon his nod.

"This is getting too close guys!" Remus managed hoarsely. He couldn't even pretend to not be holding painfully tight to Sirius' arm, he desperately needed some anchor to those around him instead of the death threat hanging just outside this window in the night.

"Relax Moony, I told you I had a plan," James promised, the others having to almost read his lips in the poor light. They wished they'd had this conversation back out in the zoo where no one had been around, but they'd been too afraid of risking their conversation being carried through magic. Regulus hadn't once questioned what all had transpired when they'd been out of sight, so they'd just have to run on the assumption they'd have to watch every word they said no matter the location. They may not get another chance like this for awhile.

"And what, pray tell, would you lot have done in such a confined area if I'd transformed and began trying to kill everything in sight?!" Remus' voice only restrained from screaming by doing the opposite, the words horribly jumbled together and barely intelligible to those around him.

"Easy, we pin you down, Peter would get through the chapter like all our lives depended on it. Then, when we flashed out of here, we'd just have to erase their memories of what happened, reread the chapter they all missed, and poof, problem solved!"

Remus wondered how long his friend had been certifiable without him noticing. Possibly back when they'd decided to keep hanging around after learning his secret and he'd ignored it.

"That is the stupidest thing I've heard in my life." Peter thankfully agreed with him.

"I'm not hearing you two come up with any better ideas," Sirius snipped, but the uneasy frown on his face told enough, he was no more sold on this.

"Prongs, remember when you got electrocuted at the Dursleys?" Remus tried to remind him, straining not to inflect in his voice how idiotic his friend was.

James clearly did as he flexed the digits uncomfortably. His hand still hadn't seemed to fully heal from the event, even if he did seem to have it back in working order. It was mending, slowly.

"The words from the book vanished until you came back around. Merlin knows what would happen to it if one of us died, we'd probably be stuck in that spot forever! I don't think erasing knowledge of the book will help anything!"

"We wouldn't be erasing knowledge from the book, I told you we'd reread the chapter and give it back, just not certain unavoidable events that happened," James insisted with confidence.

Remus licked his lips and again looked nervously out the window.

"Thankfully, time still seems to be on our side and it hasn't been a problem yet," Sirius said with just a touch more confidence. "At least we have a starting point for a plan. Let's get some shut-eye while we can."

Remus slumped against the headboard, knowing even as exhausted as he was he wasn't going to sleep a wink. He felt colder every second, helped nothing by Sirius sliding off the bed and joining the other two in a sort of pile along the floor.

His stomach kept twisting into painful knots, and every single time he managed to unravel just a bit by the reminder his friends wouldn't let anything happen to the innocent people around him, it only went even more taught at the idea he'd kill one of them in the process. He curled into himself and kept looking blearily out the window, the reflective surface tormenting him as it grew brighter every second.

"Moony?"

It had to have been hours later, he'd watched the slow process as it trickled across the sky in his mind's eye, but he couldn't so much as let one finger free of the cramped position he'd set himself in. Sirius slid up on the bed beside him again, wriggling his fingers in until he'd unfastened both his hands and then finally pulled those apart. Remus finally rolled his head around to see the dark silver of his eyes. They were nothing like the bright color he so feared.

"I decided to take Prongs' advice and have a chat with you while we could," Sirius crawled up and laid along his back, so that he was whispering in his ear, one hand still gripping his to make sure he couldn't pull himself back away. "Don't worry, they're both asleep. I'd say I'd know after nearly five years." He added on when Remus didn't respond.

"What did you want to talk about?" He muttered back, his own voice sounding like a strangers it dragged so badly.

"Don't know," he admitted. "Just couldn't sleep."

Well that was a lie, otherwise he wouldn't have 'wanted a chat' when the other two were out. Remus kept himself quiet and let Sirius build up whatever was on his mind. When he finally got it, it wasn't quite what he was expecting.

"I think Peter knows."

"Eh?"

"Hmm," was his only mutter for a moment, before he kept going in a soft whisper right into his ear, "he's been watching us. Course, he watches everything, but still."

"If this is your idea of pillow talk, it's lacking," was all he could think to say.

"Remus, I mean it," Sirius muttered, trying to draw his legs up to him but instead just knocking them into Remus' knees. He kept them there instead, Sirius now entirely along his back as much as he could.

"You want to tell them?" He finally asked. If Sirius had been trying to give him something else to think about, it had worked.

"I don't like keeping things from either of them. I get the feeling they're going to know sooner rather than later, and we should tell them before that."

"We haven't even told each other what we've been doing." He huffed as a get around. He flashed back to the moment he'd started this by kissing Sirius back. He'd justified it to himself at the time as a way to draw Sirius back to him and find some way to stop the fighting, the panicked look across his mates face when he'd first done it clearly meaning he hadn't any more to go on. Now he was worried he'd jumped the gun on the right way to do that, even if he couldn't regret it as he finally started to relax along the warm body. "Can't we at least wait until we get out of this crazy mess?" He asked more quietly still, worried Sirius had nodded off in the silence as he went through his mind for an answer.

"Yeah, yeah that's fair. This has got to stop eventually. As much as I'm not enjoying living through Prongs' sons crazy life and all."

Remus snorted quietly in agreement to that. "Think there's really some monster running around this castle?"

"I'm thinking it more likely with every passing event in this kids life. I just can't put my finger on what."

Remus hadn't let himself think on it himself, so invested in everything else going on. He finally let himself fall into a fit of uneasy sleep as the silvery moon finally faded behind his heavy eyes. Sirius smiled, and slowly as he was capable of, inched himself away from Remus until he slid back between James and Peter on the floor. Remus still slept on.

Alice had suffered quite a few abrupt awakenings. One when her cousin came over for the summer and thrown her things all over Alice's bed in welcoming, another as her dorm-mates cat pissed on her, but none quite so memorable as Frank kissing her good morning. She smiled up at him and curled tighter into her warm bed as he brushed at her hair before some part of conciseness returned and she murmured, "what are you doing in here?"

"I'm pretty sure we've yet been able to fully answer that," Frank reminded her kindly. She blinked the haze away and finally realized she was not in her own dorm, but still up in Gryffindor tower. There was water running somewhere in the background, she realized as she sat up slowly. She found the Marauders all awake and moving about, much quieter than she would have given them credit for, though still being their usual selves and going through all the available school trunks. Pettigrew was at the foot of hers and tossing things around, a football of all things bouncing against the opposite wall.* It was noticeable they all had slightly damp hair, and their clothes looked just a bit less worn.

She looked properly around her own setting for the first time, some glimmers of unease still present she'd slept in a stranger's bed. This boy was either a muggle-born or had a clear love for them, as he had a poster of one of their sports up that wasn't even moving, though a few pictures scattered around of a tall, dark skinned lad and a sandy-haired boy in someone's backyard messing around with the same football that had just been tossed around.

"They claim to be looking for that," Frank stage whispered as he gestured to the book that was sitting clearly on the bedside table of the bed Frank had been sleeping in.

She stretched as she got out from under the covers and went over to it, sitting down there instead as they'd clearly already been through this place, in far too much detail. There was a pair of pants with all the pockets turned inside out right near the foot of the bed. Frank followed and put another easy arm around her, gesturing before she could grab the book, "had you been wondering what Neville looked like?"

She had, admittedly, and was just as pleased as she was shocked when Frank reached into the bedside cabinet and pulled out a moving picture. It was a family portrait. Frank began pointing out people clearly from his side of the family, but she couldn't spare a glance for any of them, even her future mother in law with a vulture for a hat. Her son, the youngest by far, was standing half behind her in the photo, his little face only peaking out every few seconds the brightest spot.

At first she thought her son had inherited all of his fathers looks along with just his family, with that light blond hair and kind brown eyes. It wasn't until he peaked out again she could spot her own face inlaid with her child's, the kindness she felt pouring from him.

Smiling with pride and very carefully keeping the picture in her grasp as she moved to take the book, she vowed to keep this with her as long as she could get away with. First she couldn't help but stop and look around herself once more with an uneasy feeling. This bed then, her sons, was the only one without any sort of defining marker. She locked eyes with Frank, the worry passing between them as real as Potter flinging textbooks about with abound.

"Aren't all diary's very secret?" The elder Black laughed as he strolled by, checking carefully under each bed for something that was beyond both of them.

"Shouldn't you wait for Regulus to get out?" Pettigrew called over.

In answer, the water stopped, and the younger Black stepped out, toweling his hair and straightening his shirt.

Alice and Frank looked relieved, and Lily reluctant, but they all took turns in the second years boys bathroom. It was simple enough, everything done up in silver and gold of course, with lions embroidered into all the linen. Thankfully the plumbing was working just fine, the settings for the taps were the same in their respective bathrooms, and the laundry shoot still magicked their clean clothes back to them by the time they were all freshened up.

"I'm not surprised the school would think Hermione got attacked," Evans said as she came over to sit beside them on the edge of the bed, taking a brush to her long locks, finally. It was amazing how relaxed they all felt after a little hot water, and the schools magic still somehow managed to know what products each of them used.

"I'm just hoping it makes all those kids realize how stupid it is to think Harry's the one doing this, attacking his friend." Potter seemed to agree with her, stopping his shenanigans of tossing bed sheets around to smile winningly over at her.

She turned away, not taking notice of the water dripping upon the bed, but her nose didn't go quite as high in the air as usual when he talked to her.

"I still don't find it a particularly brilliant idea for Harry to be back around that bathroom," Remus muttered as he sorted through the third trunk.

"Hasn't done anyone any harm," Sirius shrugged as he passed by, tapping his chin as he eyed a pair of trainers. He held one up to his foot, then tossed it away without satisfaction.

"It can't be coincidence this place now has two random events like this," Remus insisted, abandoning a magazine over Great Locations of Kenmare.

"Myrtle floods her bathroom a dozen times a year," Sirius continued trying to ignore him. "Just because Harry found a ruddy book in there some broad wanted to flush away shouldn't mean anything- Oi, Wormtail! Stop sniffing the damn Fudge Flies and come here!"

Peter left Ron's bedside and came over with a harassed expression in place. "Whatever you want to try out on me this time Sirius, the answer's no."

"Why do you always assume it's that?" Sirius asked innocently, then kept going before he could retaliate. "Nah, Moony thinks something's up with this book Harry found, and I want someone else over here laughing at him with me. Cause more of an impact."

"You two are horrible to each other," Peter told him pleasantly. "That wouldn't work anyways, because I'm on his side, listen," he insisted when the background noise of Harry's Valentines settled down and he realized something was odd about it.

James was still snickering about the Valentine his poor son had received, while Evans was looking mortified about the same and desperately wishing that book wasn't giving Potter ideas. Regulus had been spending the whole time in the windowsill, admittedly enjoying the high view. Everyone froze as Alice went on to describe the sentient book.

"Do you think it's in here? Now?" Alice hissed as if she feared it would hear her.

"No," Potter said at once with confidence, taking a cautious step away from Harry's part of the room anyways. "No, we've been looking through this stuff all morning, haven't seen a trace of it."

An awkward silence still hung as Smith forced herself to continue, which only grew worse when Harry was sucked right into the pages.

Everyone remained frozen until it became clear Harry was in no immediate danger, as no one in this odd memory from the diary could see him. Potter, clearly trying to act as always as if this were all casual news, went back over to his sons things and began looking around with even more vigor.

The rest of the Marauders seemed to decide this same tactic, while the three still on the bed drew closer to each other. Alice's voice only shook a bit at reading of something like this, and it only grew more confusing as she reached the end and this Riddle seemed on the verge of finding the true culprit.

"Aha!"

Alice looked over in surprise as Potter quickly stowed something out of sight with a sheepish expression, clearly regretting his outburst. He'd been spending an inordinate amount of time at Harry's trunk and around his bed, and she found it almost sweet if a little obnoxious that's how he was trying to learn about his kid instead of paying attention to the book about him.

"What was that?" Frank asked as politely as he could manage.

"I, ah, found one of Lockhart's signature books Harry got! Bet that's going to be worth a fortune, I'm going to nick it!"

She and Frank exchanged a look of how much they believed that, but Alice hoped this creepy memory was almost done with already and ignored them.

Sirius wasn't listening, he'd finally found a pair he was sure would fit.

"Here Reg, put these on," Sirius said while tossing a pair of boots at his head. Regulus caught one, the other landed on top of his bare foot. A pair of socks quickly followed the same pattern.

"I don't need your help," Regulus snapped as he pushed both away. "I could get some on my own if I wanted to."

Sirius scowled down at him. "You want to wind up back in the Forest or some nonsense barefoot, fine."

Peter watched Sirius strut away, as much as he could in such a small space, back over to James. The two started up a whispered conversation while James kept patting his pocket, and Peter rolled his eyes. He instead turned his attention to Regulus with a sympathetic smile. "He means well."

"I'm not going to bother responding to you if you're just going to defend your mate over there," he huffed.

"I'm just saying," Peter put his hands up defensively. "He bosses me around all the time to. Think that's how he shows he cares."

"And he claims he's nothing like our parents," Regulus rolled his eyes and looked back out the window without further comment.

Sirius had watched the whole thing, and blew a frustrated breath when Peter joined them. "Little idiots going to get a toe cut off or something and I'm just going to laugh at him."

"Souvenir?" Remus offered, before all four burst out laughing just as they were transported away again, none having the chance to realize just what exactly Alice had said before it was too late.

[maple-writes]

[Image ID: Banner image reading: The City of Eventide, Chapter 34, Maple-writes. End ID]

This is it! The last chapter! It still feels so strange to think that this really is the last one.

###

Each day grew longer than the last and the sun shone a little stronger, burning off morning spring clouds. Dylan made good on his promise to visit unannounced one afternoon. He showed up with a firm knock on the door and a greeting loud enough to wake me the rest of the way up. For hours he lingered in the kitchen, half occupied with putting the finishing touches on the egg salad sandwiches Fallon sent him along with but more occupied with filling me in on everything and anything. Tea in hand I barely spoke as the sun made its way down the sky, casting long shadows across the street outside and dimming the light through the windows all while Dylan replaced the usual quiet of the day. It was nice though, hearing someone else’s voice even if I did end up forgetting details and names in his stories.

The vitamins weren’t so bad aside from remembering to take them, and once I got used to the taste neither were the other supplements the doctor suggested. Even now Ginger stopped by sometimes to check on me and deliver updates on the goings-on back at the college, letting me know I could come see her there anytime. She’d smiled, assuring me that if I ever wanted to return to work with her we’d take it as easy as I needed.

Ember’s attempts to get me out of the house came fewer and farther between, dropping down from every night to maybe once or twice a week. Every time my heart skipped but two nights ago we made it to the 24 hour gas station store. Under the too-bright lights the night vanished outside and I had to remember to take every breath deep enough to keep my head from spinning and there were too many choices and items lining every shelf and fridge and nowhere to hide but Ember kept by my side. She walked me through and let me rest my hand on her forearm, letting some of the warmth and calm seep from her skin through mine.

We bought drinks and the lights and hum of refrigerators disappeared as the door closed behind us. Stepping between shadows cast by vacant gas pumps we didn’t make it much farther than the store that night, but for the first time some of the tension melted under quiet streetlights. Chill air cooled my lungs and settled my head. The two of us talked all the way back home and together in the living room until far too late. She really shouldn’t have been staying up that late with her job interview tomorrow, though she was quick to reminded me it was only in the afternoon.

Her interview went well, and by the end of the week she’d been called back for a second and a week after that they offered her the job as a deckhand on a fishing vessel. From what she told us it sounded hard, and she’d be gone for long stretches during the season, but her excitement was contagious. Striker ordered take out to celebrate and we ended up only going to bed long after the sun had set.

Yawning, I pulled my shirt off, crawled into bed and drew the blanket snug around my shoulders. After all the excitement and celebration I sunk all the way down into the pillows and sheets.

A rattle came from my window, then another and I sat up, squinting in the dark. Grey-blue in the evening dark, a wing flashed into view then a beak tapping at the glass as a seagull fluttered by. Cirrus. It had to be. Otherwise some poor bird was very, very lost.

I hopped out of bed and opened up the window just as he glided back around. He landed on the windowsill in a blur of feathers, tucking his wings neatly to the side and shaking out his tail as he came to a stop. His head tilted left and right, pupils dilating a moment before finding the right focus.

“Hey Cirrus.” I leaned over, resting my elbows against the windowsill. “It is you, right?”

The gull ruffled his feathers, puffing up and laying them flat again in one smooth wave. He raised his beak and stuck out his chest as he watched me sideways. I smiled, warmth spreading from deep in my chest. Of course this was Cirrus. Hard to believe the last time I’d seen him was back at the cabin. How long ago was that now? I’d lost track.

Cirrus turned, webbed feet tapping against the wood of the windowsill in the quiet of the dark. He faced the street, dark and empty, glancing back at me over his grey shoulder. I frowned. Did he want…

“You want me to go with you?”

He gave a quick nod, holding his head sideways to lock me in one of his little eyes. I swallowed and wrung my hands together. How far would he want me to go? What if something happened? I hunched my shoulder, hair falling in front of my face as I stared down at my arms.

“I, I don’t know Cirrus.” How was I supposed to tell him? How was I supposed to tell him I hadn’t gone much further than a few blocks from home on my own since I got back. “I don’t know.”

A weight landed on my shoulder, webbed feet against my skin. Cirrus pushed his beak through my hair to poke at my cheek. He settled down, feathers of his belly soft against my skin. I sighed and turned my neck to see him through the corners of my eyes.

Even if we hadn’t gone far nothing horrible happened whenever I went out with Ember. I held Cirrus’ stare for a moment, watching him blink and turn his head. If something did go wrong Cirrus would have seen it before, right? He didn’t know what Ginger did but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d helped. I could handle this. If I could handle the cemetery in the middle of the day I could handle a walk in the middle of the night.

I sighed again, straightening up slowly to give Cirrus the chance to hop down. “Alright. Let me get dressed first.”

Cirrus waited outside, perched on a nearby streetlight and watching as I finally stepped out into the night. I shut and locked the door as softly as I could behind me, trying to keep the nerves already wrapping around my throat in check. A flurry of feathers made me look up a second before Cirrus landed softly on my shoulder. Webbed feet tapped quiet on my jacket and grey wing-tips tickled my ear as he turned. He stuck his head out a second, caught my eye and flew down the street.

“Hey!”

I took off running after him. My feet fell loud and echoing in the quiet side streets and alleyways, chasing flashes of white feathers under spaced-out streetlights until I staggered to a breathless stop. Hands on my knees and hunched over on the sidewalk, my heart struggled to keep up with my lungs and my legs burned. Shit. How long had it been since I moved this much? Cold air scraped at the back of my throat. I coughed and tried to catch my breath. By the time I looked up Cirrus was gone.

I grit my teeth. “Damn it.”

A seagull’s call pierced through the quiet, shrill and laugh-like. Sounded like he wasn’t too far, towards the waterfront. Of course he’d want me to meet him there. I pulled myself back upright. He’d have to wait though because I wasn’t about to run the whole way there.

I’d almost caught my breath by the time the gentle lapping of the waves caught my ear, soft and rhythmic against the deserted shore. A full moon hung bright over the ocean casting liquid silver over the dark water and the white crests of incoming waves. I slowed as I stepped out onto the beach. Full moon. Cirrus, he hadn’t waited for me here after I’d gone home, had he? Waited and hoped I’d show up for him only to leave disappointed like he had so many times hoping his mother would come around.

He’d understand why I hadn’t come, if he’d waited here for me at all. I bunched my shoulders against the wind and shook the thought from my head, picking my way across the dark beach to the usual place. Tiny creatures, insects, arthropods, they scurried away from my path with every step. Moment by moment the lights of the city faded to a faint glow at my back to give way to blue-dark night.

A figure sat on a washed-up log, turning when I rounded the bend. A woman in an ink-black evening gown that billowed around her ankles when she stood and faced me with a polite smile.

“Well, you’ve sure perked up since I last saw you.” She paused, waiting, but I only squinted in attempts to place where we might have met. “Ah, you don’t recognize me.” She gestured to herself with a black-gloved hand. “Cirrus’ sister. Call me Hadley.”

We had met, hadn’t we. I furrowed my eyebrows and tried to remember back but couldn’t see much more than a blur, a haze of feathers and loud voices that seemed to rumble through the air and into my own lungs.

Hadley though either hadn’t noticed or didn’t mind, catching me with a nod as she settled back down on the log. “Cirrus should be here soon.” She shot me a smirk, raising her head high. “I have been instructing him on how to shift his form but it can be hit or miss. He wanted to see you though, so I agreed to help him out tonight.”

She leaned back resting her hands behind her and facing the shimmering sea. Her head tilted just a moment as I sat beside her. This close she had the same barely contained power Cirrus did, cold and powerful like a harsh wind biting through my clothes. She kept quiet, watching as wave after wave lapped at the rocky shore. Slowly, I ran my hand over the worn bark of the log, tracing over ridges and bits where the wood had torn and weathered away.

“Ah,” Hadley stood, smoothing down her dress in the breeze. “Sounds like he’s done.”

The bushes growing beside the beach rustled, and a moment later Cirrus stuck his head out, one hand covering half his face and casting a sheepish look at Hadley.

She half chuckled to herself with a short glance back at me. “One moment.”

Without waiting for any kind of response, she stepped out of sight behind the foliage and the night dark. She said something, mumbling and chiding but too low for me to make out, Cirrus responding with something indignant and defensive but without any teeth behind his words. I smiled, leaning forward on the log to try and peek around the bushes and shadows. That was Cirrus alright.

The leaves rustled again, branches snapped, and Cirrus swore as he stumbled out onto the beach. He found his balance and shook himself out, looking just like I remembered. Same hair, same eyes… I jumped up from the log and throwing my arms around him. He balked a moment, surprised, before returning the embrace. His clothes were warm and smelled like storm-bearing winds, familiar and new at the same time. I leaned against him, pressing my forehead against his shoulder a moment before standing up again, throat tight.

“Miss me?” Cirrus grinned, already knowing the answer.

I nodded. “Its different, with you gone.” Maybe not quieter now that Ember was around, but different. I swallowed and turned away, a hand to the back of my neck as I glanced out to the ocean. “I don’t know if you were waiting for me here, but I’m sorry if you were.” My voice dragged along. “Things haven’t been easy.”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been around here either. It’s been a whirlwind.” Cirrus huffed and crossed his arms, shaking his head to the dark pebbles.

“Oh come on Cirrus!” Hadley scolded, coming up around behind him and messing up his hair. She snickered as he tried and failed to duck out of the way. “You had a great time. Do you think I missed you flirting with that pretty noble lady?”

Cirrus flustered, uncrossing his arms and stumbling over his tongue. “She started it!” He shook himself out with another huff, crossing his arms tighter than before. “But yeah, alright. It wasn’t all bad.” He watched his sister as she retuned to her perch on the log, a half smile on his face, before turning back to me. “You’re looking better than last time I saw you. At least like you’re not about to get blown over by the wind.” Cirrus paused a moment, just standing, watching me as the breeze slipped silent between us. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with so much colour in your face.

Even at in the dark? I looked away a moment, watching the moon hang bright over the gentle swells. Maybe he had better night vision than I did because Striker had said the same thing.

“I uh,” I faced him again, tucking my hands in my pockets and out of the chill. “I’ve been seeing some doctors since I got back for a while now. I guess it’s working.” The wind picked up again and I hunched my shoulders until Cirrus stepped to my side, blocking out some of the gale. “Ginger was saying the other day she’d be alright with me coming back to the college.”

“You going to do it?”

I shrugged, pushing rounded stones from side to side with the toe of my shoe. “I… I hope so. It’s been a while.” A smile played at my lips. “I kind of miss it actually.

Cirrus snorted. “Bored at home already?”

This time I grinned, full and toothy. “Maybe.”

He rolled his eyes but kept quiet, attention drifting up from me to the lights of the city down the beach. I glanced back over my shoulder to follow his gaze only a moment before focusing back on Cirrus. In the dark he looked just like I remembered, like nothing changed. Like he hadn’t been gone for months now and he’d never returned to life as a dragon. Like Ember hadn’t moved into his bedroom and he was going to be in the kitchen tomorrow morning when I got out of bed.

A deep ache spread sharp through my throat, all the way up to the floor of my mouth and I looked away. He had his own life now. His own life somewhere far away. Somewhere I couldn’t go and find him like I used to. He’d come to see me this time tonight but how long would that last? I swallowed. He wouldn’t forget about me now that what he’d hoped to happen for years and years finally came about, right?

“Do you remember back then when I couldn’t speak my name?” Cirrus spoke low, eyes still drifting over my head to the city. “That day you found me?”

I don’t think I would ever forget, he must have known that but I nodded all the same.

He paused, hesitating before speaking again. “It hurt for a long time. I used to dream of hearing it again, to be who I was again. But then…” Cirrus finally tore his gaze from Eventide. He looked down at me, the faintest of the distant light reflecting in his eyes. “It didn’t feel the same anymore. I’m keeping Cirrus. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Really?” My voice came out smaller than I expected, thinned and brittle. “You don’t miss the other?”

Cirrus shrugged. “I can’t say I don’t, but I don’t know, I couldn’t bring myself to part with this name yet.” He half smiled. “My mother wasn’t exactly thrilled but she’ll get over it.”

From what I’d heard of her, I wasn’t surprised. “You’re still going to come and visit, right?”

“Of course.” Cirrus casted a sidelong glance at his sister still seated on the log and gazing out to sea. “Though it might be a while yet before I get the hang of shape shifting alone.” He paused a moment before turning back to me. “I’ll be around. I’ve got at least a couple more centuries of watching over Eventide’s storms after all.”

That long? I guess it made sense. He was a dragon after all. I smiled but broke halfway by a surprise yawn. What time was it?

A warm hand rested on my shoulder as Cirrus’ laugh drifted over the crashing waves. “Keeping you up?” He grinned down at me as he turned towards the city. “I’ll take you home.”

We walked along the beach towards the soft city lights. At this time of night we had the sidewalks to ourselves, only the occasional car passing by the empty roads. My arm brushed his, contented warmth easing from him to me. I quickly ran out of things to update him on since coming back to Eventide and he took over most of the way home telling me all about his sisters and the trouble they’d get into. Even in the low light I could see how he flushed talking about the woman Hadley had brought up on the beach. I smiled, struggling to keep my eyes open and half leaning against his shoulder as we walked.

He sounded happy.

#

Sun sinking low in the sky relief pooled in my chest seeing how quiet Eventide College was this time of day. A handful of people milled and wandered around the front stairs, some chatting and laughing in the gold-tinged light. Inside the front lobby soft echoes of conversation drifted through the still air and the little coffee shop sat nearly empty with the last few customers before closing time rolled around.

My footsteps echoed through the empty halls, clicking against the stone stairs spiralling down towards Ginger’s basement. I hadn’t told her I was coming but surely she wouldn’t be unhappy to see me all the way out here.

The air chilled and a familiar presence brushed against my arm. I slowed, letting Cynthia gently press up against my shoulder as her relief and excitement slipped through my skin. A smile spread on my face and I held out a hand. She knew me. She knew how to be gentle, how to contain herself unlike the panicked, desperate spirits who needed my help.

She slid though my palm, passing cold up the veins of my arm all the way up where they joined together in the subclavian. Good to see you again. It’s been a while.

I nodded along, continuing down the stairs as she settled in deeper tucked under my first rib. Been a while was an understatement. I swallowed. Had anyone told her what happened? It must have seemed like I’d just vanished one day, Ginger too. Charlotte filled me in. We were all worried about you for a while there. Glad to see you back on your feet. Thanks.

The stairs opened up to the little underground hallway, my footsteps booming in the quiet. I tucked my hands in my pockets and shifted as Cynthia nestled herself more comfortably towards my chest. Here to see Ginger? I nodded. If she’s here. She is. Saw her come in a few hours ago. Good. Good. Does this mean you’re going to stick around? I turned the last corner, slowing to a shuffle. Had I even considered not coming back here? Even if Ginger had told me I’d never be able to come back here would I really be able to just… Stop?

Even if you change you mind, her grin crossed my face, you should still stop by. You’re the easiest living person to chat with to come through those doors.Really? Faster than hijacking Charlotte’s computer. Fair enough.

I paused in front of Ginger’s office, the door slightly ajar. Cynthia stilled under my skin, cold and fluid. Could you give us a minute? Right. Was good to see you again Asher. She shifted a moment before breathing out through the thin skin at the top of my chest and vanishing somewhere through the walls of the college. Alone I stood another moment in front of the door. I took a deep breath, rested my hand on the door handle and opened it up just enough to poke my head into Ginger’s office.

She looked up from her computer as soon as she saw me. For a moment surprise seemed to flash across her face but in a heartbeat it shifted to a wide, fang-filled smile.

“Asher! Welcome back.”

[justjessame]

Sins of the Father: Chapter 9

I considered skipping dinner, but I hadn’t had any time with Danny since breakfast and that felt wrong to me.  Sliding out of my bed and taking care to redress for dinner and remove any signs that might show that I had any distress at all during my day, I found that we’d be eating inside - and I was thankful for it.  

Anytime we dined al fresco, the atmosphere became more and more frantic until it became a party and I was in no mood for that.  

“You look more rested,” Dad offered once everyone greeted me, holding my chair for me, and brushing a kiss on my temple.  “Do you feel better?”  

“A bit,” smiling at Danny, I was happy to see that he wasn’t holding a grudge for my lack of attention during the day.  “I guess my jetlag finally caught up to me.”  

That was all the others needed to get going, and the conversation flowed.  Jed kept a careful distance, her comments never directed at me, but never too awkward either.  She knew how the sharks could smell blood in this group, and was well practiced already in keeping her weaknesses covered.  She needn’t have bothered, I was busy listening to Danny’s plans for the next day - he wanted to go to the beach and I was more than willing to take him.  

While we chatted with one another, and ate, the others discussed the best ways to deal with jetlag and weariness in general, because once you got them going - that’s really all it took.  

Dinner wound down sooner than it would have if we were eating on the patio, which was more welcome than I could contemplate.  Danny asked if I wanted to see something he’d found while I was resting that he’d left in his room, but Dad asked if I could spare a moment for him first.  

“Of course,” winking at my little brother and telling him to go ahead to his room and I’d meet him there, I followed Dad into his hidden study.  Wishing for all the world that we didn’t have any need for hidden rooms and cloak and dagger nonsense, but Ropers will Roper.  “Do you want me to pour you an after dinner drink?”  

“No,” he held up his still full glass.  “I’m good.”  He gestured to the chair next to his and I sat, wondering what the latest dictate would be concerning Tom and his nursing duties.  “How are you feeling, honestly?”  

I considered what he was asking.  How did I feel?  Tired, still, but not nearly as ready to run headlong into the ocean.  That was progress.  “Better.  I think resting helped.”  He nodded.  “I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow.”  Another nod, but his mouth opened and I was certain he was going to remind me that lunch duties were still necessary.  

“Perhaps someone else could tend to Quince’s bandages,” he offered instead and I felt irritation crawl up my spine.  Someone else?  Who?  Jed?  “The doctor will be coming to remove the bridge holding his nose in place soon.  It can’t be that difficult to tend to his -” 

“I’ll check on him before we go out,” my mouth was saying before I even made the choice to say it.  “Then when we come back.”  Dad’s lips were curling into a smirk and I glared at him.  “What?”  

“Nothing.” He sat his glass down on the table in front of us and turned to me.  “I think that your idea is perfect.  Quince will no doubt find it far more pleasant than having Corky take over for you.”  

After saying goodnight to everyone and heading up to see what Danny had to show me - a piece of sea glass that had found its way onto our balcony - I made my way back to my room, after forcing a promise out of my little brother that he wouldn’t try waking me up before the sun rose.  

Keyed up from dinner among the entourage, the talk with my father, and then my decision to keep taking care of Tom - I felt that getting my bag ready for the beach might be a good way to relax before bed.  

It didn’t help.  So I drew a bubble bath and soaked.  And soaked.  And soaked.  It felt like my skin was vibrating and I had too much caffeine.  

Drying and dressing in another pajama set, I sat in front of my vanity mirror and studied my reflection - trying to see what Dad was alluding to when he said I drew attention like Jed.  Curly hair the color of the blackest ink, with the palest green eyes that anyone had ever seen - trust me, I’ve heard it my entire life - my skin stayed pale, until I got a sunburn that would terrify people to see (lobsters would be envious of the red) and then it would eventually darken to a nice golden tan.  Petite was the polite way to describe my height deficiency, short the cruel way.  That’s it, that’s what I could see staring back - well not the shortness, that was only noticeable when I stood next to a “normal” sized person.  

What did other people see when they looked at me?  A small curly, dark haired pale girl with big green eyes and - that’s it. That’s what they must see.  Right?  

Sighing, I worked my hair into a braid for bed.  Otherwise I’d end up with a bird/rat’s nest or a mouthful of it before morning.  Neither was something I’d care to deal with - again. The issue, I realized as I tied my braid off, was that I still wasn’t the slightest bit tired.  

Stepping out onto the balcony attached to my room, I glanced down at the pool and smiled when I noticed that Dad and Jed were there together - alone.  I couldn’t hear them, but I also couldn’t hear the normal noise of the rest of the group, so that might mean that I could go down to the kitchens for some cocoa or a snack without tripping over all of them.  

Grabbing my book, in case it took awhile to heat my drink, I left my room and started toward the kitchens - 

And ended up outside Tom’s room, where Sandy was sitting guard.  “Esme?” He barely breathed my name and didn’t get up from his chair.

Holding my finger to my lips, I smiled around it.  “Is he asleep?”  He shrugged and I fought rolling my eyes.  “I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow and I thought if I checked his bandages tonight -” Sandy looked convinced, but then confused by my lack of first aid supplies.  “I leave some inside by his bed.”  A convenient lie.  “They shouldn’t need changed, but -”

“Go ahead,” he nodded toward the door and yawned.  “Not like he’s going anywhere.”  

“Exactly.”  I agreed, moving to the door and knocking gently before opening it.  The mosquito netting, mostly for decoration, fluttered in the breeze of the open window of the balcony and I wondered who left it open?  “Tom?”  He was lying prone, but I could see him move in the light offered from the starry, moon bright night.  “It’s just me, Esme.”  

“Esme?”  His voice was rough, and I thought he might be half asleep.  “Ah, a dream,” he murmured, and twitched again - the linens moving lower off his legs.  

I bit my lip, wondering if he thought I was a dream or if he was flirting again.  Setting my book on the chair by his bed, I stared down at him and realized that he wasn’t awake, not fully anyway.  “Tom, could you -” I leaned over to try to wake him up, but I truly didn’t realize his strength, not even in his battered state.  With a tug he had me on the bed with him, his hands sliding up my sides, and then both hands were cupping my face and pulling it toward his own.  “Thomas, I think you should wake up,” I murmured, my legs were tangled with his and I was afraid I was going to injure him more.  

“If I wake up,” his breath was fanning my face, warm and spellbinding, making my stomach twist in a new delicious way.  “Then you’ll disappear and I can’t do this.”  One of his hands moved to cup the back of my head and the other went on a journey down the length of me, as his lips managed, even with the bridge and bandaged nose in the way, to finally touch mine.  His tongue dipped into my mouth when I gasped and I forgot what I was arguing with him about - why was I against this again?  And then he rolled over and we both remembered when he hissed in pain.  Right, invalid -  “Esme?”  He was squinting down at me, awake now, fully.  

I was burning, far hotter than the blush had been during the day, and this time it was EVERYWHERE.  And I was panting harder than either of us had been before too.  All I could manage to do was nod.  At least until I caught my breath again.  “Yes, it’s me.”  

“How did you end up -” He was hovering over me, his arms like a cage around me, while he tried to make sense of it.  “Did I -”

“You were having a dream,” I said.  “A vivid one.”  

“I -”  He didn’t seem to know what to do.  “Are you alright?”  

I nodded again.  Aside from feeling like I’ve been lit on fire, and the fact that there are parts of me that are literally a puddle - Yes, I’m fine.  “I’m fine.”  He didn’t move and I could tell why, it was pressed into the puddled part of me and it was making thinking pretty difficult for me too.  “I should have waited until morning.”  

“No,” he shook his head.  “No, don’t - it’s fine.”  We were stuck, but he was trying to convince me it was fine.  Of course, so was I.  “Why did you come tonight?”  Right, why was I here now?  

“I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow,” mentioning my little brother helped the part of him that was somewhat turgid start to relax slightly.  “I thought I’d check your bandages tonight.”  I started out strong, but it sounded lame even to me toward the end.  “I planned on coming in the morning as well.”  

“I see,” he wasn’t moving, even though he wasn’t in the same predicament as he had been.  “And while I was sleeping seemed a good time to check my bandages because?”  Fuck.  

“I couldn’t sleep.”  Verbal diarrhea.  I’ve come down with a horrible case of verbal diarrhea.  “I was coming down to get some cocoa and -”

“Ended up in my room instead.” Tom wasn’t being as careful with how he was hovering now, his rigidness might have gone slightly soft, but he let his hips settle into the softness of mine, and my body was more than willing to accommodate him. His fingertips were tracing the lines of my face, teasing my lips as I spoke.  “And somehow, we ended up like this -” he didn’t have to gesture or look down, I knew precisely what he meant.  

“You were having a dream.” I reminded him.  “About me.”  

“I know,” he leaned in and this time when he kissed me, we were both awake.  His lips were surprisingly soft for the beating he’d taken, and he grew bolder when he realized I was a willing participant, nipping at my fuller lower lip.  He pulled away when he noticed I wasn’t touching him.  “Esme?”  My eyes opened and he smiled.  “Touch me?  I won’t break, and I trust you.”  

My hands obeyed before I really considered his words, and his mouth met mine, my fingers sliding under his shirt and along the bandage I’d wrapped around his chest.   Thinking that lower might be more interesting for both of us, I dipped beneath the waistband of his shorts and swallowed the growl that he fed me.  He rocked his hips into mine and I licked into his mouth as I felt the resurgence of his hardness, my legs wrapping around his and arching up into him.  He drug his mouth free from mine, the bandage, tape and bridge digging into my skin and wrecking havoc on my skin - not in a fun way.  Sighing, he pulled away.  

“I want you,” I nodded up at him, how badly I wanted him right back.  “But you’re going to wear tape burns if we continue right now.”  The laughter built in both of us and bubbled over, causing him to lie back on the bed, and hold open his arms for me to lay against his shoulder, still careful of his more tender parts.  “Will you stay the night with me?”  

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Sandy was outside and while he might doze off, the idea of Corky finding me in Tom’s bed wasn’t something I wanted to experience on our first night together.  “I want to,” he’d gone still and silent again.  “I do, but I don’t want you to get harmed further because of me, do you understand?”  

I could feel him brush a kiss on the crown of my head, through my curls.  “I do.  I don’t like it, but I do.”  His arm that was wrapped around my back holding me to his side tightened.  “Can I hold you for a while at least?”  

“I’ll allow it,” I curled against him, breathing in the scent of his neck, and sadly the scent of the salve I’d slathered on him.  I laid in his arms until his breathing evened out and his arm relaxed.  Then I slipped away, grabbing my book and slipping out.

“How were his bandages?”  Sandy asked, looking no more awake than he had when I went inside.  

“Not too bad,” I offered with a smile.  “I’ll check in again in the morning.  I’m going to the kitchens for some cocoa, want something?”  

“Coffee?”  Nodding, I promised I’d get him a cup and headed to my original destination.  Grabbing two cups, one fully caffeinated and one of herbal tea instead of the chocolate.  I needed sleep, not more excitement.  And after Tom’s touch, I think warm tea would be a better option than sugar.  

I dropped Sandy’s coffee off and headed to my room.  Once inside, I sat down at my vanity again, to check my braid and nearly screamed.  Hoping that Sandy was too tired to have noticed or that it was too dark in the hallway - Tom hadn’t been wrong about the tape.  There on the side of my cheek, where he’d started to nip and move down, I had a huge mark that proved I’d done more in his room than just check on his bandages.  Grabbing everything I could think of to remove it, should it be removable, I tried - but no.  It was a scratch, and the closer I looked the more I wanted to smack my head against something.  It wasn’t just the tape, I think it came from the bridge, it was the same shape and size.  And - Closing my eyes, I gave up for the night.  Maybe when I woke up I’d come up with a fix, or maybe it was because I was so damn tired.  That’s it, I was sleepy and so it looked worse than it was.  Right? 

[penpatronuswhump]

WHUMPTOBER 2020

No. 8

Fandom: Avengers

Whumpee: Bruce Banner

Caregivers: Tony Stark and Natasha Romnanoff

Title: The Death of Bruce Banner

By: PenPatronus // PenPatronusAooO

“We’re not naming it Veronica!” Bruce told Tony in a ‘for the last time’ voice. “Just name it what you name all the other ones – Mark 48 or 49 or wherever you’re at.” The two friends were in their lab in Avengers Tower. It was two in the morning – the perfect time for Stark/Banner brainstorming sessions. Something just coalesced at 2am. Maybe it was the quiet in the Tower or the coffee they shouldn’t drink or the darkness outside the tall windows. Or maybe it was just the mad magic of science on full power when the moon was just right.

 “The other ones have names, too, you just haven’t bothered to learn them,” Tony said. He stood in front of a holographic schematic of the Hulkbuster armor with his arms folded against his chest and one fist under his chin. “How about I name this one, and you name the next one, huh? Compromise? Deal? Bruce? …Bruce?” Tony turned towards his fellow scientist and frowned when he saw Banner leaning heavily against a silver lab table. “Banner, hey, what’s up?” Tony jogged over and put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

 “I, uh…” Bruce winced and slid his hand between two buttons of his button-down shirt, massaging his chest. “I don’t know. I feel… Weird.”

 Tony noticed the sweat on Bruce’s brow and the slight shake of his hands. “Hulk weird?”

 “No… Human weird. Like, uh… I don’t know it’s just… My ribs feel heavy.”

 “Your ribs feel heavy?” Tony felt the heat, then – a furious fever in Bruce’s cheeks. “Hey, buddy, why don’t you sit down.” Bruce nodded. He reached blindly for a chair and only found one when Tony moved it. Banner sat down heavily in it, and put his face in his hands. Tony kept his hand on his shoulder. “I thought you never got sick. Green Giant heals you, right? I mean, he gets shot into Swiss cheese and you walk away.”

 “God – my head…” Bruce suddenly clamped a hand around Tony’s forearm. “Feels like my skull is changing shape. Is my skull changing shape?”

 “Not this time,” Tony gulped, “but look at your skin.” Bruce obeyed. There was a green tint to it. Not Hulk-green but about-to-puke green. It was all over. He felt his own pulse and Tony could tell by the look on his face that his heart was either beating dangerously fast or dangerously slow. “Bruce, maybe we should get you to a hospital.”

 “Maybe… Maybe I should sit down,” Bruce wondered. His words were slow and slightly slurred.

“Buddy, you are sitting – Bruce?” Bruce suddenly started to shake from his toes up to his nose. Tony grabbed onto his upper arms with both hands. “Bruce!” It happened so quickly – as most shocking things do. Bruce fell out of the chair, and would’ve knocked his head on the floor if Tony hadn’t been there to slow his fall and then catch his body. The seizure caused every single muscle in his body to shake like a guitar string. “JARVIS!” Tony called, “call 911! And wake the team!”

 ----------

 Natasha was just about to call it a night and allow herself to drift off to sleep when a voice suddenly said, “Where are we?” Her heart did a loop-de-loop. Bruce was awake and looking at her and speaking and, oh, her heart flipped happily over again. She crawled across the king-sized bed and gave Banner a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “So… Heaven?” Bruce quipped with a slight smile.

 Natasha returned his smile. “Asgard, actually.”

 Bruce found himself in the nicest bed he’d ever been in, inside the shittiest old barn he’d ever seen. “This is Asgard?”

 Natasha put up her finger. She had her phone to her cheek. She winced when a high-pitched buzzing sound erupted from it. “Bad service out here,” she joked, winking. “Stark? Yeah. He’s awake.” She pocketed her phone and returned her attention to Bruce. “This is an empty island far, far away from Odin’s kingdom but, yes, this is Asgard.” Bruce tried to sit up in bed, but Nat put a hand on his bare chest. “Not yet,” she said. “Take it slow.”

 “What happened?”

 “We’re not sure. Seizure of some sort. You’ve been asleep for a week.”

 “A week?”

 Pounding footsteps outside. The barn door opened and Tony and Steve entered. “There he is.” Stark clapped his hands together once, then sat on a corner of the bed, opposite to Nat. “How you feeling, buddy?”

 Bruce was just assessing that now that he’d gotten his bearings. “Stuff… hurts,” he concluded, half-aware that he sounded half-lucid. He reached up and scratched at the almost-beard he’d grown. “Especially my head. It’s throbbing.”

 Tony nodded. His smile was so forced he looked like he was wearing a mask of himself. “Did you tell him yet?” he asked Natasha.

 She shook her head vehemently. “Waiting for you to.”

 “I think that’s a job for the team leader.” Tony looked up at Cap and spread his fingers out, gesturing for him to speak. Steve almost insisted that Tony be the one to give Bruce the news, but he saw something foreign in Tony’s eyes. He couldn’t name it, but it was something like a begging expression. Tony really didn’t want to do it.

 Cap cleared his throat. He moved to stand behind Tony and folded his arms against his chest. “You have a brain tumor,” he said. “You’re dying.”

 Bruce snorted. “If I have a brain tumor, the Hulk has already healed it.”

 Steve shared a knowing look with Tony. “Well, this one isn’t healing. It’s right above your pituitary gland and it’s getting bigger every day. It’s pushing hormones into your system that are messing up all your organs. The docs at home can’t do anything for you. We were hoping the scientists on Asgard would have a solution, but they don’t. And…”

 “And?” Bruce prompted.

 “We’ve tried to get the Hulk to come out, to heal you, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

 “Even kicked you in the balls,” Tony said. When Bruce glared at him Tony shrugged and said, “For your own good!”

 Natasha pursed her lips together and looked down at the sheets covering Bruce’s body. “We brought you here in case you change,” she explained. “Nothing smashable on this island but us.”

 “I’ll get him to come out and play,” Bruce said with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. “Get off the island.”

 “We’re not scared,” said Nat. “He’s been recognizing us lately. He knows our voices, he knows our faces. The lullaby works most of the time.”

 “And if he’s being a jerk I’ll just call in Veronica,” Tony said with a sneer.

 “We are not calling it Veronica!” Bruce suddenly shivered. “Oh! Do something else to make me angry. Might be working.”

 “Uh… The flat-earthers are right!” said Natasha.

 “Trump is the greatest president the world has ever seen!” said Tony.

 “Tony’s smarter than you!” said Steve with a chuckle.

 Bruce frowned and put his hand to his chest. “Hmm.”

 “Hmm?”

 “Whenever I get a little emotional I can… Feel him. He’s this extra weight in me that kind of wakes up and lets me know he’s there. I don’t…” Wide-eyed, Bruce looked up at Tony. “He’s there. I can feel him but… I think he’s sick, too. I think… I think he’s dying.” Suddenly, to the shock of the other three, Banner tossed his arms into the air and shouted happily. “I’m dying!”

 “What the hell is wrong with you?” Natasha asked. “This is not how normal people react to a brain tumor!”

 “You don’t get it,” said Bruce, which was true because none of them did. ��I’ve been hoping to die ever since I got the Hulk. I’ve been trying to die.”

 Nat frowned. “Don’t…”

 “Nat, the Hulk is nothing but a dangerous burden. He destroys, he kills. I thought he couldn’t be killed but something has changed. If we can get rid of him, the sooner the better.”

 “That means getting rid of you!”

 “So?” Bruce’s smile was as wide as his face. “This – this is a miracle!” Nat suddenly leapt to her feet and stormed out of the barn, slamming the door as she left. The three men watched her go in silence – one of them flabbergasted. Bruce cleared his throat. He tried to look Tony and Steve in the eye, but their attentions were on the floor. “You get it, right?” he asked them. Neither replied. “I want you to stop trying to cure me,” Bruce ordered. “No pills, no brain surgery, no Asgard magic medicine. Let me die.” Tony suddenly leapt to his feet and stormed out of the barn, slamming the door as he left. “What?” Bruce called after him.

 Steve sighed and pulled a wooden chair up to the bed. “Bruce,” he said, “what would you do if Nat was dying? If Tony was?”

 Bruce flinched at the thought. He settled deeper under his blankets and echoed Steve’s sigh. “I’d tear the world apart trying to save them.”

 “And you don’t think we’d do the same for you?”

 “I don’t want you to do the same for me. Don’t you see? I don’t care if I die. All I care about is preventing the Hulk from hurting people. If that means death, then so be it.”

 “You are a valued member of this team and an indispensable scientist to the world and, more importantly you’re our friend and we love you,” Cap said quietly, and all in one breath. “We’re not giving up.”

 “Well, I am,” Bruce said, equally quietly. “Happily.”

 ---------

 A month passed. Bruce lost weight. He had seizures at least once a day. When he wasn’t asleep he was vomiting, and when he wasn’t vomiting he was suffering from headaches that almost made him cry. Half of his hair fell out. He could barely walk, refused to eat, felt dizzy, and when he had the strength to he pulled out his IVs. The team tended to him the whole time. But no threat from Thor could get him to eat. Clint tried the “airplane method” with a spoon like he did with his kids, but that didn’t work to get Bruce to eat or to laugh. Every physician in Asgard came to see him, but none could help.

 Nothing worked. Bruce was dying.

 One morning, about an hour before dawn, Bruce suddenly woke up gasping for air. The other five were in the barn and all rushed to his bedside. It was Tony that Bruce held a hand out to. Stark took it, and held Bruce’s thin, cold hand in both of his, warm and snug in his lap where he sat on the side of the bed. Candlelight lit the scene and a few morning songbirds sang outside the barn. “Think this is it,” Bruce wheezed. “You can name it Veronica. Not that you’ll need her anymore.”

 Stark laughed – one of those short snorts that propel tears and snot. “I’d give anything…” he started to say. His eyes filled up with tears, and then emptied. “I fix things. I’ve always been able to fix things and if I can’t, I have the money to pay someone who can but this… Bruce, I have, maybe, ten friends in the world and half of them are in this room… I can’t lose you.”

 Banner managed a smile. “Love you, too,” he said. His lungs sounded like they were full of rocks. “Miss you.”

 “Don’t do that. Don’t say goodbye,” Tony said. Then he relented. “Miss you.” Tears poured. “So much.”

 Bruce closed his eyes and the rattling stones went silent. A squeak came out of Natasha and she collapsed into Clint’s arms. Thor put a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder. Tony checked for a pulse and when he found none, he folded forward and put his forehead on Bruce’s chest.

 And then the Hulk came out. Banner’s body stretched and cracked. The five Avengers backed up against the walls as the bed collapsed from the green giant’s bulk. Hulk sat up, roared happily, and then gave the others a grin with gravestone teeth. “Hulk!” he roared. “Only Hulk now! Hulk forever!”

 “Well he’s looking perfectly fit,” said Steve.

 “Strong as ever,” Thor pointed out.

 It dawned on Clint a second before everyone else realized what was going on. “You don’t think…?”

 Tony raced forward. Hulk had to duck his head under the barn’s roof – his body took up most of the room – so his chin was close to the floor, at the perfect angle for Tony to punch it. And he did. With all his strength. Hulk roared so loud that the wind he created pushed Tony back against Steve. “Don’t—!” Steve advised, grabbing Tony’s upper arms. Stark fought him off and approached Hulk again.

 “You son of a bitch!” Tony hollered. “You didn’t heal him on purpose! You let him die so you could be rid of him!”

 “Hulk is Hulk now!” the giant yelled back. “Only Hulk!”

 “You giant green dick!” Tony continued. “You nut-less, soul-less asshole! I will fucking kill you, you hear me? I will bury you for this!”

 Natasha rushed to Tony’s side and grabbed his hand. “Let me,” she hissed at him. “Let me try.”

 Tony blinked red eyes. He wiped his face with his sleeve, gave the Hulk the finger, then retreated to Steve’s side.

 Natasha approached Hulk. She sat down in front of him, mirroring his crossed legs and the angle of his head. “Hey, big guy,” she said. “Sun’s getting real low.” Hulk snorted at her like a bull. “Do you want to hurt me?”

 Hulk blinked big, round, and hard. “No smash ‘tasha.”

 “Hulk smashed,” said Nat, accusing. She pointed at her heart. “Hulk smashed bad. Hulk smashed Tony, Hulk smashed Steve, Hulk smashed everybody.”

 “Hulk not care,” he decided after a moment of contemplation. “Hulk just want to smash.”

 “You wouldn’t have said a few minutes ago,” said Natasha. “Not with Bruce’s heart in you.”

 “Banner imprison Hulk! Hulk smash Banner!”

 “If you smash, you hurt people,” Natasha reminded him. “Do you want to hurt people?”

 “Want to smash!”

 “Bad Hulk!”

 “Smash!”

 “Then smash me!” Nat stood and spread her arms, turning her body into a cross shape. “Do it!”

 Hulk roared. He raised both hands and hammered them down.

 His fists stopped an inch from Natasha’s hair.

 “You wouldn’t have done that a few minutes ago,” Natasha said. “Not with Bruce’s heart in you.” She put her hands to her hips and lifted her chin. “Bruce keeps you good.”

 Hulk retreated. “No smash ‘tasha,” he repeated.

 “You won’t,” she said, “if Bruce is alive.” She waited a few seconds, then said, “Give him back to us.”

 The Avengers could practically see the gears going in the Hulk’s brain. He sniffed and snorted and looked around the room like the answers were hanging on the wall. Then he sighed and reached his finger out for Natasha to take. “Sun… Getting… Low…”

 The great monster crumpled like paper. Bones shrunk and tendons shortened. He curled in on himself and suddenly, there he was. Suddenly there was a naked Bruce Banner standing in the middle of the barn looking beyond bewildered. His hair was back. So was his weight. In fact, he’d never looked healthier.

 “This can’t be Heaven,” Bruce deduced. The team didn’t answer. They just hugged.

 The End

[oh-great-authoress]

Love Lies Under the Shadows

A.N. Once again, I thought I was done, people. But the Gingerrose muse struck again and it struck hard. So I buckled down and set out to write this. This is a sequel to my previous fic, The Peace of Love, but it can be read on it’s own.

Trigger Warning for nightmares, abuse and murder. Read carefully, guys.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romance

Rating: I’d call it Teen and Up.

Enjoy!

Armitage was on Arkanis. In the courtyard of the Hux mansion, to be exact. His father was before him, the habitual look of abject fury on his face, which was nothing new. What was new, however, was the presence of his mother. She was on the ground, crying, bruises flowering on her face, doubtlessly elsewhere on her body too, and he was powerless to help her, as he was being restrained by some unseen force.

“Stop!! Stop hurting her!!” He shouted, the uncontrollable rage coursing through him causing his accent to slip, making it revert to his childhood Arkanisian.

Brendol hauled his mother up by her hair, pulling her to her feet. “You’re just as weak as she is, boy. And weakness is something that must be eliminated.” The ruthless commandant shoved her in front of him, pulling out his blaster as he did so, pointing it at her.

“Mother!!” Armitage screamed just as Brendol pulled the trigger, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting bolt upright in bed, chest heaving, light from Tareth’s two moons streaming in through the window. He took a shuddering breath just as his wife, Rose, stirred beside him.

“Armie?” She said, voice rough from sleep, as she sat up, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Nightmare, that’s all. Go back to sleep, darling,” he murmured in his normal accent, having regained mastery of himself.

“The usual?”

Rose knew well the regular menu of his nocturnal horrors, just as he knew hers.

“No, something new, I’m afraid.”

“What was it, if you’re okay with telling me?” She wrapped a comforting arm around his waist, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Mother. Brendol beat her in front of me. I was powerless to help her, and then he shot her. Fortunately, I woke before I could see the aftermath,” he numbly said.

“Oh, honey,” Rose whispered, a stricken look on her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, my dear.”

“No, it’s not, that’s horrible. Did… did something like that actually happen?”

“No, thank God, nothing like that. It was more a case of neglect. He never mentioned her or paid attention to her after he took me from her. He saved his beatings for me.”

“Oh, Armie,” Rose sympathetically whispered, drawing him into her arms. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent and focusing on the feeling of her right hand moving soothingly up and down his back, her left hand stroking the hair at his nape. After several minutes of this, she moved to lie down, taking him with her, the two of them still holding onto each other. Following what seemed like an interminable period of time, but in reality was only an hour, he drifted off to a restless sleep.

Over the period of a week, Armitage slept intermittently, snatches of rest here and there, fear of what he would see in his dreams plaguing him. He could see Rose’s worried looks as the dark circles that hadn’t been under his eyes for a very long time made a vicious return, his glasses, now very necessary because of his exhaustion, doing nothing to hide them at all. On the eighth night of this ordeal, he found himself again in that courtyard, Brendol once again standing over his beaten, weeping mother. “No, no, no,” he muttered, struggling against his invisible bonds. Everything played out exactly as it had last week, except, instead of mercifully waking when Brendol pulled the trigger, he saw his mother collapse lifeless to the ground.

“NO!! MOTHER!!” He screamed, his unseen bonds releasing him. He crawled to where his mother lay sprawled on the cobblestones, protectively cradling her cooling body in his arms, tears spilling from his eyes.

“See? You’re useless, Armitage. I’ll be doing the galaxy a service by killing you as I killed your miserable mother,” he heard Brendol say.

Looking up, Armitage saw Brendol looming over them, blaster poised to end his life. Not caring at this point, Armitage spat the words he had always longed to tell his father — in Arkanish, no less, a final act of defiance. “Gabh Transna Ort Fhéin!”

Brendol pulled the trigger, and Armitage shot up in bed, sobbing. Rose immediately awakened and held him as he trembled and cried. “Oh Rose, he killed her, he killed her,” he wailed repeatedly, clinging to her like she was the only thing keeping him anchored to the world, while she shushed and gently rocked him.

It took what seemed like an eternity, but he calmed, and was lying in her embrace, when he said, “I’m sorry. I’ll go and lie down in the work room,” referring to the cot he kept in the upstairs work room for when he needed to rest while working on a project.

Rose tightened her hold on him, saying, “You’ll do nothing of the sort. You’re staying right here with me.”

“You might not be able to sleep if I remain, my dear.”

“I don’t care. What’s a few hours of sleep when you’re suffering like this, Armie?”

“I —“

“I know what you’re going to say. You have me anyway,” she softly smiled, as she brushed aside the strands of copper hair that had fallen into his eyes before gently kissing him.

Her kiss was a balm to his spirit, and he soon deepened it, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. A part of him didn’t want to end the night on just a kiss, but he soon pulled back, not wanting to take advantage of the kindness of his wife.

Rose looked slightly disappointed, yet understanding, when her gaze focused on him again. She drew his head to rest on her shoulder, her thumb rubbing small circles on his neck. It was about fifteen minutes before Rose spoke again. “Tell me about her?”

“Who?” He asked, even though he knew who she was talking about.

“Your mother. I know she worked in your father’s kitchen, but… tell me more? If you can.”

He sighed, recalling the memories he counted among his most precious. “Her name was Aisling. I never knew her last name. She… she was tall. Taller than most women, and slender. She had a beautiful singing voice. Clear and high. She would sing to me at night.

I remember sitting in the kitchen, watching her assist the head cook and the head baker. Sometimes the head baker would allow me to help the two of them. I remember laughing as Mother rubbed flour into my hair.

Some of the servants were mean-spirited when it came to my presence, gossiping and such, making rude comments about me and Mother, but the head cook and baker liked the two of us, so they couldn’t do much worse than talk.

Every now and then, Cook would let Mother off work so she could stay with me in the servant’s quarters. No one ever told Brendol — Cook could be as terrifying as he if she was roused to it. I loved those days. We would sit on the windowsill in our drafty room watching the rain fall. Memories of those days are why I enjoy the rain so much. She would hold me so I wouldn’t fall off the ledge, and we’d race raindrops down the windowpane. It could be cold, so cold in that room, but I never noticed, because the warmth of her arms could chase away the chill of the coldest Arkanisian day. Hers is one of two people’s embraces I consider the best.”

“Whose is the other?” Rose asked, a teasing note in her voice.

“Dameron’s,” he grinned, and when Rose swatted him, he laughed, amending, “it’s yours, of course, darling.”

Continuing, he said, “I still remember how she smelled. Like the heather that grew on the hills around the mansion, and the spices from the kitchen. And her hands — they were very rough from her work in the kitchen, but to me, they were always soft.”

“What did she look like?”

Armitage shut his eyes, bringing the clearest image he could summon of his mother to the forefront of his mind. “She had sharp features like mine, and red, deep red hair. If you think mine is red, hers was redder. And her eyes… I have her eyes.”

“You look like her, then,” Rose grinned.

He frowned, considering her words. “Well… yes, I suppose.”

He was silent for a little while before he spoke again. “Sometimes, I wish I had never been taken from my mother.”

“If that happened, we might not have met.”

“True. But my heart tells me that destiny would have led us to each other no matter what.”

“You’re a romantic, Armitage Hux.”

“Only for you, my flower.”

There was a short pause, then, “I’m curious about something.”

He hummed interrogatively.

“When you woke up, you sounded… different.”

“Different how?”

“Your accent. It was different.”

“Oh. Well. I didn’t always sound like this. The Imperial accent is one I learned for many reasons, survival not the least among them. I must have spoken in my childhood accent. Arkanisian. I could even speak a different language, Arkanish, as a child.”

“Can you…”

“Cad ba mhaith leat dom a rá, a ghrá mo chroí?”

“What did you say?” She eagerly asked.

“I said,” he murmured, allowing his voice to fall into the cadence of the Arkanisian brogue, “‘What would you like me to say, love of my heart?’”

He didn’t miss the little shudder that moved through her and the gasp that fell from her lips. Hmm. Interesting. He filed away that bit of knowledge, before Rose tentatively asked, “Tell me more about your mother?”

He willingly indulged her, telling her stories about his childhood until they both fell asleep, wanting to share this part of himself with her.

———————————————

It was two months after that horrible nightmare, and telling her about his mother had truly been for the best. His sleep had so far been peaceful, and he even had the most pleasant dreams about his mother, amalgamations of his best memories of her.

But this time, it wasn’t his sleeping life that had been disturbing him — it was his waking life. For the last several days, Rose had been acting very, very strangely. Like she was hiding a secret. She would smile at him in the oddest way, and she would open her mouth like she had something to say, before snapping it shut. He would ask her if she had something to say, but she would always find some sort of way to distract him from his question. And then there were the sneaking glances, the snickers when she thought he couldn’t hear her. It was driving him up the wall.

He had had enough. He resolved to ask her what on earth was going on when she woke the next day, and he would not be deterred.

His world was then thrown off its axis when he woke, and found Rose’s side of the bed empty. It was a rarity, no, an impossibility, that Rose could be awake before him. Quietly, he moved towards the bathroom door, checking that she was not there. No one was in the bathroom. Armitage strained his hearing, listening for the slightest sound in the house. There was a voice that did not belong to his wife coming from the lower floor.

His heart thundering in his chest, he silently moved to his nightstand, pulling out his blaster and slipping his old monomolecular blade up his sleeve. Creeping downstairs, he surged into the kitchen, blaster raised, hoping to catch whoever was in his and his wife’s house off guard.

The sequence of events that followed was this. He saw that there was only one other person in the house, and she was seated at the dining table, Rose across from her. The strange woman exclaimed, which alerted Rose, who yelped, immediately raising her hands, nearly knocking down her caf mug, as she gasped, “Armitage!”

The other woman’s jaw dropped, and she wonderingly murmured, “Armitage?” His blaster began to move towards her when it registered in his mind that the woman had murmured his name in an Arkanisian accent. The blaster quickly fell to his side, then the floor, as he took in her willowy figure, flaming red hair with a touch of gray at the temples, sharp features, and her glass-green eyes.

“Mother?” He whispered, lip trembling, his voice unknowingly slipping into the same Arkanisian brogue.

“Armitage, a stór,” she said, as she stood and approached him, holding out her hands, tears sparkling in her eyes. “Come here, my boy.”

He did not hesitate. He ran to her, and oh, her embrace was as warm as he remembered, and she even smelled the same. “I thought you were dead! He told me you were dead!” He wept, knowing she would understand who he was referring to.

“I survived, my boy. I survived.”

Mother and son stood there, each overwhelmed with emotion. Then, to his shock, she said, “I’m so sorry, my son.”

“Whatever for, Mother? If anything, it’s me who should be sorry. I didn’t try to find you, and I did things, horrible, terrible things —“

“Shhh. You couldn’t have known I was alive, and you’re sorry for what you did, that’s what matters. I’m sorry for not fighting hard enough for you. I should never have let Brendol take you.”

“It’s not your fault. He would have killed you if you had. You’re here, now, alive. But how? How are you here?”

“General Dameron found me, and put me in contact with your dear wife. When she told me who she was, and who she was married to, I knew I had to come and see you. As to how I escaped with my life when Arkanis was bombed, well, I was in the cellar gathering ingredients for supper from the conservators. Because I was underground, I managed to survive. Eventually, through a lot of hard, honest work, I found my way off planet, and I moved around from place to place until I settled on Hestia in the Inner Rim. I run the orphanage and the soup kitchen in my town. It’s a simple life, but I’m happy with it.”

“I’m glad you’re happy with your life, Mother.”

“And from what dear Rose has told me, you’re happy too.”

He turned to Rose, who had had a bright, teary smile on her face through the whole reunion, his love for his amazing, wonderful wife unabashedly shining in his eyes, and said, “Utterly, and incomprehensibly.”

The three of them spent the day together, Armitage joyfully making new memories with his mother. She was originally only going to stay for three days, but he quickly managed to convince her without much effort to extend her stay for a week, though she refused to move on the point of her staying at the small hostel in town. He knew he was grinning like an idiot as Mother, at her insistence, helped him and Rose in the kitchen for dinner, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

———————————————

For Rose, the whole day had been beautiful. She was so glad to see Armitage like that, so effervescently happy, so peaceful. But it had also been a very interesting day. Ever since Armitage saw his mother in their kitchen, he had been speaking in that Arkanisian accent, which as it was, did funny things to her stomach, and when you added his prolonged conversations with Aisling in Arkanish, it made for quite the heady combination. She had been staring, she knew. He had almost caught her a couple times, but she was pretty sure she had managed to escape detection.

Following the amazing dinner, they escorted Aisling to the hostel, having made plans the next day for Rose to rent a speeder so the three of them could visit the cliffs on the coast three hours away. It would be a long trip, but they knew it would be a treat for her to see them.

Hand in hand, husband and wife made their way back home, Rose completely missing the look in her husband’s eyes.

———————————————

He noticed that Rose had been staring at him the whole day. She tried to hide it, but he had caught her repeatedly out of the corner of his eye. However, he let her think that he was ignorant of what she was playing at. He knew it had something to do with his childhood accent, which he had noticed he had fallen into sometime around lunch, and his use of Arkanish, remembering well how she had reacted the first time she heard him use them.

This time though, as they walked home, their path illumined by the light of the moons, Armitage was was the one staring at Rose. The light caught on her being, showing her delicate, high cheekbones, the brightness of her eyes, the elegant curve of her nose, the velvet sable of her hair, the fullness of her lips, her lips which had no qualms about kissing his, and the strength of her hand, her pure hand, which unashamedly held onto his bloodstained one, willingly touching him.

Not for the first time was he struck by the beauty of this woman who called him hers, who saw his unworthiness, yet deemed him worthy and said, “You. I choose to love you for the rest of my life. I choose to make you bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.” She chose to plunge headlong into the shadows of his heart and make it her home, suffusing her light into his very being, accepting his darkness and his demons.

Once again, he renewed his daily vow to never take Rose for granted, to show her that she was not wrong in her choice to give him her love. To show her as much love as he could. Sometimes, he thought he would die from the amount of love he felt for her. And just when he thought he couldn’t possibly love her any more, Rose went and found his mother, bringing her back to him, whole and happy — making his heart swell to heretofore unknown proportions.

She had to know. He would show her, tonight, just how much he loved her.

They had arrived at their house, and Rose released his hand to unlock the door. He entered after her, and waited until she had shut it behind him to suddenly crowd into her space. Rose found herself with her back pressed against the door, Armitage leaning on his hand braced against the wall next to her head. He inclined his ear, and he could hear her breath coming in short gasps. He pitched his voice down to the octave he knew she liked, saying, “How about a cup of tea, a chroí?”

Rose squeaked, “That — that sounds wonderful, Armie.”

He smirked, pulling away from her, and walking to the kitchen to put the kettle on. His smirk only widened when he heard her heavy exhale and her mutter of “Holy crap, Rose, get ahold of yourself.” This was going to be interesting.

———————————————

Rose came into the kitchen, and sat at the table while they waited for the water to boil. Her eyes determinedly avoided the languid form of her husband as he rested against the counter, his glass-green gaze piercing through her. Soon, the kettle whistled, prompting him to extinguish the flame on the stove and pour the hot water into their mugs. His back turned to her, Rose felt free to watch him. His movements were precise and measured, no gesture superfluous. The mugs were then placed on the table, and he sat across from her.

Tentatively, she reached for the steaming mug, waiting for him to say something. But he remained silent, content to sip at his tea, an indecipherable sparkle in his eyes. Rose was on edge, just waiting for something to happen — she could feel it, the air was charged with a tense energy, like a thread ready to snap any second. Roughly twenty minutes were spent with them just silently sitting there, sipping the piping hot drink. They both finished their tea at roughly the same time, and Rose’s heart began thudding in earnest in her chest. He stood, mug in hand, and leaned over. Then to her relief and slight frustration, he merely took her mug in his other hand, and went to place it on the counter to be washed tomorrow.

Her heart was on the verge of calming when he returned, and dragged his chair to sit right across from her, the table no longer separating them. His elbow rested on the table, and his head was tilted, an intense look on his face. “You planned all this, didn’t you? You asked Dameron to find my mother, and brought her here.”

Rose shivered — he had to know what that look of his and that accent did to her. “Yes.” Her voice was surprisingly steady.

“I figured. Now,” he leaned forward in his seat. “Tell me why you did that.”

“It was your father who told you she was dead. I knew he could’ve lied, so I asked Poe to see if he could find her, wherever she was. I told him her name and what she looked like. He found her, and I got in contact with her and told her who I was, that I was your wife. I didn’t even have to ask her to come, she practically had her passage here booked before I even hung up.”

“You still didn’t answer the question, Rose,” he softly said.

“I… I did it because I love you. So much.”

“Rose…” he whispered, and the next thing she knew, he was on his knees, kissing her deeply, desperately, like a man starved. When they parted for air, breath ragged, she saw that his eyes were blown wide, as his trembling hand reverently caressed her face. “Rose, my Rose. I love you so much, sometimes I think I’ll die from it.”

She gasped and shut her eyes from the intoxicating feelings coursing through her at his words.

He kissed her once more, worshipfully, and as if it were the only thing he lived for. She cried from the intensity of it all, overwhelmed by the depth of his love for her. She could only cling tightly to him, swept away in the riptide of his passion.

When he drew back, he gently wiped the tears from her eyes, and murmured, “If you’ll let me, mo ghrá, I would like to show you just how much I love you.”

She let her head fall onto his shoulder, catching her breath. When she had recovered, she looked up into his dear, dear eyes. “Show me,” she said breathlessly.

“Gladly,” he replied. And he swept her up into his arms, carrying her to their room, lost in his love.

The End.

Arkanish (Irish) glossary

Gabh Transna Ort Fhéin: literally translates to “Go Sideways on Yourself”, A.K.A., “Go F@&k Yourself”. (pronounced as Gave [long a] Tras [Trash with no H] na orth [Worth without a W] Hayn. [Close enough])

Cad ba mhaith leat dom a rá, a ghrá mo chroí: (Near as I can figure from several websites, this is pronounced as kahd bah whaheeth lleyuht dohm ah raw, ah grawh moh khree) [Please pardon me if this is completely wrong]

A stór: my treasure (pronounced uh STORE) [usually used to express affectionate friendship, especially for parent and children relationships.]

A Chroí: my heart (pronounced uh KHREE)

Mo Ghrá: my love (pronounced muh GRAWH)

I used google translate and various websites to glean my information — Irish speaking people, please, please do not hesitate to correct me if anything is wrong here!

Title is taken from Rae Morris’ song “Under the Shadows”

[damonsbitchx]

Florida Burn p.3

Hello, friends! Sorry this took so long to get done, the pandemic sort of fucked my life up lol But we are back now and better than ever!

Summary: This is a series I’m writing based on New Moon, but instead of staying in Forks, Bella moves to Jacksonville with her mom. If you haven’t read the first two parts you can read them here and here.

Word Count: 2,496

Characters: Bella, Renee, Phil, Jacob (through text)

Warnings: There’s a little angst but mostly good vibes.

If you would like to be on a general or story tag list, please send me an ask!

    Dinner with Renee and Phil wasn’t awkward. It was actually easier than I’d expected. Phil asked me questions about my life back in Forks about how I liked the school, what kind of things I did for fun since it was always raining, and a few others to gather the information he seemed genuinely interested in getting. Renee asked me about Charlie and a bunch of other people from Forks she probably knew at some point. She wondered about the infamous little orange truck I always talked to her about on the phone, so I got to explain in detail everything I loved about it. It made me miss her a little bit. She also asked about the Blacks.

“How’s Billy and his son? It’s been years since I’ve seen them,” she beamed, popping a french fry into her mouth. 

“Yeah, uhm Billy’s good, he’s still rowdy as ever when he’s around dad,” I huffed a short chuckle.

    Thinking about Forks and all the people there did make my chest ache, but I’d probably only have to do this once and they’d be satisfied after that. I was just grateful she knew enough to not ask about the Cullens. I was getting better, but not that much better yet. Renee cleared her throat.

“And Jacob?” she grinned innocently.

“Uh yeah Jacob’s good too,” I mumbled, nibbling on a fry. 

“Your dad told me Jacob left you his number, he asked me to make sure you got in touch with him at least,” she purred, obviously ecstatic about the situation. I cringed internally but looked up to her with a smile.

“I’m going to mom, after dinner,” I grumbled, trying to sound reassuring.

“Okay,” she sighed with a sly smile, exchanging a glance with Phil who was mouthing at her to stop. 

    She giggled and we finished our dinner in a comfortable conversation after that. I helped clear the table once we were all done and tried to do the dishes but Phil insisted I not worry about it. They seemed to cherish small moments together often like cooking and doing the dishes by hand. I’d never seen Renee do the dishes before, but Phil brought out the best in her. Granted, she only dried them, but at least it was something. 

    I stood in the doorway of the kitchen lost in thought and admiration for a moment watching my mom and her boyfriend laugh and fumble over wet utensils. Then, suddenly, I remembered the folded piece of Forks still sitting in my back pocket. Before I left I gave them one last look and smiled in admiration, then I turned and quickly made my way back up to my room which was now filled with the deep bronze rays of my first Jacksonville sunset. I sunk into the desk chair next to the large window and pulled out my phone along with the note, flattening it out onto the surface of the desk. I didn’t think I would go down this road so soon after arriving in Florida, but I knew Renee wouldn’t let it go until she got details. Besides, it would be good to catch up with an old friend. I hastily punched the numbers into the address bar but then realized that I hadn’t given a single thought to what I was going to say. I frowned at the phone screen, slumping down further. I mean, I only talked to him a couple of times while I lived in Forks. Sure, we’d known each other since we were kids, but that was a long time ago and we were different people now. After some moments of consideration, I decided I should at least tell him who it is and leave the beginning of a conversation to him.

“Hey, it’s Bella. :)” I typed. 

    Then, I frowned and stared at the words on the screen for another minute. I squinted my eyes and grimaced. Who am I turning into? I quickly deleted the smiley face and pressed send before I could think about it anymore. With a heavy sigh, I flung my phone onto my bed across the room and yanked a book into my hands. I needed to distract myself, this was getting ridiculous. My knees pulled up to my chest and I dove into something Shakespeare, not caring enough to acknowledge which one. It took great effort to focus on the words my eyes would usually scan mindlessly but it became increasingly harder with each ticking second. Occasionally, I’d catch my gaze drifting to my phone sitting in the middle of my bed but I would quickly drag it back to the dull pages that did nothing to hold my attention. Then, my phone buzzed causing my heart to leap, pulling me up out of the chair and across the room so fast my book clattered to the ground. I launched onto the bed, grabbing the phone and yanking it open. It was him. My hands were shaking now, but not in the way they had been for months on end. They were shaking with anticipation and adrenaline. The blood pumping through my veins was laced with a type of electricity I hadn’t felt in months. 

“Bella, hey! I’m glad you texted, I thought maybe you didn’t get the note. :)”

    I released the air locked in my lungs with a sigh of relief. Smiley faces are encouraged. Then, panic struck again. What do I say now? I really hoped this would get easier, but for now, I would spend minutes upon minutes staring at my phone trying to come up with acceptable responses. I was absolutely not going to involve Renee in this endeavor, she would definitely take it the wrong way. Jacob and I were only ever going to be friends. I just wasn’t sure how to go about becoming friends again. In order to waste more time, I decided to take care to add him in my phone as a contact, pressing each letter of his name slow enough to make sure the characters were arranged in the absolute right order. The phone vibrated again, startling me enough that it almost slipped out of my hands. My wide eyes squinted to read the text.

“How’s Florida so far?”

The answer to that seemed easy enough.

“It’s only been one day, but I know I’ll like it here. Forks is great and all, but it could use some more sun.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed at my word vomit but pressed send anyway.

“Lol yeah, I guess so. When are you coming back?

    I began to wonder how much Jake knew about me moving back with my mom. How much did I really want him to know? This could be my chance to start over with someone who doesn’t look at me like I might shatter to pieces any second. That always made it harder not to. I’m sure he knew the Cullens left, but maybe that was all.

“I don’t know, probably not until after graduation.”

“That’s too bad, I just got a project I was going to ask you to help me with. :(“

I felt the weight of my anxiety lifting off my chest with each message. The conversation came easier than I’d thought it would.

“Oh, I’m sure I wouldn’t be much help anyway. Maybe you can come visit me in Jacksonville sometime. :)”

“Hah yeah, maybe. How come you left anyway?”

So, he must not know much about the Cullens’ part in my leaving which was better for me but then again, what was I going to tell him instead?

“It’s complicated, but I mostly just missed my mom and the sun. I am my mother’s daughter, after all. :/” 

    Everyone in that town knew what happened with Renee and Charlie, even ones who were born after the fact. So, Jacob knew and I used it to my advantage. He couldn’t really argue with it and to be honest, part of me really did feel the same way she does about that town.

“Lol yeah, I get that. Well, I should turn in. Will you text me tomorrow?”

“Definitely. :)”

“Cool, goodnight, Bella. :)”

“Night, Jake.”

    As I clicked the phone off I caught myself smiling but it wasn’t forced like most of them had been lately. It was the kind of smile you see on someone’s face after showing them something undeniably beautiful, the smile of hope and light. Those are two things I’ve been a stranger to for what felt like forever. So I let it sit on my face for as long as it wanted, sighing heavily and tossing my phone to the side as I flopped down on my bed. I rested my head on the mountain of pillows, turned so I could see out my window down to the street outside. All the cream colored houses that lined the sidewalk across the street were settling in for a peaceful night. I was still smiling. The light was just a dim glow behind the horizon now, fading with each passing minute. I breathed in slowly and deeply through my nose, cherishing the scent left in the air from the sun that had been shining on the pavement and the plants all day. The air wafting through the window was comfortingly thin and refreshing compared to the thick, damp air I remember breathing from my bedroom in Forks. I felt light and weightless. I’d barely thought about them during the several hours I’d been here and that’s several hours longer than I could manage at Forks. Maybe this really was going to be good for me.

    I laid still, focusing on deep breathing while I watched the sun take her last breath of air before she disappeared completely and darkness fully set in. Renee and Phil peeked in to say goodnight on their way to bed and with that, I was alone in the darkness in this unfamiliar but comfortable room. I hopped up and trotted to my bag before too many thoughts could crawl into my mind, grabbing my nightclothes and toiletries and crossed the hall to the bathroom. 

    I set my clothes and bag down on the counter then a reflection in the mirror caught my attention. My throat tightened in horror but only for a brief second because when I looked up I realized it was me. My shoulders relaxed back down and the tension faded away again, but I still stared at the person I saw looking back at me in the mirror. Although she was me I couldn’t help but feel she wasn’t really me. Already, she carried herself differently than I remembered. Her eyes didn’t look so worn and dark, the circles under them from the past abuse they endured were still there but seemed to be fading already. Her hands weren’t shaking with anxiety like they always did and her back wasn’t as hunched over like it used to be, desperately trying to protect her heart from any more damage. She didn’t look like she was on the brink of death anymore. The realization silently signaled tears to the edges of my eyes, that dark hole coming to swallow me just like it had done so many times before, but perhaps for a different reason this time. 

    I’d only been in Florida for a single day, how was I already this different? My chest tightened at the thoughts that plagued my mind. I couldn’t already be moving on, I wasn’t ready. If I moved on he would be gone forever and that was the last thing I wanted. The mere thought of him disappearing forever elicited a strangled gasp from my body as the stinging tears erupted from my eyes. I stumbled over to the shower, one hand clasped over my mouth to muffle the sound, the other flailing to find the shower knob and yanking it to turn the water on. I sunk down to the ground next to the tub, my hand still pressed firmly over my mouth. My lungs burned at the lack of air as I tried to keep the sobs from escaping my chest by just pushing the air out instead of the sound. The last thing I wanted was for Phil and Renee to worry about me. I thought moving was going to fix this hole inside of me. Maybe I was wrong. 

    My attention was yanked out of my own mind when I realized there was a soft tapping on the door. I quickly wiped the tears on my cheeks with my wrist and shoved myself up to unlock the door. The yellow bathroom light illuminated the hallway and the shadow standing at the door as I opened it. It was Renee. Her head hung slightly like a toddler who’d just done something minor they weren’t sure if they should’ve done or not so they were waiting to find out if they’d be in trouble. I stepped to the side so she could tiptoe in, closing the door behind her. Then, I lowered myself back to the ground again, hugging my knees to my chest. I refused to make much eye contact with her, even after she had sunk down to ground level with me. I had always had issues with emotional moments with both my parents, but for completely different reasons.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she spoke softly.

    My gaze was trained on the floor tiles just in front of my feet, the rest of me was frozen. I managed to nod in acknowledgement but I couldn’t bear to look up and see the empathy on her face like she knew what I was going through. I knew she only meant the best but she’s never really been the emotional supporting mother she wanted to be. I didn’t hold it against her, I learned how to deal with things on my own. She draped her arm around my shoulders, squeezing me into a reassuring side hug. “Do you wanna talk about it?” she whispered.

“There’s nothing to talk about, mom.” 

“Bella, it’s been months, you have to talk about it sometime.”

“Mom, really, I’m fine. I miss dad, it’ll take a while to get used to it here. That’s all.”

She sighed heavily, obviously trying to suppress a frown. 

“I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk, Honey,” she whispered. 

    Then, she pulled me in to kiss the side of my head and hoisted herself up and out the door again. After the door clicked I drifted into my clouded mind, going through the motions of muscle memory to take my shower and get dressed. I didn’t have any clear, coherent thoughts, I just kind of floated around in the emptiness. For once I wasn’t happy nor sad, I was just existing. Something about Renee offering her support settled some fire in me that I didn’t know was burning. She would be there when I was ready to end this, so I had until then.

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[fanofafan2ff]

52: Arrived

Madison

I adjusted the blinds in the room so the sun wouldn’t come in as much. It didn’t matter though. Chloe was only going to sleep for an hour before she woke up because she either realized no one was holding her or she was hungry.

Is it possible that a baby could already be spoiled at six weeks? Because Chloe  Monét Brown was just that.

After Mijo and Mel’s wedding, it was like my pregnancy was moving in slow motion. The weeks were going by so slowly, I felt like I’d never hit 40 weeks. But when I did and sis still wasn’t here... I was completely over it! I was beyond uncomfortable, tired, sick, fed, and up- in that order.

Our doctor had given us a two week timeline and if she wasn’t out by then, I’d have to be induced. But, Little Miss Brown wasn’t having that. A day shy of being seven days overdue, my water broke in the middle of the night. I was surprisingly calm.. but all that flew out the window once my first contraction hit.

Thankfully, Chloe didn’t torture me for hours labor wise. I was already dialed to 4 by time we got to the hospital. It didn’t take me long to get to 10 before I was pushing. She was 5 pounds and 2 ounces, which surprised me because I thought she’d be a little bigger than that.

And as young as she was, she already had a personality of her own. She loved to be held and cuddled by everyone, especially Christian. He loved his sister and nobody could tell him anything about his Coco. That’s what he called her and he made sure nobody thought they could call her that too. He was already so over protective of her.

It was definitely and adjustment, having both him and Chloe. Having two kids was no joke. It was extremely difficult about three weeks ago when we got to take her home. He was having kind of a hard time realizing he wasn’t the only child anymore. He had a whole tantrum and even told Chris and I that we liked the baby more than him.

My poor pumpkin felt like we didn’t love him all because he wasn’t the center of attention anymore. In a way it was cute but also concerning. Dr. Lopez had informed me about stuff like this happening but to actually see it was crazy. So one night, after dinner, we made sure to sit down with him and just talk things through.

We let him know that even though Chloe was getting a lot of attention it didn’t mean we loved him any less. And once we incorporated him into her routines, he couldn’t get enough of her. He loved taking naps with her and whenever he’d wake up before her and she started fussing in her sleep, he’d rub her back just the way Chris and I taught him how to so she would doze right back off to sleep. He especially loved to give her his special big brother good night kisses.

Sometimes I swore this wasn’t my life.

It was around 10am, so Christian was in school today and wouldn’t be home until around 4:30. The house was clean and quiet and I was in heaven.. at lest for another hour. I made sure to readjust the baby monitor so I could see her clearly on my phone and pulled up the door before exiting and making my way to the bedroom.

Since giving birth six weeks ago, I’d already dropped 20 pounds which I was grateful for, since I’d gained damn near 50. I’d been eating better, trying to exercise, and breast feeding helped a lot too. All the extra weight on me just didn’t make me feel like myself and I hated it. This shit had to go.

I sheded my pajamas and pulled on some compression shorts and a T shirt. I slipped on the first pair of Nikes I saw and sauntered downstairs to the gym.I kept the baby monitor app up and watched Chloe’s chest fall and rise and she napped in the dimly lit room. I popped one of my Airpods in and started some music up while I started the treadmill up.

MoneyBagg Yo’s voice flowed through my ears as my fast walking turned into strides. Not before long I was in a groove and jogging at a nice pace. I wasn’t anywhere near where I wanted to be weight loss wise. I intended on losing the 50 pounds I’d gain during this pregnancy and well as an additional 20. All together, I needed 70 pounds gone.

Of course everyone around me though my weight loss goal was crazy, seeing as though I was only six weeks postpartum, but I needed this time in the gym for myself. I hadn’t been working as much while I was pregnant with there being so much going on so there was that. After giving birth, I was stuck in this routine of being a stay at home mom and I never saw this for myself so it was weird.

But breast feeding full time came with a lot, so I told myself I’d give it 6 months and then slowly ween Chloe off my boob. After that, I’d go back to working and getting my business back on track. My pockets weren’t hurting for cash at all, thank God. But, I never saw myself living doing the stay home mom thing for real.

And you know who was supportive the who every step on the way when I told them my plan.

Christopher Maurice Brown.

I’d told him my weight goal and before I could even get the reasons why out of my mouth he was already asking if I needed him to get me a trainer. He even vowed to get healthier with me. He wanted to know what he could do to help me out of the funk of the stay at home mom routine. He wanted to help me revive my business. He just.. was everything. I really loved that man to the moon and back.

It was having his support that made literally everything so easy.

Especially with the kids. Chris made sure to make his family a priority- even while having a million and one things to tackle. He was front row center for everything that had to do with Christian and Chloe. He was getting Christian to school and packing lunches, he was changing diapers and rocking her back to sleep when I was too tired to move.

I just really had to thank God for blessing me with this man, even with everything we had been through.

An hour later I had ran about 3 miles, did ab workouts and also worked on my glutes. I was feeling good. I made my way back upstairs and checked on Chloe. I was surprised she hadn’t woken up yet. I used to time to indulge in a super long shower. I even got to wash my hair. She’d not only help my gain a little more junk in the trunk but my hair had grown an extra five inches. I was so thankful. My hair needed a break from wigs and extensions.

After I got dressed and ran some product through my hair, I climbed back in the bed and got comfortable. As the weeks went by she was sleeping a bit more soundly and I was so thankful. I finally had a moment to myself and decided to indulge in social media.

I honestly hadn’t been on there in a while. Between being so busy and actually not caring about what people posted for real these days, I only found myself on here when I had a few minutes of down time.

Cute outfit.

New boutique.

Cute hair style.

“Oh, her nails are bomb.” I said out loud to myself. I continued to scroll through my feed making sure to like a few things. I could feel my eyes slowly getting heavier as I scrolled through my feed. I double checked that Chloe was okay and decided to take a nap. I made sure to set an alarm for 1pm, ensuring that I’d sleep for at least 45 minutes.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep when I felt wet lips on my face. “She sleep man.” Chris laughed. “But I missed her today.” Christian whispered. I guess he wasn’t trying to wake me up. He was the cutest, I swear.

“Hi pumpkin.” I giggled. He crawled back over and suffocated me with a mini bear hug. “I made Coco a picture today at school.” He boasted. “Oh, you did?” “Yeah, and daddy said I could show it to my grandmas cause they’re gonna come today.” He rambled. Today?

I look at over Chris who was shaking his head at Christian. “Yooo.. you can’t hold water.” He laughed. “Surprise.” Chris shrugged. “Aw, they’re coming?” I smiled tiredly. “Yeah they should be here tonight. I knew y’all was missing each other and they wanted to come see Christian and Chloe. So, I got em some flights and they’ll be staying here for a week or two. And you need the help when I leave.” He said.

He would be leaving for a promo run for his album next week. He’d only be gone for a week and a half, but that seemed like forever these days. We’d spent so much time together lately I honestly forgot what it was like to miss him. And I really didn’t want to remember.

“You’re the sweetest.” I said honestly. “Gimme kiss.” I puckered my lips for him. He leaned over and pecked me quickly. “Ew.” Christian gagged. He got himself off the bed and ran to his room which made Chris and I laugh. I swear he was so dramatic.

I grabbed my phone and checked the time to see I’d only been sleep for 30 minutes. I checked the baby monitor app and saw Chloe was still sleeping. “Why did you pick him up so early?” I asked. He still had a cool 3 hours left. “I missed my son.” He shrugged. He eased on the bed and laid himself right on top of me making me laugh.

“Whyyyyy?” I whined. “Cause I missed my wife too.” “Fiancé .” I corrected. He kissed his teeth. “Fiancé.” He mocked in a voice that was supposed to sound like mine that made me laugh. I placed both my hands on his face and gave him another kiss. “Did you check on Chloe when you got in?” I asked. “Yeah, was still knocked out. That titty milk be having my babygirl gone.” He laughed before rolling off of me.

He placed his arms behind his head and got comfortable. He done a white T shirt, grey Nike shorts, and some socks. His was growing out his facial hair and slowly but surely, his beard was connecting. The scruffy look worked for him. But then again, what doesn’t? He looked so comfortable.. yet so fine.

“Madison.” I heard before snapping back into reality. “Huh?” “Where yo ring at?” He asked. I looked down at my left hand immediately. Shit, where did I put it this time? “I think I took it off in the bathroom last night.” “You think?” He chuckled darkly. “Aight.” He nodded before rolling out the bed and heading to the closet.

My ring was just a little too big for my finger, so it was always sliding off my finger whenever I wore it. Chris and I meant to get it resized but, it’s just been too many things going on. I kept telling myself I needed to do it as soon as possible because I was truly sick of us having this petty argument.

I got up and made my way to the bathroom. I opened the small jewelry box on my vanity and pulled my ring out before slipping it on my finger. I sauntered into the closet and watched as he pulled one of his million duffle bags from the shelf. He had been putting off packing for his trip for days but he was just ready to do it now.. all of a sudden. He was so aggravating I swear.

But, honestly, I was in no mood to argue today. I walked up behind him as he sorted through his Nike collection, trying to pick out some shoes. I pouted as I wrapped my arms around him. “Don’t be mad at me.” I whined. “I’m sorry. See, I put it back on.” I extended my hand so he could see.

“Cool.” He uttered, not even bothering to take a look at the ring. I walked around and stood in front of him. I put his face in my hands for the second time today. “Christopher. Stop being petty.” I rubbed over his ears to relax him a bit. “I keep telling you, it’s too big. I don’t want it to fall off and I don’t want to lose it so I take it off. You think I’m trying to look single out here or something?” I asked.

"I have two kids, nobody’s gonna want me.” I shrugged. The joke made him kiss his teeth. “Stop being mad at meeee.” I continued to whine. “I’m not mad.” He ensured. I let his face go and he continued to sort through his shoes. “I just want you to wear it, alright? I love seeing you have it on your finger.” He explained. “We getting it resized before I leave. Cool?” He asked. I nodded and puckered my lips for a kiss.

He bent down and got dangerously close to my lips before pulling back, “Ha, you thought!” I hated when he did that shit. “You’re not gonna kiss me?” I pouted. “I’m good love.” The side eye I was giving him was vicious. He thought that shit was so funny. I nodded and backed away from him. 

“Keep that same energy, Brown. Keep that same energy. Cause when I get clearance from my doctor next week, you’re gonna be sick. You’re going to live in the doghouse. Better get real acquainted with that left hand, play boy.” I stuck my middle finger at him and made myself comfortable on top of the island which was a few steps away from him. 

He looked back at me with a playful smile. 

“Cap.” He muttered. I lifted my eyebrow, daring him to continue. “I know your body like the back of my hand. You just went six weeks without this dick. And if you put me in the doghouse.. you gon be sick.” He chuckled. “Why does this sound like a bet?” I grinned.

“What you tryna put on it, baby mama?” He asked as he walked over. He knew what he was doing. His hands immediately came in contact with my thighs. He ran small circles over them while staring in my eyes. Ugh, I couldn’t stand him. 

“Let’s put a week of dirty diapers on it.” I said pushing his hands of me. He found it funny but nodded anyway. “Seal it with a kiss?” He asked puckering his lips up. I learned forward and just before we could kiss, I backed up and placed my hand in his face. “You thought!” 

---

“What she said sis? That pussy is clear for take off!” Kaya clapped. “Pchttt!” Ashley cosigned making the worst airplane sound I’d ever heard in my life. I laughed obnoxiously loud as we sat in the back of the Mexican restaurant. 

I had just left my 6 week check up and I was all good to have sex again. My health was in good shape as well, and I’d lost an additional five pounds. I was feeling good. I had been locked in the house for weeks and I needed to get away and just breathe. So, Mel decided we could all have lunch together. 

Both my babies were at home with both their grandmas. The love and support I’d been smothered this week was so needed. Chris left a few days ago and I was really missing him. Christian would get so sad when he wasn’t here to bring him to school everyday, but Chris promised they’d pick right back up where they left off. 

Both Mama J and Tasha were loving being here with them, but honestly, I think I loved it more. They wouldn’t let me do anything but breastfeed her Chloe. After I’d feed her they’d whisk her away from grandma time which gave me time to catch up on some sleep. My skin and body were so thankful for it. My dad was a bit too busy to take off work but he’d let me know he’d be out to visit soon. I felt like it had been so long since I seen him. 

“It’s just a shame that yo husband ain’t here to be the pilot.” Mel nudged me. I hadn’t told them about the bet and I wasn’t going to. They would root for Chris anyway. I only giggled i response to her words. “I do miss him.” I admitted. It had only been a week and I was ready for it to be over.

“So when are you gonna start planning the wedding?” Mel asked. I shrugged. “Any theme in mind?” Another shrug. “Who’s the maid of honor?” Kaya asked. Another shrug. I literally had no idea. And honestly, the wedding wasn’t on my priority list right now. 

Our waiter came over to the table and somehow Kaya convinced me to get a margarita. I was only having one to celebrate my health and I knew I had to pump and dump my breast milk for the next few hours. I was so glad I’d decided to pump before I decent amount before I had left this morning. 

After a few sips, I was already tipsy. I had never been a light weight, but being away from alcohol for so long had me feeling like I was a college freshman again. It wasn’t before long that I was officially drunk. Shit, it was barely 1pm and I was gone. 

The girls immersed themselves in girl talk as I quickly sent a message on my phone. 

I miss you. 

And your dick 😢

I was trying my hardest to not lose this bet Chris and I had going... but fuck. 

We had sex up until I was about 8 months but after that I literally just couldn’t bother. I was so uncomfortable those last couple weeks I didn’t want to be touched. But, in this moment Chris was making me eat my words. 

I was sick.

I stared into space quietly and I could see myself laid out in the middle of our king sized bed with my legs spread open while Chris sucked on me like his life depended on it. I blinked, and I could see him pushing my thighs back into the mattress and he pounded into me and whispered how good I felt in my ear. I had to take a breath because it’s was as if I could feel every bit of it. 

“Hello?” Ashley snapped. “Did you hear me?” She asked. “Sorry, what?” “I said, I’m single. I’ve decided to devote this year to myself and career.” She shrugged. “So, no more fucking Austin?” I asked. “Nope.” She made sure to pop the third letter. 

“Well, I’m gonna try not to.” She laughed. “Fuck, I just be having them stupid ass moments of weakness when I’m drunk. And Austin never tells me no. That’s he problem!” She reasoned. “Why toxic dick be so goooood?” She whined. “Preach, sister.” Kaya clapped. 

“I’m just gonna keep the focus on myself. Stay celibate- to the best of my ability. Build my brand and kill shit. Period.” She signaled with her hand. “Well, you got our support babes. Always, you know that.” Mel chimed in. “Plus, you know we gon call you the fuck out if you start fucking him again and don’t tell us. Yeah, bitch I’m still salty.” Kaya rolled her eyes. 

Once all the hoopla around Mel’s wedding went away, Ashley spilled her guts on her and Austin messing around again. Turns out they had been having sex wayyyy longer than anyone knew about. She thought he was trying to rekindle the relationship, but turns out he just really wanted to keep having sex. He was stringing her along and once she picked up on it she was out. She would slip up a few times though. 

Ashley rolled her eyes right back. “Well, like I said, toxic dick be good.” She said making us laugh. “I think I wanna move to Atlanta with Ant.” Kaya blurted out. My eyes bulged. That was a big ass step. Especially since Kaya was so strategic with her love life now. Ty really fucked her head up. It took a while for Ant to get through to her, so to hear that she was thinking about moving to another city for him was big.

“Yeah, I know.” She let out a nervous laugh before shrugging. “Wow, that’s big Kaya.” Mel weighed in. “Crazy thing about it is... I’m not even afraid to do. I think... I’m gonna do it.” She sighed. “Am I crazy?” She asked. 

“No!” We agreed in unison. “You love him, and if you think y’all are ready for that step, we’re behind you 100 percent of the way.” I stated. I’m sure Ashley and Mel felt the same way and my sentiments were correct when they chimed in with the nods and words of approval. She looked like she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. 

“Wait.. that means we’re not gonna be a foursome anymore.” Ashely stated. “Bitch, we gon always be a foursome! The fuck. I wish y’all would have a bitch try to take my spot.” Kaya ranted. I swear we could never have a moment. 

We continued girl talk and I had decided to have one more margarita and take another shot or two. I was officially down for the count. Mel wasn’t drinking really and opted to drive me home. On the way home, I couldn’t shake the feeling between my legs. I really missed my man. 

He still hadn’t texted me back so I decided to call him. No answer. I sighed and slipped my phone back into my Birkin. I was over it. We pulled up to the house maybe about five minutes later and I let Mel know she didn’t have to come inside. I walked up the driveway and slipped inside the house quickly. 

I immediately noticed how quiet it was so that could only mean no one was home or they were all asleep. I waltzed in the kitchen fumbling with my bag as I tried to pull my phone out. My eye cause the pink reminder slip hitched under the magnet in the kitchen. 

Took the kids to the zoo. We should be home around 4. Love you!

- Mama and Tasha 

They were so cute. I found it funny that they never opted to just text me, they always left notes. I sighed at the quietness throughout the house and grabbed a bottle of water out the fridge. I downed the water quickly before shuffling up the steps and into the bed.

I needed nap.

I stripped myself of my jeans and bra and snuggled into the bed with just my shirt and panties on. The buzz I had was going to make for a excellent nap. I yawned and hummed for a few minutes before I felt myself drifting off. 

I stirred when I felt cold hands on my skin. They ran from the top of my thighs down to my knees and then back to my thighs again. A pair of lips connected to my neck next and I thought I was dreaming when I saw Chris staring back at me. 

“So what you missed more? Me or this dick?” He asked before planting his lips on mine. “Definitely the dick.” I giggled. I wasn’t even about to ask how he was here right now. All that mattered is that he was. I pulled him down for another kiss. “I missed you... so much.” I mumbled in between kisses. 

“I.. missed you...more.” He replied. His tongue instinctively found its way into my mouth and I let him take control. He used his knees to spread my thighs so he could lay in between them. He pressed himself against me and I could just feel how hard he was. I was still a little buzzed which made all of this feel even better.

He helped me out my clothes quickly before pulling off the shirt and Nike shorts he was wearing. With barely any foreplay, I was soaked and ready. He began running the head over my clit which sent shivers through me. He literally watched as I got wetter for him. I was sick of him playing with me. 

As if he knew how antsy I was getting he stopped the teasing and began pushing my thighs back so they were touching the mattress. It always amazed me how flexible I could be once it involved taking dick. He used one of his hands to guide himself to my entrance. He began teasing me again, and just before I could protest, he slowly slid inside me. 

I gasped and instinctively sent my hand to his lower torso. He pulled out some before sending a few more inches inside of me as I cried out. “Shitttt.” I sighed. He moved slowly as my body got reacquainted to his size. Once he sensed that I fully adjusted he picked up his speed. 

I could hear how wet I was over our skin slapping together. The beautiful harmonies our bodies created made me even wetter. His hand found its way around my neck and my eyes rolled at the pleasure the lack of oxygen sent me. I shut my eyes for a second before I moaned and forced them open to look him in the eyes. 

He was concentrated on watching collide. “Fuck.” I heard him groan before looking away and finally into my eyes. “You lost.” He grinned.

[survivorparr]

the sun and her moon, part 6/8 (all you wanna do)

aka, In Which we Journey North

Ex Wives/No Way | DLUH | Heart of Stone | Haus of Holbein| Get Down

.....

Aragon rubbed her hand vigorously up and down her right bicep to dull the sharp pain.

“What the heck, Kitty??”

“Punch buggy, no punch backs!”

Aragon let out a sharp gust of air as she flicked her eyes towards the ceiling of the van, then retrained them on the green hillside whizzing by outside the window.

Behind her, Anna and Parr were deeply engaged in an argument about whether John Dowland or Hans Gerle had been the better lutenist. The air was filled with a faint, sweet melody coming from Jane, humming in the driver’s seat.

And folded in upon herself in the back seat, eyes aimed at the window but certainly not paying attention to the scenery, was Anne. The events of last night danced in her mind’s eye:

“Are you alright, Cath?”

“Yes - no - I don’t know. Yes, I’m fine”.

“‘I don’t know’ isn’t yes. Tell me what you’re thinking”.

She had taken one of Cathy’s small, warm hands in hers. There was no sound except the pounding of her own heart. Then:

“I just... think I need a minute to think”.

“God Cath, I’m so sorry, I just assumed - in the bar - I thought there’d been a moment and I -“

Cath squeezed her hand hard. “There was. There was a moment. And... I want there to be more moments, a lot more. It’s just... I’ve never... been with a woman before”. Her eyes shone and she seemed to be wrestling with her own mind in order to get the words out. Anne suddenly felt the absence of Cath’s hand in hers as she retreated onto her bed.

“I’m so sorry, Anne. It’s just that you mean the world to me, and if I can’t manage to come to terms with... feeling this way about you, and something goes poorly, I just don’t know what I’d-”

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, okay? Promise. Go to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning”.

“Actually... could you stay a minute?”

Anne’s chest had tightened, but then she’d seen how small Catherine looked, how vulnerable. She’d crawled onto the bed and molded Cath into her empty spaces, running her fingers through her thick curls.

Thick curls that were now covering the back of a head sitting as far away from her as possible. Not a word was spoken between them all through breakfast, or all through the long drive to Leeds. Anne supposed perhaps Cathy was just nervous to be returning close to home for the first time since they’d come back, but she’d been chattering nervously to the other queens all morning (she and Anna were now debating the merits of the hurdy-gurdy as an instrument, for Christ’s sake). Anne turned up the volume of her headphones to drown it all out, hoping this would have some effect on the heaviness in her heart.

The whirring of the greenery and buildings outside came to a sudden slow, and then finally, a stop. Anne pulled out an earbud to get an idea of what was going on.

“...completely sure? It’s really no trouble, Parr, we can drive you out to York”.

“That’s alright, Jane, the train will be fine. If you lot come with me, I’ll just chicken out and turn us back around”.

“If you’re definitely sure, then. Good luck with your grandmother!”

Anne’s eyes widened. Grandmother... She suddenly remembered how last week, in the middle of French Film Friday, Cath had paused Amelie to ask whether Anne thought anyone else from past times might’ve been brought back to life. “We’d better hope not, otherwise, we might get run off the stage by a country band made up of Prince Albert’s five daughters,” she’d joked.

Stupid. She mentally slapped herself on the wrist. Some kind of friend you are.

Thoughts bubbled up in Anne’s mind more quickly than she could process them - I’ll go with her, I’ll apologize, I’ll—

By the time she was on her feet, Catherine’s blue sweater had disappeared into the crowd outside the train station.

...

Cath tightly gripped the crumpled sheet of lined yellow paper as she walked. She glanced again at the words printed in her own flowery scrawl: 456 Ravensworth St, York. They had not changed since the last time she’d looked (which had been about 54 seconds ago). She knew she had about a minute and a half to compose herself. God, why was she so nervous to meet a woman she’d never even known?

She supposed that was what made it so strange, though. Most girls didn’t get to come back from the dead and meet their long-lost grandmothers who had also supposedly come back from the dead. She felt her ribcage rise as she drew in cold air through her lips. Ravensworth Street. There was no turning back now.

She surveyed the houses on the right side of the street, attempting to estimate which one would be 456. Her eyes fell upon beautiful brick buildings, perfectly trimmed hedges, and-

“Anne???”

Cath rubbed her eyes with her fists, but when she stopped, Anne was still perched on the stone wall of a lawn about four houses down.

Without thinking, Cath broke out into a jog. She stopped in front of the tall iron gate.

“What the hell are you doing here? I said I was fine on my own”.

“I know you are. You’ve always been fine without anyone”.

The words stung, and Cath shifted her weight uncomfortably.

“How did you even beat me here?”

Anne shrugged nonchalantly. “Trains are slow, Cleves drives fast”.

Cath’s jaw dropped a little. Jane never let Cleves drive - the queens had decided she was a hazard to public safety.

“Look, you say the word and I’ll go back to the hotel, I promise. I just thought... I came here because... I know that this is a big deal for you, and I know you don’t need me, but I wanted you to know that you don’t have to do this alone if you don’t want to”.

Anne looked at Cath’s face for any hint of what she might be thinking, but found she could not read the intense gaze, furrowed brow, or parted lips.

“You know what, I’m sorry. Clearly this is personal for you, and I’ll go”.

Anne gathered her bulky messenger bag under her arm and pulled herself up off the wall.

“Wait. Anne”.

She waited for Cath to say more, but Cath simply held out a slender hand. A wave of relief washed over Anne. She took Cath’s hand, and pulled open the gate with her other.

...

“A frog? Truly, Grandmother?”

“I swear it on my life! Oh, the whole castle could hear Uncle Richard hollering. Then, he ran about the halls in just his nightclothes! Lady Anne and I were absolutely beside ourselves”.

“That’s absolutely brilliant, Lady Fitzhugh! I might have to try it out myself on a certain Spanish queen”. Anne waggled her eyebrows mischievously at Cath, who exaggerated an eye roll and then chuckled and smiled brightly.

“Please, dear, Elizabeth is just fine. Any friend of my granddaughter’s is a friend of mine”.

Anne grinned, and she realized she felt lighter than she had in a while. Her own grandmothers had been distant, much too busy conniving and calculating to pay her much mind.

“We appear to be out of tea cakes”.

“Appearances aren’t everything, darling. In the kitchen, cooling on the bottom rack of the oven”.

Cath rose from her seat and disappeared from the room in search of the pastries.

Anne struggled ungracefully with the too-large bite of ham sandwich in her mouth. When she had finally swallowed it, she turned to Lady Fitzhugh.

“Thank you again for allowing me to stay for lunch. I know you were only expecting one guest, and we didn’t mean to put you out. Or rather I didn’t mean to, Cathy had nothing to do with it, honest. Anyways, I really appreciate it”.

“Oh hush, it was no trouble at all. Do you know how often an old bag of bones like myself receives visitors? You’ve been nothing but a pleasure, dear. Besides, anyone who loves Catherine the way you do is welcome in my home any time”.

“Oh, I don’t - err - I mean, she’s not, uh, we’re not-”

“I know exactly what you are. You are her sun, and she is your moon. The Catherine that I watched over and protected from the beyond was wise and kind, but so tentative and full of doubt. But now, with you, she has an ease I’ve never seen in her. She seems... strong, and sure. Now, I can’t speak to who you might have been, but I can see the way you look at her. Like all your life, you’ve been running at breakneck speed, and you’ve finally found a place you can rest”.

For once, Anne had no words.

“I know my granddaughter. You may make her more spontaneous, but she still overthinks everything. She always comes around in the end, though. Until she does, you just keep standing by her, and she’ll stand by you. None of the rest of it matters in the end, you’ll see”.

Lady Fitzhugh smiled reassuringly. Anne suddenly felt warm, her clothing too bulky. Pulling at her sweater, she whispered, “Thank you”.

“Found them! Grandmother, do you have the recipe for these?”

“I do! Remind me and I’ll write it out for you before you leave”.

“Thank you! What were you two talking about then?”

“Nothing, dear”. Lady Fitzhugh winked at Anne. “Just the moon”.

...

“Alright, so we’ve seen the river where you and your sister used to skip rocks, the tree where you broke your arm climbing with your brother, and the tower where you studied French. Next up on the Cath’s Classics tour is...? Where are we, then?”

A ribbon of crystal blue water lazily burbled beneath the warped wood under their feet. Sunlight fell golden on dappled leaves that hid the two of them from the outside world.

“This is where I used to sit and write. It was my favorite spot - the only place that was just mine”.

Cath‘s legs felt heavy as they dangled from the edge of the bridge. Anne looked around and then lowered herself awkwardly down next to where Cath sat.

“Until now”.

“Mmm. Until now”.

The two of them sat there in silence. Catherine looked at their images reflected in the water, edges blurred, bending and blending together.

“Why did you come today, Anne?”

“I told you. I thought you might’ve been nervous, and-”

“I mean, why do you keep coming back for me? I’m always messing up, pulling away, doing the stupidest things. All the queens know it, I can tell. It’s like I’m broken or something, and I just... don’t know how to be happy. You’re not like that. You’re... magnetic, and people like you, and you’re... good, just way too good for me. So why did you come?”

Cath was finally able to bring herself to look at Anne’s face. When she did, she was confused by the deep frown and hurt eyes she found. She thought she’d said nice things...

“Is that what you think, Cath? That you’re too broken for me? I’m the broken one. God, I’m so scared of being abandoned that I cling too much, or I self-sabotage when someone gets close. I am constantly trying too damn hard to be the thing that everybody wants while simultaneously keeping them all at arm’s length. Except for when I’m with you”. She reached out her hand and swept her thumb across Cath’s cheekbone. “Being with you feels like getting home and putting on sweatpants after a two show day”.

Cath furrowed her brow in confusion.

“Err - what I mean is, when I’m with you, I don’t have to try so hard. It just feels comfortable. I think you might be the only one who knows who I am. Look, I know that these feelings are confusing for you, and that they go against everything you’ve ever believed. But you can have all the time in the world to figure it all out, because I’m not going anywhere”.

The space between their bodies diminished, and Anne kissed Cath’s forehead gently.

“All I want to do is be with you”.

.....

A/N: I LOVE YOU ALL I’m sorry this update took SO long, this summer has been a certified Mess. But here she ism and she’s long to make up for it - I hope you enjoyed! One part and an epilogue left - almost time to wrap this motha up!

Tags (copied from the last update in case you still wanted!):  @mimymomo  @supernova-nightmare@allthequeensdeservedmore@demidoubter @alexs-galaxies @sweet-sappphic @sarahzarahh @musical93 @six-aimie @imborrrrrrrr 

[dramaticskeleton]

Chapter 3: Oliver

He’s handsome. That’s the only thought that passes through my head as I stare at the boy in front of me. He’s got a dark shirt on that clings to his body, showing off the muscles of his stomach. His black hair hangs in loose curls on his forehead and he stares at me intently with hazel eyes that have an expression I can’t place. I was going to be sharing a house with this person. The thought gives me a thrill of excitement.

“My name’s Freddy,” I say, sticking my hand out in greeting.

“Thank God for you, Freddy.” I can feel a spark flare up where he touches me, shaking my hand in a firm grip. “If not for you, I’d be stuck choosing between one thirsty girl or another.”

“You had a host of girls throw themselves at you, and you chose me for a roommate instead,” I laugh, “You don’t have very good taste.”

“Is that so? What are you like, then?”

“Well, I like art and getting drunk on the weekends, for starters.”

“We’re going to get along splendidly.”

~~~~~

A few weeks later, I sit at the table, editing the photos I took of Fancy. This one is particularly enticing. Her naked back is toward the camera, her spine sticking out faintly as she hunches her shoulders forward. She holds a green silk sheet against the front of her body with one hand, exposing just enough of the side of her breast to be tasteful. She looks at me over her shoulder, her other arm raised to run her hands through her hair. The photos capture the brilliant red strands slipping out from her fingers. Her makeup is sultry, making her eyes stand out.

My phone buzzes next to me. I ignore it, continuing to the next photo.

Fancy is on the ground, the camera angled to fly over her body. Her face is off to the side, so the focus is her fingers twirling a string of pearls around her neck. The light reflects in the blue nail polish. In the background, her breasts swell under the thin pink fabric of her bra. Her legs are bent, knees knocked in toward each other.  I feel an appreciative growl escape my throat, remembering how I took her on the floor after I snapped the photo.

I flip to the next one - she’s on her stomach, her ass in the air - when a series of texts come in, one after another. After the fourth one I finally pick up my phone. They’re all from Fancy.

Come to Oxford ;) I want to see you ;) Please Freddy I know you’ve got your phone on you

Why?

I want to see you more often And I don’t want to drive an hour to do it.

I think about her implication. What had started as a night here and there had turned into a biweekly event and she had started staying with me during her visits instead of running off in the mornings. Our rough sex had turned into almost passionate love making. There is a different feel to whatever is going on between us now. Our fling had somehow become something more.

I type out, Maybe.

You can stay at my place. My cousin won’t mind

You live with your cousin? Is she going to join us? ;)

HE wouldn’t mind it, but I definitely would :P

Ah. I hadn’t been with a man in five years and I wasn’t about to start. When?

Come tonight. I’ve got a new set I want to show you ;)

I chew on my bottom lip, seriously contemplating it. I don’t have any solid roots in London, and there’s nothing left for me here anyway, seeing as I don’t go out anymore.  My life has dwindled down to working at the table and fucking Fancy in the bed, or the other way around. Moving to a different city would be good for me. I could start over, maybe turn this thing with Fancy into something serious.

Give me a couple hours.

By the time I pull up to the quiet neighborhood, it’s nearly one o’clock. The dark stone house peeks out under strands of ivy climbing up the walls. It’s quaint, with stairs leading to the door and little flower boxes under the windows. I pull out my phone, messaging Fancy. Within minutes, I see a light turn on in an upstairs window. She comes out smiling radiantly. She grabs my hand.

“Oliver’s still asleep, so you’ve got to be quiet.”

I check at the name for an instant but she pulls me through the house, not noticing. The sitting room that looks like it’s straight out of a magazine. The blue couch is illuminated by the moon coming through the large bay window. A fireplace with low burning embers is on the adjacent wall. We go under an ornate archway into the kitchen and then through another one to a set of stairs. I let her lead me down the hall.  

When we tumble into her bed, Fancy starts giggling.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“You asked, didn’t you?” I kiss her, slipping a hand under her shirt. “Haven’t you got something to show me?”

~~~~~~

I wake up to the feel of Fancy trailing kisses down my chest. She’s got her ass waving in the air and she lets out little hums as she moves. When she lifts her head, her caramel brown eyes sparkle. God, she’s hot. Fancy crawls to the top of the bed and kisses me, her fingers roaming my chest.

“Morning,” she mumbles into my mouth.

“Morning.”

Fancy pulls away and sits up. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like an angel.” My eyes slip to the art on her walls, drawn specifically to a vivid red cardinal, perched on a snow-covered branch. Its beady eye stares back at me. “Are these yours?”

She blushes prettily. “Yeah. I’m not very good.”

“They look good to me.”

With a happy smile, she leans in to kiss me again and then jumps off the bed sliding into the shirt and shorts I tore off her last night. “I’ll make lunch, yeah?”

I glance at the clock on the bedside table. It’s 12:45. “Alright.”

I stretch on the bed for a second more before getting up, admiring the drawings as I pull on my own discarded clothes. Next to the cardinal is a grove of trees, brilliant green foliage dappled with sunlight. Next to that, a gazebo covered in snow. She’d paid such attention to detail, it’s astounding. I give the cardinal another curious glance before lighting a cig and leaving the room.

By the time I get down the stairs, Fancy is already working at the stove She’s got the radio on and is swaying her hips to the music.

“Put that out,” she says without turning around. “There’s no smoking in the house.”

I douse the cigarette in a pot of water in the sink and sneak up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and nipping her ear. I leave kisses on her neck, giving her a particularly possessive bruise on the area between her neck and shoulder. I start to slip a hand under her shirt. She whacks me with the spatula.

“Go sit down, you insatiable cad.”

I laugh, giving her ass a pinch before sliding a chair out. It affords me a view of the backyard. Purple and yellow flowers spill out of pots along the edge of the patio. The grass beyond is littered with brown leaves, though most of the trees are still bright red, orange, and yellow. There’s a little greenhouse off to the side, still green plants flourishing. It’s got a domestic feel to it.

Fancy brings my attention back inside by plopping a plate of eggs in front of me.

“I’m not the greatest cook,” she admits, “But I thought after all the breakfasts you’ve made me, the least I could do is try.”

I take one bite and grimace. “This is terrible,” I say as I spit it out into a napkin.

She giggles. “That bad?”

“I’ve had escargot that tastes better than this.”

She rests a hand on my knee. “Well, you can’t say I didn’t attempt.”

“Please don’t ever do this again,” I say, unable to keep the grin off my face.

She takes the plate with a playful scowl, dumping the food in the trash as I get up to take over the cooking. Fancy dances around the kitchen as I throw together eggs and spices. She comes up behind me and slips her hands up my chest, placing kisses on my back.

“Who’s the cad now?” I ask. I hear the front door open in the other room.

“Fancy, are you really making breakfast?”

I freeze. I’d know that voice anywhere. I had left it pleading and on the verge of tears in Greece and never expected to hear it again, least of all here. I can still see his face, sorrowful and distraught, begging me to stay. Telling me we’d get through everything, that we could do this. I shut my eyes, taking a shuddering breath in.

Fancy misinterprets my reaction and gives me a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just Oliver,” she whispers.

I know. I don’t say the words out loud, as if by not admitting it, he’ll disappear. I’m afraid to turn around, even as a part of me begs to see his face.

“Well I was trying,” Fancy is saying. “But Freddy didn’t approve, so now he’s doing it.”

“God, did you bring your flavor of the night home with you?”

I wince at the derision. Fancy moves away from me. “Don’t be rude. My flavor of the night, as you say, has actually been my flavor of the last few months.”

“Oh, is this why you’ve been running up to London every other week?”

“This is Freddy. Freddy, come meet my cousin.”

There’s no avoiding it now. I dump the food from the pan onto a plate and turn around. He’s sitting at the table, flipping through his phone. His hair is an array of curly tufts, just like I remember. The sun lights up his face and highlights the light stubble on his chin. The corner of his mouth is twisted into a frown as he says,

“What makes this one special?”

“Well, he can cook for one thing.” From the side of my eye, I can tell Fancy is looking at me, a grin on her face, but I only have eyes for the man in front of me. I set the plate in front of him.

“Thanks mate,” he says, finally looking up. His eyes, his beautiful, brilliant hazel eyes, flare wide within seconds and his mouth drops. All we can do is stare at each other. I drink in his features greedily, memorizing the shape of his face, the arch of his eyebrows, the sharp edges of his jaw. For a moment, it’s as if the years have fallen away and we’re eighteen again, meeting each other for the first time. He had looked at me the same way, making me feel like I was the only person in the world.

I bite my lip and hear him mutter under his breath, “Shit.”

Fancy steps up to my side, interlacing our fingers. She kisses me on the cheek, saying, “He’s different, Oliver.”

When he looks at me again, he doesn’t look angry like I expect, like he should be, but there’s a touch of coldness that makes me flinch. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Don’t be jealous because I found him first.”

He scoffs. “You can keep him. He’s not my type.”

I deserve the chilly statement, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Fancy leans against me in what I suppose is a supportive gesture.

“Listen, I’ve invited Freddy to stay with us for a bit.”

“You did what?” He turns his fierce eyes to his cousin, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, he’s in Oxford and needs a place to live,” she lies. She crinkles her nose. “I’ve just remembered that I promised Mica I’d help her find a dress for tonight, so I’ll leave you two to become friends. Be nice.”

When she leaves the kitchen, a heavy silence falls. I’m not sure what to do so I just stand there as he picks up a fork and shovels the food around the plate. Fancy comes back down, waves bye, and leaves. Still, he doesn’t say anything. I feel nauseous and my head hurts. I wish I had finished that cigarette.

After another minute, he points the fork at the chair opposite him. “You can sit down, you know,” he rasps out.

I hesitate, unsure of if I want to run away or not. I decide to take the seat slowly. I watch his hands as he plays with the eggs, noticing with a jolt that he’s still wearing the silver and emerald ring I gave him years ago. I had gotten it for him as a graduation present, but it had meant something more too. It had been a promise. And I broke it.

I fiddle with my fingers, figuring out how to speak to this person. I settle for, “Hello, Ollie.”

He lifts his head, looking at me. Really looking. I think I see the frozen gaze crack and concern shine out for a brief second. I know what he must see - a pale, scrawny creature with gloomy eyes and a hollow face. I’m nothing like the vibrant, bright person he used to know.

“You look fucking terrible,” he finally says when an uncomfortable number of minutes pass. “You look worse than when you thought you could live off popcorn and biscuits.”

“I’ve been busy,” I say by way of explanation.

“Too busy to eat?”

“I’ve been eating.”

“Not enough,” he snaps.

A laugh slips out as we fall back into the old argument. “Alright yeah, my diet mostly consists of Bacardi and nicotine.”  

His eyebrows immediately furrow, the worry too obvious to miss. He puts the fork down and folds his hands. He seems to fight himself before he asks, “Are you okay?”

I feel a pang at the question. Somehow, his ability to care for me hasn’t changed. “I’m fine,” I say quietly.

“That’s what you said in March, and then you disappeared again.” His voice sounds accusing, but when I catch his eye, he just looks sad. I think about that call, the kindness in his voice back then, the love that I could still feel radiating down the line. I hadn’t felt like I deserved it, so I had ignored the second chance he had given me. I had fucked my way around London to forget about the fact that he had invited me to visit him, and that he had said he missed me. The shame of it slams into me. I don’t have any words for him so I just look stare helplessly at the table.

Ollie runs his fingers through his hair and sighs, leaning back. “I don’t know whether to punch you, or kiss you.”

My lips twitch. I deserved the one and I desperately wanted the other. I give a weak shrug. “Both?”

He rubs his face, frowning. “I waited for you to come back, you know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I stayed in Greece for two extra weeks, thinking you’d walk through that door again, like you’d just gone out to walk it off. And then I waited at every damn stop on the tour we planned, expecting you to show up. I hoped for for weeks that it was all just an nightmare and I’d wake up with you in my arms again, and I’d kiss you, and love you, and everything would be alright.”

I can feel my heart breaking. “I’m sorry,” I choke out again.

“And then I woke up one morning and it hit me. You were gone. For good. You weren’t coming back, you weren’t going to call. So when I checked out of that last hotel, I shut the door on us.”

His face starts getting blurry. I try to blink away the tears but just succeed in spilling them. Through them, I see Ollie’s nose twitch, the way it always does when he’s lying. A flutter of hope rises in my chest. “I wanted to.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Why hadn’t I? Because I had been so afraid of my past coming between us, that I had let it do just that. I had been scared of what he would say to me if I walked through those doors again after a week, two weeks, two months. I hadn’t wanted to see his anger, or sadness. I had betrayed him, and I hadn’t been ready to face that. So I had let the months slip by until they became years. And the more time I kept silent, the more scared I was to talk to him.

“I couldn’t.”

Ollie scoffs. “That’s a bullshit answer. God, we had three years together. We were building something; we were happy.”

“Happiest three years of my life.” Not a lie.

“Then why’d you leave?”

I fidget with my hands, unable to look him in the eye. “I didn’t want you to be bothered by her anymore. I thought if I walked away, she would leave you alone.”

“I never would have let Leah come between us, if you had just trusted me.”

I flinch at the name of the girl who had ruined everything. The messages that had followed us across Europe still haunt me to this day. Leah had tried to drive a wedge between me and Ollie, and while she never succeeded in making him hate me, she still managed to destroyed our relationship. At least, she’d played a hand in helping me destroy it.

“You were so angry about it,” I whisper, wiping my face. “I hated seeing you like that.”

“Of course I was angry! She was ruining our trip.” He looks down at his hands. “I was going to ask you to marry me, you know. At the end of it all.”

It’s like a punch to the face. I watch him play with his ring, twirling it around his finger. “You should have done it at the beginning,” I say.

“Would it have changed anything?”

“It might have.”

“Yeah, well, hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn’t it?” He sighs deeply. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’ve moved on and you’ve got Cici.” His nose twitches again.

I blink. I had almost forgotten about her. That’s right, I was only here because of her. I had entertained the idea that I was starting to feel something for her, maybe enough to start a real relationship with her. Those thoughts had gone right out the window at the sight of Ollie.

“How long have you been sleeping with her?”

In the rare moments when I had allowed myself to imagine meeting Ollie again, this was definitely not the topic of conversation. I shift awkwardly. He lets out a mirthless laugh. “Oh come on, it’s not a secret. I heard you fucking all night.”

“Sorry.”

“You still make that noise right before you get off.” I blush furiously and shoot him a rapid glare. He smirks mischievously for a second, and then it falls from his face. “You’re the first guy she’s brought to the house, you know. Says a lot about you.”

I don’t know what to say. I think of all the girls I’ve had between here and Russia and think it just means Fancy’s got poor taste in men. “I got the impression she had a lot of mates to sleep with.”

“Yeah, but she never brings them here.”

“I guess she thought it was time to meet you.”

“How long have you been seeing each other then?”

“Since June.”

He looks surprised. “That’s incredible.”

I scratch the back of my head, embarrassed. “It’s just three months.”

“That’s a record for her. Listen,” Ollie leans forward, placing his forearms on the table. “You can’t tell her about us, alright? She finally looks happy for once. It would devastate her.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “She wasn’t happy before?”

He hesitates for a second, as if debating what to say to me. Then he says simply, “She’s better.”  

“I won’t,” I say. “Tell her, that is. I don’t even know how I’d have that conversation.”

“You would start by telling her you’re gay.”

I smile a bit, dropping my gaze. “More like bi-curious.”

“I’d hate to think you were just experimenting with my cousin.” His sharp tone makes me look up. He’s giving me a mild glare, his brow lifted. “She’s like a sister to me and I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her.”

I laugh, raising my hands defensively. “I’m not. I think I’m starting to feel something for her.” I’m a little startled as the words leave my mouth. I think of her smile from this morning and it sends a little thrill through me. I feel a bit guilty as I glance at Ollie. Nothing I feel for her could ever top the emotions that well up at the sight of him, but if he was trying to convince himself that he’d moved on, then maybe it was time for me to do the same.

“Good,” Ollie says, getting up. “I’m happy for you.”

I realize he means it. He might be sad to see me with someone else, but he’s not bitter about it. If I was happy with his cousin, then he would bury his own feelings for my sake. Like always, putting me before him.

“This you?”

I turn to see him standing by the sink, holding up my soaked cigarette. “Sorry, yeah. I didn’t have anywhere else to put it. I was gonna get it out.”

“You’re smoking again?” He sounds upset, and I catch his eye. He’s looking at me with such overwhelming concern that I feel my throat start to choke up.

“I picked it up in France,” I manage to sputter out.

Ollie drops the cig in the trash and then  crosses his arms. “Come on, you know it’s not good for you.”

I remember the first time he caught me smoking, a couple days into our second month of living together. He had held my hand and cupped my face, and said exactly the same thing. I smile a bit at the memory.

“It’s a stress habit.”

He takes a step forward and rests a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got to stop.”

“I can’t,” I say, looking down at his hand

He lifts my chin. “Try. For me.”

“Alright.” I find I mean it. I’d try, if he wanted me to.

“You want a cup of tea?” he asks, moving back to his seat at the table. I nod dumbly, still feeling his warmth on my shoulder. He points to the counter. “The kettle’s just there. I like Earl Grey, one sugar.”

He shoots me a smirk and it makes me laugh. I set about making a pot for the two of us

“Well, tell me about the last five years then. I expect there’s a lot to catch up on.”

[abovethesmokestacks]

Constellation

Title: Constellation

Pairing: Stucky x reader

Rating: All audiences

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: ...angst? You know me. Can’t resist the pain.

This is written for @the-canary‘s 1k Constellation Challenge. My pick was Cygnus and, well, this is what became of it. Tag list at the end, although I have mostly just included those on my EVERYTHING-list since I wasn’t sure if everyone on my Seb- and Bucky-lists were into Stucky x reader.

Here Phaethon lies who in the sun-god's chariot fared. And though greatly he failed, more greatly he dared.

He can feel the drag of wind, the bite of the cold as clear as when it happened, the thundering of the train that had died away into deafening silence when he started feeling his grip slip. Bucky doesn’t want to see it, doesn’t feel weightless, doesn’t want to hear Steve’s voice shrink away from him, doesn’t want to-

The scream dies on his tongue, both of his hands coming up to clasp firmly over his mouth when he bolts upright in bed, the sheets falling from his sweat-covered body. Bucky’s heart thunders in his chest, the bed he’s in suddenly feeling too small, and he struggles to stumble out of it. The moon filters through the dirty windows, create little beams where he can see dust mites dance.

He’s here. It’s okay.

Here is a shitty safehouse out in the boondocks, too far from comfort.

Here is a bed that barely fits them all, because no one would allow any of the other to take the couch that looks like the seventies puked all over it.

Here is quiet, no distractions and Bucky feels his skin itch.

Behind him, someone, he thinks it’s you, turns over and exhales. Grabbing his tac pants, he pads out into the cramped living room, past the crunchy couch and to the door leading out onto the bare porch. He’d prefer to have sweats, something soft and comfy, not the roughness of the tac outfit, the stains on them dark against the dim moonlight. It’ll have to do, he supposes, running a hand through his hair and cursing when he belatedly realizes it’s his left and tresses snag on the platings. It’s been seventy years, this should not be a problem anymore.

If anything, it takes his mind off the horrors that had been playing like a feature film. It gives him purpose. It distracts him in a way that is. Pleasant. It’s closing his eyes to gently untangle his hair from his bionic hand, breathing long and calm and feeling the cool night air caressing him and drying the cold sweat and making shivers travel down his spine.

His patience, sadly, runs out twenty minutes later, yanking out the final strands that refuse to untwist not matter how he tries to fiddle and make the plates shift ever so carefully. Free of his hair, he turns his hands over, looking at the plates shifting again and again, the ripped strands dancing with each movement.

“Buck?”

You’re standing behind the screen door, arms crossed over your chest against the cold, blinking sleepily. It takes only seconds for you to read him, to push the creaking door open and swallow back the chills. He wants to tell you to go back inside, to crawl back into bed. The night is dark and cold, you’ll catch your death-

“Bucky, are you okay?”

He can only nod, wishing like a fool that you’ll accept it, press a kiss to his head and go back inside to Steve. He’ll keep you warm. Bucky has few memories left of warmth. He is ice and his moniker, stuck in winter’s merciless grip. He should have been more careful, should have kept moving. Bucharest made him lose his touch.

“I can see you thinking.” Your voice is gentle, a breath against his shoulder when you sit down and lean up against him. “And you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but please… come inside. It’s cold out here.”

It’s not funny, but he can’t help the little huff of laughter that spills across his lips. What’s one more icy embrace? Sometimes, you and Steve let him be, allow him the solitude he needs to work through the slumps that sometimes catches him off guard. It’s a strange relationship, interconnected circles, like planets in orbit that only align every so often. You each need space from time to time, need the space to walk alone, but you all relish the intimacy, the safety and love that floods at points of contact. Bucky still feels like he is drifting more than you and Steve, that he his about to break away and it scares him. He doesn’t want to lose Steve again, doesn’t want to let go of what the three of you have built.

“I was falling,” he begins, voice rough and deep. “I-I haven’t- I couldn’t look away. I could feel my grip- Steve’s face, he was- I wake up every time and my ears buzz and my face hurts. From the wind.”

The plates in his hands click with the stretch of his fingers, arcing through them to form a fist, “I can still feel the iron bar I held on to. Of all the goddamn things that didn’t- didn’t get lost, this had to be one of ‘em.”

You stay quiet next to him, letting your warmth seep into him. He feels unworthy of it.

“I don’t…” Bucky hesitates, weighing the words, wets his lips. “I think I wished it would be quick. That it would be over quick and that Steve… could go home. That whatever happened after better end with him getting home.”

“He did,” you affirm, kissing his now warm shoulder. “You both did. Took a while, but you did.”

“Not all of me. My arm's somewhere in the fuckin’ alps and parts of… of me are just… erased. Wasn’t exactly what I’d planned for my life.”

“So what did you have planned?”

Bucky lets out a long breath. “Can’t remember. But it sure as hell wasn’t that. Stevie and I, we could never have lived- We couldn’t’ve grown old together like we’d wanted to if we’d both gotten home. I’d’ve told him to marry Carter. I’d’ve lied through my teeth and coached him through a proposal and I’d’ve smiled until it hurt at their wedding and made a toast and waxed poetic about a love more epic than anythin’ we’d read about the Greek myths and I’d’ve lived on the fact that he was happy until they put me in the ground and no one were the wiser.”

The words tumble from him, pours out of a heart and soul so long forced into dormancy. They hurt in their own way because it’s a life he was denied, even if it would have been a special kind of pain to live through life knowing he’d never be able to have then what he has now. It makes a realization surge through him, crystalline and sharp, that he doesn’t want to lose it now, and panic follows, asking how he thinks he can stop it from happening.

“Greek myths, huh?” you muse, scooting a little forward to be able to look up at the heavens.

It’s a house in the middle of nowhere, and the skies are dotted with stars, far more visible than anything he’d hope to see in New York. At his nod, your eyes search for a moment, flitting back and forth, your index finger absentmindedly tracing shapes and following a path only you know.

“There.” You point, and Bucky’s not sure what cluster of stars to fixate on. “Can you see Cassiopeia, sitting on her throne?”

He strains his eyes, searches the sky, his memory. A queen on her throne, shaped…

“The W.”

“Mmhmm… Next to her is Cepheus, arms spread wide and praying for his daughter’s life. And underneath him, can you see it?”

Bucky cocks his head, following the outline of the ancient king. “The cross?”

“Some call it the Northern Cross. Others call it Cygnus,” you tell him, lowering your hand but keeping your gaze on the formation.

“The swan.”

“Phaeton was the son of the sun god Helios. His friends would mock him, denying his heritage, so he went to his father, asking for a chance to prove that he was a son of Helios.” Your voice sounds dreamy, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. “So Helios finally allowed his son to ride his father’s chariot for a day. But Phaeton wasn’t strong enough to tame the horses pulling the chariot, and in order to save humanity, Zeus struck it down with a lightning bolt. Phaeton fell into the river below. His lover, Cycnus, grieved him and spent days searching for his bones so he could give his love a proper burial. Finally, the gods took pity on him, turning him into a swan and lifting him to the heavens.”

Your voice trails off, settling into a silence that is meant to give Bucky time. Time is treacherous. Time creates space for thought and doubt.

“Who am I supposed to be in this story?” he asks, looking at you under his lashes.

You turn to him with a flourish, an unreadable expression on your face like you know something he doesn’t.

“Does it matter?”

“Shouldn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re telling me this? So I can… see myself in Phaeton?”

“Do you?”

Steve’s voice makes you both jump, and you nearly end up in Bucky’s lap. He’s standing where you stood only a little while ago, leaning up against the door jamb with his arms crossed over his chest. It makes Bucky flounder, arguments and counterarguments forming and failing faster than he can speak.

“See, I don’t. Phaeton had something to prove. Running headfirst into something that is too big for him,” Steve continues with an easy smile, slipping through the door, joining you on the porch.

“But he fell.” Bucky’s voice is failing, he swallows around his memories of the dream, grips at the analogies.

Sadness colours Steve’s features, his head falling down to his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, he did. And so did I. We’re not a perfect simile. You're Phaeton and Cycnus as much as I am Phaeton and Cycnus.”

He pulls Bucky in for a kiss, resting their foreheads together while you stay still between them. “I didn't search for you, Buck. I didn't search and it haunts me to this day. I should have.”

“I don't blame you,” Bucky soothes him, feeling his stomach twist at the thought of Steve carrying this around for all these years. “Never did. Never will.”

“So maybe both of you get saved in the end? Both of you lifted to the heavens?” you murmur, arms snaking up around their necks.

“Only because you pulled us up there.”

You give Steve a playful shove, shivering as a gust of cool air finds its way past the two supersoldiers’ bodies. “Martyrs, the pair of you. Can we please go back to bed now? Relief team isn't picking us up until 0900 and I'm not gonna catch a cold.”

With a snicker, Steve gets up. He's still warm, the serum surging through his veins. Ambrosia from the gods, Bucky thinks. You follow, drifting to Steve's side, but halts when you don't hear Bucky's steps following.

“Bucky? Please… come to bed.”

“I will,” he promises, a small smile to reassure them as much as himself. “Just… in a minute. Promise.”

You look like you want to say something, your lips pursing just a touch. Bucky has seen it before, knows it as a precursor to your final attempt at swaying him. It's so endearing, so sweet and his heart aches for it. Steve pulls at your arm, sensing Bucky a smile that speaks of trust. It echoes in his heart, the image of a smaller Steve, of Sunday mornings and gentle touches that would never belong to anyone else.

He's left alone, no cajoling, just an exhale and the sound of the screendoor and the click of the one behind it. Turning his gaze back to the sky, he finds the swan again, imagines its form fleshed out. Wide wings stretched out in flight, long neck held high. He thinks about the story again, plays it over and over, and though Phaeton is dark and brooding, a mirror image of a golden-haired Cycnus at the start, the men morph into some indistinguishable combination. A slight boy with brown hair and too much to prove. A young man with one arm and a shield on his back scouring the river. Gentle arms cradling his despair, wrapping it in down and giving it wings.

Maybe you and Steve are right. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it's not a perfect simile. But it's enough to make him want to hold on. A gust of wind sweeps in, finally penetrating his defenses and making him shiver. His left shoulder aches dully, and he rolls it, massages the scar tissue when he gets up. Quietly, he pads back in, sheds his tac pants, stands bathing in the dimmed light of the bedroom windows. There is a place for him, a space to fit into, right between you and Steve. Bucky is careful when he crawls in between you, trying to jostle you as little as possible. Arms wrap around him, a nose is pressed between his shoulder blades. He lets out a breath, allows his himself to relax, to accept, to take his place in his own little constellation.

@loup-malin, @brookebarnes, @erisjadeficandficrecblog, @hispeculiartreasure, @bakexprayxlove, @whatisaheroanyway, @callamint, @mrshopkirk, @bitsandbobsandstuff, @hellomissmabel, @jurassicbarnes, @sgtbxckybxrnes, @ceebeetumbles, @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel, @lenia1d, @sebastiansexyseabasstan, @basicallyericharris, @thatgirlsar, @allofthishullabaloo, @amrita31199, @netflixa, @rockintensse, @marvelrevival, @writemarvelousthings, @gallifreyansass, @valhalla-ally, @shy2shot, @engineeringgirlcve, @hellstempermentalangel, @whyisbuckyso, @melconnor2007, @snuggleducky, @impalaimages, @superwholocknda, @shifutheshihtzu, @hennessy0274-blog, @kanupps06, @delicatecapnerd, @beccaanne814, @palaiasaurus64, @thisismysecrethappyplace

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[itsclydebitches]

Drabble Prompt: Ruby makes some hot cocoa for Ozpin/Oscar when she finds them awake one night. (post V6E4 was what I had in mind)

I’m being unfair and skipping ahead in my prompts because 1. I need this and 2. I promised @ninjanaomi hot cocoa yesterday and then didn’t deliver. Feel free to spray me with virtual water bottles

Spoilers for RWBY Vol 6 Episode 4 

They say that the hunter never sleeps. The same can be said of the huntress.

Ruby had her hand on the edge of Crescent Rose before her mind registered what had woken her in the first place: the soft crunch of snow, muffled through decaying wood, and a silhouette passing by the window beside her. She’d expected that they would all sleep together in the living room when Yang found the old beds infested with bugs, something like their very first night at Beacon… It had hurt Ruby more than she could say when everyone still separated, hardly speaking as they settled in for the night. Now she had the little family room all to herself and was the only one there to notice that someone was still out in the snow.

Ruby left her weapon behind. Foolish, maybe. Probably. But something told her not to go into this conversation armed.

“Hey.”

Oscar wasn’t a hunter though, not yet, and his whole body jerked when Ruby’s voice broke the silence. She hadn’t even realized how she’d been moving: picking up on how the farmhouse door had squeaked earlier and making sure to open it slowly; walking toe-first through the snow to minimize the sound of her boots; keeping to where the shadows were long enough to hide her. Those instincts broke when Oscar raised arms protectively over his head and flinched backwards against a fencepost. Ruby kept still until his eyes opened again.

“Ruby.” Even in the dark she could see how far his shoulders fell in realization; the fear rushing right out of him.

Actually, it wasn’t very dark at all. The snow had picked up after their arrival and the pristine blanket reflected the moon, providing a surprising amount of light once Ruby’s eyes adjusted. She could see now how hard Oscar was shaking and felt something hot settling in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby squeaked. She held up her hands, now doubly glad she hadn’t taken Crescent Rose with her. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just saw—thought—what are you doing out here?”

Blinking, Oscar surveyed the odd pile at his feet. Ruby could make out sticks of various lengths, leaves, a few bits of trash that must have been lying around for years. Once he’d looked down it seemed like Oscar didn’t know how to look back up again.

“Clearing debris,” he said, voice hollow. “You… you’ve gotta keep the fields clean for when spring comes. Clear the tree lines too. Otherwise stuff might get caught in your equipment later, you know? We’d be doing that back home now. No. Wait. I’d be doing…” Oscar trailed off. He pressed a hand to the side of his head like saying anymore physically hurt him.

Ruby had realized as a kid that things were a lot easier at night. She might chaff at being the “baby” of the family during daylight hours, but had no qualms about crawling into Dad’s bed once the sun went down. All her secret talks with Yang took place between 2:00 and 4:00am. She could often admit things more easily too—whispering them to the ceiling where they stayed until she was finally ready to speak them in the morning. 

Nighttime had more possibility to it. There was a whole mess of things to work through come tomorrow, but right then none of it seemed to matter when it was just her, Oscar, and the snow.

…and Ozpin.

Ruby opened her mouth to ask how long he’d been out here, noticed the size of the pile (like a bird’s nest, she thought) and closed it. Instead, Ruby gently took Oscar by the arm and tried not to hiss at how cold he was.

“Okay,” she whispered. “C’mon. Just… follow me.”

He did and the part of Ruby still churning over questions of faith and trust and responsibility loosened a little when he did. She kept a tight hold on Oscar’s wrist as they picked their way back to the farmhouse and halfway there his other hand rose up to grasp at the edge of her cloak. They slipped inside like that, silent and tethered.

Ruby didn’t actually believe that the rest of the group was sleeping soundly, but it made her all the more focused on making sure no one came out to check on them. Qrow had taken up position at the very back of the house—facing the direction they hadn’t cleared of grimm and strangers yet—and Maria had closed the door to the one guest room downstairs. Yang, Weiss, and Blake had all gone up to the second floor to carve out their own spaces. In retrospect, Ruby didn’t know where Oscar had planned to sleep. Or if he intended to sleep at all.

She snuck them into the kitchen.

“Sit,” she said, all but dragging him onto one of the rickety chairs. It wasn’t like the house had heat anymore, but the wood and stone did a decent job of keeping out the wind and seven bodies scattered throughout had helped to add a bit of warmth over the course of several hours. After a moment’s hesitation Ruby re-lit the fireplace they’d stocked, deciding that Oscar’s blue lips were more important than a potential interruption. After another pause she pulled off her cloak and draped it over his shoulders.

It was only then she realized he was still holding onto it. Now he let go.

“I can’t take—”

“You should really—”

They both stopped, waiting for the other to continue and unwilling to do the same. Eventually, Ruby’s lips twitched and Oscar mirrored her. 

“You’re cold,” she said only, hopping up onto the table. It was a massive wood structure that had her looking down on Oscar just a bit, giving Ruby space to swing her legs and get the blood going. The smell of the fire burning dust filled her nose and a bit of the chill seeped out of her hands. Oscar tugged her cloak closer and buried his face in the folds.

Ruby stopped swinging. “He wasn’t right you know.”

A slight tilt of his head was the only evidence of confusion.

“Uncle Qrow, I mean.”

Oh, that was a sound. Ruby didn’t quite know what to call it—something like a scoff mixed in with a cold laugh—but it set her teeth on edge and gave her the sudden urge to shake Oscar until he promised to never, ever make a sound like that again. She settled for leaning down into his space. “He’s not, Oscar. I love Uncle Qrow but he’s not always right. You’re your own person and I—”

“Don’t lie.” Oscar’s head whipped up so fast that he nearly bludgeoned Ruby’s nose. He didn’t seem to notice though. There were tears welling up in his eyes and a tremble in his lips that ran all the way up into his cheeks. “I’m not me anymore, Ruby. Why don’t you get that? It doesn’t matter if he’s gone right now because he’ll come back and when he does we’ll merge or whatever and then I won’t be—” Oscar suddenly stopped, staring down at his hands, bawling them into fists before shoving them beneath her cloak. “I’m going to change, okay? I’ll change and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“So what?”

It slipped out fast, but as soon as she heard the words Ruby knew she meant them. She glared hard down at Oscar, voice rolling out in a tight whisper only because the rest of the house was still quiet. Ruby had no qualms about waving her arms though and Oscar reared back with a wide-eyed look that erased the bitter expression he’d had before.

Good.

“What? You think you’re just gonna stay this Oscar for ever and ever?” Ruby waved her arms harder when that shock turned to confusion. “I’ve changed. Of course I have! I went to Beacon and became a leader and fought the White Fang and watched my friends die.” Her throat caught on the last word but she didn’t slow down, scooting until her legs were pressed against Oscar’s shoulder and the two of them were smooshed together in a weird little bundle of limbs and cloth. “Everyone changes. That’s a good thing. Even if… even if the things that caused the change aren’t good themselves. Wait. That doesn’t make sense. Did it? Look. My point is that old Ruby was terrified to even talk to anyone other than Yang. She’d never have changed if given the chance, but then life made her and now I’m me.” Ruby gestured at all of her, hands finally beginning to still. “I like who I am now, Oscar. I don’t like some of the stuff that made me this way, but I also wouldn’t want to go back to being that old Ruby. It’s weird. But everything’s weird right now! So yeah, of course you’re going to change. You would have changed anyway. It’s just... now you get to change with him.”

Ruby wasn’t sure how Oscar would receive that last part, but if the way he drew his own hands close to his chest was any indication, maybe the thought wasn’t all bad. 

“And you know what? No matter how you change, I know I’ll like that future Oscar. Okay? I promise.” 

Ruby saw the movement of his throat and hastily looked away just as he pressed palms up against his eyes. For a long minute there was nothing but the fire and muffled sobs. 

“Do you think he can hear us?” Ruby asked the wall. She only dared voice it after the sniffling had subsided. “Even locked up like that?”

“I... I don’t know. Why?”

“Because I think Ozpin needed to hear that too.”

Slipping from the table, Ruby gestured for Oscar to stay put and used her semblance to fly silently up the stairs and through the door she’d seen Yang choose. Her sister was asleep, a minor miracle given all they’d been through today, and Ruby was able to rummage through her luggage unnoticed.

She only stole a small piece. And if Yang asked about it, Ruby would say it had been for herself.

Another lie, but… Yang wasn’t ready to hear the small truths yet. Like how sometimes even the people she was furious with needed comfort too.

So Ruby took a piece of the chocolate Yang had bought at the station and flew back down to the kitchen. Oscar watched her, eyes red and puffy, as she located a brittle mug and the fresh water Weiss had boiled earlier that night. The fire had finally warmed them and Ruby used the now glowing wood to heat the water again, dropping the chocolate in piece by tiny piece. She hadn’t been able to find a spoon, so she used her finger to stir it all together. It hurt a little, but that was okay.

“Here,” Ruby said, shoving the makeshift hot chocolate at Oscar. “It’s probably gonna taste a little weird, but,” she shrugged.

Oscar reached for the treat with careful, reverent hands. “We don’t have a lot of supplies,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“So why?”

Ruby settled back onto the table, this time pulling the edge of her cloak over her legs like a blanket. Her right arm moved to drape itself over Oscar’s shoulder.

“Because you two look weird without a mug in your hands,” she said, squeezing him tight.

He smiled—a small one—and took the first sip.

When he did, Ruby thought she caught the slightest flicker of gold in the back of his eyes.

[justjessame]

The Deal Chapter 3

Waking up in Daryl’s arms made the rest of the shitstorm of our day almost worth it. Almost because that was the day we all nearly REALLY died. We should have LISTENED to Dr. Jenner when he said the doors wouldn’t reopen. We should have listened to the tiny little voice in all our heads screaming that this was too easy, too safe, too good to be true. We didn’t, which is how we all nearly blew the hell up.

Thank God Dad had that fucking grenade. Thank God that Daryl can scare damn near anyone into opening most things up. And thank God that I wasn’t as stupid as Jacqui and Andrea. I think Dale’s made a horrible mistake saving Andrea. She wanted to die? Then let her. I don’t care what he sees in her. I see a problem that’s going to bite us all in the ass sooner or later.

After Dr. Jenner did a little audio visual of the virus that creates walkers, he basically tossed out the fact that the entire building was set to self destruct. The asshole did warn us not to come in, but still, my baby brother and Sofia shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of fucking fear. Wasn’t the fear of dying by a walker bad enough? Now they wouldn’t trust anyone. Asshole. Luckily we made it. With one that didn’t want to live, and a shit ton of us that did.

Daryl decided to ditch the truck, so it was the choice between curling my body tight against his on the bike, or the RV with whiny Andrea and Shane. Difficult choices. Riding away from the wreckage of the CDC, I clutched at Daryl’s hard abdomen and felt him twitch under my touch. “Does this bother you?” I asked in loud enough for him to hear me. My fingers tightened against him and I felt him inhale deeply. “Should I stop?”

“Only if you don’t want me to wreck us.” He laughed back at me. “Feels amazin’, Jess, but dying before we get to experience the entire thing might suck.”

I grinned into the wings on his vest. “I love you, Daryl Dixon.” I shouted, not caring if anyone heard, because we survived and had another day together.

“I love ya, too, baby girl.” He said back, weaving through the roads as we headed for whatever we’d come to next.

HOURS LATER~ CAR CLOGGED FREEWAY

What we came to next was a clogged highway with too many cars and not enough space for the RV to find a path. Daryl and I scouted ahead, must to my dad’s worry, but finding that we could move further was at least worth it.

We came back to relay the information and the decision was made to raid the cars for supplies before moving them out of the way. Of course a horde of the creepy crawlies found us. Carl, being sensible for his age, stayed put under the car Lori hid him under. Sofia, didn’t. Well, shit.

T-Dog had a horrible cut. Daryl was pissed off at the entire situation, and now Dad had run off to find Sofia. Daryl looked at me and I rushed to his side. “Should I go after them?” He whispered when I got close.

I shook my head. “No, Dad will come ask if he can’t find her.” I was sure of it. He’d been right behind her, so he should have found her and be out in minutes. The time ticked by and I was growing worried. I was about to tell Daryl that we should go in, when Dad came out-alone.

“Daryl?” He asked, and Daryl walked to him. I followed. “No, honey, not you.” I started to protest, but Daryl agreed. Well what the hell? “I need Daryl to track her. You need to stay here and keep everyone calm.” What about Shane, I thought.

“OK, Dad.” I looked at Daryl and wanted so badly to grab him and kiss him. And make him promise to stay safe and keep my dad safe. Instead I touched his hand. He nodded at me. “Stay safe.” It was a blanket statement, for the two of them. And then they disappeared back into the forest.

Carol was understandably upset, and Lori and Shane were tiptoeing around one another. I worked to keep everyone calm, and keep an eye on Carl. He was adamant that he should have a weapon, and I agreed with him. Just not on the type of weapon he wanted. He wasn’t ready for a gun, I told him, not yet. Why not find something stabby? And he nearly got eaten to find one. Then Lori and Shane argued about whether he could keep one or not. For fuck’s sake.

A full night and no Sofia. Dad and Daryl returned, Daryl checking on Carol in the RV and trying to maintain some kind of certainty in the uncertainty. I’d found a spacious minivan and when I tucked the seats down, I had a pretty decent bed. I grabbed my sleeping bag from the Jeep Dad was driving and made a nice little bed. I figured Daryl would keep his distance, since Dad and Lori were sleeping nearby, but he surprised me, tapping on the window as I was looking at the stars through the open sunroof. I smiled and opened the hatchback.

“Thought I’d join ya for a bit.” He whispered, crawling inside and over top of me. “Feels like forever since I’ve kissed ya.” His lips met mine and I sighed in agreement.

Soon the van was steamed up, even with the opening in the roof. I was clutching at his back, his mouth hungry against mine. God in heaven, if I died like that, I would have died happy. He pulled back, too soon for my liking, and smiled down at me. Even sweaty and dirty from the road and the swamp, he was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen.

“Ya don’t honestly think our first go is gonna be in a minivan, do ya?” He chuckled and rolled off of me to lay beside me. He pulled me against him, so he could hold me again. “Nah, girl, our first time’s gotta be memorable.”

I giggled. “Pretty sure every time will be memorable with you, Daryl.” My head was in the crook of his arm and I felt his lips on my forehead. “What do you have planned for our first time?” I asked, wanting a better version of a bedtime story.

He sighed and shifted so we were face to face. “Our first time should be under the stars.” He whispered, brushing my errant hair away from my face. “Cause they’re the only thing that can compare to how beautiful you are to me.” I smiled, who knew he had a poet’s heart? “So, somewhere with soft grass, even with this damn sleepin’ bag I want ya to have some cushion under ya. A cool breeze, because you’re skin and mine, together, feels like fire.” I nodded, swallowing at the picture he was painting for me. “And I want to see all of ya. Every tiny bit, and I want ya to see me. We’ll need a full moon for that.” I was drifting off as he continued. “We’re gonna need a long night, cause I don’t wanna have to stop for the sunrise.”

I woke up alone and groaned. I hated this nonsense. I heard the others talking outside, so I refolded my bag and tossed it back inside the Jeep. Stretching I felt his eyes on me. I looked up and sure enough, he was standing with Dad, but watching me like he would prey. I smiled and walked over to join them.

Dad kissed my temple almost absently, but included me in the planning. Everyone was searching today. Grid search, I asked, and he confirmed. OK, I thought, we’d all participated in one of those back home. Even Carl had, because Dad was absolutely certain every hand on deck meant every hand on deck. Once everyone had a part, me with Daryl thank God, we started off. T-Dog and Dale were staying back, to work on the RV and to keep an eye on things. Andrea, gun toting idiot, was giving Dale sass for saving her, sass for refusing her gun rights, and sass for everything that her life didn’t offer. I rolled my eyes.

Shane, Dad, and Carl were together and I was worried. That wasn’t a good idea. Not even close. When we heard the pealing of the bells, everyone’s hope grew. It wasn’t what we’d hoped for, the church held nothing but dead inside and an electronic timed bell outside. After we killed the dead and Daryl checked things out, Carol took a moment to get right with God, I thought about how my life could have been if the world hadn’t turned to shit.

Would I have met Daryl? Would our paths have ever crossed? I would have been attracted to him, of that I was certain. Every girl has a type, right? Well, he was definitely mine. I hadn’t dated much, remember I had to fight for summer camp, but when I had, there was a certain roughness to the guys I preferred. Men who weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty. Men who could hold their own anywhere, but also had a softer side. Sure, I was usually one of the few who could see that side, but knowing it was there was enough. So, Daryl would have been my type no matter what, but would we have met? I glanced up at Jesus on the cross and felt the most peace I’d felt for months. And that was my answer. Yes. We would have.

I met everyone outside as we waited for Carol. Shane, my dad, and Carl were going further on, but the rest of us were heading back to the vehicles and preparing for what comes next. Daryl and I rolled our eyes at Andrea’s bitchiness toward Lori having a gun when she didn’t, and I nearly high-fived my stepmom when she offered it to her and told everyone off for being irritable with Dad. I agreed with her, and dared Andrea to come at me.

“If you’d stop being so pissed about being alive,” I glared at the blonde, “you’d realize that you can totally die out here, all alone, and I’d happily leave your ass laying.” I offered, raising my bow as I felt Daryl’s hand on my arm.

She glared back at me and stomped off back in the direction we’d started from. Bitch. Lori looked at me like I was a stranger, but you know what? I didn’t care. We had enough trouble without a bitch with a death wish. Daryl and I kept the group moving and he tried to keep me calm. I was tired of it. Her attitude with Dale, her irritation with the rest of us. And why? Because she was useless in this world? Well, fuck you and toughen up. I kept going, eyes alert even if I was angry. I felt Lori come up beside me, but before she could say a word we heard the gunshot. Fear clutched my heart, a chill ran up my spin and I prayed that I wouldn’t lose one of my family members.

We waited a beat, before Daryl had us crossing a meadow, then a woman appeared on a horse with a baseball bat screaming Lori and my names. We looked up at her as Daryl held her in his sights on the crossbow. She was making little sense, but we heard Dad’s name and Carl’s then Lori climbed on the horse and I ran beside it. I glanced back at Daryl and I knew he understood. My family needed me. God, please don’t take them.

[paradoxically-deranged-poet]

Don’t Let Them In

Addiction took our mother slowly, rocked her through it and sung her to sleep sunk deep into the mattress on her bed. When her back teeth fell out, she left them on the side of the bathtub. I was seven, and I kept them in a matchbox, the missing pieces of her kept safe so that she wouldn’t be lost forever. So maybe one day we could put her back together. Our house fell around us, and we tried our best to raise ourselves. The ceilings had water damage, the bottom stairs had dry rot, and in the winters the radiators bled rust. But it was still our house, and Annie made it a home.

My sister Annie mothered me, with lopsided Band-Aids on bruised knees and lukewarm microwave meals. She told me ghost stories and didn’t mind when I crawled into her bed later on, too scared to sleep alone. She taught me to dance, barefoot on the living room carpet, music channel on full volume on the TV shaking our pre-adolescent hips. She always let me shower first so that I could enjoy the hot water, and never complained when she had to make do with the cold. She brushed my hair every day before school, even when I screamed and hit her when she caught the tangles. Annie was dark-haired like her father, whoever he had been, but I was blonde. Annie was desperate to be blonde too, like Marilyn Monroe. Like Mom. I think she thought it would make them closer, remind Mom less of her dad. I’d give anything for her to have her hands in my hair one more time, even if it hurt. She moved to New York when I turned eighteen and never came back. I still dream about her sometimes.

Keeping up with our mother was impossible, and we learned from a young age that we would always be left behind. It didn’t make it any easier. When she was drinking light, she was radiant and would wake us up at 3 am with pancakes dripping in cherry syrup. Sometimes when the weather was right, and she’d had enough being drunk alone, she would call our school up and tell them we had both come down with summer sickness, and we’d drive to the beach instead. I remember being nine years old in the backseat of the car coming home after one of our ocean days, sucking the salt from my fingers. Annie had just dyed her hair blonde, her best friend Jane helping her bend over our kitchen sink. From behind, I couldn’t tell who was the mother and who was the daughter, radio up and windows down, blowing the sky inside.

When she was drinking heavily, she’d be out all night, hair piled up like a beauty queen, eyes glazed over and ringed with glitter and black. Sometimes she’d be gone a day or two. She would never give us advance notice; one day we’d just wake up to an empty house, with the fridge packed full and a post-it note on its door, complete with a smear of Mom’s lipstick in the outline of a kiss, telling us she’d be back soon. Sometimes she’d bring guys home, filling the table with beer cans and ashtrays, smoke up to the ceiling, Mom lost in the haze. We’d sleep with pillows over our heads, trying to drown out the music they would blast all night, and wake up to strangers at our kitchen table in the morning, asking us where we kept the coffee.

When Mom drank too little, she fell apart. She wouldn’t buy food, and the refrigerator went bare. She’d chain smoke, leaving cigarette burns on the wallpaper up by the stairs like the walls were sick and decaying. She barely slept, walking around with blue half-moons under her eyes, knuckles raw. She would scream at the slightest thing. I remember once when I spilled a glass of juice on the couch. She looked over at me with dead eyes and dragged me off onto the carpet and then took every single cushion off the couch and into the back yard and set them on fire. Annie went to watch a while from the window and then sat next to me on the floor, backs pressed against the skeleton of the seats, head resting in the crater of my collar bones.

It was the worst when Mom drank too much. She’d laugh too loudly and too long, at anything and everything, until her mouth started to shake and she began to cry into her cereal at the breakfast table. Annie shut down when Mom was like this, going somewhere deep inside herself where no one could hurt her. She’d stay up until the morning watching old black and white movies on TV, whispering the lines she knew by heart like prayers. When I was five years old, I’d cry when I’d find Mom passed out on her bed, sure she would never wake up. Annie would wipe my tears and tell me she was only sleeping, like the princesses in my storybook. We’d sit on Mom’s bed together and wait for her to wake up. When we were older, I was the one who would pick Mom up off the bathroom floor again and again, and Annie would put her to bed, smoothing her hair off her face, wiping the vomit from her mouth, and changing her clothes if she’d pissed herself. Watching them then, there was no doubt that Annie was the mother now.

It was October, and I was thirteen, Annie sixteen. It was a Wednesday night and Mom had been gone for two days. She’d called us that morning from a payphone, voice slurring, telling us she was having the best time with all her new friends, and that she hoped we were doing fine. When she asked me if I was having a good birthday, I hung up on her. My birthday had been the day before. Annie had given me a pile of presents, strawberry lip gloss and glittery nail polishes. I didn’t ask where she’d gotten the money for them. I didn’t care. We’d taken the bus to the beach with Jane and ate the birthday cake she had made for me, sand getting into the frosting. It tasted like sweetness and the sea, and I savored every bite and scrape of sugar against my teeth. We watched the sun go down, Annie snapping grainy photos on her Nokia as I blew out my candles, wishing over and over that Mom wouldn’t come home, that she’d stay gone this time.

But that Wednesday night, Annie and I weren’t speaking. Anger hung heavy between us, seeping through the floorboards. It began when she tripped at the bottom of the stairs. We’d both laughed, Annie throwing her head back, the gap between her front teeth catching the light. When I’d bent to pick her up, I felt her breath, warm against the freckles on my cheeks. I let go of her arms, and she fell again, hitting the floor and grinning, shaking her hair from her face. Her breath was heavy with whiskey. I couldn’t start picking her up too, couldn’t watch her fall again and again. Just like Mom, I knew she’d never get back up.

I’d stared down at her, blonde hair hanging over her eyes, and all I could see was our mother. Then I was running, feet slamming the hallway like heartbeats turned loose. I’d run for the kitchen and tipped every bottle we had down the sink, shoving Annie back as she fought to stop me, catching liquor on her fingers as it fell. She grabbed my shoulders and made me drop the very last bottle. It smashed between us on the floor, glass shards shining like we’d dragged the stars out of the sky and broken them, like pieces we could never put back. Outside through the open windows, the sky turned pale gold, the clouds a mess of pink and cream smeared across the horizon. I cried then, watching my sister on her knees picking up the pieces. That was Annie, always trying to fix things even when it was too late.

The smell of food dragged me from my room, my stomach turning traitor inside my rib cage. Annie was cooking pasta, real food not made in a microwave. She’d set the table, Tammy Wynette singing softly from the CD player, Annie gently swaying her hips as she stirred the tomato sauce, rich and warm. As we ate in silence, I forgave her more with every bite. Mom never cooked dinner, never remembered my favorite had been spaghetti since I was a kid, and never stayed sober long enough to sit up at a table. Annie wasn’t Mom.

We were washing the dishes when we first heard it. A moth was crawling down the inside of the pane, and I cracked the window to let it out into the dark. From the backyard came a faint sound. I tilted my head to listen as it was coming from far off. Crying. I figured it was Mika, the two-year-old next door, having a tantrum loud enough for us to catch, or maybe even Lucky Strike, the cat that belonged to the junkies down the street, begging for food like he sometimes did. I always wanted to feed him when he came around, winding over my ankles, but Annie always stopped me, saying once you started giving they never stopped taking. Looking back, I don’t think she was talking about the cat.

Annie flipped the Christmas lights strung up around the porch, and we sat on the plastic beach chairs watching the skies. When we were little, we’d sit outside, and Annie would tell me the names of all the constellations and the stories of how they came to be hung up in the night sky. I had to grow up before I realized she made them all up as she went along. It was a game we still liked to play now, making up ridiculous stories for the shapes we could pick out.

“Ah, yes, that one there is the Coors Light. It got there when God dropped it out of his convertible window and never picked it up,” she said, nodding sagely and hiding her smile.

“Of course,” I said, waving my hands and pointing up past the power lines. “Right next to The Ashtray, left there by angels on a smoke break.” “Yeah, they say if you wish on it, all your dreams will come true,” said Annie with a grin.

Then she stopped laughing, and her voice grew quiet, face tilted up to all those dead stars.

“Let’s wish, Emmy. Let’s wish.” So we did.

The sound of wailing interrupted us. It was closer this time, and definitely human. We turned to one another in confusion. Annie shrugged, and I squinted into the black. It sounded like a baby, lost, tired and alone.

“It must be Mika?” I said, slowly getting to my feet. “Maybe he walked around the back? Do you want to call Connie and tell her we’ll bring him over?” Annie didn’t reply. I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Okay, I guess I’ll do everything then.”

I stepped off the porch, grass soft against my heels. The air smelled like it might rain, fresh and clean and growing. A promise unfulfilled.

“Em.” Annie’s voice was strained. I turned to her with a smile. It died on my face when I saw the look on her own. “Em, get inside now.”

She was staring out into the dark, past me, and opening the door with one hand behind her, fingers fumbling on the latch. I froze, barefoot in the dirt. I’d glimpsed what she was looking at.

In the bushes by the back fence, someone was crouching with their knees tucked up neatly under his chin, and his arms wrapped around his legs. His mouth was agape, softly opening and closing as he cried. Like a child, lost in the dark. No – not like a child. More like someone pretending, mimicking the sound under cover of darkness. Suddenly they straightened their back, snapping upright, face still obscured by shadow. They were tall and slim, extraordinarily thin by human standards.

Panic made me move, carried forward by animal instincts leftover from a time when people still lived in nature. I was faster than Annie, dragging her inside and slamming the door behind us, hearing it bounce on its hinges as I locked it. We watched as the person slowly approached the house with long, deliberate strides.

Annie reached for my hand, holding me tight, and turned me to face her, holding my shoulders.

“Don’t turn around, Emmy. Don’t turn around.” Instinctively I started to look over my shoulder into the gloom. Annie grabbed my face hard and shook her head. I knew then she was serious.

“I’m…” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, gripping my hand tight enough to hurt, nails digging in, grounding herself. I looked down at our interlocked fingers, both of us born of the same bones.

“I’m going to call the cops, and everything is going to be…” Her voice faltered, stuttering. Tears spilled over her lashes. Annie never cried.

“Your phone’s on the porch,” she whispered, and bile crawled its way up my throat. Her phone was upstairs, charging.

A soft, tap-tap-tapping filled the silence. Annie turned wide-eyed to the window.

It was the sound of someone’s forehead slowly and repeatedly bumping against the glass. Then the blows accelerated, gaining in both speed and strength, skin meeting glass until they were slamming into the window hard enough to shake the panes.

A moment later the tapping stopped, and I was about to ask Annie if I could look now, when she screamed, followed by the sound of cracking glass and a tremendous crash. Whoever was in our yard had just smashed their face hard enough into the window to shatter it.

We ran up the stairs two steps at a time, skipping the rotted ones out of habit. I turned to look behind me once, and Annie yanked my face back before I could see. The sound of glass breaking echoed behind us as we made it to the bathroom and locked the door. A weak, mewling cry, like that of an infant calling for its mother, filled the hallway, trapped between the walls and entryways.

Annie threw her back against the door, feet jammed up against the bathtub, clutching a knife she had grabbed from the kitchen. I joined her, shoulder to shoulder, and did the same. Slow footsteps started on the stairs, calculated and casual. The crying took on a mocking quality, resembling laughter, arriving in short, shrill bursts of sound followed by high-pitched giggling, and then silence, only to start again a moment later. The first door on the upstairs floor was my bedroom, and we heard the distinct sound of it slamming open.

They were looking for us.

“What the fuck is going on?” I asked Annie, not even bothering to brush away the tears that I couldn’t keep from falling. I watched my sister pick herself up off the floor and brace her hands on the door as we heard the sound of a second door slamming open. Mom’s room. The next room on the hallway was the bathroom. Annie pulled me to my feet and handed me the knife. I shook my head and pushed it back to her, terrified of what would happen if I had to use it. Annie shoved me and pressed the knife into my hands, thumb pressing hard enough along the edge to draw blood. I watched a winding road of crimson rivulets cascading down her wrist. In spite of the pain, Annie continued pushing the blade into my hands. Finally, I took it from her.

Something slammed against the wall that Mom’s room shared with the bathroom. A high-pitched howl followed. I held my breath and felt my heart beating frantically in the base of my throat.

“I’m gonna get the phone from my room,” my sister said. I shook my head dramatically in protest. Before I could say a word, Annie clamped a hand over my mouth. I could taste the blood on her hand, salty and sweet. Like birthday cake by the ocean. “Yes. I’m gonna get the phone, and I’m going to call the cops. We’re going to be okay.”

I shook my head again.

“It’s the only way,” Annie insisted. “When I go, I need you to lock the door, and I don’t want you to open it for anything or anyone. Not for me, not for… anyone. Promise me.”

I shook my head, and Annie pressed her hand against my mouth, pushing my teeth against my lips so forcefully it made my eyes water. “Promise me, Em!”

Something smashed in the room next door. Annie brushed the hair from my face and gently tucked it behind my ear. “Promise,” she mouthed, and unlocked the door as slowly as possible, the bolt scraping gently. I watched the curve of her shoulder disappear into the darkened hall, like the moon in eclipse. And then she was gone. I couldn’t move or breathe for a second, and then I slammed the bolt shut just as something bounced off the outside of the door. A high-pitched scream ensued, followed by the handle rattling up and down hard enough to pop a screw loose. I watched it roll toward me on the tiles. And then everything went still.

I sat with my back to the door, holding the knife and wishing I was holding Annie’s hand instead. The silence continued. For a moment, the only sound was that of my breath slowly filling the room.

A voice broke the illusion of solitude.

“Em?” a familiar voice came through the door. Startled, I gripped the knife even more firmly than before. “Honey, what’s going on?”

“Mom?” my voice cracked. “Momma, is that you?” I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from shaking.

“Sweetie, it’s okay, just open the door. It’s okay, just let me in.” The handle rattled again, gentler this time. “Just let me in, it’s all okay.” She banged impatiently on the door, and I took my handle of the bolt.

“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I missed your birthday. I’m sorry I’m such a terrible mother. Please!” her voice broke, and she started to cry. “Just let me in, baby. I’m so sorry.”

I screwed my eyes shut. She sounded so sad and so lost. I just wanted her to hold me as like she did when I was a kid, when I’d come in with a scraped knee after falling off the swings. Maybe this time she meant it. Perhaps it would all be okay. My hand found its way to the bolt again.

My sister’s voice came through the door, warm and gentle. “Yeah, Emilie, let us in. It’s all okay.”

My hand froze on the bolt, and I tightened my grip on my weapon. Annie never called me by my full name. A hand banged on the door, handle rattling. “Emilie, let us in!” Annie’s voice became low and guttural, followed by the same shrill giggles from before. Mom spoke now, pleading and crying, her voice growing louder and louder. “Let us in! Let us in! Let us in!” she shouted over and over again, punctuated by her fists on the door. I thought about bedtime stories, and all the demons and monsters we pray never crawl out from under our beds.

“That’s not my sister, and you’re not my mother!” I screamed through the door, hands over my head. I climbed into the bathtub, curled into the fetal position, and clutched the knife to my chest. I didn’t know what it was outside that door, but I knew it wasn’t Annie. It wasn’t the voice that scolded me whenever I changed the TV channel, the one that sang me happy birthday, the one that told me I was smart even when I got bad grades, the one that read me stories about princesses that never wake up. It wasn’t human.

Bangs and yells came from downstairs, followed by the footsteps of people running. A low, guttural howl ripped through the house, filling the room until I felt like I was drowning in the sound, and then the door was kicked in. I screamed, covered my eyes, and waited to die.

A moment later arms found me, lifted me from the tub, and carried me from the room. I looked at the outside of the door as I was taken downstairs. Its exterior was covered in long, scraping claw marks, stretching to the floor. I found the hallway covered in the soft, downy remains of torn-up pillows, making it appear as if it had snowed indoors. I watched the tiny feathers drift slowly as men in uniforms checked each of the rooms that looked like they had been ripped apart by something feral.

Outside, police cars and an ambulance waited in our driveway, and there, in the middle of it all, was Annie, bathed in blue and red light and glowing in the dark like a neon angel. I threw myself from the officer’s shoulders and ran to her. Then I held us both together, broken pieces and all, standing under all those constellations we’d concocted. Muffled screaming came from the ambulance, which rocked occasionally. Annie gently turned my head away, smiling so sadly it made my chest ache. I understood.

It turns out there was no demon. No wild animal or bad men were trying to break in. It was just Mom, out of her mind on booze, drugs, and everything in between, coming to the end of a week-long binge. Something had finally broken inside her head, and this time we couldn’t put her back together no matter how hard we tried. Sometimes you fall one last time, and then never get back up.

Annie had seen her rail-thin frame in the garden, blood dribbling from her mouth, track marks bulging on her forearms like unmapped roads, desperate for one more hit, one more fix. She’d searched the kitchen for all the alcohol I’d thrown away, and when she hadn’t found any, she went hunting for the stash hidden in the bathroom. She hadn’t wanted me, just the drugs on the other side of the door. She’d been so high she was able to mimic Annie’s voice nearly perfectly.

The real monsters are the ones that eat you alive slowly, the kind that comes in a bottle or a needle, or at the end of a long list of reasons why you can’t get out of bed in the morning. Sometimes the monsters are the ones that raise you or love you the most. But it’s up to you to let them in.