#apologies to everyone waiting on the next chapter of stereo souls

[wakebymoonsleepbysun]

Untitled Roxy x Reader fic (hurt/comfort)

EDIT: A more polished version is now up on ao3. If you're re-reading it or sending it to someone, then the ao3 version is preferred, but it's not changed enough that I would necessarily suggest re-reading it again if you weren't already going to. <3

For some reason, last night, I decided that it was imperative I write and release a Roxy x Reader oneshot before Ruin. (ETA: To be clear I mean I wrote this before Ruin released, therefore it contains NO SPOILERS. <3) It's an idea I've had for awhile and was going to do as a comic but decided to expand it and write it out instead. I may post a more polished version to ao3 at a later date.

Fun fact: Roxy was my first FNAF crush, before SB even came out. So Ruin will have many chances to break my heart.

Word count: ~3200

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When the Pizzaplex burned down, none of your colleagues had seemed particularly interested in returning to the ruins. You could understand…some of the techs arriving for the morning shift had been caught in the blaze, and while there were no casualties, there had been some injuries. Yourself included.

After a few weeks in the hospital, the burn mark across your face was just an angry red scar, and the singed hair you’d had to cut off had regrown enough for you to wear a slightly uneven pixie cut.

The other techs said you were crazy to want to go back. The future of Fazbear Inc was uncertain, and the animatronics themselves were just that. Animatronics. Machines. Not worth putting yourself in danger for.

But you’d come to consider Roxy a friend. Sometimes you thought she considered you one, too. She didn’t seem like she would readily admit such a thing even if it were true.

She had at least liked you as a tech, if not as a person. You were the only one who could do her pre-show checks and weekly maintenance without ruining her hair, at least according to her. According to the other techs, Roxanne’s hair was always fine.

You quickly learned that to Roxy, “fine” was equivalent to a reprehensible failure. A disaster. A complete horrific mess. 

You didn’t think your experience with costuming (specifically wigs) in your college’s theater club would ever be something you used after you graduated, but life is full of surprises.

You wander through the corridors of your ruined, burned out workplace, flashlight in hand. You have a few guesses as to where Roxy might be. You desperately hope she’s okay. The structure is mostly intact, but there are a few collapsed portions and fallen bits of decor. You think as long as Roxy had been able to avoid the worst of the heat, she’d be mostly alright.

You make your way to Rockstar Row, your workboots crunching on the debris as you walk.

As you approach Roxy’s room, you hear something that makes you freeze.

Crying.

For a moment you wonder if another tech, or perhaps some urban explorer or rubbernecker is in here with you. Then you recognize the voice behind the sobs.

Roxanne is crying? You’re more surprised than you probably should be. But you’d seen behind her mask a couple times. Behind the vanity, haughtiness, and borderline entitlement, you had occasionally glimpsed a profound insecurity. Beneath it all, you don’t think Roxy actually likes herself very much.

You swipe your badge on the door, and it actually dings and slides open. Or tries to. Something jams it halfway and you have to wedge yourself into the doorframe and push the door open the rest of the way.

Roxy, who had been sitting at her vanity, head in her hands, perks up. Her ears twitch as she glances around. “Who’s there?” she calls out.

You open your mouth to speak, only to leave it hanging open in surprise as you see how badly she’s damaged. So much of her exoskeleton is missing, exposing the endoskeleton underneath. Her hair is a tangled, singed mess and her tail isn’t much better. But most horrifying, her eyes are completely gone.

“Who’s there?!” Roxy repeats, a growl in her voice as she stands up and starts stalking towards you. You can hear the servos and joints in her body creak in protest as she moves.

“R-Roxy, it’s me!” you say before hastily blurting out your name.

She stops, her ears twitching and her claws grasping at the air. At first you think she’s baring her teeth at you, but you quickly realize her broken faceplate has put one side of her mouth in a permanent snarl.

She huffs, turning away. She skulks back to her vanity, plopping down in her chair and burning her broken face in her shattered hands. “What do you want?” she mutters.

You tense, taken aback. “Wh-What do you think I want, Roxy?” you ask incredulously, slowly moving towards her. “I-I wanted to know you were okay. I wanted to help you. I was…terrified you’d…been destroyed,” you say quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She pulls away with a growl. “I have been destroyed! Just--Just look at me!” The rage in her voice doesn’t fully mask her despair, nor does it completely hide her fear. Fear of what? Of what could have happened? Of how close she came to being permanently deactivated?

Her command was clearly rhetorical, for she lowers her head further, digging her claws into what remains of her scalp.

“Roxy…all this can be fixed…” you say gently.

“No it can’t!” she snaps. “I already checked. Parts and Services is a pile of rubble now.”

“Well…what about the loading docks? Maybe we can at least find some new eyes for you…”

She scoffs. “Oh good. Then I can see myself. Because feeling all this isn’t bad enough,” she sneers, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Roxy--”

“FINE!” she growls, pushing back from her vanity abruptly. If the chair weren’t screwed into the floor she surely would have toppled it over. “Fine. Let’s just go.”

You flinch nervously, nodding. Remembering her blindness, you quickly say, “Okay. Here,” you say gently putting a hand on her arm.

“Don’t touch me!” she snaps, though she sounds somewhat less defensive and a bit…nervous? Embarrassed? With a huff, she adds, “I’ll just follow your footsteps.”

You bite back a sigh. “Alright,” you say patiently.

You lead the way out of her green room towards the long stairway down to the loading docks. You’re not about to risk trying to take the elevator.

“Here, careful on the stairs,” you say, gently taking her arm again. This time she allows it, albeit with some reluctance as she gives you what probably would have been a withering look if her faceplate had been intact.

It’s a long way down and neither of you want to rush. The sound of your softer footfalls and her heavier ones as you both pick your way down the stairs echoes through the stairwell.

Thud. Clunk. Thud. Clunk. Thud. Clunk.

You watch her carefully. She seems too focused on making it down the stairs to be too sulky for the moment. Small blessings, you suppose. Still, the silence is only stretching out your descent.

“It sounds like one of your knees is out of alignment,” you say eventually.

“The left one,” she confirms a bit gruffly. “I can manage.”

“I can see that,” you say gently. “It took me awhile to notice something was even wrong. You carry yourself well,” you say, smiling a bit.

Roxy grunts in acknowledgement, but doesn’t preen even a little at the praise. That’s unusual for her…compliments usually cheer her up.

“Maybe I can find a new hinge while we’re--”

“Why are you doing this?” she cuts you off.

“W-What do you mean?” you ask, stopping in the middle of the flight of stairs.

“Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean,” she says. Before you can speak, she continues, “This whole place is finished. Nobody’s coming back to rebuild. What’s the point of you patching me up?”

“I told you, Roxy…I was worried…” you start as you resume your climb down the stairs.

“Why?”

“Because I care about you!” you say, exasperated as you reach the bottom of the stairs. You keep your hand on her arm as you make your way down the corridor, and she doesn’t protest.

She snorts. “You care about a pile of scrap?”

You wish she could see the glare you give her at that. “You are NOT a pile of scrap! You’re just a little scuffed.”

“More than a little,” she huffs.

You sigh. “Okay, maybe a little more than a little,” you admit. You force a smile. “But hey…I’m the perfect tech, remember? If anyone can get you fixed up, it’s me, isn’t it?”

You weren’t normally any kind of braggart. Roxy had been the only one to ever call you the perfect tech, though you feel like that was almost more a point of pride for herself rather than for you. As if she were praising herself for being deserving of the best tech more than she’s praising you for being the best tech. But you still liked hearing it…and sometimes it really did seem like she was directing the praise at you.

Roxy turns her head towards you, her ears swiveling forward. It’s hard to read her expression with her broken faceplate, but eventually one side of her mouth ticks up into a small smile. “...Yeah…” she admits softly.

You squeeze her arm gently, careful to not touch any of the sharper broken off bits.

Once you get to the loading dock, you guide her to sit down on a crate while you look through some of the recent part shipments.

The fire had somehow spared much of this place, but the collapse of P & S had rippled partially through the area and several patches of ceiling had fallen, knocking over piles of crates and leaving the whole place in disarray.

Eventually you find a crate that has the P & S stamp on the wooden slats, and figure that’s a promising place to start. You grab a crowbar and begin trying to pry it open in any way you can.

Roxy’s ears perk and she turns towards you. “What are you doing?”

“Trying--urg--to get this crate open,” you grunt.

She stands and walks towards you. “Let me,” she says. She reaches towards you, trying to determine your position.

You take her hand, your fingers weaving in hers for a moment before you guide her hand to the crate.

“Thanks,” you say, stepping aside.

“Well…pretty silly to make a human do all the heavy lifting,” she says, digging her claws into one of the planks. The wood splinters and creaks and is readily ripped free.

You smile weakly. “You’re right…these arms would never have a fraction of your strength,” you say. Jokingly, you lift your arm and flex…only to realize Roxy won’t be able to see it.

Probably for the best. It was a dumb joke anyway.

She snorts, actually preening a bit as she pulls another board free. “Even busted…” she agrees softly. Her tone is slightly melancholy…as if she doesn’t fully believe it.

She pulls another board free, and you put a hand on her shoulder. “I think that’s enough for now,” you say, guiding her back to the crate she had been sitting on before.

You begin pulling the smaller boxes from the shipping crate, cutting them open and rummaging through them, looking for anything usable. 

Once again, the silence stretches on.

After finding nothing useful in the first two boxes, you glance back at Roxanne. Her hand is over her face, her middle finger slowly tracing the cracks near where her eyes had been. The quiet isn’t doing her any favors.

You shove the box you were looking through aside and pull out another, cutting it open. “Roxy?” you break the silence.

“Mm?” she grunts, still more focused on her faceplate than you.

“You…d’you um…remember that time we ran out of driver bots and that angry dad yelled at me?”

She pauses briefly, turning her head towards you. “What about it?” she asks before going back to feeling her faceplate.

“You remember what you said to me?”

“I called you an idiot.” Was that a touch of guilt you detect in her tone?

You laugh weakly, nodding. “Yes. But you remember why?”

“For letting a loser like that get under your skin,” she says plainly.

“Right,” you say, smiling. “I think about that a lot, you know.”

Roxy scoffs. “Really? Freddy said I was too rude,” she says. If she had eyes she would have rolled them.

You let out a gentle chuckle. “Well…maybe a bit,” you admit, earning a slightly sulky huff from her. “But there was truth to it, y’know? And I think about it a lot. It uh…it’s…helped me. Deal with people like him.”

She cants her head, one ear flicking curiously. It’s a cute expression even with her broken faceplate. “It…did?”

“Yeah,” you say, pulling out another box and opening it. “I-I mean…you were right. I knew he was a loser but I still told myself his opinion meant something. But it doesn’t, y’know?”

“Yeah,” she agrees quietly.

The conversation lapses again, and you try to resist the urge to slow your search in order to come up with a new topic. Luckily, it is Roxy who picks the next topic.

“You remember that time a birthday party ran long, and I was late getting back to the recharge station?”

You freeze. Oh you do remember. You remember that evening well. The animatronics tend to get a little quirky when their battery dips below five percent. Something about a power save mode cutting power to random systems. Usually mobility, but somehow, their…inhibitions, for lack of a better term, also seemed to go by the wayside. As far as you know nobody ever quite understood why, but it was a little like getting loopy from lack of sleep, or even a bit tipsy.

Roxy smirks, hearing your stunned silence. “You do.”

“Y-Yeah…I…I wasn’t sure if you did, though.”

“I remember the important parts.” Before you can start to wonder what the “important parts” are in her mind, she continues, “You’d finally used that salon voucher I gave you for your birthday. Gotten your hair done. Actually wore it down. I never understand why you hide such long pretty hair up that bun.”

You fluster a bit. “Th-The dress code--”

“Oh, you do it without the dress code,” she scoffs, flicking a hand dismissively.

You clear your throat awkwardly, pausing to rub at your cheeks as if you can wipe the blush away. “W-What’s your battery at, by the way?”

She snorts. “Just an idle wondering?” she smirks. “It’s twenty-two percent.”

So it’s not her low battery talking…

Roxy continues, “You know…if you can find a set of replacement eyes…I wouldn’t mind seeing your hair down again,” she says, actually sounding wistful, of all things. You don’t know if you’ve ever heard her sound wistful.

You sigh softly, running a hand over your chopped off hair. “Y-Yeah…” you say, noncommittally.

She glances at you questioningly, sensing something in your tone. But before she can comment, you cut open another box, and find it has the spare eyes you’ve been looking for.

“Found the eyes!” you say. Some of the happiness in your tone is genuine. You grab two amber ones, going over to her. “They’re just standard optics, so you won’t see as well as you’re used to, but…it’ll do for now,” you say, guiding her to lay on the floor.

Her smile fades slightly and she nods, reality setting back in. Despite your claims that you could repair her, she wasn’t convinced she’d ever be as good as she was before. “Guess it’ll have to,” she mumbles.

You put a flashlight in her hand and position her arm to shine it down on her faceplate, giving you light to work with. Your toolkit is beside you, with some extra lengths of wire and soldering iron to work with. As you cut away the burned wires, murmuring apologies whenever Roxy flinches, your mind drifts back to that evening.

Her power had been at one percent when you finally coaxed her into her recharge station. Before you did, though, she had leaned down and pressed her lips to yours. You think she had been trying to nuzzle your cheek. Even “drunk” you don’t think she wanted to kiss you like that.

Neither of you had ever spoken of that night again, until today. She must not remember the kiss, you decide. She wouldn’t bring up that night at all if she did.

The truth is you’ve carried a small flame for her ever since then. Or perhaps a little longer, if you were more honest with yourself. Nothing you couldn’t ignore most of the time, of course…but something that had occasionally managed to put a bit of warmth in your heart when you allowed it to.

But none of those silly little what-ifs you’d allowed yourself to daydream of would ever come to pass now.

You wire in the eyes, then carefully fit them into their sockets. As they come online, the attached eyelids blink shut against the light.

You quickly turn away, keeping your back to her as you pack up your toolkit. “Th-They working okay?” you ask. It’s silly to turn away like this. You can’t possibly delay her seeing your scar for more than a couple minutes. Why even bother trying?

She moves the flashlight out of her eyes and sits up, looking around. “Yes,” she says. She pauses. “...Better than I thought. I forgot the standard optics still have night vision.”

You laugh weakly. “Another thing you have over me, then,” you say in what you had meant to be a good natured tone, but you couldn’t quite keep the melancholy from your voice.

Roxy catches it and glances at you curiously. She stands up, then reaches down a hand to help you up.

Well. No more putting it off.

You bow your head slightly as you turn to take her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. When you stand before her, you finally lift your head to look into her eyes, giving a small, tentative smile that borders on apologetic.

Roxy stares down at you, her mouth opening slightly in surprise. “Wh-What…happened…?”

You sigh, glancing away slightly. “I-I…got to work early, and…I was upstairs when the fire started. It…spread so fast I…had to cut through some pretty bad areas. I-I mean. I guess, something like that…I-I don’t really remember…” you say, your voice starting to shake.

Roxy’s hand is on your cheek, turning your face back towards her as she examines your scar.

You feel your face growing warm. “I-I don’t know how I got the scar, really…The EMTs found me passed out in the employee parking lot.”

Roxy smiles sadly. “You were strong enough to save yourself.”

You blush deeply at the compliment, lowering your gaze. “I-I guess so…”

She runs her thumb over the scar, tracing the ridges of the shiny, discolored skin. “Can it be repaired?” she asks, her tone more gentle than you’ve ever heard from her.

You shake your head, resisting the urge to nuzzle into her palm as you do. “Not…really. My hair will grow back and the scar will probably fade a bit, eventually, but…it’ll…probably be pretty noticeable for the rest of my life…” You feel tears brimming at your eyes and force out a weak laugh. “C-Can’t really…uh…s-switch faceplates on a human…y-y’know?” you say in a wavering tone.

Roxy hums quietly, bringing her other hand up to cup your other cheek. “No need,” she says, lowering her head and gently nosing at your scar.

Your breath stills at her words, your eyes widening in surprise. You’re almost not sure you heard right.

She pulls back, smiling down at you tenderly. “You’re still beautiful,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing her lips to yours.

[asphyxiateher]

Only Monsters Come Out at Night *Chapter 9 Update*

A/N: Desdemona's transformation is finally complete. She experiences several flashbacks of her former life before she finally accepts what's she become: a monster. Summary: I apologize for the delay and I would like to show my appreciation and gratitude towards those who patiently waited for this story to update. I don't have any other excuse besides school and work but I finally sat down and wrote this story in a way that I wanted Desdemona's story to end. Next chapter will be the final bonus chapter :') This one's a long update but it needed to be written.

The haunting shadow of death embraces Desdemona’s being as the infinite reaches of time itself teasingly taunts her soul in what she can only assume is the afterlife. She has lost sight in her eyes, but she can feel herself soaring into the empty void that eagerly awaits her. Desdemona can hear whispers, screams, and voices of the ones she loved once upon a time. Her thoughts consume her all at once and not at all and she’s beginning to wonder if she’s truly dead.

She’s drawn to familiar voices that she can hear to the right side of her and though she needs guidance, she’s able to follow the path that’s been laid out for her. Her fingers splayed out in front of her, she’s grabbing at air until she’s able to wrap her fingers around what feels like a doorknob. Desdemona takes a deep breath. She was nervous to discover what would await her once she opened the door. Being visually impaired fueled her fear of the dark so she was hesitant to twist the knob open at first.

After a moment of considering the alternatives, Desdemona swung the door backward and gasped at the revelation before her. Her lack of vision helped her anticipate the nothingness to come but what threw her off was the sound of music and sane giggling. She could hear Avril Lavigne’s Sk8er Boi blast from a portable stereo, a school bell ringing as if it were alerting her to go back to class, and the sounds of young girls taunting and teasing another girl.

“Desdemona, the dyke, at it again with her hideous clothes.” One girl sneered, turning her nose up at the sight of a young girl with long, wavy brown hair sitting on a bench outside of a familiar school.

Oh god, it was a memory! It was an unhappy one from her days in junior high school when Veronica hung out with the wrong crowd and Brielle Lawson was her tormentor. As much as she refused to replay the memory, she went still when images and colors finally began to swim in her head again. She was losing herself to a flashback she didn’t care to relive again.

As Desdemona mentally prepared to relieve her days in middle school, outside of the realm she created for herself when she died, her body was being transported somewhere in the real world. She was being carried by Alcina herself and was followed closely by her doting daughters. Alcina commanded Cassandra to open the door to their spa and Cassandra obeyed, silently following Daniella to their mother’s bathtub. The tub was filled with an unholy mixture of blood, chemicals, and other herbal ingredients that would cleanse Desdemona of her humanity. As they lay her body into the bubbling mixture, Alcina yanks Desdemona’s jaw open to carefully implant the cadou bug. It was the same creature that transformed her girls but with Desdemona, she decided to play around with her experiment to see what Desdemona would become.

She was very eager to find out what creature could influence Desdemona’s evolution.

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It’s the mid 2000’s and Desdemona Hawthorne became the target of Brielle Lawson, a popular girl that could easily charm her way out of trouble. Sounds horribly cliché but Desdemona and Brielle were just your average mortal enemies. Veronica wanted to be noticed and liked by everyone in eighth grade, so she often ditched Desdemona to hang out with Brielle more. They had one of their usual fights and they ignored each other for a bit, until Veronica started venting to Brielle about her former best friend and Brielle made up her mind about Desdemona without getting to know her. It was stupid, but usually most rivalries in middle school start out that way and you don’t realize it until you’re much older.

Veronica encouraged the jeering the moment she laid her eyes on her friend sitting all alone outside the cafeteria. She would make comments about how she dressed like a “homo” and Brielle would continue to make homophobic remarks about the way she dressed and supposedly looked at the other girls in the gym locker room. Normally, this wouldn’t bother Desdemona, but Veronica was supposed to keep her questioning sexuality a secret and when gossip about a student’s queerness got out, things would get vicious. Veronica started to realize her mistake when Brielle took it too far one afternoon.

“I’m surprised you’d want to be gay, Desdemona. Are you so ugly that when the boys decided what a total train wreck you are, you had to convert to lesbianism to get some attention?” Brielle and two of the girls that always accompanied her laughed, but Veronica began to look uncomfortable.

Desdemona swallowed.

“I’m not a total train wreck if I’ve got your attention, Brielle. Sorry, but you’re not my type. Keep trying though, it’s cute.” Desdemona quipped as she enjoyed the way the other girl flushed a satisfying red while her two friends snickered at the response.

“Oh, you – you think you’re funny. I-I wouldn’t be flattered anyway, I’m not a dyke!”

“Why would I care if you were or weren’t? Are you interested in me? I’m going to have to reject your advances again; I like girls with personality.” Desdemona delivered this line in an insouciant tone of voice that nearly sent Veronica into hysterics.

She spat out her water and turned her head so she could laugh into the sleeve of her hoodie. Brielle glared at her supposed best friend forever and turned her attention back to Desdemona who simply wanted to be left alone. She had nothing against Brielle, but the other girl wanted to rile her up so badly that she was starting to get irritated with the unwanted company. It didn’t help that Veronica’s presence was grating on her last nerve as well since she broke her promise about not outing her when she wasn’t ready for it.

“You queers are so mouthy; no wonder you people always get beat up and killed. You deserve it!” As soon as those words left her mouth, Brielle’s mouth dropped open as if she herself couldn’t believe she could say something so malicious.

She stumbles to follow up with something to say afterward, even as Veronica shoves her in anger.

“Yo, what the fuck?! I told you to take it down a notch, that’s not cool!” Veronica screeches, her eyes flitting back and forth between her best friend and Brielle.

Brielle stammers, unable to come up with anything. She stares in abject horror as Desdemona’s eyes fill with tears, a mixture of both rage and anguish causing her blood to boil. Desdemona quickly gets up and lunges at the girl standing before her, knocking both over to the ground.

“FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” One of Brielle’s friends yells into the air, drawing the attention of a nearby group of bystanders.

Brielle grunted and fended off Desdemona’s attacks with ease as the other girl thrashed and tried to claw and scratch her face. She couldn’t say anything, but she spent the few minutes she was caught off guard listening to Desdemona’s wailing. There was a moment where Desdemona clutched at her collar and simply glared at her with fury dancing behind those gray eyes, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She looked beautiful.

Desmond rushed over to where the commotion was and immediately yanked his twin off the other girl, berating her for getting into a non-sensical fight. Veronica pulled Brielle to her feet and she seemed to be telling her something but she couldn’t hear what any of them were saying. She couldn’t keep her eyes off Desdemona, ignoring the drip of blood that clung to the side of her lip.

“V, you were supposed to look out for my sister! What’s your fucking deal?” He asks as he stands toe to toe with the other girl.

The teachers and other faculty members made it out to the yard and began to disperse the crowd. The principal forcibly pulls Desdemona away from the scene but not without glancing back over to Brielle who met her gaze. There was something charged in the air between them from that moment on but that’s not what sticks out the most to Desdemona from that memory. It’s the fact that no matter how many punches she threw at Brielle, the other girl never sought to hit her back. Brielle was being dragged away by their shared homeroom teacher, yet her eyes never left Desdemona’s retreating form.

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Desdemona’s eyes suddenly blink open, her mouth opening to scream when she realizes she still can’t see anything, but she swallows a mouthful of foul-tasting liquid that begins to fill her lungs instead. She starts thrashing about until her hands grip onto the edge of something that feels like a tub, and so she forcefully pulls herself up. Once her soaked form hits the cold air, Desdemona chokes out what feels like thick mud and purges that liquid from her system. She’s suddenly violently convulsing on what she assumes is cold marble flooring and she can’t seem to stop until she feels arms wrap themselves around her waist. “There, there darling, calm down, it’s only us. Daniela, bring me a towel. Our lovely Desdemona has finally awoken. Mother will be pleased.” Bela whispers soothingly into Desdemona’s ears.

Desdemona takes a few deep breaths, but she can tell that if she even attempts to speak, her throat would be scratchy and sore. Besides that, she wouldn’t even know what to say. She was supposed to be dead; Alcina Dimitrescu made sure of that…right?

She feels another feminine presence loom over her, and she startles when she feels dainty fingers skim across her skin. It was Cassandra.

“I’ve prepared the shower, let’s rinse our beloved Desdemona so we can finally enjoy the full sight of her. I will miss her perfectly exotic tan skin, she’s beginning to gray as if she were turning into one of us. Still beautiful, though.” She giggles madly, pressing a sloppy kiss to Desdemona’s forehead.

All of that sounded alarming to Desdemona but it hurt to breathe. She couldn’t risk having a panic attack now, not when she didn’t even know what was happening to her. She allowed the two sisters to carry her over to the shower to rinse off whatever it was that lingered on her delicate skin. When the barely lukewarm water makes contact with her skin, she hears a hissing noise that comes from atop of her head. In fact, her hair which is normally a lengthy dark mess of wavy brown hair, doesn’t feel normal to her at all. She shakily reaches upward towards her hair, and she whimpers when she feels a smooth yet slightly slimy tendril wrap itself tenderly around her fingers.

“Look at that, Bela, what a sight! Look at the beauties clamoring to meet their gorgeous mother for the first time. Both mother and Miranda will be pleased, don’t you think?” Cassandra asks as she coos at the creatures nestling into her hand for comfort and approval.

“I still don’t like the idea of mother presenting our Desdemona as a gift to Mother Miranda. Everyone knows Miranda likes to surround herself with weapons of mass destruction but Desdemona isn’t her toy. She belongs to us, and I already loathe the idea of sharing my beloved with you two numbskulls.”

Desdemona is forced to shut out their banter as she begins to process what the sisters have been saying this whole time. If she had a heartbeat, she was certain it would have dropped to the floor by now at the revelation that she had become something far more sinister than she could have imagined. Desdemona was in utter shock and as much as she wanted to grieve over the loss of her humanity, she couldn’t. Not when Daniela makes an appearance from behind her.

“Ohhh! She’s so perfect, mother should be proud! Move over, trolls, it’s my turn to bathe my lovely and beautiful Desdemona!” Daniela shrieks excitedly as she rushes over to envelop Desdemona’s still form in an embrace.

The girls begin to fight over who got to bathe her but Desdemona was no longer paying attention to the world around her. She was slowly losing herself to another memory that was coming on strong and she nearly faints at how surreal everything seemed the moment the vivid images and sounds came to mind.

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After the fight with Brielle, Desdemona had difficulty fitting in at school after word had gotten out that she was into girls. It wasn’t until school let out for the summer that everything changed. They were all entering their freshman year of high school and by this time, she had already made up with Veronica. It took months of Veronica groveling at Desdemona’s feet and doing everything she could to make up for her transgressions. In the end, Desdemona accepted her apology when she realized how dedicated V was to mending their friendship.

Taking a two and a half month break from school seemed to be the relief everyone needed after that particular exciting way of ending their eighth grade year. Desdemona and Veronica made up so that made the official start to the new year exciting. She vaguely remembers the moment she walked up the steps to her high school and how she had to suck in her breath when she glanced up. Brielle Lawson was standing near the mascot statue taking a few selfies with her friends and she was breathtaking, much to Desdemona’s dismay.

Brielle ran her fingers through her sleek jet-black hair and smirked, curious bright blue eyes trying to meet the gaze of the person she felt watching her from afar. She swallows hard when she recognizes Desdemona’s long brown waves and pretty doe eyes. Their fight seemed so long ago. Although Desdemona still feels a tinge of guilt for physically assaulting the other girl, that didn’t change the fact that what Brielle said in the heat of the moment wasn’t right. It’s a damn shame she was so pretty, like enticingly so. Desdemona had to remind herself of what the other girl said just a few months prior so she could seem less appealing. It only worked long enough so she could turn and walk away but of course she feels this strange compulsion to glance back at the other girl. Desdemona’s breath catches when she finds that Brielle is still staring at her with this indescribable look on her face.

Fast forward a few months, it turns out that Freshman year was going to be brutal especially if you were to share most of your classes with your crush who just happened to be your former bully. Brielle was considered to be very intelligent and well-spoken but Desdemona was unable to get past the surface since the two never directly talked to each other even though they were assigned to sit together in home room. It wasn’t until one day that Brielle came to class with her pet snake to homeroom for a show and tell that all the students were looking forward to. Brielle proudly displayed her baby reticulated python that happily wrapped itself around her arm and Desdemona was absolutely fascinated by it.

Brielle walked around the room showing it off to a few curious students and eventually, she stopped purposefully in front of Desdemona as the snake raised its head to look directly at her. Desdemona smiled and carefully reached out to pet the snake but she quickly retracted her hand and looked up the beautiful girl as if she were asking for permission.

“Go ahead, Gwendolyn is quite gentle if you don’t startle her.” Brielle murmurs, a brilliant smile forming on her lips when her snake began to move towards Desdemona.

Gwendolyn slithered up Desdemona’s arm and the younger Hawthorne twin giggled at the strange sensation of having a reptile make contact with her skin. Desdemona licks her lips and meets Brielle’s intense gaze when she realizes her homeroom partner wasn’t looking at the snake but at her instead.

“She’s beautiful.” Desdemona croaks out awkwardly but it seems to soften the expression on Brielle’s face.

That’s all it takes for the two girls to form an acquaintanceship throughout their freshman year. It didn’t become more complex than simply collaborating with each other on homework and working on group projects in other classes until Desdemona was invited to Brielle’s birthday party. Desdemona was pleasantly surprised but Brielle quickly assured her that she was just trying to get to know her better and that it was a simple ‘thank you’ for helping her with her English assignments throughout the year.

The party is in full swing and the other kids were simply enjoying themselves by taking advantage of Brielle’s pool and jacuzzi. Desdemona had gone to the bathroom to put on her bathing suit so when she opened the door to join the other kids in the backyard, she nearly yelped when she found Brielle waiting for her outside the door with Gwendolyn wrapped comfortably around her arm.

“Hey. Can I show you something real quick?” She asks, her face flushed red as she attempts to give Desdemona a subtle once-over. Desdemona swallows thickly and can only nod in response.

They retreat into her room which is dimly lit and beautifully decorated with tasteful decorations all around. The girls proceed to sit on the bed and when Brielle sets Gwendolyn down, the sassy snake decides to slither towards Desdemona and crawls all over her until she’s slightly wrapped around the other girl’s neck, lazily settling in and clearly enjoying Desdemona’s company.

“I think she likes you. I-I’m not surprised, you seem to have a way with her.” Brielle says quietly, the tension in the room becoming quite thick.

Desdemona coos at Gwendolyn and tickles her chin before she turns her attention back to the suddenly shy girl sitting beside her. Brielle tucks a stray lock of jet black hair behind her ear and glances down at the bed, clearly struggling to make eye contact with Desdemona.

“What did you want to show me?” Desdemona asks, uncertain of where this conversation was going.

“It’s more like I have to tell you something and it needs to be said before I lose my nerve. I know I wasn’t exactly the nicest person to you in junior high especially when I practically stole your best friend from you. I said some pretty mean things to you and you didn’t deserve any of the shit I gave you, like at all. When Veronica spilled the beans about you liking girls, it was like something clicked in my head and I suddenly felt bigger than you having that kind of ammo to use against you. I know it sounds stupid, but it makes sense now as to why I picked on you specifically for being into girls or whatever.”

Brielle takes a deep breath, her voice cracking a little as she decides to finally look up and gaze deeply into Desdemona’s soulful gray eyes. She reaches out and places her hand atop of Desdemona’s and gently gives it a squeeze.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness for what I said when we got into that stupid fight, but I need you to know that I’m sorry. Nobody deserves to have that said to them at all and I was a complete dickhead for lashing out like that. You helped me realize something about myself that summer and not only did I want to properly apologize for those horrible things that I’ve said and done, but I wanted to thank you. I-I…I think I’m into girls too and…I may have been for a while, but just didn’t know it then.”

Desdemona inhales deeply as she tries to process the information that was being shared with her. On one hand, she was impressed with Brielle’s maturity and bravery for coming out to her but on the other hand, she was slightly concerned. She wanted to begrudge the other girl for allowing herself to repress her sexuality to the point she felt it was okay to pick on other queer girls just because she was insecure with her own identity, yet she wanted to forgive her even after all this time. It would be nice to not feel so alone anymore and to have that support system when the world would be against them.

After a tense moment of silence, Desdemona finally breaks the silence.

“I forgive you.”

“I have a huge crush on you, Desdemona.”

Desdemona’s eyes widen at the revelation and her body shivers from the chills that run down her spine. Brielle’s bright blue eyes flick to her lips for a moment before they bore into her soul the moment she meets her gaze.

Desdemona stammers for a response. She never expected a girl as beautiful as Brielle Lawson would ever develop feelings for somebody like her yet here they were.

“Y-you have a c-crush on me? I tried to fight you at the end of our eighth-grade year! Are you sure you like me like that?” Desdemona asks, looking completely bewildered.

Gwendolyn was getting restless the longer she remained perched around Desdemona’s neck so she slithers down her arm where Brielle’s hand remained connected to Desdemona’s. The snake happily coils its body where the girls intertwined their fingers together and that added to the intensity of the moment.

“What can I say other than I like cute girls that can kick my ass?” Brielle chuckles nervously, clearly trying to lighten the mood. Desdemona’s eyes fall to Brielle’s pink lips and makes a decision that would seal her fate from that day on.

She leans forward and Brielle seems to catch on quick, meeting her halfway for a shared first kiss that would send sparks flying between the two of them. It was gentle and sweet and everything that Desdemona could have ever hoped for in a kiss.

They eventually broke apart, Brielle pulling Desdemona closer to her so they could rest their foreheads against one another.

“Wow.” They both said breathlessly, laughing and enjoying the moment for a little bit longer before reality came knocking at the door.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Desdemona gasps when she feels razor sharp teeth bite into the back of her neck as her head is roughly pulled back. The slithering creatures nestled atop of her head hiss in disapproval and Cassandra’s maniacal laughing can be heard from behind her.

“The poor babies don’t like being handled so roughly. I do apologize my lovelies, but I couldn’t help myself.” Cassandra chuckles, licking and suckling the sensitive area around Desdemona’s earlobe.

Bela clung onto the opposite side of Desdemona’s body and her hands were exploring both her lower back and breasts, her fingers tweaking her sensitive nipples. She could hear the smile in Bela’s voice as she spoke.

“It’s good to know that our Desdemona remains the same and that she hasn’t fallen prey to Miranda’s grand scheme of things. What a lovely turn of events.” She whispers softly into Desdemona’s other ear, cupping her chin and pulling her in for a deep kiss.

Desdemona finds herself blindly reaching for someone to grab onto when she feels someone kneel in front of her, cold hands spreading her legs apart. She grips onto bare shoulders as she slightly leans forward, her fingers brushing against thick tresses of hair.

“Looks like dinner is served, and I so do love a delicious, rare steak!” Daniela growls out before she latches onto Desdemona’s exposed core with her mouth and teeth.

She moans aloud when Daniela eagerly explores her with her tongue, her lips briefly latching onto her clit which nearly sent Desdemona into a frenzy. The sensations of being touched and kissed all over by both Cassandra and Bela on top of what Daniela seemed to be doing to her down there made her feel light-headed about the whole thing.

Her moans were reaching a fever pitch and she was quickly spiraling towards a violent orgasm but then the group of women hear the terrifyingly familiar sound of heels clicking in the background somewhere.

Much to her disappointment, Daniela releases Desdemona from her grasp and she quickly stands to attention. Bela’s arm wraps itself around her waist as if to keep her steady and Cassandra simply places a hand on her shoulder. Though there was no reason to keep her eyes shut since she couldn’t see anything anyways, two thick tendrils of hair glide over her eyelids protectively anyway.

Alcina strides into the room confidently and Desdemona could tell she was appraising her accordingly. It was frustrating not knowing what she looked like anymore and from the way the other women were describing her, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“The transformation is complete it seems, and I can tell the experiment didn’t go well in Miranda’s favor. She is not the vessel we all thought she could be, but she reminds me of something or someone. I can’t quite put my finger on what she reminds me of, but it’ll come to me sooner or later. Does she have any unusual abilities that came with the physical changes?” Alcina asks as she steps closer to Desdemona.

“She’s visually impaired but that heightened her senses as expected. She’s simply not used to being completely blind yet. Her crown of snakes protect her line of sight; they refuse to reveal what’s become of her eyes. The snakes could have well plucked out her eyeballs without our knowledge.” Bela states matter-of-factly. “I wonder what she’s capable of. I’ll be the guinea pig for the now and once I get a feel of her abilities, we’ll have her deal with the maids we no longer care to employ. Are you ready to show me what you’re made of, my pet? You’ll obey me and my daughters as we brought you into our world and we may very well take you out. Reveal yourself to me at once!” Alcina commanded. Desdemona wasn’t sure what to expect but no longer could she hear the dark whispers in her mind telling her to let go. She simply obeyed Alcina’s command.

Her loving pets begin to slide away from her face and what happens next instills a new level of terror within her. She opens her eyelids but just as she does so, her jaw slackens and opens wider than she ever thought was possible. The ground begins to shake terribly, a horrifying screeching sound escaping her throat as an invisible vortex of energy sucks in whatever lifeforce remains in the room.

Alcina and her three daughters begin to scream in pain, their flesh being torn apart the longer they stared into Desdemona’s abysmal golden eyes. Bela felt her skin slowly form to stone while her sisters’ flesh was being ripped apart and she started to panic.

“I COMMAND YOU TO STOP!” Both Bela and her mother cried out and almost immediately, Desdemona’s jaw snaps shut and her beloved snakes cover her eyes once more.

Faster than the speed of light, Desdemona leaps onto the nearest wall and quickly crawls upward towards the chandelier on the ceiling and perches herself besides it, a hand gripping onto the base of it. She can hear the flutter of a thousand flies below her, unable to sense any warm body temperatures but she can feel Alcina and her daughters staring up at her in both terror and awe. Her snakes began to secrete slime again and she could feel a drip of the venomous liquid fall to the floor. The venom they release is so toxic, the spot in which it landed began to melt away the cold marble floor. Desdemona was fascinated by the satisfying way it sizzled but more so by the way the stench of putrid acid and radiated waste clung to the air.

Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra whimpered in pain, but they were mostly alright. Their wounds would eventually heal over time. They glanced up at the girl who appeared to be staring at them in curiosity even though they knew she couldn’t really see them. Bela grunted when she was finally able to move her fingers, the stone particles on her skin peeling away a bit painfully.

“I’ve never seen anything like it, mother. Should we risk exposing Desdemona’s abilities to Miranda or perhaps you’re having second thoughts?” Cassandra asks, her hands visibly shaking as she continued looking up at Desdemona in wonder. A wicked smile plays on her lips after a long moment.

Alcina’s claws protruded defensively but were affected by the way Alcina mistakenly looked into Desdemona’s deadly eyes. They were partially turned to stone so it was quite difficult getting the claws to retract but it would be possible for her to recover from the incident later on.

The girls expected their mother to be furious at Desdemona for nearly demolishing them in that moment, but her reaction was quite the opposite. Alcina smirked at Desdemona and beckoned her to come closer.

Desdemona releases the base of the chandelier and gracefully lands on the floor below her. She slowly approaches Lady Dimitrescu and bows her head in shame. Alcina laughs and cups Desdemona’s chin so she could examine her guarded face more closely.

“She’s too perfect for Mother Miranda’s tiresome schemes. She’s the ultimate weapon of mass destruction but she belongs to me now. From now on, Desdemona Hawthorne is the dead name of your former life. You will answer to Medusa and you will pledge your unwavering fealty to me. Do you understand me?” Lady Dimitrescu declares.

Desdemona lifts her head and uncharacteristically reaches out for Lady Dimitrescu. The other woman obliges Desdemona’s request for contact and feels Desdemona squeeze her palm in response to her question.

“I am yours to command, Mistress. I will defend your House and all those loyal to you with my life.” Medusa whispers, a bloody tear making its way down her cheek.

Once again, Medusa feels herself become light-headed when memories of her former life begin to creep up on her. This time, as she finally says goodbye to her humanity, these memories are of when her and Brielle decided to split up before their senior year of high school began.

***** It was a beautiful, cold evening and the girls sat back-to-back atop of a water fountain in the middle of their favorite park. It was chillier than expected and Desdemona had forgotten to bring a sweater with her. Brielle decided to just give her a hoodie that had been her absolute favorite.

When Brielle’s father had gotten a call that he and the unit he led were being sent to another country, he decided to take his entire family with him. Brielle’s father worked for a confidential government agency that seemed similar to the military but they dealt with matters that were far more dangerous than your usual terrorist suspects. With Racoon City incidents popping up more frequently than ever, it was clear that the world they knew was in turmoil.

Brielle made it clear that she wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps to protect and serve the people she loved dearly and Desdemona couldn’t understand the logic behind her reasoning. Actually, it seemed more like she didn’t want to.

“I’ve decided to undergo training with my father before he sends me off to the academy where he received his specialized education from. If you knew about the things that he’s seen and dealt with, you’d know why this is so fucking important to me. It’s a calling that I can’t ignore, Dezzy, and I need you to understand that this is for the best. It’s not like I’m going to stop talking to you either; I love you more than anything in this world and I promise I will write, call and text you every chance that I get.” Brielle says after a long moment of awkward silence. Desdemona scoffed, her heart aching at the very thought of them breaking up after being together for so long. Almost everybody she knew wanted to sign up for the military after what happened in Raccoon City and this noble calling that everybody heard whenever something tragic happened was a concept she couldn’t comprehend. Maybe she was letting her emotions cloud her judgment because she loved Brielle so much. Deep down, she knew she had to let her go because it was what Brielle wanted and she couldn’t force her to stay, no matter how much she desperately wanted her to stay.

Brielle moved to where she was now kneeling in front of Desdemona and she reached out to cup her cheek, tears forming behind those beautiful bright blue eyes she’s grown to love so much. Desdemona cherished the touch and placed her own hand atop of Brielle’s.

“Breezy, I love you. You know I will never stop loving you.” Desdemona choked out a sob, unwilling to say anything else lest she break down into an incomplete, broken mess.

“I love you too, Dezzy. Trust me when I say I’m doing this for us. I will do everything in my power to prevent this world from falling apart so when I come back, we can get married and build our own little sausage dog and snake sanctuary that we’ve always talked about.” Brielle says with a laugh, enjoying the way Desdemona smiles through her tears.

“What if I’m a completely different person when we see each other again? What if I’m already married and moved on with my life?” Desdemona asks quietly as she too enjoys the slight flash of jealousy in her girlfriend’s eyes.

“I’ll kick the other bitch’s ass and make you fall in love with me all over again. I’ll never stop fighting for you Desdemona because you are so worth the effort. Right now, where my father goes, I need to go. He loves you too, you know and so does my mom. You’re part of our family and when I come back, I promise we’ll start working on our own.”

By this time, Brielle has lifted Desdemona to her feet and has wrapped her arms around her waist while Desdemona’s arms encircle Brielle’s neck.

They’re swaying to the sound of music that’s been playing on Brielle’s phone for awhile now and Desdemona is drowning in all sorts of emotions. She doesn’t want to let the love of her life go, but eventually all good things must come to an end.

Brielle is talking to her but she can’t hear what’s she saying. All Desdemona hears is the sound of an insecure little voice in the back of her mind telling her how worthless she is. This voice reminds her how much of a nobody she is and how she’s never truly made an impact on anyone’s life before. People like Brielle and her brother Desmond are out there making something of themselves and all she’ll ever be is this whiny nobody that nobody could ever love.

Desdemona cries softly and pulls Brielle closer in their embrace, enjoying the warmth radiating from the other woman. Nobody would be able to love her the way Brielle did and Desdemona never wanted to forget that feeling. They had never gotten physically intimate with each other due to Desdemona’s discomfort but that night, Desdemona promised to save herself for her should they meet again and although it had been a few years, they did keep in contact for a long time. You never forget your first love but the moment she bonded with Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters, it seemed like she couldn’t relive memories of her former life.

For some reason, these memories were bearing down on her with full strength after her transformation and what that meant, Medusa didn’t know but she was concerned. There was a strong possibility that she had to keep her guard up for the storm to come and that she would have to be prepared to her lay her life down for House Dimitrescu.

[alwaysbemymaybe-phff]

Chapter 22

AN: YES! This is the last chapter for this fanfic. <3 I love you guys and thank you for the support! <3 I might release a sneak peek (and possibly a new link) for the next part. (Yes, there is another part.) I love you all!

The Fight is Over

“Henry Charles David, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to lie together according to God’s law in the holy-“

 “Please, turn it off.” Bella said sighing and her mother quickly turned off the car stereo. She bit her bottom lip looking out her window. It still hurt, of course. The thought of Harry marrying someone else hurts her still even though it is the reality of life. We don’t always get what we want but we do get what we need. She thought leaning her head on her window.

 “Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour her and keep her, in sickness and in health? And, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?” The archbishop asked Harry.

This is it. Two words. Just two words and everything is set for him. But, those words seem to be stuck in his mouth. The tranquil silence of Westminster Abbey became tense and yet Harry couldn’t seem to speak. Seconds pass and still he stared at the archbishop.

 “Harry?” he heard Meghan whisper beside him and he looked at her.

 He couldn’t imagine her as Bella. No. He couldn’t live like that. He couldn’t wake up everyday pretending that she’s Isabella Clarke. He couldn’t live everyday thinking that it would be Bella he would come home to or be with or share a life with. He couldn’t pretend. He couldn’t imagine waking up everyday feeling empty- dead. He couldn’t imagine not seeing a glimpse of Bella anymore or even think about the possibility of being with her. And as much as he would love to be the pride of his family for once, he couldn’t push the two words out of his mouth.

 “Sir?” The archbishop then asked taking Harry’s eyes away from Meghan and to him.

 It’s now or never for him. If he marry Meghan now, he wouldn’t be able to be with Bella ever. He cannot treat Bella the way his daddy had been with Camilla. No. He couldn’t do that to Bella and he also couldn’t marry Meghan under false pretenses.

 “I’m sorry.” He suddenly said towards the archbishop and gasps are heard throughout the Abbey but he couldn’t care less. He had made a lot of mistakes the past few months but he realized that making another one is not going to ever change it. And so, he turned towards Meghan who had an astounded look on her face; her mouth open in shock and it seemed that she hadn’t processed what’s happening yet.

 Quite sure of his decisions, he held Meghan’s hand. “I’m sorry but you deserve someone better; someone who can love you fully; as he is body and soul.” He said and he can see tears filling her eyes. He didn’t want to hurt her but doing that would mean sacrificing himself forever. “I truly apologize but we both deserve happiness in this world.”

 Harry can hear everyone whispering as he let go of Meghan’s hand and started walking down the staircase. He saw William smiling at him and he smiled back before his walk turned into a sprint. “Harry!” He heard his father call and he looked at him- he’s still the king, he couldn’t disrespect him and, for a moment, he’s scared that he will tell Harry to go back up there and marry Meghan but the king smiled.

 “Thank you.” He mouthed and continued his run out of the abbey.

 Crowds screaming and cheering welcomed him when he got out and he quickly went over to one of the PPO’s sedans waiting by Meghan and his car. “I need the car.” He told the PPO who only gave him a confused look. “Give me the keys.” He said and the PPO gave Harry the keys.

 “Ah, the irony.” Bella mumbled watching the rain fall hard outside the car as they parked in Heathrow Airport. She took the umbrellas at the back of the car and handed two towards her parents.

 “So..” Her father said handing Bella her small carry on as they stood by the airport doors. “We’ll see you there tomorrow..”

 “Tomorrow evening, San Diego time.”

 Gerard smiled before pulling his daughter to kiss her on the forehead. As determined as he is for her to live, he knew of the possibility of her not being able to survive. And so, he knew the importance of this kiss to her daughter- this might be the last time she steps in England alive. He had to be realistic just like how his daughter is and he pulled away and gave her an encouraging smile. “We’ll see you in a bit, poppet.”

 “I love you mom, dad.”

 And both parents watched their daughter walk through the gates but turned and smiled and waved before it closed. It was like something was stabbed on Georgia’s heart; the sight of her daughter walking away made something in her heart clench and she gave out a shaky breath feeling like her bones turned into jell-o.

 “Shh. She’ll be alright.” Gerard said pulling his wife closer to him. “I promise you, she’s going to be fine.” He whispered soothingly pulling his wife along to go back to their car.

 Harry drove as fast as he could trying to dodge the paparazzi. He knew where he’s going- he knew where to find her; all he had to do is be there on time before she leaves. Quickly, he stepped on his breaks when he got stuck on the traffic just on the car entrance of Heathrow Airport. “Fuck!” he yelled his hand flying to the horn and pressing it hard but when the cars in front of him didn’t move, he slammed his hand on the steering wheel and looked out.

 The rain is pouring hard and, as he estimates his run towards the main entrance of the airport, he realized that he would be soaking wet before he gets there. It’s either you get wet or you don’t catch her. He thought and put on his blinkers and went to the side of the road before getting out of the car and leaving it there. He didn’t care if the car got towed, he didn’t even know if he got the chance to close the door or not but he ran as fast as his feet can take him.

 Numerous windows rolled down and he could hear the squealing of the women and cheers of men as he passed by them. His breath became heavy and his heart raced in his chest but he pushed through- only stopping when he saw Bella’s parents coming out of the main entrance of the airport holding each other; the couple stopped, both looking at Harry extremely shocked. “Hi. I’m sorry I couldn’t talk much but where is she?” he asked out of breath stopping suddenly- almost tripping and hitting the couple. Quickly, he glanced back and saw the paparazzi coming their way towards them.

 “She’s at Gate H51.” Gerard finally answered. “Hurry, they’re boarding.”

 People pointed and stared as he burst in the airport. “Hold off the paparazzi.” He told the security who quickly radioed the request to seal off all doors. “Where’s H51? Where’s the easiest way to H51?” he asked frantically looking around.

 “Go through that exit and turn right- there’s a small alley. You’ll be there in 3 minutes if you run.”

 Bella sighed turning up the volume of her earphones as she sat on the boarding area. She had listened to the gushes of her co-passengers long enough about the royal wedding and their disappointment on missing it. People started falling in line by the entrance of her gate and she sighed. Well, goodbye England. She thought looking out at the window where rain poured mercilessly. Dreary ole’ England. She sat there a bit longer, not minding if she boards the plane last. It couldn’t bother her anymore. Now that her fate is almost sealed, she couldn’t be excited about leaving her country anymore.. and Harry. He must be married now. Finally, she stood and went towards the very back of the line towing her small bag along.

 “Last call for passengers of British Airways flight B456 boarding at Gate H51.” The intercom sounded and Harry quickly started running towards the route the guard had told him.

 Harry couldn’t care less of the people pointing at him or the gasps when they saw him rushing past them. He couldn’t care less if he’s currently the topic of all tabloids or magazines or media. He doesn’t care about what other people will say now- all he wants is to see her; to apologize and tell her that he couldn’t live without her.

 “Bella!” he yelled when he finally saw her by the gate handing over her boarding pass to the stewardess. “ISABELLA!” he yelled again and this time, the stewardess heard him and looked up from checking Bella’s pass with furrowed eyebrows before finally realizing who he is and tapping Bella on the hand and pointing towards where Harry is and she turned; her confused expression quickly turning into shock as he suddenly grabbed her and kiss her- long and hard.

 “Harry. What are you doing here?” she asked pulling away and pulling out the earbuds off her ear and looking at Harry who’s still out of breath. “Why are you here?! You shouldn’t be here!”

 And by this, Harry laughed. He caught her just in time. He ran off from a wedding- his wedding, drove like a maniac, ran through the rain, and ran through the airport and here is Bella telling him he shouldn’t be here.

 “Why are you laughing? This is not funny, Harry. I swear to God-”

 “I love you.” He said making Bella stop mid-sentence with wide eyes. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend. I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t wake up everyday and live with maybes- I cannot let you to just always be my maybe.”

 Bella shook her head absolutely shocked. He ran from his wedding. He ran from his wedding for me. She thought. “Harry..” she trailed off. “I must be dreaming. I must be dead or something.” She mumbled.

 But Harry shook his head back at her; stopping Bella from saying anything else. They both stared at each other straight in the eyes and, as cliché as it sounds, the world slowed, the volume of their surroundings suddenly on mute and nobody else existed. “I love you.” He repeated firmly this time. “I will leave anything and everything for you. I love you and I will tell you this even for a million times until you believe me. I don’t care if you tell me that you’re dying because I will follow you to the stars and back. I will love you even if you go. I don’t care. You’re not getting rid of me this time. Don’t even try.”

 And she looked up at him, her eyes searching his and she gave out a breath. It’s real. He’s real. She thought as her hands reached out and softly caressed his slightly wet beard and she smiled. “You just soaked my clothes.” She commented lightheartedly and Harry smiled making her heart skip a beat.

 Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer despite her previous comment about her clothes getting soaked. “I love you.” He repeated closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead on top of hers before leaning in and kissing her softly on the lips right after she whispered;

 “I love you too even after my last breath.”

[winter-soldier-writer-blog]

You Need A Maid? Chapter 1

Fandom: Avengers / Marvel Rating: PG13 Warnings: Swearing Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel, blah legal stuff. Don't sue me, I'm poor. Songs: Half Life - Whether, I

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Checking the time on the LED screen in your SVU you swore under your breath. Where had the time gone? The clock had played tricks with you all day, making minutes seem like hours. Endlessly it dragged on, your list of errands seeming to have no end. Steve had requested five new t-shirts, Tony needed a full restock of the liquor cabinet, and Sam, well, he just wanted more orange juice. On top of that, you still had dinner to make. At least you had that planned already.

Reaching the facility you parked your SUV in the garage, stepping out carefully as to not bump your door against Tony's newest motorized 'baby'. You barely understood why he insisted on getting another car. You had seen him speed off exactly three times in the span of the five months since he had purchased it. Once just because Sam wanted to race it in his wing suit.

It took several trips to and from the car to get all the bags inside. You nearly tripped on the step up into the kitchen carrying in the last brown paper bag of liquor. Setting it down on the marble-topped island you could feel the throbbing ache in your legs and feet. You looked at the sea of bags surrounding you and groaned, knowing if you sat down now there was no getting back up. Things needed to be put away, and dinner needed to be cooked. That was your job after all.

Reaching for a remote on the counter you pressed a few buttons. The stereo kicked on, blasting your favorite songs. Music would definitely make the jobs go by faster and you were certain you would be home alone for a few more hours. You reached for the closest bag, finding yourself getting lost in the music already. Were you shaking your booty a little?

I see your lips are the staircase to your soul Now you're fighting your feelings And fearing the shame that you sown All the times that I blindly followed you Can't believe that I never saw the truth I don't know what to do

You locked your arms around my mouth I don't know what to do, I think I'm turning blue I scream and shout, tear my lungs out I don't know what to do, I can't get over you

They tell you what you want to hear To feed the attention you hold so dear Tread lightly across these lines Playing again and again in my mind

"Hey, need some help?" A voice called out. You looked up, startled. Sam leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, laughing at the sight of you. Arms filled with produce and a bag of grapes hanging from your mouth you balanced on one leg with the other outstretched, keeping the fridge door open. Sam walked over taking the bag from your mouth. "I'm sorry Sam! If I knew someone was home I wouldn't have blasted my music." You hobbled around, making sure everything found it's place before you stopped to finally look up. He flashed his pearly whites down at you and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. You're just lucky you didn't wake Bucky." He turned, reaching for a bag, intending to help you.

"Yeah. Real lucky." A husky sleep filled voice approached from the hall. The sarcasm gave away who it was. Well, shit.

You reached for the remote, frantically pushing buttons until the music died. Silence filled the room, making you feel self-conscious. "I'm sorry Bucky." You apologized, running a hand through your hair nervously. He always seemed so grumpy. Who administered the suppository stick in his ass anyway?

He grumbled something as he pushed past you, grabbing the unopened bottle of orange juice from Sam's hand. "What was that crap?" He asked. "Whether, I." you mumbled under your breath. "What?" He huffed, demanding an answer.

"It's metal."

Bucky twisted the cap off and pressed the bottle to his lips, downing half the contents in big gulps. "That was mine." Sam scolded, grabbing it away. Bucky snorted ignoring him, his attention still on you. "You listen to that..." he paused searching for the right words. "Screaming mess? Nah. I won't believe it." He shook his head, locks of brown hair swinging in his eyes. "You're a bunny." He patted you on the head, careful to use his human hand, and headed in the direction of the living room. "Fluffball bunny." He called out. That was probably the nicest thing he's said since you met him.

You turned towards Sam and he shrugged, his hand stuffed inside what looked to be the last of the grocery bags. "You didn't have to help, you know I-," he cut you off, putting a finger to your lips. "Nah, I don't wanna hear it. Just say thank you." You couldn't help but smile against his finger. Sam was the kindest of everyone at the facility, treating you as a friend.

"Thanks, Sammy."

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You first two months of living with the Avengers was, to be blunt, fucking awful. The only thing that kept you upright was Sam's kindness. He wasn't like the others. He didn't have a robotic arm, super spy skills, and he wasn't a super soldier. Sam was an Avenger in his own right, just like the others, but Sam was just as much a normal person like you. Being an Avenger hadn't made him forget that.

It wasn't as if the rest of the team was mean to you on purpose. They had their reasons to be distant and cautious. You were an unknown. You could be poisoning the food and hiding bombs in the bathroom. Hell, even bugging the TV. What they thought you were doing to their laundry you really weren't sure, though, but you did play with the idea of itching powder in Natasha's underwear after she spilled nail polish on your favorite hoodie. That was almost unforgivable, almost. She hadn't even apologized.

Tony had hired you and had no suspicions, he was just used to being waited on and sometimes talked to you like you were one of his machines. He seemed to forget you weren't a MaidBot but instead were made of flesh and bone. He was dismissive, blunt, and often forgot his please and thank yous. Thankfully, he spent most of his time in his workroom, tinkering away on some new project.

Steve was polite, which you had expected from Captain America. Refusing you call you by your first name, he found it more appropriate to call you 'Miss'. He kept you at arms length just like the others, though. You could see out of the corner of your eye the way he sized you up whenever he thought you weren't looking. Scanning you for potential threats, calculating your every move. Even the way he stood around you like he was ready to pounce if you so much as sneezed wrong. It was really hard to hold in sneezes.

You had hoped Natasha could become a female friend in a house full of males. You had no such luck. You weren't sure if she felt threatened by you, something that was ridiculous. You felt like a sack of potatoes compared to her. Come on, that body, though. Regardless, Natasha remained a blank slate to you, only making the occasional stinging comment. You could see why they called her Black Widow, she was filled with venom.

Then there was Bucky. Bucky was just either stone cold stoic, or rude. Either he rolled out of the wrong side of bed, or the really wrong side. Apparently, his mother didn't teach him to keep his mouth shut if he didn't have something nice to say. Makeup smudged? Bucky noticed. Used too much salt? Bucky complained. Out of cookies? Bucky asked if you were doing your job. Sometimes you wanted to rip his metal arm off and slap him with it. You preferred the days he didn't talk to the days he had a bug up his ass about everything. Those were the easy days.

On the best days, you were exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Most days your body pulsated from all the tension in your muscles. After dinner was served, eaten, and cleaned up, you would ask the team if they needed anything else from you, getting a few grunted no's in return. You would say goodnight and retire to your room, slipping into a hot bath, enjoying your fragrant bath bomb. On the worst days, salty tears would mix with your bath water.

"Should I come back later, or is your moment over now?" Tony called out, a hint of laughter in his voice. You separated from Sam, face turning red. "Tony, I know it's late. I was just about to start dinner. Give me an hour and I'll bring it to your workroom."

"You don't have access to my workroom." Yes, you knew that. Why you had no idea, especially when he complained about coming down for meals. "Anyway, dinner is on me. We're going out, to celebrate!" Sam looked surprised and confused, unsure of what they had to celebrate. Before he could ask Tony spoke again. "Go, Sam, get ready. Wear something nice, no t-shirts and jeans. Go." He shooed him off and turned to leave. Tony looked over his shoulder and winked at you, "Go clean up." He sauntered back to his workroom, and Sam disappeared to his bedroom.

You shrugged and picked up the kitchen a little bit more, deciding to leave the rest for tomorrow. You felt like collapsing. The surprise outing did make things easier for you, now you could settle into your room to relax for the rest of the evening while the team went out. After the long day you had a hot bath sounded like a pretty good idea, and maybe cocoa later. Yes, chocolate would be good. Lots of chocolate.

Your room was comforting, a haven you could retreat to after the day was done. Originally, when Tony had told you about living accommodations you tried to insist on staying in your apartment but it was a twenty-minute drive away from the facility, and he wouldn't let you say no. No was a word Tony Stark just didn't seem to understand. Surprisingly the single bedroom was nicer than the apartment you had lived in for two years. Queen mattress, walk-in closet, and a private bathroom, something that made the team bitter. Natasha and Sam had to share a bathroom, as did Bucky and Steve. Tony had defended it, saying it was only fair for the maid. You preferred the term household manager, like was advertised.

The bath water was running filling the large tub, mixing with the bath bomb you had thrown in coloring the water pale green. Suddenly there was a knock on your door. Not expecting to be disturbed for the rest of the night you had already peeled off your clothes. Thankfully you hadn't taken off your makeup yet. Hastily you threw on a robe and cracked open the door. "What are you doing?" Tony stood dressed impressively in a red button up shirt and suit jacket. You could see Steve walk by behind him, dressed in similar fashion. They must be going somewhere nice.

"I was about to take a bath." You motioned towards the bathroom, where you were sure he could hear the water running. "Did you guys need me for something?" You tugged on your robe, pulling it tighter. They sure had shitty timing, you didn't want to waste a $6 bath bomb. You were pretty sure it was one of the ones with a toy in the middle too. "Aren't you coming?" Your face contorted in confusion. "You're the guest of honor [Y/N], we're celebrating you. Put on a nice dress and get downstairs, we're waiting."

You stood holding the door open for a second, Tony already leaving you to get ready. Celebrating you? What? You shut the door and turned to your closet, going blank. Did you even have anything nice? Frantically you rummaged, pulling out dress after dress, but everything was so informal. Nothing matched how Tony was dressed. "Shit. Why do I never go shopping for myself?" You cursed yourself out loud, reaching the back of your closet. There hung the only thing you could imagine being nice enough to wear.

You slipped the dress on, checking your reflection in the mirror. You frowned at your reflection, prodding at the places on yourself you were less than happy with. You were surrounded by physically perfect super soldiers and spies, you really couldn't compare physically and who wouldn't be a little self-conscious? You snapped out of it, throwing on heels, grabbing a clutch, and heading down the hall to meet the others. Tony had a limo waiting.

[everlarkficexchange]

The Aim of Artemis

Written by: @pinksnailsaver

Prompt 2: Before the Quarter Quell. The victors decide to include Katniss and Peeta in their plans for the rebellion.

Rated: Teen and up

Triggers: None

Summary: There’s no Katniss in “team.”

Chapter 1

I’ve never seen him like this. Never.

Never this nervous. Have I ever seen him nervous at all?

I’ve seen Haymitch angry, nasty, and when he shows the occasional shred of concern for a human other than himself, and doesn’t drown it in liquor, I’ve seen him worried. But nervous?  To talk to me?

Why else would he be pacing back and forth in front of me? Grabbing at the thinning hair on the back of his head with one hand, while the other clutches the china cup of tea my mother gave him, occasionally looking down at it like it might magically transform into the beverage he’d prefer.

The longer this goes on, the more I start to feel nervous. But I’m trapped here in the sitting room alone with him. Alone with this crazy old man who drinks too much and sleeps with a knife, although right now he looks less like he’s plotting harm against me and more like he wants to propose.

I grit my teeth and tell myself not to be mad at Peeta, but this is all his fault. Every day since the Quarter Quell was announced he’s had us run ragged at some pointless attempt at training.  Today it took its toll, and I re-injured my ankle.  After he carried me home and set me in here on a comfy sofa with my foot propped up, I expected him to stay and keep apologizing, to wait on me like I know he wants to.

“What did you say to Peeta to get him to leave?” I ask. This, at least, is something to break the silence.

“What?” Haymitch says, like he has no idea what I’m talking about. Gray eyes stare at me in confusion. Clearly his train of thought was headed elsewhere, and is already too far down the tracks. But at least he’s made eye contact.

“You must’ve said something to Peeta.”

His eyes narrow to a squint, deep lines forming at the corners, and then his lips curl up in his familiar sarcastic smile.

He smiles because he knows me too well.  He knows that I know that there’s something he really doesn’t want to tell me.  And he knows that I’m not asking what it is because I really don’t want to know.  He’s right, of course.  A thousand terrifying thoughts swirl in my head.  The greatest one is that one of them – Gale or Peeta – will come up with some stupid plan to save me from the Quell.  Because they’re boys, and that’s what boys do for girls they love.  Stupid things.

Then, as if to make the situation even more surreal, Haymitch walks over to the music player and turns it on.  His finger rides the volume button until old folk songs fill the room at an uncomfortable level.

“What are you doing?”

No sooner have I asked the question than he’s by side, pushing in right next to me on the sofa, jostling the pillows my ankle rests on and making me wince.  I turn to see his face looming right in front of mine.

He raises his eyebrows flirtatiously and says, “Hello, my dear, how are you?”

“Haymitch!  What is going on?”

I can smell the liquor from the latest round on him.  So he did have something motivational before coming in here.  I try to scoot away, but he grabs my arm.  Hard.

He speaks right into my ear.  “I turned the music on so no one can hear us.”

“No one’s here but my mother.”  And Haymitch has chased her away, too.

“Haven’t you heard the expression ‘The walls have ears’?”

He looks intently at me now.  His closeness makes me so uncomfortable I long for escape, but I don’t try.  His eyes are storm clouds forming.  It chills me just like the sudden roll in of black clouds when I was out in the woods, little time to make it safely home.  I know exactly what he means.  The house is not a safe place to talk.  But here we are.  And what he wants to say – or doesn’t want to say – can’t wait.

“Peeta can’t know,” he says.  “I had to wait until I could get you away from him.”  I stare at him.  My mouth has dropped open, but I don’t care.  “You can’t tell a soul.  Not Prim, Gale, your mother.  Not anyone you love.  You’re going to want to.  You’re going to want to tell everyone who cares about you.  You can’t.  You absolutely can’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said you want to save Peeta?”

“Yes.”

“Peeta wants to save you.”

“Of course he does.”

His voice lowers even more now.  I can barely hear him over the warbles and dueling banjos from the stereo.  “There’s a way we can save both of you.  Maybe.”

My stomach flips.  What he’s saying is crazy.  Impossible.  I should laugh, but instead some desperate part of me blurts out, “What? How?”

“First you promise.  You will not tell a soul.  You will not ask questions.  You will listen to what I tell you.  You will not demand to know more than I can give.”

Maybe because it’s Haymitch, but the desperate part of me is beaten back by my natural suspicion.  I narrow my eyes at him warily.  Is he drunk?  No.  I know when he’s drunk.  What could he possibly be thinking?  Some secret plan for sponsors?  Does he really not understand what’s happening here?

“There’s no way you can get us both out this time,” I say.   “Snow wants me dead.  That’s the whole point.”

Haymitch gazes at me.  Then he nods.  “I knew this was a bad idea.”  He gets to his feet and sets his tea cup on the table as if to go.

I stare up at him.  He looks down to meet my eyes one last time.  It’s a game of chicken.  Who will crack first?

And then I see it.

There amidst the storm clouds I see the one stray sunbeam.  It’s a glimmer of hope.  Haymitch never has hope.  Looking into Haymitch’s eyes and seeing hope is like looking into Buttercup’s eyes and seeing trust. Or fondness.

Now I want to know.  It’s stupid and probably pointless, and yet I want to know.  But I’m not ready to cave. He’s given me some leverage. If he knew it was a bad idea, that means someone talked him into it, which I point out:

“So someone else wants you to tell me.”

He leans down, invading my personal space again.  “Yes.  But the decision is up to me.”

I fold my arms.  “Fine.  I promise.”

“Promise what?”

“Promise that I won’t tell anyone.”

“No matter how much you want to.”

“No matter how much I want to.”

“I have your word?”

He knows what this means.  In the Seam, your word is the most valuable thing you have.  It’s your greatest currency.  Once given, you don’t take it back.

“You have my word.”

He slides in next to me on the sofa again.  It’s uncomfortable, but I don’t flinch this time.  I wait for him to speak.

“There’s a plan,” he says simply.

“Okay.”

“We wanted to keep you out of it.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“You don’t ask questions.”

I sigh.  “Okay.”

“But –”  He pauses, still not 100 percent sure he wants to do this.

“But…”

“We might need someone with good aim.”

“To do what?”  I realize that was a question, but he clearly needs some prompting.

Haymitch takes a deep breath, looks at me.  I see the sun breaking through the clouds.  And then he says:

“To break out of the arena.”

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