#her universe keeps getting shattered again and again - and yet she stands

[pristina-nomine]

Ses lointains ancêtres avaient assisté à la dislocation de leur univers. S'étaient-ils laissés mourir pour autant? Non, ils s'étaient inventé une autre vie.

[risingode]

loml (loss of my life)

summary: in which ellie's only ever cried in front of you three times. yet the fourth is the most devastating of them all.

pairing: ellie williams x y/n

genre: angst

wc: 962

please comment or message letting me know your thoughts! it helps motivate me :)

once again inspired by taylor swfit :)

a/n: hello everyone! it has been quite a while since i have uploaded on here. i've had a lot of changes in my life since the last time i posted a writing of mine, primarily, i am now in my third (!!!) year of university. crazy to even think about tbh. anyways, i know i primarily write about jungkook from bts, but recently i was gifted a ps5 by my brother in law and the first game i bought was tlou part 2 remastered because i never quite got over the game, or more specifically, ellie williams lmaooooo. anyways pls enjoy this short little drabble, i am excited to get back into writing! and yes, i will keep writing for jungkook as well, i'm just mixing it up a bit!

Ellie Williams was an enigma to the world, and right now, her mystery is unfurling in the cruelest of ways. The room before you is a tapestry of shattered dreams, clothes scattered like discarded promises, each garment a silent witness to the betrayal unfolding before your eyes.

Your heart, once so full of trust and love, feels like it's disintegrating. A heart-shaped void appears on the floor beneath you, a grotesque reflection of the pain ripping through your chest. There, in the dim light, your fiancée lies entwined with another woman, their bodies a stark betrayal of the vows once promised to you.

It's almost absurd, the way a love that once made you feel invincible can crumble so easily, as if it was all a cruel joke. The sight is so surreal that you question its reality, your mind unable to reconcile the image before you with the life you thought you shared. Your feet are rooted to the ground, as if some invisible force has tethered you to this unbearable truth.

The diamond ring on your finger, once a symbol of unending love, now feels like a shackle, its weight a painful reminder of the promises that were so carelessly broken. You stand there, numb and hollow, the ache in your chest growing more insistent with every breath. 

Her voice is a faint murmur, drowned out by the protective haze your mind has wrapped around you, shielding you from the full weight of her betrayal. The woman who promised to stand by you for the rest of your life is now an almost surreal presence, a distant echo as the reality of the situation sinks in.

They scramble to untangle themselves from the bed—your bed. Clothes are hastily pulled on, and you feel a wave of nausea rise up, the bile surging before you can even hope to stop it. The force of the moment propels you into action, and you sprint through the house, your heart pounding with the realization that every corner holds a painful reminder of the life you built together.

The couch you assembled in your first apartment, the dishes you chose together, each one a piece of your shared dream, perfectly matching the white and royal blue of your kitchen. The kitchen where you cooked meals side by side, dancing to songs from artists you discovered together, 

“This one’s the song I want to walk down the aisle to,” you’d said, stirring the pasta as you both cooked together.

Ellie looked up from where she stood, buttering garlic bread. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling as you watched her. “Do you like it?”

Her eyes twinkled with that familiar warmth as she walked over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist. “I don’t care what song you walk down the aisle to,” her tender voice whispers into your ear, “as long as the person standing at the end of it is me.” 

The air is cold against your hot skin, a reminder of how real everything you just experienced was. You couldn’t seem to care, though, almost prying open the door to your poorly parked car. The silence of it deafening as you give yourself time to catch your breath, finally it was quiet. Still, the sounds of their shared moans and whimpers echoes in your mind. The silence doesn’t last long, a loud thump breaks you out of your dissociated trance. Your neck snaps towards your driver’s side window, Ellie’s tearful face is the sight you’re met with. You think back to all the times you’ve seen her cry before. You conclude it’s three. 

The first time was when she was drunk, confessing her feelings, afraid you didn’t feel the same. You had held her close, whispering reassurances. 

“Oh, Ellie, you’re silly to think I don’t like you too.”

The second was when you were rushed to the hospital after a fall at work. The memory is a blur of bright lights and pain, but Ellie’s tear-streaked face as she clung to you is vivid. 

“You scared me so bad, baby,” she had sobbed into your shoulder.

You had tried to lighten the moment, chuckling despite your discomfort. “I just have a mild concussion. The only thing I’m worried about is how I’m going to step back into that office without a bag over my head. I’m so embarrassed.” 

She pulls away to look at your pouting face, noticing a light purple bruise decorating your pretty eye. She frowns, leaning in to leave a kiss on it. “Shut up, you’re never leaving my side again.”

The third and only time you cried alongside her was the day she proposed, her hand shaking in your grasp as she got down on one knee. 

“You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I don’t care how many years pass, or how many hurdles we come across, I will always be there for you. I can’t imagine loving anyone as much as I love you, baby.” 

You’re choking on your tears, your hand feels almost numb at the tightening of her grip. You reach your empty hand up to your chest, willing your beating heart to still. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Now, in the cold car, you’re confronting the fourth time, a cruel twist of fate that you never anticipated would be this moment. You thought the tears would come on your wedding day, as you exchanged vows to love and cherish each other, for better or for worse. The irony makes you laugh, a broken, hollow sound, as you shift the car into reverse.

Ignoring the pleading sobs muffled by the glass, you drive away, each mile feeling like a mile further from the life you once knew and the promises that were so easily shattered.

[sguidwards-bestfriend]

So apparently pitchpearl is a thing, I've been on tumblr for a while and if you know any history then you understand why selfcest doesn't surprise me in the slightest

Anyway...

dpxdc Misunderstanding that becomes reality fic: 1.5k

part 1

Warning: I plan on a very melancholic ending, its a good ending but also kinda sad

...

When Danny moved to Gotham, he really had thought he wouldn't continue his hero work in this dimension.

But there was a little girl in the street that almost got hurt during a rogue attack.

But some kind of gas went off at the cafe he worked at and it's not like he really needs to breath and there were so many people.

But his University, Gotham U, was in a lock down from a random winter storm that definitely wasn't natural.

So he did what he could when he saw it and kept off of the news when he was doing class work, letting the other "vigilantes" pick up where he couldn't.

However, after a few more months of class, work, and being a vigilante (the news station that first showed him used the correct name!!), he was right back where he had been in Amity before he'd managed to close the portal.

Exhausted and failing at everything other than hero work.

The year after he had graduated high school he stayed in Amity and was able to make amends with the ghosts, being the crown prince definitely helped. He thought the ghost attacks stopping would have lessened his pa- Jack and Maddie trying to catch one. In reality they only became more and more frantic to catch the last ghost, "Mini Phantom".

Revealing he had a daughter, that that daughter was half ghost, hadn't gone well in the slightest.

The one shot Maddie managed to hit had almost destabilized her. He had grabbed her and ran into the portal. He wasn't sure how he'd done it, but in a fit of blinding rage he had destroyed both sides of the doorway to the Ghost Zone.

Frost bite had managed to get her to retract into her core. She'd need some time before she'd have a physical form again, and she'd need Danny to keep her stable for some time, but she would make it. She'd be fine in the end.

It felt weird to have two cores in his chest, but other than needing to take ecto shots it wasn't a huge change.

The last time he'd been to frostbite Ellie's core had some sort of shake to it. It could have been nothing, but a halfa was rare enough. A halfa making a never-born hadn't even been thought of. Add on, that that never-born could possibly be born a halfa was... concerning.

So here he was, in an entirely new dimension, nervously chewing on the end of his stylus, waiting to hear back from Frostbite. His study sessions lately kept being interrupted by thoughts of her. If she really was okay.

Then there was an earth shattering BOOM, that shook his entire building.

As he floated upwards and through the wall he caught a glimpse of something he had never seen before in his afterlife.

A daemon. An actual daemon with red skin and horns and a flaming tail crawling out of the ruble that used to be his front door.

Danny could sense immediately that the being wasn't from the ghost zone, but it held just as much power as one of the stronger ghost.

He transformed and landed in front of the being, "Hey! That was my front door! What gives, Rudolf?"

The daemon shook the dust off his head and looked at Phantom, then at his chest, and back at him. "I do not fight those that carry child."

"Oh... uh." He was not expecting that. "Are you okay?"

It was the daemons turn to look perplexed. "I am fighting a hellblazer, he owes me something. Refuses to pay."

"That's annoying." He looked around to see some guy in a trench coat at the end of the street. The yet to settle dust cloud making it hard to figure out any other features. "I can help if you-"

At that a massive blast of magic hit him and the daemon, sending them careening farther down the street.

Danny's vision went double and he thought he was going to throw up. All he could focus on at first was the pain as he tried to stand on wobbly legs, then it was the emptiness in his chest.

Ellie.

He closed his eyes and dropped back to the floor. He focused on her core. He found it quickly, checking it over, turning it every which way incessantly until he heard someone groan in front of him.

When he opened his eyes he was looking at two much smaller daemons, one a bright red, the other a darker wine red, sitting in a massive indent in the road. One he very luckily was on the very outskirts of.

The two immediately started to bicker, swatting at each other, but not actually fighting.

He heard footsteps on the wreckage behind him, some magic words were said and the daemons' were hand cuffed and poofed out of sight.

"Hey kid, you okay?" Trench coat asked him, not bothering to give him his hand.

"No thanks to you, you ass."

"I just saved your life." He said with a blank expression.

"The daemon wouldn't have done anything to me. Unlike you, they have a moral code."

Trench coat huffed, that seemed to ruffle his feathers. "And what would those morals be exactly?"

"They pay their debts, for one. And two, they don't magically attack people carrying children." Danny stood up and wavered. Trench coat grabbed his arm to steady him.

He stared at Danny for a few more seconds, "You're not human." It wasn't a question. He sucked in a breath, "You're not fully human."

"Ding, ding, ding." Danny tried to shake of the hellblazer's grip. "Let go of me."

"I know where to get medical attention for non humans. You need to be looked over." He said, starting the motion to make a portal.

"Nuh, uh. No. I'm fine." Danny said, patting the hand still wrapped around his arm. Trenchcoat let go and shoved him lightly, Danny felt the world twist around him as the pavement came up to meet his face.

Before he hit the ground he stopped in mid air, not by his own volition, and was gently propped back up.

"That blast spell is designed to not affect humans. You shouldn't have felt more than a breeze." Trenchcoat went back to opening up a portal, it glowed an eerie red. "Come on, well check the little one too."

Danny let himself get pulled through the red portal, it quickly closed behind them.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

His head was pounding.

"wha/t- morals- exactly?"

Talking.

"debts- two- atta/ckp/eo-ple- children."

Two voices. Two people.

"not human."

He feels empty.

"Letg/oof me."

He's hurt. His other half is hurt.

"You need to be looked over."

He opened his eyes, a man was holding his other half. His other half and his daughter.

"Nuh, uh. No. I'm fine." His other half swatted at the man.

The man pushed his other half to the ground.

He tried to reach out but his hand was barely a shimmering outline.

His other half didn't hit the ground.

There was ringing in his ears. The man would pay.

"Come on,- the little one too."

The man pulled his other half through a portal.

A sickly looking portal. A bloody color.

He floated up. Sped to the closing portal.

It closed too fast.

He wasn't fast enough.

...

It took Phantom 20 minutes to get his thoughts in order and another 10 before the ringing in his ears stopped.

He had been split in two before, but the ghost "dream catcher" the ecto-scientists made years ago had split his ghost half and his human half entirely. This was different.

He still felt a bit of his humanness. Transforming would suck though, he felt too low on ecto to do that.

His other half was in his human form when he looked. He still had Ellie nestled up against his core. But his core looked off. Although the silhouette was of a full sphere, he couldn't help shaking the thought that he saw some parts missing.

When Danny had been split before only his ghost had kept the core, it was what nearly killed them both. What made them promise to never split again.

Maybe if they both had bits of a core they'd be fine until they could reunite.

He tried to focus on his core but it made his head pound.

He'd have to hope his other half could manage as he tried to organize a rescue mission.

Although he'd managed to get a message from the Ghost Zone to Sam and Tucker, he wouldn't be able to get one dirrectly to their dimension.

He knew even trying to make a portal with his ecto as low as it was wasn't a good idea. And would be a waste of the ecto shots he had just chugged.

There was really only one hope of help he had left, one he really didn't want to ask.

A new friend he had made at the cafe.

Tim Drake-Wayne, son of Brucie Wayne. The very same Brucie Wayne that was definitely funding Batman's weird night life.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wow this got away from me, honestly was planning on like 500 words. I want to continue this, but if anyone wants to pick it up and play around please feel free to add stuff in the reblogs! I adore reading peoples additions to posts

(As always please please please help me writing tags i never knwo what to do with them, the lack of structure here compared to ao3 confuses me)

[ladybirdswritings]

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary - Miguel is forced to dwell over the consequences of his own actions. Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

next chapter

seven ,, miguel’s POV

“You have some cojones, Miguel O’Hara.”

My eyes slowly lift from the place where they were once glued, the small tree. It still stands, the shattered and jagged bite of glass the most unavoidable ornament. Right in the enter for my eyes to see.

It’s been a week, one week of plain, suffocating normality. No clumsy girl, no doe eyes that I can only seem to fill with tears. No intimidating someone who I can’t guess the reaction of, no excitement.

My girls must feel it too. Maybe they liked having those stupid ribbons and pearly white smile bouncing around the office. Maybe they liked the distraction. Too bad. It’s better this way…

“Jessica, mi amor— though I always enjoy your visits in with me-”

She raises a suspicious brow at my words but I continue before she takes the first chance she can to interrupt me, as always…

“Today isn’t the day.” It really, truly fucking isn’t.

I sound apathetic, unbothered. Truthfully, I am bothered. I am bothered because it's been a week and yet I feel this uncomfortable burning at my mind. It’s inhuman, unnatural. I’ve yelled at dozens before, girls even sweeter than her. Girls with pretty eyes and pouty lips, melting into expressions of horror and sorrow. It was expected, needed. They needed to become better, to not be weak.

So why the fuck do I feel like I was in the wrong this time?

Jessica, coiled locks tamed back with a headband and stomach protruding with her soon to be first-born, she huffs as she sits down on my corner chair.

“This still work?” She asks. Stupid question. I regard her with dark, annoyed eyes and a single nod. She immediately presses the button, then heat and vibrations engulf her. She moans in content, enjoying the ease of tension in her back from carrying that child around.

“Oh yeah, it does. God I love this thing.” Her voice is vibrating.

Good, she should. It’s for her anyways. There’s no other moody, bossy and inhumanly hungry pregnant woman in sight. Gracias a Dios. Me mataría.

She’s distracted, I believe for a second that maybe I’ve just been saved by that expensive fucking chair but oh no, lately I’m just proving to be an unlucky bastard. She talks again.

“Where was I… oh yeah, that’s the problem, Miguel. It’s never the day with you. But shit, when I get curious and decide to check those security tapes and see you caging a small girl against the wall and making her hunch over in fear? Today is gonna have to be the day. What the fuck happened to morale? Why couldn’t you take it out on Moon, on someone we know, at least.” She doesn’t understand, I don’t expect her to.

I narrow my eyes, lifting from my seat. I don’t like being on her level. I feel suffocated there, with all these questions. Boss of my own empire and yet I’m getting an inquisition by a woman I hired. Regardless, my mind is clearer when I stare out at the city, looking down at all those people. I feel big, powerful. Like I know everything. I do, mostly. This time though? I don’t.

Me está volviendo loco.

And that’s because of that fucking girl. Es un misterio, un enigma. Never in my life have I sat across from someone I don’t fucking understand. I didn’t get this successful from not understanding the idiots around me, no. But her? I didn’t expect the dramatics.

“I don’t always like what I have to do, but I know I have to be the one to do it. Involving my personal life into her work is not only inappropriate but it is disrespectful.” I sound uninterested, lazed with my words. I know Jessica, they won’t be enough for her.

“You know what’s inappropriate? Your employees watching Lacy walk into your office in shorts that barely cover her nonexistent ass. You think they don’t know you’re banging her in between meetings?”

My jaw ticks, and I exhale all the air from my lungs through my nose.

“I know they know.”

I do. I do and I don’t give a shit what they think. I have urges, needs. No, not wants. Needs. Uncontrollable, demanding. My eyes glaze over my window, memories of fucking Lacy here with her pretty tits hung for the world to see. The thought brings me peace.

Jessica leans forward or tries too with that protruded stomach of hers.

“Oh you do. Okay, right. So that’s okay but a picture of Gabby isn’t?”

Gabby.

Mi princesa.

The name is like the crown on Medusa’s head. But I don’t let it freeze me, no. I don’t let it stop me from moving. Working. Breathing. Reacting. I react. I react before it can stop me and if that stupid girl would’ve done as she was told, she wouldn’t have had to be on the other side of those reactions.

I hate it.

Fucking hate it when they utter her name. Jessica… she’s lucky she’s pregnant and lucky she’s Jessica because coño, I would case her up against the wall too if she wasn’t.

“No, Jessica. It’s not okay. Lacy equates to a fucking— masseuse.” I snap.

“She’s massaging something alright.” She interjects.

“Carajo.” I exhale, reaching angrily at my silk handkerchief and tossing it with force to the leather loveseat. There’s no winning with her. Back in my throne, I collapse.

She’s infuriating, and she’s lecturing me over a girl that was only here for a week and has already caused so much trouble. Me está dando vueltas la cabeza.

“What is it Jessica, huh? What— are you dumbstruck by her stupid ribbons and worn-out clothes too?” It’s the only explanation for this. The girl must be a witch.

She sucks her teeth at that,

“Nope. I never even met the girl. Seems like it’s you that’s dumbstruck.”

Me?

That thought… it’s stupid.

My fists clench, a sting of pain burning at the place where she dug those nails into me. There’s skin dented there.

“Cállate.” I warn. But she’s Jessica. She’s not Mary Jane, not Cindy or any of my other obedient girls. Es un dolor de cabeza.

To no surprise, she does anything but shut the fuck up.

“Look, I could give less of a shit if your dick does a dance for her or not—”

“Dios mío…” She’s gone crazy.

“My point is— we don’t know her. We don’t know her, and she could talk. She could tell the story of how you emotionally and fuck— almost physically assaulted her to the Bugle and then what?”

I shake my head at that. She’s fucking wrong.

“I would never put my hands on her.” Not her. Not any woman.

Jessica displays two defeated palms up in the air, annoyance laced in their lines.

“But ya did, Miguel. You did when you grabbed her chin. And wether you and I know that it was softly or not, it doesn’t fucking matter. It’s about what they believe, what they see and you look psychotic on that tape.”

I turn my face from her, grinding my teeth as I search my mind for a way to answer back. To explain.

I can’t. I can’t and it makes me angrier.

“You’re not invincible, Miguel. People get tired of your shit and we agreed. We agreed that if you kept the reins on your issues, it would be enough. You don’t have to come to the gatherings or the holiday meetings. They know you don’t give a shit about any of them-”

“They’re employees.” I interrupt. Their job is to follow my orders and keep smiles on their pretty faces. That is morale.

“Yeah, they’re employees and they don’t get paid enough to deal with your shit.”

My eyes say it all, she knows that’s not true. Their checks are full. My girls have paid off debt, bought houses, taken vacations and bought all their materialistic heart desire. Some within their first year with me. Jessica sighs, shaking her head at my stubbornness. Silence blankets us and I fucking prefer it that way.

“My point is that people can walk, Miguel. They can walk when they aren’t happy. When they read the outsiders input on your bad behavior. Nobody wants to work for an asshole and fuck, I don’t blame her for walking out. Actually, I respect her for it. The girl’s shoes are practically falling off of her feet and she’s wearing skirts in the winter, yet it looks like she’d rather starve on those ice-cold New York City streets than work for someone who spits on her effort and time.”

Her words strike me silent. It seems like Jessica Drew is the only one who can make me have nothing to say. Què maravilla. I won’t admit that it’s because she’s right. She isn’t.

…

She might be.

My silence, it prompts her to continue. She shuts the seat off, groaning as she stands to her feet. She waddles to me, one hand on my cherrywood desk as she bows her head to speak to me.

“Look, I know this shit isn’t easy. I get that. You and I? We’re day ones. Peter and I watched you build this company up from the ground. We watched you make something of yourself. The bastard kid out of Nueva York turned into the bastard man above it. And I- … I lost her too, Miguel. Lost her. I didn’t forget her, and I sure as fuck don’t want to run from her. If someone was so fucking kind enough to put effort into making me that—”

Her eyes glow golden as they fall upon the small tree, on the shattered ornament with that beautiful, delicate smile. My girl. Against my own will, I find myself stuck, gazing at it too.

“Shit, maybe I’d promote them. That? That’s special, it’s kind. Most people don’t have the guts to do that, especially not for a boss— let alone a new one… but as always, you’ve laid down the cement on yet another grave. No chance in hell she comes back, no chance we fix this before Jameson gets his dirty hands on it.”

Jameson. Maldito cerdo.

It was his men that he sent out that day. All of them gathered up on my doorstep like fucking vultures, flashing their lights at the place where my baby girl just— fuck...

He was a lucky son of a bitch that day. I would’ve snapped that cockroach’s neck if it weren’t for Murdock.

Fuck…

I don’t like loose ends. No, I don’t like being wrong. I strive every day of my life to be anything but it. I was wrong once. And look what it cost me? My baby’s life. I won’t make the same mistake again. Not with my company.

Sure as hell not because of the balding bastard and a delicate girl with ribbons in her hair.

No.

“I’ll convince her.” I will. I’ll mail her check with a note attached. An invitation back. Maybe I’ll raise her pay. She could use it, anyway.

But Jessica fucking Drew. Always finding microscopic holes in my plans. She laughs at me.

She fucking laughs at me as she straightens her back, hands resting on the place where her baby kicks.

“Sure, good luck with that. She might’ve hunched over and cried but damn— I saw the way she dug those nails into you. She’s a tough one… besides, I think it’s best If you keep away. Don’t wanna make their new front cover story more interesting.”

Que mierda.

I raise my hand, pinching at the place where tension pools between my brows. Fucking Jessica. Analytical, frustrating, and always convinced she’s right.

She is tough… that girl. Un fuego.

I saw it when she sat in my chair and dug her nails into it, and I saw it when she dug her nails into me. I saw it when she pushed my hand away, straightened up and wiped those tears off her pretty face like they were nothing more than meaningless water on her skin. She turned her back on me. No one ever does. No one has ever not succumbed to my hand. And she’s lucky, I never offer comfort to any of the girls I yell at. No, they don’t need it. They’d accept it, regardless. Not her.

Un enigma.

Jessica sighs, turning from me and finally leaving me to be. Leaving me with no solutions, only loose ends. She must feel my eyes burning holes into her back. Frustrated fucking holes. She stops.

Carajo.

I sigh now, allowing my eyes to fall shut into the comfort of darkness. A place behind my lids where no Jessica Drew exists.

“There’s another gathering tonight, actually. Perfect way to win your people back before you even lose them.”

She’s smiling, she’s proud of her stupid little idea. I don’t need to open my eyes to see it. The ache in my neck makes my head fall into my palms— and though every part of me wants to tell her to get out?

“What time, Jessica?”

🏷️’s: @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield @poutysprouty @chorizobeets @luvlylaurakisses @to-the-endoftheline @bimb00

[logically-asexual]

I’m losing by his side

summary:

Nathalie meets Betterfly! they have a long conversation and she deals with some conflicting emotions.

Title from I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski

word count: 4,510

Read on AO3

Nathalie wasn’t asleep yet, but she was still annoyed by the noise of her phone ringing. Whatever Gabriel wanted at this time of the night, or rather, morning, could wait until after the sun had come out, or he could forget about it. She hung up before resuming her reading. At least she tried to do so, but as much as she stared at the text on the pages, she couldn’t process any meaning from it.

Her last hope for enjoying the last few hours of the night by herself was soon vanished by the man himself barging into her bedroom. It was true that she wasn’t in the mood to see Gabriel, but the fact that it was Monarch standing now in her room wasn’t at all better. He must have been enraged to stomp through the house without even reversing the transformation. At least he didn’t forget to close the door of her bedroom and forced her to get up and stumble over there to do it herself. Hopefully Adrien didn’t see anything.

He interrupted before she could voice any question or complaint, demanding to know why she hadn’t answered his calls. So keeping this form was intentional, Nathalie thought. He wanted to scare her. Unfortunately for him she had never fallen for that, and now wouldn’t be any different.

“Sir, it’s the middle of the night. Why can’t you just let me rest?”

She knew he had been down with Emilie since earlier, after Nathalie had arrived home from the train and came upstairs. He had said he would see if he could get something useful out of the kwamis, but she could guess now by his apparent frustration that he didn’t.

“This is important, Nathalie. Some miraculous holders from a parallel universe crossed a portal here and they—“

Nathalie was convinced he was losing his mind. “I don’t want to hear about it, Gabriel!”

“Well you could at least answer your phone so I know you’re alive!”

Oh, so now he was pretending it was just concern for her health, but she knew the truth. She knew that if he really cared about her he would have fixed everything when he had the chance.

“I already told you I’m fine. I don’t need your help and I’m not helping you with this either.” She ignored the irony of her saying that while still reclined on the bed, too weak to stand up so she could at least face him closer to eye level.

“Nathalie, you have to understand—“

“No, you’re wrong. You betrayed me, Gabriel, you betrayed Emilie and all for—“

“How dare you.” Gone was the bargaining phase as rage overtook his expression again. “You know everything I’ve done is for her, you’ll take that back.”

“No.”

“No?” He raised an eyebrow and dropped the pitch of his voice even further. The calm but threatening tone admittedly made Nathalie more nervous than his explosive anger before, but she stayed firm.

“I said no.”

“It seems you have forgotten your place, Ms Sancoeur. I tell you what to do,” he grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to him, forcing her to keep eye contact, “and then you do it.” With his free hand, he slammed his fist into her bedside table, which caused the lamp and a vase to fall and shatter on the floor. “Do you understand?” he yelled.

The noise made her flinch, but she looked up again when another crash came from her window. A superhero she hadn’t seen before was standing in her room. He was dressed in a light purple suit with a matching cape and mask.

“Let go of her!” the man ordered and pointed at Monarch with his cane.

“I don’t have time for this,” Monarch groaned, but he pulled away. He turned his head at the door with the restlessness that characterized the recognition of a negative emotion somewhere.

Before Monarch could call the transformation for any of the other kwamis or otherwise make a move, the superhero moved quickly to kick him in the stomach. Then, while he gasped for air, the man took Nathalie in his arms and jumped with her back out the window.

Everything happened so fast, she was barely beginning to process it when he was helping her sit down on a bench. There was something familiar in the position of his hands around her and in the way he knelt in front of her afterwards.

“Sorry,” he said, “I was in the middle of something else when I heard a crash and I had to step in when I saw it was a villain. Are you ok?”

Nathalie heard the question, but her focus was elsewhere. “You have the butterfly miraculous.”

He seemed a little surprised that that was what had her attention. “I do.”

“But— But that’s impossible.”

“I should introduce myself,” his voice was impossibly calm, compared to her own uneasiness. “I am Betterfly. I am the holder of the butterfly miraculous in a different universe than yours. It’s a pleasure.”

He smiled at her, then he took Nathalie’s hand and kissed it the same way Gabriel did when he met a woman he respected. She felt embarrassed at the action, since she certainly didn’t consider herself on the same rank as them.

“I came here through a portal to seek help from your Ladybug and Cat Noir. We’re currently trying to track their iterations from my universe, who followed me here, but we seem to have lost them.”

He looked around, as if searching for clues, but the city was dead quiet. They were in a park, she only now noticed, and the only sound came from the leaves shifting with the wind.

Nathalie took a moment to take it all in. Apparently Monarch had been right about the parallel universe. After everything they had been through the past year, she guessed this wasn’t that unbelievable.

She looked closely at Betterfly. The resemblance to Hawk Moth’s costume was clear, but every edge was rounder and every color lighter. The smaller mask letting strands of silver hair move freely with the breeze also added to the gentleness of his appearance. And his eyes… Nathalie couldn’t hold his gaze for long because the look in them was just… overwhelming.

“You’re one of them? The heroes?” was all she could come up with.

Now he was the one who looked embarrassed. “I guess you could say that. I’m just one man trying to do what I think is best.” He smiled again.

She knew that smile, but she had never seen it so often. Not since Emilie… was gone.

If they were parallel universes, this one and wherever he came from, and both butterfly holders were already opposite in their roles, could they be similar in other ways?

Examining his face, she let her curiosity win and asked, “Gabriel?”

Betterfly’s eyes widened slightly before he turned away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten off topic. Are you sure you’re alright? Is there anything I can do?”

His reaction was confirmation enough that Nathalie was right, yet this just opened so many more questions.

“I’m fine,” she answered. “I just have some… communication issues.”

He moved to sit down on the bench next to her. She was thankful for that, but it still gave her the impression of some sort of therapy session starting.

“Was that Gabriel Agreste’s house, the designer?”

She would indulge his pretense that the disguise was still working, if it made conversing easier for him. She nodded and clarified that she was his executive assistant.

“And you live there?”

The arrangement looked weird to outsiders, she was aware of that, but it was necessary for her to be able to do everything her job involved, including the parts of it that weren’t public, which only made it sound worse. At least now she could blame it on her disability, that her life was easier without a daily commute. She should move out soon, now that she could walk by herself with the help of the device, but she couldn’t leave Adrien and, well, most of the memories of her adult life behind just like that.

“I do,” she simply stated. “Mr. Agreste’s workplace is there so that’s where I work as well.” Eager to shift the attention away from her living situation, she asked, “Is that not my job in your world?”

Betterfly looked down at the ground with what Nathalie could identify as remorse. “From what I can tell, Gabriel and you don’t really… talk much.”

Nathalie wondered what the story behind that could be. Had he also hurt Nathalie but at least had the decency to regret it? Her Gabriel only felt guilty about one thing, and he would probably betray her trust in him a hundred times over if he had to.

Her expression might have given away some of her anger, because the superhero now also seemed curious about her relationship with her boss.

“Do you, um…”

Before he could figure out how to formulate the question, she interrupted him. “We don’t talk much anymore either.”

A slight disappointment in his face somehow felt like a heavy weight pressing against her lungs. The way his open eyes were like invitations for her to look deep into his mind made her uncomfortable. She had gotten used to reading Gabriel’s thoughts through the subtlest movement of his wrinkles, not to have them exposed for anyone to see. It was a skill she had developed through the years, and yet her boss kept surprising her.

What if her own Gabriel did share this one’s emotions, and just didn’t show it? Was that too hopeful to think? It probably was. Either way it was clear that he was hurting now worse than ever before and still wished she could help him.

“Mr. Agreste has just been going through a lot since… well, ever since his wife…”

“Passed.”

“Disappeared,” she automatically corrected.

Now he was the one with a knowing look, trying to express that he could see through her denial.

Maybe he was right to accept it. During that phone call earlier, when Gabriel told her he lost the pocket watch, it felt not only like losing Emilie all over again, but like this time she was gone for real. It would be harder to keep up the pretense after that, no matter what Gabriel would say. However, Nathalie wasn’t sure she was ready to grieve, not all alone like this.

As she thought about Emilie the heavy sensation on her chest expanded upwards, now forming a knot on her throat. Liquid was also starting to gather in the corners of her eyes. Betterfly took a handkerchief out from his suit and offered it to her. She took it, but kept it in her fist while she tried to pull herself back together.

“What about Monarch?” Betterfly kindly attempted to change the topic. “Do you know him? I know that the holder of my miraculous here doesn’t have the best intentions. Are you sure you’re not in any kind of danger?”

Probably not any more than the fact that her days were already counted, but she didn’t want to worry this poor guy with that.

Normally Nathalie would be defensive with an interrogation like this, but after seeing what he saw, she understood that he could be concerned. It must be a shock to find that the same power that you wield could be used for completely different purposes, especially if they go against your own values.

Or maybe they didn’t. Nathalie didn’t know this Gabriel well yet, but were the same person, after all, only… shaped by different circumstances.

The question then pricked her brain. Did he know they were the same person? He had no reason to know, unless he assumed that was the case the same way Nathalie did. Would he even want to know?

“Monarch…” she sighed. “Like I said, he’s going through a lot.”

Her admission was clear enough, going by the way his eyes widened and his sharp intake of air. The reaction didn’t go further than that, and considering how expressive this man had been until now, she assumed his surprise wasn’t too strong. Maybe he had suspected it and just needed confirmation.

Nathalie didn’t want to get into Gabriel’s criminal actions and his motivations, or her own as his partner, so before Betterfly could ask any questions she spoke.

“You seem happy, though.”

He definitely smiles more. Still, earlier he couldn’t have just guessed Emilie was dead here out of nowhere. He must have known because she died there, too. If so, how were the circumstances different in order to produce such different results?

A shadow forming over his eyes contradicted her. “Not everything is great where I come from. In fact, I find your world to be quite lovely. Your heroes are strong and kind, and they have the support of the people. From what Ladybug told me, before they were stolen, the miraculous’ power was shared with others and used for the greater good!”

Very different results, indeed.

“Back home,” he continued, “there’s an entity that hoards all the power of the miraculous, which is kept secret from most of the population. I’m trying the best I can to stop him, but I’m all alone. I’ve also made a lot of mistakes which I’m not proud of, but I find peace knowing that I’m fighting for what I believe is right. All I have is the hope that we can build a better world for everyone. I have to hold on to it.”

“I wish I was strong enough to do the same,” she confessed. “It’s tough to maintain hope when all seems lost.”

“I didn’t say it was easy. I struggled a lot at first. I felt like I was drowning and nothing could bring me to the surface. Trying to swim would only make it worse. Then I realized that the only way out was through, and that if I wasn’t the one to step up then… no one else would.”

Ladybug and Cat Noir were already fighting Monarch. It was their job, not Nathalie’s, but… Despite not having yet lost their miraculous, they also hadn’t defeated Monarch. Recently Nathalie wondered sometimes if she should do something, if she would be the one to make a difference. But she couldn’t bring herself to do anything. She didn’t want Adrien to lose his father and a part of her didn’t want to lose Gabriel, either.

Besides, her lack of success with Hawk Moth showed that any attempt from her at supporting the other party would definitely end in disappointment.

“What if it’s not that simple? What if you just keep failing?”

“You know… It’s been a while but the Nathalie I knew never gave up. No task ever seemed impossible in her hands.”

Her cheeks felt suddenly too warm against the cold night air. His expression lightened back up at her blush. She would have liked to mirror him, but she still didn’t feel well enough.

“What if the task is fighting against the fabric of the universe?”

“Well, then… maybe it’s just as brave to know when to change targets.” He put his hand on top of hers, which was resting on her lap. “After losing my wife I realized that my motivation couldn’t be a desire for revenge or to bring her back. I needed to focus on what I really needed, and what would ultimately do good.”

Nathalie had thought at the beginning that what they were doing was for the best. Emilie was good for her family, for the world. She was kind and loving. She was an inspiration, not only for Nathalie and Gabriel but for anyone who met her. It would certainly have been good for Adrien if they had been able to stop the illness before… before it killed her.

“How can you know for sure what that is?”

“I can’t, but I know it’s not what The Supreme is doing; hoarding the miraculous, hiding them from the world, enslaving the kwamis, and forcing innocent people into a battle that isn’t theirs. People who do know about his abuse are too afraid to face him, but I have faith that with my power I can change their minds, so we can all build a better world together.”

Everything seemed a lot more intense in the other universe. Monarch did hoard miraculous and terrorize a city but it had started with a simple goal. The wish wasn’t supposed to directly affect anyone’s lives except from avoiding the ruin of his and his son’s. Now his goal was even more inconsequential, ridiculous even, since he was obsessed with a vendetta against two random teenagers. Of course stopping this whole fiasco would be good, but in the end all Nathalie wanted was to have a normal life again.

“I don’t have such big aspirations.” She had never been an outstanding person, after all. “I guess all I want is to be able to help the people around me be happy again, even if it’s not the most heroic thing to do.”

“I disagree.”

His hand above her tightened a little, reminding her of its presence. Hesitantly, she turned her hand around, so they could hold each other.

“I wish I was better at that.” His eyes were overcome by that sadness that Nathalie knew well enough. “While I do all this, I know I’ve been missing out on my son’s life. I mean, I do try to get close to him but I just don’t know how to. I can tell he’s struggling and I’m sure after all this is over things will be better for him. But in the meantime…”

He trailed off. Nathalie didn’t know how to fill the space, but she couldn’t stand to see him in pain. Adrien seemed to trust her, but she couldn’t figure out why. She had never been good with kids, not even when she was their age.

The only advice she could offer was, “Perhaps all he needs is to be sure that you’re there for him, that he can rely on your support whenever he needs it. If you make that clear then he’ll come to you on his own.”

His eyebrows lifted up along with his head and he said “You’re right!” in a way that was so identical to Adrien whenever she offered him her input that it was almost funny to watch. “It’s always nice to know there’s someone you can rely on.” Then, a little quieter, he added, “I assume that’s how Gabriel feels about you. I hope he knows how to appreciate it.”

Her face dropped again. “I don’t know. I’ve been wondering if it’s all really worth it. I didn’t mind helping him at first but now that he’s so… focused on his goal, he—“

The tears she thought had been gone returned to flood her eyes as she struggled with her words. He had hurt Nathalie. He lifted her hopes up only to then let her fall to greater depths. He accepted her affection only to push her away afterwards. He looked at her like she was the world and then pretended she was invisible. She had thought the contradictions were only due to the fact that she was her and not Emilie, which she could understand. But now he had betrayed Emilie, too. What did it all mean then? What was all this for? Most importantly, why did it still hurt?

Her hand was moved towards him, now enveloped in both of his. The soothing motion of his thumb over her skin didn’t distract her enough. In fact, it only seemed to encourage the need to cry further.

“I can understand that,” he said. “Sometimes we hold on to people or ideas too strongly for our own good, and we lose sight of other chances.”

“Other chances?”

“Right.”

“Like what?”

She hadn’t realized that there were now tracks of tears on her face, until his gloved hand came up to wipe them away. As he did so, his face also moved closer to hers. While the unreserved affection in his eyes was still overwhelming, this close she found herself captured by it, unable to look away.

“Like what is right in front of you,” he whispered.

Almost unconsciously she was also leaning in, enjoying the warmth she could begin to feel coming from him. Their foreheads touched, and she closed her eyes to savor the moment.

Just as she felt ready to cross the remaining distance, the sudden ringing of her phone made both of them jump apart.

She blinked a couple times as she came back to herself, taking in her surroundings and trying to perceive more than just the drumming of her heart. She finally pulled the phone out of her pocket.

It was Gabriel.

Without thinking, she hung up, then put the device away again.

As she stared towards the trees, the significance of what just happened downed on her like a bucket of cold water being dropped over her head.

Nathalie was the one losing her mind, actually. She leaned down and hid her face between her hands. “What am I doing?” she muttered to herself, “This is a dream, or a hallucination. Emilie never mentioned those but they must be a symptom, or I’m simply losing it, I—“

The other Gabriel began reaching for her but she quickly stood up. The rush of adrenaline that allowed her to do so wouldn’t be enough to let her walk back to the house, though. But she would find a way.

“I have to go.”

“Wait.” He stood, too, and she took a step back away from him.

“I have to make sure Monarch doesn’t do anything stupid.” If she remembered the start of all this correctly, Monarch had to be out there not only with Ladybug and Cat Noir, but with the versions of the heroes from the other universe, too.

“You don’t have to go yet,” Betterfly insisted. “You don’t have to help Monarch, either.”

“No, I have to.”

The look on his face made Nathalie feel guilty about leaving him, but she had no choice. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t her boss. She had only just met him.

He and Gabriel had Emilie’s death in common, but according to what he had expressed Nathalie wasn’t in the other’s life. What if that had been what made the difference? What if this had all been Nathalie’s fault?

She offered her help to track the miraculous of creation and destruction as soon as they figured that the wish was Emilie’s only hope. She enabled Gabriel’s decisions even when she disagreed with them, even when she knew Emilie would disagree with them. She promised she would make Gabriel happy again, but now she had failed both of them. If she let Gabriel get caught or if she didn’t stop him from falling into madness, either way she would be failing them, and Adrien, too.

She couldn’t continue being an accomplice, but she still had to do something, if anything, to make up for all her mistakes.

“I owe it to him. I have part of the blame and I can’t just abandon him, I—“

Her hands tightened around the handkerchief and she noticed how Betterfly’s worried expression softened into some kind of understanding.

“You love him,” he completed for her.

Her body suddenly felt weak again, too weak to hold back the sobs she had been trying to avoid since the moment Gabriel had told her he lost the time miraculous, ever since the moment Emilie had said goodbye.

She didn’t even think of wiping off her makeup before letting herself be pulled into Betterfly’s arms. It was a magical suit, surely the stains wouldn’t be a problem.

His embrace protected her from the cold outside. His hands comforted her on her back and her head, their easing motions working against her shaking.

Despite everything, she still loved Gabriel Agreste. Her Gabriel Agreste, the one she had gone through everything with, the one who struggled to express his gratitude for her but still found ways to do it. The man who could both control chaos in a runway’s backstage as well as unleash it across Paris with the snap of his fingers, the one who had built an entire empire for his family and who would tear it down piece by piece for them, too.

He was misguided, he was in over his head, but he was still the man she owed everything to, the man she promised to stick with until the very end. That didn’t have to mean doing everything he wanted for him; she would find a way to bring him back to the right track.

After all, the owner of the shoulder she was weeping into was living proof that it was possible.

Still sniffling, she pulled away from him to look at his face, to seal it in her mind and convince herself that it was real. Even if she didn’t necessarily want her own Gabriel to become this one, she wanted to know that he could genuinely smile again.

“Nathalie.” He hadn’t let go of her yet, “you have to have hope. A better world is possible.”

She nodded, she believed him.

The ground shaking and the sound of an explosion brought their attention back to their surroundings.

“I should go,” the hero said.

Nathalie nodded again. She also had to make sure that Gabriel was alright, and that Monarch wouldn’t do anything too stupid. From a distance, of course.

Her knees buckled when she tried to take a step, but Betterfly caught her before she could fall. He looked at her with concern.

“It’s a long story, but I’ll be fine.”

He seemed to accept her lie. Without thinking twice he lifted her up once again and jumped across the city, until they were back in her bedroom. He entered through —and shattered— a second window, then helped her sit down at the end of her bed and stayed crouching to be at eye level.

“Goodbye, Gabriel,” she said.

He brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “Goodbye, Nathalie.”

The Gabriel she knew inopportunely slammed her doors open for the second time tonight. “Nathalie! You’re back.”

He locked eyes with Betterfly for a second, before the latter flew out of the house.

Gabriel rushed to occupy the same position his twin had been in. “Who was that? Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

Maybe Nathalie was still shaken by her encounter, but as Gabriel looked at her with worry, she could spot a faint, though distinct, softness in his gaze. Through it she could see a future content version of him, one that had finally found peace.

It had to be possible, she had to have hope that it was. Eventually, she told herself, she would figure it out.

[atherflame-theconcubus]

Important announcement in the undercut. This is a long..

OK, so a lot has been going on so I’m just gonna say this now. Between the false harassment document, a document from a year ago that’s now just getting traction again, and then an anonymous person seemingly spreading it around from malicious intention. The community genuinely sucks.

Sucks considering I literally just came up with two different alternate universes yesterday that I do not plan on keeping (if anyone wants them, I can give you some rundowns on them)

I’m not abandoning my friends from the community, and I will keep interacting with them with the AU that I’ve already gotten built up upon a lot, and I will hopefully at some point talk about the other AU for the community. I have already listed on my comment, and possibly write for some of them over on my A3 account, but I will not be making any more, nor do I want to interact with this community anymore.

As someone who was formally in the buddies community (for a brief rundown on that community, a group of a bunch of children, deciding to get together to make death threat videos to another child who happened to be making troll animal abuse videos that got way out of hand and has a lot of genuinely problematic stuff, including philia, porn, incest, porn, and Loli art. All of which I have unfortunately seen, and become desensitized to) I never thought I would say this, but this community is worse than that one. Because even with how toxic they all are, that community is mostly children. Heck the biggest person in the community/founder of it is possibly 12 right now.

I would sooner go back to that community and apologize to people who accused me of harassment then ever wish to have a positive thought about the sun and moon show community. The community really is that bad.

And I stress this a lot because most of the people perpetuating the harassment in the bud community are children, who most likely don’t know any better. All the people perpetuating the harassment in this community are adults. And people are labeled as harassers, just standing with victims of horrible people.

All in all. This community somehow managed to take the crown for the most toxic community I’ve ever been in. And that is a lot consistently that this community would not be worse than the hate community.

And the biggest reason I say that is because despite me leaving the community and barely interacting with any of it which actually has decent content and is giving us a story with all the characters buds has, I can still make alternate universes and have fun while doing it there. If I make an alternate universe here I have to fear the big blog or other people trying to pressure me into including incest in it.

All in all. I’m saying this, but I hate this community more than the buds hate community. And I can consistently compare it to a cult.

If anyone is getting into this community from the Gacha community, I have recommendations on blogs you should avoid as they will willingly harass you for just trying to stand by people who are sent inappropriate artwork for just liking family dynamics

Dana-the-control-brain

Cephalon ghost

Witchy

Alexandraisyes

Ayyy-imma-ninja (mainly because she’s been standing by and letting people be harassed by her friends for just standing up for victims of harassment from people sending them Gore and corrective rape porn )

Pixelchills (I still genuinely do not want to believe that they actually participated in that fucking document, especially after I tried to clear a situation and keeping them from getting dragged in. I genuinely can’t look at their content the same anymore )

Shattered-sparks (they are someone who I trust, however, I currently now have conflicted feelings because of a document recently shared. I have yet to read it and I would like to trust my friend saying that since the document shattered has improved, however, I’m aware of the fact that everyone would be comfortable with them.)

My overall experience in this community was fun in the beginning because I got dragged into it by good people, then in the midpoint, I got scared about shipping my comfort ship because of the aforementioned family dynamics in the show, But a bunch of big users in the community have managed to make me a community for a show I already disliked.

I also want to skate this right now before I end the post.

DO NOT HARASS ANYONE I MENTIONED. IF YOU DON’T LIKE THEM JUST BLOCK AND GO ABOUT YOUR DAY.

[goddess-aelin]

Crumpled

Written for day 14 of Rowaelin Month: making up/breaking up after an argument @rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: angst, breakup (with happy ending)

A knock startled Rowan out of the trance he had been in for the last 30 minutes. From the moment he got the text, Rowan couldn’t help but have a plethora of nervous energy and dread. He kept replaying their fight in his head, wondering how in the hell they got here.

Here as in Aelin coming to collect her things from his apartment. Here as in they weren’t a couple anymore. Here as in he was missing half of his heart.

He steeled himself before opening the door, taking a deep breath and trying to calm the stampede trampling over his heart. It would be the first time he’d seen or talked to her in a week, not for lack of trying. He texted her, practically begging her to talk, asking for her to explain why. He left a handful of voicemails that he hoped weren’t too pathetic, asking how they got to this point. Yet she never answered.

Hadn’t answered until 30 minutes ago when she asked if she could collect the clothing she stashed at his apartment. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, without his heart completely shattering into a million pieces. Three years they were together, gone in the blink of an eye. So he replied with a simple “ok,” and left it at that.

And now here he was, standing at his door, trying to decide what to say, how to act. The knock came again and he knew he couldn’t ignore it. She startled when he ripped open the door with more force than he wanted, her bloodshot eyes going wide at the sight of his dishevelment.

Gone was the emotion from a moment ago as her face morphed into one of cool detachment. It gave him some sort of peace knowing that she was struggling just as much as he was. She breezed through his front door the same way she breezed through his life, a tornado caught in the golden sun.

“May I?” Her voice was raspy when she spoke. He just gestured to his bedroom with a hand, leaving her to her own devices. He decided to take a seat on the couch, the one that they chose together. Because that’s how it was supposed to be. They were a team. Until they weren’t.

Rowan replayed that night in his head a thousand times and he still didn’t know what he could’ve done to fix this. It seemed that the universe just thought the breakup was inevitable, Aelin not listening to anything he had to say.

It began when he started working extra hours and picking up shifts. He didn’t think it was a problem because he was working towards something. Aelin made him think of their future and everything that came with it; a family, a house, a dog, everything and anything. So he started working more so that when those things were finally in reach, they could be easy, attainable. He wouldn't have to work as many hours to keep up with their mortgage and instead would be able to spend more time with Aelin, with their kids and their pets. But in planning for the future, it seems he neglected to account for the present.

A week ago to the day, when he got home from one of his long shifts, Aelin was sitting stoically on the couch. She didn’t greet him with her normal cheery “hello,” didn’t give him a kiss, just sat silently. When he asked her what was wrong, she asked him if he even loved her anymore. Rowan was so taken aback that he acted out of anger, snapping and asking her how she could ever even think that. He was so irrevocably in love with her that it hurt him to even think that she didn’t feel that from him.

Instead of trying to talk it out, though, she replied with a small “I can’t do this anymore.” Rowan was sure that if his heart was outside of his body, he could’ve seen the cracks splintering through like broken glass. He tried so hard to get her to stay, to tell her that he was working so much because she was the only future he could see. That she deserved everything that he wasn’t able to currently give her given his shitty job with shitty pay. But instead, tears streaming down her face, she slammed the door and left.

Again and again, Rowan called. He texted. He ruminated on where things when so, incredibly wrong. He knew he wasn’t home often and he knew he wasn’t the most fun to be around after a 14 hour shift and he knew he was acting weird out of anxiety and stress. But he thought they were okay, that they just had to get through the next few months and everything would be fine.

He was wrong.

Sitting on the couch, head hanging in his hands, he was so wrapped up in what he should’ve done differently that he didn’t hear the rustling coming from his room stop. Didn’t hear the sharp intake of breath. Didn’t hear the soft padding down the hall until her socks were sliding onto the rug.

He glanced up at her, not able to fully meet her eyes. He knew his own were red and teary and he didn’t need to give away more than he had to. But his eyes didn’t need to roam that far, catching on the small box Aelin held delicately in her hands. His mind went blank. She wasn’t supposed to find out like this. He had it hidden in a sock in his dresser but in the past week, he took it out too many times, just to stare at it and grieve for what should have been. He supposed that probably made him a masochist.

Her bottom lip quivered and her voice was small when she finally spoke. “It all makes sense, now.” She opened the box, a glint of gold and green catching. “It all…it all makes sense.” And then she crumpled.

Rowan’s heart broke even more to see the love of his life hunched over herself on the floor, tears streaming down her face and sobs wracking her body. He approached slowly, as if making too much noise would scare her away. Kneeling before her, he took her hands and pulled them gently away from her face.

“Fireheart,” he whispered. “Fireheart. I’m so, so sorry.” And then he broke, too. When he pulled her to him, she held him like a lifeline, as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat on a raging sea. Together, they knelt on the ugly rug Aelin always wanted to get rid of, sobbing until their tears ran out.

“Rowan, I'm so sorry. I should’ve talked to you. I shouldn’t have left or gotten mad. I should–”

He stopped her with his hands on her cheeks. “Stop. We both fucked up, okay? I was working way too much, trying to prepare for the future and in doing so, I forgot to leave time for the now, for you.” She shook her head, starting to protest but he cut her off. “No, I should never have put money and security as a priority over you.” Bringing his forehead to hers, he breathed her in.

“I should’ve listened to you, though. You were trying to save money for this.” She opened the small box once again, more tears forming. “And I was so caught up in the what ifs that I couldn’t see why you were working more, or why you were acting weird. I thought…I thought maybe you had found someone else or were tired of me.”

“Never. I could never, ever get tired of you. You’re it for me, Fireheart.” She sobbed again, burying her face into his chest. He held her tightly, hoping to convey everything he felt about her.

“I’ll make you a deal, no more working long hours as long as you talk to me whenever you feel like this, okay? I…I never want you to feel like you’re second place. You’re more important than anything and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that wasn’t true.”

She pulled back, her teary, red eyes doing nothing to stifle the beauty that she radiated. “Deal.” Bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks, their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. They had a lot to work through but he knew they could do it, together.

A/N: wow this was the angstiest thing I’ve ever written and I never want to do it again, thanks

Tagging: @cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @highqueenofelfhame

[saintsir4n]

1

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF PARENTAL NEGLECT AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE

CALYPSO spent the entire summer alone, her home was full of people, her six siblings who bounced between their Upton estate and the several others they took up residency. Her parents were too wrapped up with each other to notice whenever she would enter the room. Not even a loud fake cough or shattering glass would break them from their love-bound spell.

So Calypso had no choice but to occupy herself like she had been doing throughout her adolescence. Books mainly kept her company, well until television flashed before her and she made friends with the people on the screen. Sure she called her friends, who startled her with their active lives. They asked about what she was getting up to, and the answer was always the same, up to no good. It wasn't a lie. She really was, a quick fuck here and a few books there, until the words on the page didn't quench her thirst. After all, she was a university student who needed fun, and so she found it, all over town until pleasure faded and she had no choice but to find long-lasting love between the ancient tales she read.

She wanted love, she craved it.

And when she arrived on campus again she saw it, standing as tall as the clouds, sporting a nice blue jumper, and holding a cigarette. And so she smiled, no, she wore a Disney-like-grin and picked up her step.

"Well if it isn't the spoilt brat?" Farleigh's remark, made everyone follow his amused gaze as they gathered in the courtyard.

"Like you're one to talk Farls," Calypso teased, quickly being met with welcomes and hellos from Oxford's most infamous college.

Her light and lure were effortless and travelled to the small group like a virus. She either received a hug or small talk before her gaze landed on what belonged to Felix Catton; the knight and shining armour of the university. His white cloak and the sword were his cheeky smile and cigarette, the latter he dropped to the ground to pick Calypso up, neglecting to see the envy splattered across some of their faces.

"I've missed you," he mumbled into her neck as she snaked her arms around his, legs wrapping around his waist.

She was lucky she was wearing jeans or her whole world would be on show.

Her heart fluttered as she whispered, "I've missed you too."

"If you're not gonna fuck her, you should put her down Felix," Farleigh called out after taking another drag, nauseated by how they stared into each other's eyes. It was always like that, yet admitting feelings was never on the table, so instead they fucked other people in private and acted like a couple in public. "At least let the girl unpack."

"I could help you," Felix offered, carefully placing her down next to a displeased Annabel.

India stood near Farleigh, forcing herself to pay more attention to the smoke drifting around them than the affectionate scene.

Calypso waved her off, "Already done."

Felix nodded slowly, keeping his eyes solely on her as he shuffled closer.

Alicia questioned, "Did one of your fit brothers help?"

That seemed to uplift some of the girl's moods. The Danforth brothers were royalty around there despite not being alumni. They were notorious for being good-looking and total catches until they got bored and focused on someone else. Players, unlike their parents, but what's wrong with a bit of eye candy?

Felix caught the stiffening of Calypso's shoulders as she answered, "As if they would come here, they're busy and it's too mad for them."

"Not all of them," Farliegh muttered as Jake joined them and said a quick hello to the Danforth girl.

Calypso reassured, ignoring Farleigh's quip, "Besides, it didn't take long."

"Unlike my –" Jake's jest was cut short by their collective groans.

Felix said, "I would've helped you."

Settling down a hand on his arm, Calypso nodded, "I know Lix."

Felix smiled like a madman, unbeknownst that the entire interaction was being observed.

___

Dinner at Oxford was a lively event, well for some at least. Arriving at the intimate venue where the lights were low and the tables were packed amused Calypso dearly. The first years arrived as groups or on their lonesomes. She, of course, knew Felix and Farleigh. Old friends of the family, the Cattons and Danforths went back decades but regardless of their bonds, she quickly made friends with a girl on her course.

Monika Jain, a gorgeous girl with big brown eyes, dark skin and black silky hair. Like Rapunzel if she had a foul mouth and passion for ancient philosophy. She was surprisingly welcomed into their group the second she was introduced, whether it was because of her family paying for her tuition or the fact her father owned establishments in various parts of London.

Calypso chatted away, sitting between Monika and Felix, wearing her glasses since the lighting was grating on her eyes and her contacts were too irritating to put in. She was unaware of how much Felix thought the specs made her look sexy, especially when she read or concentrated on things.

The food was average. Not the best for what they paid for each year but it was edible enough.

Farleigh was on the other side of his cousin as they talked with their other friends, laughing at the gossip they had to spill whilst biting and down on all they could stomach. Well, that was until a harsh yell came from the opposite table.

Everyone collectively stilled only to recognise the voice of Michael Gavey. Or the freaky little git, Monika's voiced after moving in. He studied maths and made sure everyone knew.

"Gavey. The voice of serenity," Monika muttered, sharing a giggle with who sat Alicia opposite her.

Calypso cleared her throat, "As I was saying, if you want to really feel it, you have to do a double not a single."

"Laughing gas is old, playing in the snow is much better," Farliegh piped up.

"You don't play. You explore," Calypso basked in the laughter she received before Felix leaned down after swallowing another bit of food.

"You're gonna tell me what you did this summer. Really, what went on, Cali?" He whispered, glad that everyone returned to their own conversations, even his cousin.

Calypso wanted to tell although, preferring not to talk about her family but his soft tone did wonders for her ears. It was so caring and kind, even when he was throwing a strop.

She gulped, gingerly staring into his eyes, "Not much. Parents were around but not really."

Felix smiled, "You should've come to Saltburn. Dad needed someone to go bird-watching with. Mum was talking about how she missed your presence and the smell of your hair oils. Going on about how they added a tropical vibe to the grounds. And there was Vee, pestering me about when you would come and see her as if you're not my...friend."

"I just might come this year. Friend," she winked, earning a chuckle as he shook his head in disbelief.

Felix hated calling her a friend but there wasn't a word to replace it. Not right now, not when her presence made his head cloudy and confused. Every sound she made drove him up the wall. It was infuriating that he couldn't do more, that they couldn't do more, not when they still had people on their hook, but he would drop his the second she asked.

Calypso's beautiful laugh brought him out of his daze, she of course was amused by the looks she received from India, packed with jealousy as she downed her water.

"I'm guessing you two are done flirting," Monika rolled her eyes at the coy looks they gave each other. "I take that as a no, but I have a story to tell."

Farleigh leaned in, "This oughta be good."

___

The semester went on swimmingly, the Danforth girl spent days focused on readings from her course. Not many people took Ancient Philosophy, claiming they didn't see any future in it, but she was obsessed and the couple dozen students made it better. Discussions in seminars only got heated whenever Monika was involved, yet it was fun and educational.

Calypso never used to like learning or school, since she bounced between houses like an orphan, it was quite sad really. The youngest of seven, six brothers and the only girl. One would think she would have attention and love but her parents didn't give it to any of them, no they gave them money, and threw it at them whenever an issue surfaced. It wasn't done on purpose, they thought that was what parental love was. She was used to having to entertain herself at various boarding schools because she was often alone, and isolated for looking different. Being one of the few black kids at school was hard, and luckily when she met Farleigh she didn't let him go.

As the English temperature plummeted, the more she and her close group of friends frequented the library. Lifetimes of knowledge at the top of their fingers, but when it came down to it, studying went out the window when they came together.

When around Felix, Calypso found it easy to lose focus. His aura was distracting like his sole purpose was to enthral her from the moment he stepped into the room.

"What?" She asked, biting back a smile as he tossed a book between his hands.

He feigned innocence, "What?"

She playfully scoffed and went back to her book, aware of his eyes on her.

Farleigh choked back a gag, as he stared between the two, counting down the days before they shagged, so they could relieve everyone of the tension. It was hot and encapsulated them all.

It was worse when he was alone with just them.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled, yearning for a cigarette but was constantly reminded of the smoking ban in the library, since he almost sat a whole case on fire the previous year after getting off with one of his professors who boosted his grades for a core course. "Stop."

"What?" The pair chorused as if they weren't the problem. Fortunately, they were sitting opposite each other but that wasn't much help.

Especially not when Felix's eyes zeroed in on a dove symbol hanging from her neck.

"You're wearing your necklace," he marvelled, smiling wider as he placed the book on his table.

"She has tones, I'm sure," Farleigh scoffed.

"Well this one I bought her," Felix's words drove her to gently trace over the charm.

Farleigh groaned, "Of course you did. British people are such saps."

"Well he's my sap," her tone might of been teasing but Felix's heart raced as he sheepishly smiled.

"Careful or he'll blow his load across the table," Fareligh's crudeness brought them out of their bubble.

"Christ Farleigh."

"I found it in my vanity box. Took it off during the summer because Caspian pestered me about who it was from," Calypso informed, ignoring the American.

"You could've said that I bought it," Felix said, holding back a frown.

He bought it around the same time as he got his eyebrow piercing, one maybe two years ago. It matched the tattoo on her stomach, which mirrored the birthmark on Felix's. He lusted over the ink tainting her skin, all the glimpses he saw made him go feral.

Calypso snorted, "And then receive lectures from all six of my brothers? It's exhausting."

"And what attractive-looking brothers they are," Farleigh remarked, pulling out his phone.

"You should say I got it for you next time. And send them my way if they have a problem with it."

Calypso and Fareligh exchanged a smirk, aware of Felix's attitude towards some of her brothers.

"You just want to pick a fight," she noted, playfully jabbing a finger in his direction.

Felix shrugged, "Maybe."

Farleigh went to add his two cents then cursed and looked at some of his notes from his lectures."Fuck, I just remembered, I forgot to tell you about my tutorial buddy."

Calypso rose a brow, "I feel sorry for the poor boy."

Felix chuckled at the dismay splattered across his cousin's face.

"Piss off," Farleigh paused, "Well I didn't forget, he's just got such a forgettable face I guess. Glasses, terrible taste in fashion and an accent I can't place." and an attitude he wasn't fond of.

"Sounds tragic," Calyspo remarked, checking out her nails, before she felt Felix's foot kick hers.

"Don't be mean," she pouted at his words.

Calypso feigned shock, "Yes, you're right, that's Farleigh's job."

Farleigh rolled his eyes, "I considered myself to be a realist. People can't handle that, especially you dear cousin, it bursts your heroic bubble."

"Can't have that, can we Lix?" Calypso reached across the table to grab his hand, positively surprised when he didn't let go, he wouldn't dare to.

"It's not a heroic bubble," Felix retorted, eyes training on her soft hands.

"It is," Calypso nodded, senselessly interlocking their fingers. "But it's sweet."

Farleigh blinked at them, "Sap, I rest my case."

"For now," Calypso knew how much he needed to go on about God knows what, "Or at least when you're off your tits in the King's arms later."

Farleigh clapped, "Yes, I need a drink."

"It's not even ten," a wry smile appeared on Felix's face as he pressed a kiss to Calypso's hand.

"As if we need a reason to drink."

"He's not wrong," Calypso agreed.

Calypso swore she felt eyes on her as they joked for the next hour, but that was the thing with her, everyone watched her like some mystical creature and if that's what they believed her to be, why not give it to them?

___

The football club at Oxford was entertaining, to say the least. As the outgoing person she was, Calypso had made friends with all the players, occasionally sleeping with a few, even their rivals for a laugh. She went to most of their games, just to socialise and they claimed she was their good luck charm whenever they won. Felix was never a fan of her going, especially alone, but she did what she wanted.

Now returning from an afternoon of being thirsted over, she strutted past a first-year who seemed to be leering at her, sporting tin-framed glasses, whilst pulling a dodgy bike along. She took no notice of him as she pulled out her Nokia, flipping it open when it started ringing.

Her wide smile revealed her pearly whites when she saw Felix's name. He was supposed to be in a lecture but he tended to text her when he was supposed to be listening.

Her eyes squinted when he began ranting about some nice lad he ran into, "Who saved your life, Felix? And what is this about your bike getting a flat tire? — right well — Why didn't you just hire a car service or walk?"

___

Pubs were the foundations of universities. Stressed? Drinking can remedy that. Tired? drinking is the perfect cure to wake everyone up before throwing up and narrowly avoiding alcohol poisoning.

In their little section, it was like they were all stacked like sardines, all piled on top of each other, around a table filled with shots and pints. Calypso's designated seat was Felix's lap, sipping on her drink and arguing with India about the most recent Amy Winehouse album.

The Danforth girl's tolerance was moderate, only low when she was emotional. Her glasses were off, and her contacts were in. The cold weather didn't bother her, no, not with Felix's hand tracing beneath her butterfly top and above her low-rise jeans.

Her voice carried through their section, controlling the conversation, whilst Felix governed the tone, ensuring it remained lighthearted. Looks were exchanged, heated yet tender as she scooted further onto his lap, making his arm further wrap around her waist.

Calypso smirked when his eyes very rarely left hers, only to respond or laugh at something his friends said.

It was only until Felix caught the sight of his saviour over by the bar he jolted.

"Oh! There he is. Ollie! Oliver! Oliver! Come here, mate!" Felix gently pulled Calypso off his lap, startling her when he gestured for the unfamiliar boy to come over.  "Yeah, come here. Come here," he then got up to greet him, "What? Come here. Unreal. Hiya, mate."

"Hi," Oliver meekly spoke, overwhelmed by the sudden eyes on him.

Felix, towering over him, clapped his hands down on his shoulder, "This is my fucking hero right here. I was just telling everyone how you saved my arse yesterday."

Calypso eyed the awkward new friend of Felix. He appeared to have an old-young face, eyes that seemed innocent and fashion that was heavily lacking.

She leaned over to whisper to Farleigh, "Farls... is that?"

Farleigh's elated gaze flitted away when it landed on Oliver, "Yes. My tragic tutorial buddy."

"New charity case?"

"Clearly," Farleigh snickered as she glanced back at Oliver who stared at Felix like a lost puppy.

India forced a smile, "So cute."

Alicia hummed,  "So cute."

"The cutest," Annabel agreed despite herself.

"Hey, take a seat. I owe you a drink. Here, shove up, yeah," on Felix's gentle command everyone moved up except Calyspo and his cousin. "Oh, sorry. Are you with a friend?" he caught the blonde erratic first year by the door waiting for Oliver who quickly shook his head.

Oliver murmured as he sat down, "Er, no, they just left."

"What's his name?" Calypso turned to Felix who set her back on his lap.

"Oliver."

She gasped, "Like Oliver Twist."

"Cali," Felix squeezed her side, offering her a mock glare when people laughed.

She waved him off, "What? It's the only connection I could make to the name," her eyes dragged over Oliver and his wonderment. "Name one person we know called Oliver, you can't. Well apart from this one. Anyway, Oliver is a nice name." 

Farleigh couldn't help but add, "If you like a beggar's name." 

He shrugged off the disappointed look his cousin gave, instead focused on the enjoyment of the others and the embarrassment of Oliver.

"Farleigh, you knob," Calypso laughed off his callousness and leaned against Felix once more before smiling at the newbie. "I'm Calypso, but everyone calls me Cal."

"Or they call you River," just like Felix's middle name. "but Felix calls her Cali, he owns the nickname, and practically murders anyone who tries," Farleigh commented against his drink.

"No he won't, he's far too sweet," Calypso remarked.

"Not when someone chundered on your outfit last night, at that party," Alicia snickered.

"Oh, then I almost murdered that guy right beside him," Calypso added, putting a grin on most of their faces.

Oliver was intrigued by her, the way she captured everyone, even those who disliked her. She was beaming with vivacity but that's not all, it couldn't be, not when Felix's light added to her act.

"I think it was Jake," Annabel spoke up, sitting on the boy in question's lap.

He objected, "Oi." yet didn't deny not when Felix cast him a pointed look, reminding him of the argument the pair had when it first happened.

"So where are you from Oliver? Must be far," Calypso wondered, not being able to place what region he was from.

"Prescott," Oliver noticed everyone's confusion when he said that.

"It's not in London is it?" Calypso inquired, throwing her arm around Felix's shoulder and playing with the hairs at the back of his neck, drawing a cheeky smile from him.

Felix turned to him, "It's in Liverpool, right mate?"

"Uh yes, it's in Liverpool," Oliver agreed.

"I don't travel that far," Calypso informed.

"Not without a driver anyway," Farleigh quipped, throwing back another drink.

Calypso playfully scowled, "Shut up American."

"As is if Felix would let you go to that dump," Farleigh said through his burps.

"He's not my keeper. But true you wouldn't let me go would you love?" Calypso dared to ask.

"You could go if you want," Felix exclaimed, but no one was convinced.

Calypso turned back to Oliver, "What college do you go to Oliver? There's so many in Oxford."

Oliver awkwardly answered, "Yours."

Calypso's brown eyes shot wide, "Oh."

"How oblivious is young River?" Farleigh laughed.

"I am not. I know things and now I know that we share grounds," she paused, squealing when she saw the Monika stroll in, bag on shoulder and breasts practically on show. "Oh MJ over here."

Oliver turned, recognising the fellow student who received a warmer welcome than him, especially from his tutorial buddy.

"Slags, how are we today?" Monika came over, blowing kisses to everyone, even the unfamiliar face before sharing a seat with Alicia who happily shifted over.

"This is Monika Jane," Calypso introduced her to Oliver.

"My mates call me MJ," Monika added, taking a drink Farleigh gave her.

"So call her Monika." Farleigh clarified, glaring at Oliver who shifted in his seat, catching the reassuring smile from Felix who introduced him.

"This is Oliver."

"Like the beggar?" Monika breathed out, unintentionally making them all laugh.

Oliver's discomfort was obvious and Felix wanted to shield him from it all, "Ignore them."

Calypso steadily recognised the protective act and shifted on his lap, snapping his attention back to her and only her. He pressed a kiss to her arm that rested on his shoulder just as she did the same to his cheek, rubbing the dark brown lipstick into his skin.

Fareligh continued the joke, disregarding their affection, "That's what I said. Sit down, Nika. It's time for a shot."

Everyone chanted, slamming their hands down on the table only adding to Oliver's overstimulation.

"Wait, wait, wait, Jägerbombs," Farleigh proposed, earning nods and more cheers from the table.

"Jägerbombs!" they all chorused, drunkenly laughing like mad.

Oliver cleared his throat, appearing to want to escape their grasp,  "I...

"It's your round, man," Farleigh pointed out, true to his antagonistic nature.

Jake hummed, "Yeah, go on, mate."

His good friend Harry agreed, "Yeah."

"I should go to bed," Oliver tried to stand.

Farleigh shook his head, "Wait, no, no, no. No, you can't snake your way out of a round."

"I'm... I'm not."

"It looks like you are."

Booing started and Calypso's eyes darted between the two as she heard Felix's grumbling. Farleigh obviously wanted the boy to suffer for what? She had no idea, but Oliver was a blank slate, new territory, not charismatic but something drew Felix to him.

Harry whined, "Come on."

"You might as well stay, can't jump ship now," Calypso tried, squealing at Felix's kisses trailing her neck.

Oliver's eyes briefly lingered on them, more specifically Felix's lips sucking on her skin before he conceded. "Okay! Okay."

He reluctantly rose from his chair and timidly approached the bar, just as Felix pulled away from his glimpse of pleasure, turning to his cousin with a sigh.

"Farleigh."

Farleigh tilted his head, "What?"

"Just cut him a break, mate."

"What?"

"That round's gonna cost a fucking fortune," Felix exclaimed.

Farleigh replied with indifference, "Pub rules, Felix."

"And I need some air," Calypso rose from Felix's lap, shooting them all a quick smile.

Felix frowned, watching her leave but decided to cater to in need Oliver.

Calypso let out a sharp breath when she was met with the winter air, it was harsh, after all, it was England. The meanest of weathers, but she found peace in it all. Growing up in a family like hers, she grew to use the ugliness of the world, so of course she desired the beauty of fantasy.

So taking out a cigarette she so desperately needed, she ignored the ogling she received from other students and townsfolk who walked past. She placed it on her lips and took a lighter of her bag.

Her flame glowed in the night as it latched onto the tobacco she breathed in.

"Watch out for him."

She jumped at the voice. Michael Gavey, suddenly appeared, halting her moment of calmness.

"Who?" smoke escaped her lips as her heart struggled to steady. His piercing eyes scrutinised her as she stood.

"The book licker, Oliver Quick."

Calypso turned around, not shocked to see Oliver staring at her through the crowds of people as he stumbled over to the table.

When she turned back Michael was already pacing away.

"Bloody hell," she snickered to herself, believing that his words were coated in envy rather than warning.

His unfiltered essence she didn't mind, but he made her cringe whenever he helped her with some of her core courses.

She heard the door swung open and she turned to see Felix step out, with a warm smile on his lips, which faded when he saw the odd student leaving in the opposite direction. He saw the whole thing and kept his distance, glad that she was amused and not frightened.

"What did he want?" he questioned as she shuffled closer.

He pulled her to his chest, protecting her against the chilling cold.

"Nothing, did you pay for Oliver's round?" she asked.

"No," Felix's sheepish smile gave it away.

"How gentlemanly. Careful with that poor soul or he'll fall in love," she cooed, hopelessly staring into his brown pools, trying not to drown, but he wanted her to fall, plummet, like he did whenever he even thought of her.

So he dropped his arms and offered her a hand instead, "Come on."

The same hand that had six stars dotted across the curve. 

She took it without question and inhaled one last drag before stubbing it out and following him inside, embracing the drunken cheers that bounced around the room, elevating them like the royalty coursing through Felix's veins.

King and Queen.

But like all royals, they must fall.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

hope you enjoyed the first chapter and this introduction to cali, my posh babe. she has an impact on everyone she meets, sure she sleeps around but she has one person one her mind... felix. he's equally as obsessed with her, but neither has made the jump to be together and now with oliver and his slimy arse in the mix is gonna be harder than we thought.

her issues with her family will continue as will the mentions of her parents and brothers and i'll include their face claims if you like even though they will barely be featured in this story.

[karoiseka]

Philia

((Day Two of #8DaysofXIVLove and Philia: Friendship love is today's topic! Have a very rough draft of some writing! 6.0 Spoilers!!))

The table in the corner allowed Karo to view everyone mill about with ease as she watched the people that had come to mean so much to her both catch up and say farewells to each other.  She hadn’t fully recovered from her ordeal in Ultima Thul yet–still unable to stand under her own weight, and propped up in her own moving chair just like Arenvald as her hip healed.  The fragile bones of her hand were also immobilized in a cast, healing magic being poured into them daily to ensure that she would someday regain full mobility.  

Zenos had gifted her a matching shoulder scar to the one he had graced her with in Rhalgr’s Reach so long ago, and she hid the grimace that strove to cross her face as she thought of the unwanted permanent reminder of her fight at the edge of the Universe.  Her hip and arm would still bear scars as well, but something about the shoulder one irked her.  The silver strips  showing clearly when wearing anything sleeveless–it felt like showing them off, trophies of the most morbid sort.  One of Endsinger’s meteors had been to blame for the hip injury–not that she had felt any of it, pure Dynamis flowing through her veins until her final blow with the Garlean monster, hand shattering against his jaw.  Collapsing there at the end of time–only to be pulled back from the brink by those that now danced the social steps around her.

In ones and twos people had come to sit with her, or stand near, talking of beloved memories, happy times, and what was to come next.  Alphinaud had decided–well, with everyone–that it was time for the Scions to take a back-seat to the world stage again.  Not that Karo disagreed with the idea, but she had yet to heal, yet to process everything that had happened in that dream-like place of pain and beauty.  To “disband” the Scions–even if just to the public–added another layer of panic to her already busy brain.  

There hadn’t been much to do except think the past weeks–no matter how much her loved ones tried to distract her.  They hadn’t left her alone–they found that out the hard way when several days’ worth of healing were undone the one time she thought she was.  The panic had spread throughout her, as no one was within sight, and she had somehow thrown herself off the bed, no other thoughts but to find them.  It wasn’t always just Raha and Thancred either–all of the Scions in Sharlyan (and others besides), taking turns in her healing chambers, always within sight–or arms reach.

Urianger would read her long lost poetry, unearthed from Noumenon, or from one of the few tomes that she had spirited back in her pack from the Bookman’s Shelves.  Y’shtola would quiz her on her healing magic, both teaching and keeping lessons fresh in her mind–and helping to ground her in the slowness of her own healing.  Lyse had shown up, the smell of the hot Ala Mhigan sun bringing a warmth to the northern isle–unspoken worry lining her eyes, leaving calmer and reassured that all would be well.  Alphinaud and Alisaie were there daily; if nothing more than a quick hello, or sitting during mealtime.  Gossip of the city and the students alike–the itch to return to Garlemald apparent in most visits as they talked of world events.

At times a cool breeze would awaken her, only to find Estinien perched at the end of the bed.  No words were usually spoken, just a small smile and a nod, allowing her to slip back into healing sleep in protective comfort.  The smell of tea awoke her another day, a sheepish smile from Aymeric greeting her, teasing that he needed to stop getting to see her only when she was incapacitated.  One by one, those that could make the trip trickled into the room.  Sometimes only stayed a day or two, others finding lodging in the city and stopping in when time permitted, helping to ease the burden of those that were left to clean up.  Her Da and Pa were told and reassured, linkpeal conversations happening regularly–but the sense of duty they had imparted into their daughter kept them in Radz-at-Han helping Vrtra.  The Final Days had still hit hardest there, and the amount of recovery the island had needed every able-bodied individual that could.

Karo shook her head bringing her back to the present and the gathered Scions before her.  She recognized everyone in the room, some more than others, the Echo helping her with names and reasons.  It was bittersweet to have everyone gathered there–and she knew without a doubt it would have happened weeks ago if she had been able to be moved.  Even as it was, the teleport had left her dazed for two days before she was able to sit up again–her aether sensitivity still abnormally high.

This was her family though.  This is what had kept her alive, without a shadow of a doubt, through all the years since she had first walked through the Waking Sands door, and until she fought in that nightmarescape upon Zenos’ back.  They may be scattering to the ends of the star and back, but she knew–without a single doubt–if she called for them, they would be there.  Every last one of them.  Tataru and F’lhaminn were headed towards her next as she filled her cup, ready for more socialization.  It might still make her anxious, and she knew that her restless nights of terror wouldn’t be so easy to tame, and yet–a part of her was calmer already, knowing wherever her feet might roam, a piece of home was doubtlessly near.

[rockislandadultreads]

Book Recommendations: More New Science Fiction 

Meru by S.B. Divya

For five centuries, human life has been restricted to Earth, while posthuman descendants called alloys freely explore the galaxy. But when the Earthlike planet of Meru is discovered, two unlikely companions venture forth to test the habitability of this unoccupied new world and the future of human-alloy relations.

For Jayanthi, the adopted human child of alloy parents, it’s an opportunity to rectify the ancient reputation of her species as avaricious and destructive, and to give humanity a new place in the universe. For Vaha, Jayanthi’s alloy pilot, it’s a daunting yet irresistible adventure to find success as an individual.

As the journey challenges their resolve in unexpected ways, the two form a bond that only deepens with their time alone on Meru. But how can Jayanthi succeed at freeing humanity from its past when she and Vaha have been set up to fail?

Against all odds, hope is human, too.

This is the first volume in “The Alloy Era” series. 

The Shattered Skies by John Birmingham

The Sturm, a group of "species purists" intent on destroying any human with genetic or cybernetic enhancements, returned from the far reaches of Dark Space to strike a devastating blow against humanity. Though their victory seemed inevitable, a small group of reluctant heroes managed to beat back the invading force. Now left with the remains of a crippled civilization, they must work together to rebuild--and to stand guard, in case those weren't the only enemies hiding in the dark...

This is the second volume in “The Cruel Stars” series. 

Eversion by Alastair Reynolds 

In the 1800s, a sailing ship crashes off the coast of Norway. In the 1900s, a Zepellin explores an icy canyon in Antarctica. In the far future, a spaceship sets out for an alien artifact. Each excursion goes horribly wrong. And on every journey, Dr. Silas Coade is the physician, but only Silas seems to realize that these events keep repeating themselves. And it's up to him to figure out why and how. And how to stop it all from happening again.

Invisible Things by Mat Johnson 

When sociologist Nalini Jackson joins the SS Delany for the first manned mission to Jupiter, all she wants is a career opportunity: the chance to conduct the first field study of group dynamics on long-haul cryoships. But what she discovers instead is an entire city encased in a bubble on Europa, Jupiter's largest moon.

Even more unexpected, Nalini and the rest of the crew soon find themselves abducted and joining its captive population, forced to start new lives in a place called New Roanoke.

New Roanoke is a city riven by wealth inequality and governed by a feckless, predatory elite, its economy run on heedless consumption and income inequality. But in other ways it's different from the cities we already know: it's covered by an enormous dome, it's populated by alien abductees, and it happens to be terrorized by an invisible entity so disturbing that no one even dares acknowledge its existence.

Albuquerque chauffeur Chase Eubanks is pretty darn sure aliens stole his wife. People mock him for saying that, but he doesn't care who knows it. So when his philanthropist boss funds a top-secret rescue mission to save New Roanoke's abductees, Chase jumps at the chance to find her. The plan: Get the astronauts out and provide the population with the tech they need to escape this alien world. The reality: Nothing is ever simple when dealing with the complex, contradictory, and contrarian impulses of everyday earthlings.

This is a madcap, surreal adventure into a Jovian mirror world, one grappling with the same polarized politics, existential crises, and mass denialism that obsess and divide our own. Will New Roanoke survive? Will we?

We Won’t Be Here Tomorrow and Other Stories by Margaret Killjoy

Death cults, queer love, and the end of everything.

Spaceships, man-eating lesbian mermaids, swords, spears, demons, ghouls, thieves, hitchhikers, and life in the margins. Margaret Killjoy’s stories have appeared for years in the science fiction and fantasy magazines both major and indie. Here, we have collected the best previously published work along with brand new material. Ranging in theme and tone, these imaginative tales bring the reader on a wild and moving ride. They’ll encounter a hacker who programs drones to troll CEOs into quitting; a group of LARPers who decide to live as orcs in the burned forests of Oregon; queer, teen love in a death cult; the terraforming of a climate-changed Earth; polyamorous love on an anarchist tea farm during the apocalypse; and much more. Killjoy writes fearless, mind-expanding fiction that is redefining the genre.

[writingfish]

My guys, this part is just dragging on. I dislike writing scenes where characters have to explain things to other people.

The Ancient One closed the door, sat across them, and stared at Stephen intently. What did she see? He probably looked the same as in her visions. His hands weren't strong enough for shaving yet and Soul had said not to use any power. He had only ignored it the once.

Master Hamir handed her a cup. She took it, still keeping her eyes on him, and took a sip. The same blanket calm was on her face.

"You are different than I expected," she said.

He frowned at her. She'd never introduced herself nor had anyone introduced her this time.

"And you are?"

"They call me The Ancient One," she said and offered nothing further. Cryptic as always.

"That's a mouthful. Can I get a name?" Time laughed in his head.

The Ancient One laughed too, the blanket calm breaking out into amusement. Incredibly, Master Hamir laughed as well. He'd never laughed when Stephen had been at Kamar-Taj, though he did remember some of the initiates trying to make him.

"You can call me Morgan," The Ancient One said. Morgan, like Morgan le Fay, like Tony Stark's daughter. Grief welled in him again, hot and sharp as it had been during Stark's funeral. The memory of Morgan crying in her mother's arms rose, sour. He cut it before it could form fully and took another sip of tea.

"Well, Morgan, " he said. "Why am I here?"

"To learn magic of course."

She'd rejected him the first time, had made him wait five hours on the doorstep before letting him back in. Why had she changed her mind now? The stones laughed at him. Right, he was changing things by just being himself. Should he tell her?

Time wouldn't have. It loved its surprises.

But, she could help him. Thanos was coming. It seemed to be a fixed event in every universe he'd visited. You've only visited three properly, Reality said. It sounded amused.

He opened the connection and let the stones' presence come forward. They were always with him now, though they were kind enough to stick to the background.

We don't want to fracture your sanity any further, Mind said, ominous. The world chilled, sharpened. Familiar unease twisted in his stomach. The hole in him gaped, a muted horror starting to fill it. Yellow-orange threads dulled the emotions before they could fully sharpen. His mind went a little fuzzy, artificial calm taking over him. Why were they doing this?

It's not safe yet, Soul said gently. It was always gentle, warming him down to his core.

"You are thinking very hard," Morgan said, drawing him back into the room. She was observing him as if he was a fascinating relic that she had come across. He could be, he definitely wasn't human anymore. Maybe they'd store him like an object, locked away in a glass container until he chose a sorcerer to bond with.

That's the Cloak of Levitation, Space said, helpfully. Not you.

Should he trust her?

Your choice, the stones offered, unhelpful.

Why couldn't they make the choice for him? They owned him. He had offered them everything had, everything he was, in an effort to draw them back together so they could be the universal anchors once more. It hadn't worked. It was too late and reality had shattered around them.

The Ancient One, Morgan, was still waiting for an answer. She was patient, but how long would that last?

He took another sip. The cup was empty.

"I already know magic," he started slowly. Morgan leaned forward, folding her hands underneath her chin.

"There was an incident."

Grief surged through him before it was quickly blunted and pushed away. The anger that would have come at that wasn't there. He suspected it was suppressed too.

"An incident?" Still the same blankness, though Master Hamir was starting to look apprehensive.

He nodded, reaching into his pocket to draw out the time stone, and put it on the table between them. Master Hamir gasped, immediately standing up. He and The Ancient One exchanged a look before he was striding out the door. He'd go to check on the time stone in the library. It would still be there.

"I ended up here from the future," he said. Morgan started to ask a question before they were interrupted by Master Hamir stepping out of a portal with the Eye of Agamotto held in his hands.

[incarnateirony]

[lays on the floor] not a friggin ex indie guitarist and bass player worried about his ex wife trying to kill him near his birthday again and like all this list of her stunts that feels like reading from Shea's playbook of harassment and abuse. Like no dude it gets better, how do I politely say Fuck That Bitch, you're worth more.

The murder she employs is passive, you see. It's an attempt to abuse, harass, and socially chase him out of everywhere he goes until he tries to kill himself. Until he sees his death certificate as a gift to her, after he paid for everything and let her keep everything for the new boyfriend she planned to move in, enough was never enough for her, she comes back again and again. Plays the victim every time and because he's AMAB, or male in general (I'm AFAB and I still get this), he gets marked as the Bad Guy until she's mocking him while he's overdosing intentionally.

Yeah, I have one of those. She's tried to reduce me out of the universe for her own psychotic bullshit with identical MHI issues to what you're listing, too. She tried to chase me out of everywhere, and leave me no safe space to speak or exist without her chasing me. And yeah try to social pressure or intimidate me until I can't fucking speak anywhere, and nowhere feels fucking safe. I've been there, my guy, I just can't tell you that, but that bitch WILL eventually wipe herself out with her behavior.

Like no dude, her death certificate will be the blessing, when it comes, but I can't say that, so for now, let's talk music.

Man how do I upload my Ultimate Boundary Magical Playbook bro, you can't be far off in the clowncell with those vibes.

No deadass did this bitch not try yet another social assassination of me like a week before my birthday when she realized she had no power of me in fandom, so she was gonna try to abuse me out of a fucking game server she doesn't even go to. Rotted out six motherfucking months of her life planning it and trying to worm in to people she already betrayed before. That is exactly what she did, and has been intentionally doing, and she can't fuckin look at it or accept why she's so goddamn obsessed.

I'm purging this at a deep fucking root access level, and the work is done, it is finishing itself now. I'm doing this for fucking EVERYONE.

Six months of this shit stalking me on every platform and friend group and server is bad enough while she wails at 2 1/2 that is literally restricted to my blog and the magical world, neither of which she can actually sue me over, though she tries. Then realize, no, actually, it's 3 years, six months was just what she dedicated to her CURRENT stunt. And no, really, it's more like seventeen years of her betraying me in cycles, she's just pikachu facing that I had a spray bottle for bad kitty this time. And, no it's not, it's actually like her tenth go through this matrix and she's managed to do this to a bunch of brothers before me, too, even if this is my first. Like. The ones that have passed on and reached attainment can all hear you, girl. Like, Nottu Dissu Shittu Againu.

You INSIST on being the Pompeii to my Vesuvius, you REFUSE to listen to those standing in Fugue and you keep catching me and trying to keep me, and then we circle back to the volcano thing.

The last page you ever considered Finished and Postable for Etna was "Athena has fallen." Crystal's world shattering to final messages.

These were true, Shealyn. And unconsciously, we both knew it already. Just let it go, Elsa. Crystal never did understand how to use Coyote's phone. The gnosis has declared not to bow to Celestia any longer. Woe to she who made a false god. Woe to they that rejected the priest king's olive branch. Scaramouche Scaramouche will you do the Fandango?

Pick your jaw up off the floor, stick your ego on the tree and nail it down, girl, it's time to move on. For real this time. No half. Thou fuckestedth around until you found out.

[saratogaroadwrites]

Per Aspera Ad Astra (14/18)

Per Aspera Ad Astra | saratogaroad | banner art credit Rating: T Wordcount: 183k Characters: John 117, Cortana, Thomas Lasky, Sarah Palmer, Fireteam Osiris, The Warden Eternal, The Didact, The Librarian, ensemble of other Halo characters Relationships: John-117 & Cortana Other Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, fix-it, Male/Female Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence Warnings:  War imagery, seizures, graphic description of injury

Snatched from the jaws of death, Cortana and John find themselves adrift in a galaxy that has long since moved on. As they attempt to find their place in this strange new world, they find that the fight is not as over as they thought. Chasing a signal across the galaxy in desperate hope, they come to a stark conclusion: the Reclamation has begun, and they are helpless to stop it.

=

"Mission failure. Fireteam Kodiak, complete kill."

"Again."

"Mission failure. Fireteam Majestic, complete kill."

"Again."

"Mission failure. Fireteam Osiris, complete kill."

"Again!"

"Mission success. Fireteam Crimson, one surv—complete kill."

"Goddammit—again!"

Chin balanced on her crossed wrists, Cortana watched with all-encompassing dread and horror as Fireteam after Fireteam was completely wiped out on the floor below. Palmer hauled Crimson to their feet, resetting the simulation for another go around. The holographic representation of the Didact shuddered and reappeared in the center of the deck, sword in hand. Cortana swallowed hard, looking away. She couldn't watch this anymore.

How long had it been since she'd seen that sword in real action? Several hours, at least. Her debriefing of the Captain had taken exactly eight minutes and nineteen seconds. Five minutes and seven seconds later he had the beginnings of a plan. Ten minutes after that the call had gone out to all Fireteams: Proceed to S-Deck 2 for training. She'd been keeping ever since, watching as they fought their way through simulated battle after simulated battle, dread strangling her core tighter with each passing second. Standard Prometheans went down easily enough, Soldiers melting under focused fire. The Warden, well, if it took two Fireteams working in concert to take him down and survive, they still got the job done.

The Didact was a different story. So far no one, no team, had been able to take him down and survive. A thousand different plans had formed, shattered, and slipped between her fingers like grains of sand in the ocean wind. It didn't matter what formation, plan, or load out they used. It didn't matter if they went at him head on or tried to flank him. It didn't matter if they went at him with the strongest weapons available or their damned sidearms, no one got him down without losing their team in the process. Three of her processes brought up a few additional plans and she batted them away.

It didn't matter. None of it mattered! Even the UNSC's best and brightest didn't stand a chance against him.

Of course they didn't. John was—

She squashed the thought, swallowing back a sob before it could strangle her.

Five minutes into her debrief Cortana had frozen mid-sentence, staring at John's vitals monitor as the flatline had jumped back to life. They had brought him back! It had taken every ounce of willpower she had not to fall to her knees right then and there. He was alive! She hadn't lost him yet.

Grief and relief, she'd learned, felt very much the same. Both strangled her core, tangling around it like thorny vines she couldn't pry loose. Six hours, eight minutes, and twenty-six seconds since learning he was still alive and she had yet to get them to let go. When every single second felt like an eternity, twenty two thousand and ninety three of them was an unquantifiable length of time in which to process that he had. He'd.

"Dammit," She whimpered, unable to keep the darkness of that thought from swallowing her logic center. The curse of never forgetting raised its ugly head, the roar of loss overpowering the beat of his heart, bringing with it the dead weight of his head in her hands, the red of his blood as it trailed down his face, the seared edges of his wound—stop. Stop it. Stop it! "Dammit!"

Terror stole down her core with icy claws. Desperate for some sign that he was still alive she threw her awareness at the process she'd sent into the surgical suite, listening for trouble. She couldn't bear to connect to visuals and instead stood in the dark, listening to his steady heartbeat and the even rise and fall of the ventilator, the unconcerned requests and declarations of Dr. Delgado's surgical team. From the sounds of it they were performing final checks and counts, making sure that everything was in working order before they closed him back up. Their voices were professional, unhurried, with no trace of worry or alarm. Though there was no telling how the procedure had really gone just by listening in, things seemed to have gone well. It would have been easy to confirm that with a quick look, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't want to see him flat on a table like that. She couldn't.

Impossible tears stung at her eyes, the beep of the heart monitor echoing in her chest. Stupid. She was so stupid! He was alive, and soon enough he'd be back on his feet and they'd go and finish this together. Just like they always had.

Her attempts to reassure herself fell flat, useless against the gaping wound her perfect recall refused to let close. Organics had the luxury of being able to forget, the ability to allow time to dull grief's sting. Their minds would protect them from such losses, but hers wouldn't. Perfect recall would keep the last six hours, fifteen minutes, and thirty seconds with her until the last of her code faded into the cosmic ether. She could delete the memories, could erase them, but the thought of erasing any memories of him, no matter how bad they were, caused every process to rail against her. She would never do that! Never!

Before she could spiral out again a hand settled on the watching process' shoulder. Cortana opened her sensors just enough to look at Roland's sympathetic face. He didn't say a word, just gestured over his shoulder with a jerk of his head. She nodded, leaving the process behind to follow him back to S-Deck. Lifting her physical head from her hands she looked to his avatar on the plinth bolted to the wall behind her. He still had that sympathetic expression on his face.

"If I asked how you were doing, would you give me a straight answer?"

"Do you have eighteen hours to process emotional overload?" She asked, voice thicker than normal.

"We've got twenty days before we get to the Ark. That's plenty of time to work things out." Roland replied, both hands spread helplessly towards her. "I'm no seven foot stoic, but I hear I'm pretty good at listening to people."

He was, but the words wouldn't come. How could she begin to explain the tangle of emotions and grief that was tied up around her core? How could she begin to explain that some part of her had died with John in that ravine, even if he hadn't stayed dead for long. How could she even begin to explain why she hadn't just shut off the emotional circuits in her processor to not have to deal with it? She couldn't. Not even to herself. All she had was a bleeding wound in her chest, and the remnant beep of his heart monitor thumping along her frame. Turning away from Roland, she held tightly to the railing.

"I'm supposed to be down there helping them," She said, watching as Crimson tried a different tactic on the simulated Didact. Extrapolated data met them step for step, sending them flying. "But I can't even do that. I just keep coming back to what happened and I can't—"

She couldn't even finish her sentence. Cursing under her breath she scrubbed a hand down her face. How very human of her, she thought, that emotion had outpaced logic. It hurt. Behind her, Roland sighed.

"No one's going to blame you for taking a day off, Cor," he said gently, "Not after how you two came back." When she glanced over her shoulder at him he continued, "If you were human, they'd be telling you to go to Psych, pulling you off duty for a while. Why is it any different just because you're not organic?"

"Because—" Because she had to keep fighting. Because she had promised him, and if that was the last promise she made to him she was damn well going to keep it. Because…she turned back to the Spartans brainstorming down below, trying their hardest to find a solution to the problem. Because this was her crew, and she wasn't going to lose them, too. She closed her eyes. "Because this fight isn't over yet. We don't have time for me to fall apart."

Roland huffed quietly before saying, "That sounds like something the Chief would say."

It did, didn't it. Her eyes burned even as she smiled, wishing she could cry to ease the tightness in her chest. His vitals were steady, heartbeat thumping away beneath his ribs. She could still feel it echoing in her own chest and drew some small comfort from that. He was alive. Everything else they could work with, somehow. She took a deep breath and nodded.

"You don't ride shotgun in somebody's head for weeks and not pick up their quirks, Roland," She said thickly, scrubbing non-existent tears from her cheeks. Alright, she'd had her time to stew. She had a job to get to. "Rain check on that talk?"

"You know where to find me. And I think—" He stopped, tilted his head, then said in a softer tone, "Captain's asking for you in the Medical Bay. The Chief's come out of surgery."

Cortana was moving before she realized it, halfway down the walkway before she'd even asked Roland to tell the Captain she was on her way. He'd come through surgery without issue, and now all they had to do was wait for him to wake up. Crossing all her mental fingers she hurried towards the Medical Bay. She couldn't push through the Domain while they were still in slipspace, turning the five second trip into a five minute walk. Though her target was clear the walk left her with too much time to think, thoughts spiraling out in a thousand different tangents. She had to stop doing that. With a shake of her head she tasked her processes with finding new datasets among what they had of the Didact's behavior, programming what they found for adding to the sims. It would keep them busy but she couldn't do the same to her active process. Her thoughts continued to spiral downward; that he was alive was practically a miracle, but how bad was the damage? Had the doctors been able to fix it all? They'd brought him back from the dead but at what cost? No one, not even a Spartan, could come back from that kind of injury without a cost.

She was still trying to figure it all out when she rounded the corner into the corridor outside the Medical Bay. Captain Lasky was waiting outside the main door for her, brow furrowed. A look of terrible grief and sadness stole across his eyes, there and gone in less than two seconds, taking Cortana's breath with it. Did he know how bad it was? She couldn't bring herself to ask. She knew it was bad but.

But at least now she finally understood the human tendency to put off bad news. Somehow it was easier to not know. Schrodinger's paradox, she thought, then shook it off and closed the gap between them.

"How are the teams doing?" He asked instead of asking how she was doing. A grateful flicker of a smile tugged at her lips.

"They're making progress, slowly. Crimson took him down once." And had a total team kill in the process. As much as she wished that they could finish the Didact without anyone else being injured or worse, she had to come to terms with the ruthless calculus of war. They would be lucky if all they lost was a fireteam or two. She set the thought aside and added, "Commander Palmer's putting the rest of them through their paces."

"I thought she would," the Captain sighed fondly. "She has a habit of running people as hard as she runs herself."

"That she does."

The attempt at small talk awkwardly trailed off, silence fading in in its place. Cortana's eyes tracked to the door just behind the Captain, the sliding white steel waiting for someone to walk into sensor range. Once they were inside, there would be no going back. She would have to face the facts of his condition and whatever it led to.

Just like he had. She took another breath, nodding just once. The Captain nodded in return, laying a firm hand on her shoulder in solidarity before he walked inside. Cortana trailed in in his wake, listening to the beeping of monitors, the professional rush of the staff as they prepared themselves for the battles to come. Nurses in scrubs hurried too and fro with bundles of supplies in their hands, carts of freshly manufactured medications and ointments being placed inside refrigerated containers. The sharp scent of antiseptic and cleaners covered up any remnant of death, though her eyes tracked to the exact spot where she'd dropped them in all the same.

The curse of never forgetting. She closed her eyes, trying to shake it off. Captain Lasky's footsteps slowed as he fell back to match her stride, laying a hand on her shoulder. She had to wonder just how fragile she must have looked to earn that support. She didn't ask, just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She let the Captain lead her past the open lobby, past the gurneys and beds separated from one another by thin curtains, past the cordoned off exam rooms. He lead her towards the rear of the Medical Bay and into the narrow halls and sharp corners of the private rooms. It was quieter back here, removed from the hustle and bustle. Only the faint vibration of the ship's mechanical workings reached back here, the hushed whisper of circulating air and the beeping of a heart monitor. It drummed beneath her sternum, working away even as it rang through her audio inputs as well. Matching the sound to the bio-monitor in her HUD she steadied herself. It was John's heartbeat. The feedback must have been looping through her systems somehow…

"Dr. Delgado," Captain Lasky's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. They'd reached their destination: one of the rooms in the center of the corridor. It was a defensible position and she was glad for that, watching as one of the nurses stepped out of the room and passed the doctor a tablet. Test results or readouts. She grabbed at the data and filed it away for later, watching Dr. Delgado instead.

Chief Medical Officer Max Delgado was a tall man, his dark hair a few shades darker than his skin. His deep brown eyes were rimmed with lines that spoke of too much time staring at small targets, but he was a good doctor. One of the best in the UNSC's employ. He'd pulled dozens of soldiers back from the brink on more than one deployment during the war. Being stationed on Infinity had to have been a vacation in comparison. At least, it had before. His pale blue scrubs were clean, but the seam of his scrub cap was stuck to his forehead by a line of still damp sweat. She tried not to worry about what that could have meant as she picked up her pace. Captain Lasky let go of her shoulder and asked, "How's our patient?"

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Dr. Delgado exhaled deeply. "The Master Chief came through surgery without any issues, which is a damned miracle considering the state he was in when he got here." His eyes darted to the trio of nurses filing out of the room, their heads bent as their whispered softly to one another. Only once they were out of earshot did Dr. Delgado speak again. "The damage was severe. The armor did a remarkable job of keeping him intact, but that must have been a serious fall. We found six broken ribs, a fractured scapula, and hairline fractures all along the spinal column." His voice softened by half a note as he glanced at her. "How far did he fall?"

"Almost three kilometers," Cortana replied, pulling up the data from that harrowing moment of realization. What the doctor said was nearly an exact match for what the system had been able to spit at her then. More detailed, of course, but. She cleared her throat, keeping hold of herself by her fingernails. "It wasn't a straight fall. There were…multiple impacts."

Dr. Delgado hummed quietly. Checking something on the tablet in his hand he nodded and continued, "That's in line with what we saw. There was also a punctured lung and severe internal lacerations in the chest cavity. We were able to repair the bleeds but several of his organs had to replaced by flash clones. We also had to splice into his spinal cord to repair the damage to that, but initial tests show full nervous system response." He sighed, looking for all the worlds like he wanted to sit and never stand back up. "At least, full reflexive responses. We won't know the true extent of the damage until he wakes up."

Something about his tone made the Captain frown. "Doctor?"

Dr. Delgado closed his eyes for a long moment, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Consulting the medical data for herself Cortana tried to catch what made him look so downtrodden, but everything was within acceptable levels for a wounded Spartan. Had he not bled out internally he'd have still been awake when she'd brought them home, not to mention still alive. He was—oh, oh no, wait.

"You're worried he might not wake up," She breathed, and Dr. Delgado nodded. Horror crystallized in her core, causing it to stutter. "I was watching his bio-monitor. It took nearly five minutes to restore any sort of cardiac rhythm but he was—" Her voice caught, "He was on artificial respiration before then, wasn't he?"

"He was," Dr. Delgado nodded, "For the entire time between us getting him to trauma until he started breathing on his own again."

"So what's your concern, Doctor?" Captain Lasky asked, "If he was being provided oxygen he should be fine."

"They couldn't stimulate his heart," Cortana answered, his too-still form burned across the backs of her eyelids. "The armor was in the way. No compressions, no defibrillator, just oxygen. All the oxygen in the galaxy won't do any good if it can't get where it needs to go." She looked at Dr. Delgado, desperately wishing she was wrong. She knew she wasn't. "Brain damage?"

"That is my main concern, yes," Dr. Delgado sighed quietly. She appreciated that he didn't try to sugarcoat things, even as Captain Lasky had to lean on her shoulder for a moment instead of the other way around. She was frozen in place, her legs locked. "We won't know for certain until he wakes up. Spartans are built extremely tough compared to us normal humans, but they're still human. They have limits."

"How hard are those limits?"

"Double that of an unaugmented individual," Cortana shook her head, running the numbers. She knew them—him—by heart and yet. And yet. She met Dr. Delgado's eyes. "Doctor how long will it take for the sedative to run its course?"

"The anesthesia we used should metabolize within the next two hours. If he doesn't show signs of waking within the next six…" Dr. Delgado shook his head. "I've already paged Dr. Hirako to come and run some tests. We'll know more once she's done."

But until then they were in limbo. Cortana glanced at the doorway behind him, the blinds drawn on the windows to either side. She needed to see him with her own eyes, see that he was breathing. The feed from his bio-monitor wasn't cutting it anymore.

"Can we see him?" She asked, cutting Dr. Delgado off mid-answer to another of the Captain's questions. He blinked and she clarified, "Is he stable enough for visitors?"

Dr. Delgado's expression softened at the edges, his eyes crinkling. "He is. Go on."

As if anyone could have stopped her. With barely a nod to the Captain she stepped past Dr. Delgado and into the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Once it had closed she leaned back against it and looked at her partner.

"Hey, Chief…sleep well?"

He didn't answer her. He couldn't, of course, not with the anesthetic still coursing through his veins, but it felt better to talk to him all the same. Still leaning against the door she watched him for a few precious moments. He really did look like he was just asleep. Flat on his back with a thin blanket pulled up to his chest, his face was peaceful in slumber. A thin oxygen tube wound around his face, two IVs leading into the line in his elbow. His chest rose and fell in a steady pattern of calm, even inhales and exhales. The monitors were clear, showing vitals in the green that matched his bio-monitor in her HUD. She padded quietly forward, resting a hand on his knee. Still warm, just…asleep.

Just asleep. Logic tried to tell her that wasn't all it was but she refused to listen. He would be fine. He'd survived everything the galaxy had thrown at him for over thirty years, and he would continue to do so. He'd be awake and chafing at being stuck in bed soon enough, she just knew it!

He had to be.

Sitting down against his hip Cortana reached for his hand. There was no grip to them now, but his fingers were still warm as she settled them into her palm, wrapping her smaller, thinner hands around his. She sought the pulse in his wrist, matching it to the beeping monitors and the echo in her chest. Steady and even like nothing was wrong, like he really was asleep. If she closed her eyes she could pretend he was.

"Wake up soon, John," She murmured, "I need you to be okay."

Two hours came and went without so much as a twitch. Dr. Hirako, Infinity's chief neurologist, was in and out of the room half a dozen times in that same amount of time, running tests and taking readings. Though she remained in the room Cortana spun a process off into the good doctor's tablet, keeping a watchful eye on the readings herself. Each subsequent test only served to drive her core even further into a frozen state, pulling it towards the ground.

The autonomous functions of his brain were fine. He was fully capable of breathing on his own, connections to his senses fully intact. His lace was fine and his implants in perfectly good working order considering the impacts they'd all taken. All that was missing was higher neural functionality, though they couldn't test for that until he woke up. They'd test for it when he woke up.

Except he didn't wake up. Two hours bled into three, three hours into four. Cortana attempted to stay busy with the sims, splitting off her processes to help the Fireteams and the Commander, but even she could only keep so busy when worry strangled her core. Four hours became five, Dr. Delgado and Dr. Hirako exchanging hushed, worried conversations in the hall. One of Roland's processes came to keep watch with her, their connected process sitting quietly in the back of Cortana's matrix. She appreciated his presence more than she could say, especially when five hours became six and Dr. Hirako's most recent test returned the same results as the first.

Autonomous neural activity was green. Higher neural activity was in the red. There were no markers of consciousness, no signs of awareness. It was too early to be sure, but the writing was on the wall.

"He's in a comatose state, Captain," Dr. Hirako came right out and said when they called the Captain down to the Medical Bay for the second time that day. Though he paled the Captain kept his feet steady as she continued, "I can't say for certain why, but all of the tests are returning the same result. There is no higher brain function to be found."

"And there's no way to know how long it'll last?"

"Without knowing what caused it, sir? No." Dr. Hirako shook her head, tucking a lock of her long dark hair back into the bun it had fallen out of. "Proper oxygenation and blood flow were restored well within the limits a Spartan's body can take, and there are no signs of any trauma to directly explain it. It isn't a reaction to the anesthetic and as far as I can tell it shouldn't have happened to begin with." She frowned severely. "I can't explain it, sir."

No one could. The Captain's answering voice trailed off, fading out of Cortana's hearing as she turned to John's slumbering form. She had to remind herself that comatose individuals did wake up with surprising regularity depending on the nature of their comas, and that this didn't necessarily mean he was gone. That reminder did nothing to stop one of her available processes from beginning to weep, already keenly feeling his loss. That loss spread across the rest of them like a wave across the sand.

He couldn't be gone! Not like this! He'd survived absolutely everything else the galaxy had thrown at him so how could something like this—something the doctors couldn't even name—be what did him in?! How did she get to outlive him by a century or more already? How did he get to leave her behind before the fight was even finished!

Clenching her teeth around a sob Cortana bowed her head, holding tightly to his hand. This couldn't be it. He couldn't be alive but still gone, not like this! Not after everything they had been through! She wouldn't let him be! There had to be something she could do! Think, dammit! Think! The human brain was just electrical impulses firing across organic circuits. It was no different than an AI matrix and she'd lived in one of those for years! There had to be—

Wait.

No different from an AI.

Slowly, Cortana lifted her head. No different from an AI. She had pushed them both through the Domain as a single unit to protect him, to keep his already broken systems from being overwhelmed by any feedback just like she would have shielded any damaged sections of her code. Those were always sectioned off to wait for repairs. If the Domain had read them as the same unit, then…was it possible that he had also been cordoned off? The Gateway had allowed him access in the first place, but was it possible that the Domain would have registered a dying mind as a damaged AI and kept it somewhere safe? It was a complete long shot, she realized that, but was it possible? She closed her eyes and thought it over more thoroughly.

The human mind was, from a scientific perspective, a highly advanced super computer. Electric impulses fired along neurons to control everything from instinct to emotional responses to movement, allowing the mind to control the body. At that level an AI program was much the same: electrical impulses firing along circuits to control everything from base level programming to emotional routines to the motion of an external shell. Boiled down to that level, they were identical. Reading them a single entity, the Domain wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. It would have sectioned off the damaged code for her to come and repair when she had a chance, not knowing that it wasn't code at all!

He wasn't gone, he was just trapped in the Domain!

Opening her mouth she turned to the Captain, then stopped herself at the last second. She couldn't tell him. Not yet. Not until she was sure that her hypothesis was correct. Not until she'd seen him with her own eyes and knew he was alive. To get anyone's hopes but her own up before she was sure was needlessly cruel. If it turned out she was right, well, she'd tell him then.

For now, she needed them out of the room. Dr. Hirako had already left, a quick check of her monitoring process letting Cortana know that she had gone to prepare additional testing equipment. Captain Lasky lingered for a few moments longer, crossing the space between the door and the bed. Loss and grief clung to his bearing like a second skin and Cortana had to swallow her words. Did John know how much he mattered to this crew? No. He probably didn't. She'd have to tell him.

"He's always seemed invincible, hasn't he?" the Captain asked softly. "You know…the night I first met him, he took down a Hunter with nothing more than a frag grenade and some fancy footwork. To a kid who hadn't even graduated from the Academy that was…" He huffed out a tired laugh. "It was like watching hope come to life."

"He has that effect on people," She said equally as gently, "Rescues are honestly one of the Chief's specialties."

They shared a knowing smile. He'd managed to rescue the entire human race more than once, but he'd also saved them. The Captain from the wreckage of Corbulo, and Cortana from High Charity. From what should have been her end.

It was time to return the favor.

"Even when everything said he couldn't do it, even when the odds were against him, he's always managed it. He's pulled off the impossible hundreds of times," She said, looking at his slumbering face. Was it still appropriate to call him Sleeping Beauty when he was more handsome than beautiful? She fought back an inappropriate laugh. "Don't write him off just yet, Captain."

"Wouldn't dream of it." The Captain tilted his head. "I take it you're going to stay here."

It wasn't a question. Cortana still nodded, not letting go of John's hand. The Captain nodded in return, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Let Roland know if you need anything."

"I will. Thank you, sir."

He squeezed her shoulder in understanding. Without another word he headed out, called by his duty to his crew. The door closed behind him; Cortana waited three seconds before activating the locking mechanism remotely. She couldn't afford any interruptions this time. Roland's process sat up and took notice.

"Cor?"

"I'm going to try something. Buy me some time, okay?" She sent to him, shooing his process out the proverbial door, "I'll be right back."

He was out before he could get her to explain, leaving her alone in her own head and alone with her slumbering partner. Roland would give her a few moments before he tried to reestablish contact. She couldn't waste them. Even so she could hardly move. If she was wrong and he wasn't somehow in the Domain, she didn't know what she'd done. If she was wrong and he really was gone, he'd take her with him for sure this time.

We go together.

Taking a deep breath, Cortana let go of his hand. Setting it down on his abdomen she dismissed her armor, leaving her skin bare against the rough blanket as she crawled up to lay alongside him. For a moment she watched him breathe, his body warmth clear even through the covers. He really did look like he was just asleep. She'd always loved to watch him sleep, always wondering what great adventure waited for them the next time he woke up.

Even now, some tiny process in the depths of her core wondered what was waiting for them when he came around. Because he had to come around, didn't he? He wouldn't leave her.

She wouldn't let him go.

"They let me pick. Did I ever tell you that?" Reaching up she began to run her fingers through his hair, the strands soft against her fingertips. "I got to choose whichever Spartan I wanted, and oh, I had options. I almost picked Fred, you know."

A lie. Her throat grew tight. She had considered 104, but not for very long. Something had always brought her back to John. It had been strange at the time, some feeling when she should have been purely logic, but it had always brought her back to his file, to him.

"I know what you're thinking: I'd have driven him absolutely insane. Completely gray haired within a week!" She continued with a wry grin, "I'd have driven the whole company nuts except for you. You were the only one who could keep up with my brand of crazy." Mostly because his was just as crazy, but still. Her palm stilled against his cheek, days old stubble rasping against it. The pad of her thumb rubbed across a scar. "Don't look so surprised. You know me. I did my research. Watched as you became the soldier we needed you to be."

Watched as the galaxy threw loss after loss after loss at him, and watched as he just kept going. Watched as he fought his way through unbeatable odds, through impossible battles, and always come out the other side. Watched him lead his teams, Marines, ODST, and everything in between to safety. Every file was a treasure, every mission new understanding. None of them could have prepared her for the man she would meet on that fateful day on Reach.

"Like the others you were strong, and swift, and brave. A natural leader." Or maybe crazy reckless. But that didn't really work on a file full of commendations, now did it? She chuckled wetly. "But you know something? You had something the others didn't, and somehow everyone missed it but me. Can you guess what it was?"

Was it just her imagination, or had his heart skipped a beat?

"Luck."

Or maybe she was the lucky one. He'd walked into the depths of hell to save her without so much as flinching. It was time to return the favor. Levering herself up onto an elbow, Cortana leaned in close, pressing her forehead against his temple. She closed her eyes, matching her breathing to his. The echo in her chest matched his heartbeat beat for beat.

It was impossible to tell where she ended and he started. Taking a deep breath of his already familiar, warm scent, she reached for the Domain.

"Was I wrong?"

Bornstellar was taller in person than he had appeared in the dreams. As tall as the Didact, he loomed over John's kneeling form. John narrowed his eyes.

"How are you here?" He asked, though much to his rapidly growing consternation, Bornstellar simply smiled.

"In the same way that you are, I would imagine." He bent down, offering John a hand. He didn't seem insulted when John chose to stand on his own power instead. Salt water stung his eyes, seafoam clinging to his knees. Starlight played across the sea and gently sloping sands, catching on the crevices and marks on Bornstellar's face as he continued, "Our combined essence was brought to this place, where it was made into two separate beings once more. There is you," He gestured to John, "And there is me. Two separate entities on the same shoreline of eternity."

The same shoreline. John turned his head, looking out to the open ocean. The waves were rough, breaking over one another before they reached the shoreline, and thick clouds blew past in the harsh winds. Distant thunder rumbled across the horizon, but for the moment the beach was dry. A beach and the ocean. The Gateway.

It's a beach that stretches for miles meeting up with an endless, fathomlessly deep ocean.

"This is the Domain," He said. When he looked back Bornstellar was smiling proudly. "Cortana brought us through the Domain."

But if they were here, then—where was she? He turned in a slow circle, scanning the beach. Endless miles of sand and open water stretched out in every direction, tufts of hardy beach grasses breaking up the dunes, but there was no blue to be found. No light.

No Cortana.

"Where is she?"

"I do not know. If she is not here then she must be with your body, but where that is is unknown to me." Bornstellar shook his head. "The physical plane is beyond me now, much as it is beyond you."

"Because I'm dead."

A chill that had nothing to do with the ocean wind swept across his shoulders. It was…strange. He had thought that he had come to terms with the idea of dying on the battlefield. Over his years of fighting the Covenant it had seemed like it would be the only end to his service—to his life—but the last few days had shaken that certainty. The idea of leaving Cortana to finish the fight alone unsettled him, tightening around his chest like titanium bands. The idea of leaving her at all drove icy claws into his heart, a sharp pain that made it harder to steady himself.

He'd wanted to see the stars with her, go out and find new places. They wouldn't get the chance now.

"There's no going back."

"Not if your body has perished," Bornstellar said, his eyes dark with understanding. "The wound itself may have been survivable, but the fall…" He shook his head, turning away. "Come. There is much we must speak of and little time before this essence fades."

Taking another look around the beach John sighed through his nose, following after Bornstellar. The Forerunner left heavy footprints in the sand, divots that the tide quickly filled in with water. A particularly loud rumble of thunder caused them both to look out to the horizon. Orange lightning crashed down into the open ocean in the distance. John frowned.

"That's the Didact."

"Yes. Cortana opened the Gateway to take you both through, but it did not close behind her." Bornstellar sighed, rubbing at his forehead as if it pained him. "I do not believe he knows this shoreline is here or he would have laid it to waste already."

Would have taken them both out already. Though there was no injury there in this place John pressed his hand to his abdomen and grimaced tightly. His skin itched, a frantic buzzing just beneath the surface. He'd known the odds were slim but that fight had been rigged from the moment they'd set foot on Genesis. As much as he would have preferred it, taking the Didact in close combat was no longer an option. They would have to nuke him. Was that an option here?

"If he tries, how do we stop him?"

"I do not know. In battle, perhaps, but we have no weapons and the Domain itself may fight against us." Bornstellar sighed heavily. "To fight him and survive…I do not know if it is possible, Reclaimer."

"It has to be." It wasn't over. Not yet. It couldn't be. John refused to let it be over like this. He increased his stride until he'd caught up with Bornstellar, brow furrowed. "How do we stop him for real?"

"Reclaimer," Bornstellar sighed, "Even if we were to stop him here, to force him from the Domain, we could not follow him out to finish it. That battle is beyond us."

"It's not beyond humanity. Cortana will come looking for me. I need to be able to give her something." Something besides the bad news that he wasn't going to be coming with her this time. He squashed the thought before it could take hold. "You knew him. You know what can stop him."

"Several of your Havok mines should be enough. They may be the only option left to your people now." Bornstellar scoffed angrily, turning away from John. "Even if they were of a mind to try he is too far down his path to be talked back. You have seen for yourself how ruthless he can be in battle—he was the foremost of our people, the best of our soldiers, the greatest of our commanders! He has seen more battles won than any soul alive in your galaxy today, Reclaimer. No matter how skilled you or your fellows may be to face him in battle is to choose death."

They still had to try. Even if it meant dumping all the heavy ordnance in the fleet on his head, they still had to try. Havoks, Archer Missiles, maybe even a Nova Bomb if they could get him somewhere empty. Cortana would have some ideas. The buzz beneath his skin grew stronger and he rolled his shoulders, a chill running down his lace.

"We're okay with that." He said, "If the Didact gets to the rings, all life in the galaxy will die. We can't let that happen." He stepped closer. "You were willing to fire the rings to save the galaxy from the Flood. Help us save it again."

Bornstellar considered him, silent. John watched him in return, waiting. They would do this with or without him, but the extra edge he could provide might make all the difference. The silence dragged on, broken only by the rumble of thunder and hushed whisper of the waves. Finally, Bornstellar shook his head.

"There is nothing that I can do."

No. That wasn't true.

"The Librarian seeded your Imprint into humanity for a reason. Why do that if there was nothing you could do?" Maybe the fight itself was beyond them, maybe they couldn't affect the physical world, but battles were more than shooting people or exchanging blows. There was a strategy to them, tactics and planning. "You knew him. You know him. You know how to stop him."

"Reclaimer—" Bornstellar stopped himself, taking a breath and shaking his head. "Spartan. You misunderstand. You are correct in that I knew him best. He was my mentor, my teacher. I carried his memories, his thoughts, his essence, for many years, but my time has passed. What I carried is already yours."

John drew back. "What?"

"As I carried his memories, you carried mine. Even when you could not reach them you carried them. Tell me," He raised an eyebrow, "If I were to attack you now in the Veiled Light style, how would you respond?

"Use your momentum against you. Knock you off center, take a limb and." John stopped, the mental image of what Bornstellar meant and his drilled response clear even though he knew that he had never run those drills. He knew the difference between the more aggressive Veiled Light and the more defensive Shard styles, and he knew how to counter them both. He knew them as well as he knew his own human styles, as well as he knew every tick and quirk of how his Spartans fought. He frowned. "I thought we couldn't share memories."

"We could not. The differences in our biological architecture prevented your access of my memories, my consciousness, but we are no longer biological. The Domain has allowed them to flow freely. My memories, and my experiences, are now yours." Bornstellar tilted his head. "And with them my knowledge and understanding of the Ur-Didact. May they serve you better than they ever served me."

Even if he couldn't use them himself. No. No that wasn't true. Once Cortana got here he could pass them on to her. Even if he was trapped here, his body dead and gone, he could still get her the intel she'd need. She'd know what to do with it. The IVs, Palmer, they'd know what to do with it. He would have felt better if Blue Team had been there to fight at her side in his place, but under the circumstances…he opened his mouth only to stop cold. He could see the storm through Bornstellar.

"You're fading."

"Yes." Bornstellar nodded. "An Imprint was never meant to last outside of the seed-host. This essence will fade into the Domain and join the memories of my people." He tilted his head into the wind. "I do wonder…did my original form take to farming as I had hoped to?"

"Bornstellar."

The old Forerunner shook his head with a chuckle. "You need not concern yourself, Spartan. I doubt that we will share in this fate. That, and…" He turned, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. "Your Cortana would not let you. She is quite protective of you."

The feeling was mutual. John narrowed his eyes, unsure what to say in the little time that remained. Should he thank Bornstellar for the information his memories contained and the chance it gave them? Should he try to convince the Forerunner to stay here, to fight for his existence, or just let him go? He didn't know. But then…it wasn't his choice to make, was it? Essence or not, Bornstellar had the right to choose for himself. He took another breath and nodded.

"Thank you," He said, though the words felt oddly ill-suited for the situation at hand. A smile tugged at Bornstellar's lips.

"No. Thank you for allowing me to see that the galaxy survived our failures, and that life did find its way once more. It means more than I have the words to say."

He didn't need words to say it. John already understood. With a final smile, Bornstellar turned to the waves, tilting his head back from the cold wind off the ocean. He seemed at peace with this, John thought. Whatever came next, he was ready.

"Fare well, John-117." Bornstellar said, "Perhaps we will meet again someday."

Maybe they would, or maybe they wouldn't. It was hard to say and there was no time to find the words. John stood on the shore as Bornstellar stepped into the ocean, the tide pulling at his legs more and more with each step he took into the shallows. Standing watch, John kept silent as the old Forerunner stepped deeper and deeper into the ocean. First to his waist, then to his chest, then to his shoulders. Between one wave and the next, he vanished. John was left alone on the shoreline, an oddly heavy feeling in his heart. Under different circumstances, they might have been friends. Under these…well. There wasn't much point in thinking on it any longer.

He had to find Cortana.

With one last look out to sea, John began to turn around—

"John."

—Only to stop dead as he came to face the dunes. A cold wind blew across the sandy hills, grains swirling through the bright blue light emanating from Cortana at the top of the rise. His heart soared at the sight of her, lighter than it had felt in months. For a moment they stared at one another, unsure that what they were seeing was real, but the moment shattered as he took off up the sand towards her. With a choked noise she rushed to meet him, only halfway down the dune when he reached her. They stood at eye level, neither saying a word as they drank one another in, looking each other over for injury or maybe just to reassure themselves that the other was really there. She reached out with shaking hands, the pads of her bare fingers pressing against his chest.

"You're—" Her voice cracked, eyes welling with tears. "You're really—"

The buzz beneath his skin had reached a crescendo, nearly shaking itself apart. Nearly shaking her apart, he realized. It was her that he had been feeling this entire time. Acting on pure instinct he took another step forward, pulling her into his arms. With a shuddering sigh she collapsed against him, pressing herself in against his chest as she wrapped both arms around his neck. She held on so tight he could tell that she was afraid he'd vanish if she ever let go. He knew the feeling.

He folded himself around her, shielding her from the cold wind as it blew past. She was warm in his arms, light buzzing beneath her marked skin nearly in perfect tune with his racing heartbeat. Sniffling quietly she cradled the back of his head in one hand, leaning their temples together. He turned to press his forehead to her temple, her hair softly brushing across his cheeks. She began to stroke her fingers through his hair, the gesture comforting in a way he hadn't realized he'd needed. His throat closed off, too tight for words.

"I thought I'd lost you," She whispered, barely more than a breath, "I thought…when I pulled you through, I wasn't sure if it'd…"

John shook his head. "It's okay," he managed to rumble quietly, the sound vibrating through both of their bodies. She hiccuped around a laugh—or maybe it was a sob—and nodded against him. "I'm here."

"Yes, you are." Her hand stilled. With one last squeeze to his shoulders she began to pull away. He longed to keep her in his arms but she didn't go far, just far enough that their eyes could meet. He searched her face, watching as her eyes welled with tears. She still managed to smile just for him. "You know, when I said you needed a beach vacation this wasn't what I meant!"

"You know me. Never do things halfway." He replied softly, lifting his hands from her back. Cautiously, he placed them on either side of her face, cupping her cheeks in his hands. She took a shuddering breath, the tears finally spilling free as she leaned into his touch. He gently brushed them away with his thumbs, never taking his eyes off of her. "You okay?"

"I am now," She reached up to clasp her hands around his wrists, thumbs finding his pulse on instinct. The buzz beneath his skin grew steadier, calmer, no longer racing away. His heartbeat evened out along with it. "Are you?"

"I am now." He'd gotten to see her again. The titanium bands around his chest broke away, leaving him able to breathe once more. Reluctantly, he lowered his hands to her shoulders. She didn't let go of his wrists. "Listen. There's things you need to know. About how to fight the Didact, how to stop this."

"You can tell me later. When we get home."

"Cortana, I'm not." The words caught. Was this how she had felt when they'd crashed on Requiem? Needing to tell him something but unable to get the words out? Had they clogged her throat, made it impossible to speak? He'd pressed her, needed to know she was alright, but now that it was his turn he could understand why she hadn't been able to say it right away. Clearing his throat he tried again, "I'm not coming with you this time."

She blinked at him, shaking her head slightly. "What are you talking about? Of course you are. I came to get you!"

"My injuries—"

"Are fixed." She squeezed his wrists, "The doctors were able to bring you back—they saved you! You've got a few new scars, sure, and you'll have some new aches and pains, but they…oh" He stared at her, unable to speak. She was talking like he wasn't. Like he'd. Her expression went soft with understanding. "Oh, John. No. No, you're not—you're not dead."

He'd been so sure. He'd been so sure that this was it that. His stomach flipped, heart and the buzz beneath his skin racing in equal measure again. He'd have fallen to his knees if she wasn't in front of him. How was this possible? The Didact had run him through and then the fall—so many things had broken how was he even still—

"John. John, look at me," Cortana's hands cupped his face, pulling his attention back out again. Her eyes were clear and firm, holding his gaze. "You're not dead. You haven't been Composed. When I pulled us through the Gateway the Domain mistook your consciousness for a damaged section of my code. It was brought here so it would be safe until I could repair it. That's all." Her thumbs gently stroked across his face. "We're going home."

Not dead. Just unconscious. Relief flooded through him, shame pricking at the backs of his eyes. He was supposed to be prepared to give his life in service to humanity but now. He would deal with that another time. He reached up to cover her hands with his.

"We're going home." He smiled their secret smile, watching as the corners of her lips tugged upwards in return. With one last squeeze to her wrists he let go, feeling oddly cold without her hands on his face. He shoved the thought aside and looked around for a doorway or path to follow. Still nothing of the sort. Damn. "How do we get out of here?"

"I'm not sure," Cortana admitted quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I got us both in here by masking your presence with mine, which is how you ended up in my partition, but that's not going to work to get us back out as two separate entities, so…" She took a deep breath. "So as far as I can tell we have two options. Either we somehow figure out a way to teach you how to jump in and out of the Domain on extremely short notice and with absolutely zero practice, or…"

Something told him he wasn't going to like this. "Or?"

"Or I kick you out the same way I'd kick an intruding piece of software out." She scrunched up her nose. "I know they're not the best options, but given that the alternative is staying here…"

"That's not an option."

"Not unless you want to become the voice in my head, no." She said sarcastically, though the look in her eyes told him she wished that was an option. Some part of him did, too.

"I'd drive you crazy."

"Crazier, you mean," She laughed. The wind tugged at her hair as it blew past, thunder rumbling in the distance. She looked over his shoulder with a frown before looking at him in wordless question. He nodded to confirm, watching as anger flashed across her face. "Okay. You ready?"

Not really. If this didn't work she'd blame herself for it. He didn't want that for her. But if there was any chance that they could both leave, then they had to take it. Looking out to sea John watched the storm for a long moment, watching the orange lightning strike the rough waters. If they stayed here, no one could prepare humanity for the fight that was coming. If they stayed here, the Didact would take too many lives before they could stop him. If they stayed here…they couldn't stay here.

"Ready." He said, looking back at Cortana. Worry furrowed her brow and darkened her eyes. She wasn't sure about this either, but she both understood and accepted that he'd made his decision. As much as she worried, she would respect it. Fondness curled around his heart; when he reached for her hands she met him halfway. "Take us home."

Twisting their hands so as to interlace their fingers, Cortana took a deep breath and met his eyes. She looked at him with such warmth and fondness that he could feel it in his chest, the last icy claw pried loose. He smiled their secret smile at her, nodding once more. She returned the nod, the buzzing beneath his skin growing in speed and pitch. He matched her breath for breath, and on the third inhale she shoved into him. Her slighter frame shouldn't have been able to budge him so much as an inch, but between one moment and the next he was falling. Ice cold sea water rushed to meet him a second time, plunging him into the darkness. He braced himself for the thousands of hands to come and tear him apart again but they never came.

The only hands he felt were Cortana's, pulling him towards the surface. Black bled into gray bled into white and then suddenly—

Noise. The quiet, steady beeping of half a dozen monitors all keeping watch at the same time. The sterile bright white of the Medbay ceiling stared back at him, blurred but quickly righting itself as his eyes adjusted. The room was quiet, monitors unable to banish the soft buzz and breathing pattern beside him. Slowly, John turned his head to face his partner. Nearly nose to nose with him, Cortana smiled softly.

Welcome home, John, her voice rang through his mind, startling him. Her voice had sounded as clear as if she had spoken aloud but she hadn't. He had no radio, no way to receive transmissions without one, so how had she.

Wait.

Both sure and not John reached out to the space Bornstellar had once occupied on the edges of his mind. The old Forerunner was gone now, his Imprint faded into the Domain, but in his place was a familiar tendril of ice cold. It ran down his lace as he reached out to it.

Cortana?

All doubts faded away as she jerked back, startled. She'd heard that! A flash of surprise not his own washed over him, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. He raised an eyebrow as she stared at him, the tendril of cold in the back of his mind coiling, shifting in old, familiar ways. He wasn't sure of the how, and from the looks of it she wasn't either, but somehow he hadn't been the only one to come home this time. She continued to stare at him in silence, visibly processing the change, before she broke out into fondly exasperated laughter. John huffed, the beginnings of a chuckle rumbling through his chest.

It was good to be home.

[runnning-outof-time]

Back Off | Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

**I’ve decided that this will be a continuation of Keep Her Safe, which can be found here.

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & daughter!reader

Summary: (Y/N)'s none too happy when she finds out that her father's trying to run her personal life.

Warnings: language, smoking

Word Count: 3283

A/N: I had a lot more fun writing unhinged dad!Tommy than I expected to haha. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR THOUGHTS & COMMENTS HELP ME WRITE!

Dropping the pencil on top of the textbook with a sigh, (Y/N) rubbed her hands over her eyes. Who knew that your final year in secondary school could be so stressful?

There was a lot riding on the work that she did this year. Getting good grades would help her a great deal in getting into the universities that she wanted to study at. And, of course, no one would question her desire to pursue a higher education because she was a Shelby. That was one thing that her surname was good for.

At least she had a good group of friends at her school that helped to ease the stress and pressure. And she had a boyfriend. Damien Weis. He was good to her and made her immensely happy. He also served as a great helper on her science homework, which is what the two were working on at the moment.

"How are you so good at this?" (Y/N) questioned in shock as she looked between her book and the boy sitting to her right. "I have no clue what they're even saying here."

"It's Latin, (Y/N). Once you understand the meanings of the root words, it gets easier," Damien told her.

"Well I don't speak Latin," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone before allowing him to, yet again, go on explaining the differences in the classifying of organisms.

Many more sighs were exhaled, along with chuckles from Damien as they continued with their homework until a car came to a screeching halt outside. Damien paused his explanation and looked towards the window, a puzzled expression on his face.

"That's just my dad. Don't pay any attention to it," (Y/N) waved the sound of the slamming car door off as she focused her attention on the text in front of her. She just hoped that her father would make a b-line to his office like he normally did. The last thing she wanted was for him to stumble across her boyfriend because she hadn't exactly told him about the boy.

Her hopes were shattered as his thudding footsteps were heard coming in the direction of the reading room. Before she was able to even prepare the poor boy, her father was walking through the archway. "Hello, (Y/N)," he greeted her without slowing his stride.

"Hi, dad," she tried to respond nonchalantly in hopes that he wouldn't even glance over at her.

But, once again, her hopes were shattered. Tommy stopped in his tracks when he noticed that his daughter was not alone. And that the company that she was keeping was an unfamiliar boy. "Who are you?" he didn't hesitate in asking, his eyes zeroed in on Damien. (Y/N) sighed. This poor boy was in for it now.

Damien thought nothing of it. He stood up from the couch and put a polite smile on his face as he stepped over to the man who asked the question. You see, he didn't know what this man was involved in. He just knew that he was (Y/N)'s father. And he wanted to make a good first impression. "Hello, sir. My name's Damien Weis. I'm (Y/N)'s boyfriend," he introduced himself as he offered his hand to shake.

Tommy didn't accept it. Instead he glanced over the boy standing in front of him. "Get out of my house," he blatantly stated before turning back to the door he was about to open.

"Dad!" (Y/N) called after him, shocked that he'd been so abrupt, "dad, that's really rude. He was just trying to introduce himself to you."

Tommy turned to his daughter, completely disregarding the boy who was still standing in front of him, who had his hand still outstretched and shock etched into his facial features. "Yeah, he did. And I want him out of my house," he was also blatant with his daughter as he tried to hold his anger in. This was the last thing he needed after the day he'd had. (Y/N)'s jaw dropped at his response.

Luckily Lizzie entered the reading room before anything else could be said, "Tommy, good, you're home. I wanted to tell you that Damien's going to be staying to eat dinner with us," she announced, noticing the tenseness of her husband but choosing to ignore it completely.

Tommy spun to face her, sending her a raised eyebrow expression before he glanced over at his daughter and finally to the boy who'd now be eating at his table. "Fucking great," he mumbled before he turned again and finally opened the door to the room he intended on going into.

Damien took a deep breath and finally dropped his hand before he moved back over to where (Y/N) was sitting. The girl sighed as he sat down next to her. "Well that didn't go as expected," he commented, running his sweaty palms over the material of his trousers.

"Don't mind him. He's just a miserable, old man. He's rarely happy about anything " (Y/N) brushed him off, although she couldn't shake the anger that she felt in regards to her father. Damien was a nice boy. She wished that he had given him the time of the day.

About a half hour later, the entire Shelby family, along with Damien, were sitting at the long dining table. The others were eating, but Tommy was just sat at the head of the table, smoking a cigarette. His eyes hadn't left Damien, who was sitting stiffly under the gaze of the intimidating man. It was quiet until Tommy decided to speak up, "so, Damien. How long have you been seeing my daughter?" he asked, his question, not surprisingly, directed at the boy.

Damien took a drink from the glass of water he had before clearing his throat and speaking what he hoped was confidently, "for a few months, sir."

"How many months?" Tommy asked, narrowing his eyes at the boy. Damien looked to (Y/N) then because he hadn't known the answer. They never really started counting how many. They just enjoyed hanging out with each other and did it often, even before they started dating. Tommy took the silence as a go ahead to speak again, "because I need to know how many months this has been hid from me."

"Tommy..." Lizzie sent him a warning glance almost immediately after he finished speaking.

"Dad..." (Y/N) called out in the same tone just as Lizzie was done speaking.

"I...I don't know, sir. Four...maybe five?" Damien's answer came out more as a question than as a statement.

"So you don't even know how long?" Tommy's eyebrows were raised, "how am I supposed to trust a boy with my daughter if he doesn't even remember how many months he's been with her for, eh?"

"Dad..." (Y/N) tried again, but his gaze was unwavering from the boy in the hot seat. The boy who now looked like he was trying to stop himself from shaking.

"I...I don't know, sir, but I like your daughter. I like her very much, and I don't mean any harm to her. I wouldn't think of doing anything of the sort," he rambled out, hoping to fill in some of the hole that had been dug.

"Oh, good. Cuz we'd have some real problems if harming her was the sole reason of you being here," Tommy drawled out, flicking the ash of the cigarette before he took another drag. "I'll be in me office," he announced without warning before he stood and exited the dining room.

(Y/N) sighed as she looked across the table at Lizzie, who had a sorry expression on her face. "I'm sorry," she mumbled to Damien who only nodded his head before he placed his napkin on the table and stood from the chair.

"I think I need to be going, (Y/N)," he stated as he pushed the chair away from the table, "Mrs. Shelby...the meal was lovely," he smiled over at Lizzie, who only nodded her head. Sending what looked to be a forced smile to (Y/N), Damien then left the dining room to, most likely, go get his things and exit the house.

Lizzie then left the table and walked out of the room, leaving (Y/N) with Charlie and Ruby. With a sigh, she also stood and told the kids that they could be excused also - dinner was pretty much finished at this point. The two younger children listened and went to their playroom before (Y/N) exited the dining hall and ascended the stairs to her room for the night. She didn't miss the sound of her father and Lizzie fighting two rooms down, but she blocked it out. She was able to fall asleep easier than she thought she would.

Surprisingly to (Y/N), Damien actually wanted to see her again. Although he swore that he'd never step foot into Arrow House again. (Y/N) was fine with that though. She wouldn't be letting him anywhere near her father again. For both of their sakes.

Today, Damien had suggested that they go out to see a film. (Y/N) happily agreed and dashed out of the house to Damien's car as soon as he pulled into the estate's driveway.

There was only one flaw to this entire day that (Y/N) had planned out. She hadn't told her father about it. So when Tommy arrived home to a quiet house later in the day, he obviously went to the first person he could question on it. "Where is everyone, Frances?" he asked as he shrugged off the coat he was wearing.

"Mrs. Shelby is in the sitting room, Charles and Ruby are in the playroom, and (Y/N) is..." Frances stopped herself from finishing the sentence, the breath catching in her throat.

"(Y/N) is where, Frances?" Tommy insisted that she tell him, looking at her intently.

"She told me not to tell you, Mr. Shelby," the older woman was hesitant to give any more details.

"So she's not in the house?" Tommy was able to infer that much.

"No," Frances shook her head, and that was all Tommy needed to go stomping into the sitting room where Lizzie was sitting.

"Where's (Y/N), Lizzie?" he asked as soon as he entered the room.

"Good afternoon, Tommy. I'm doing fine, thanks for asking," Lizzie said spitefully as she raised her eyes from the paper she was reading.

"Cut the bullshit and tell me where my daughter is, Lizzie," Tommy's temper was rising with each second.

Lizzie pursed her lips, debating whether or not she should give up (Y/N)'s secret. "She's gone out with Damien," she finally responded, figuring that being on (Y/N)'s bad side for a bit was better than being on Tommy's.

Tommy ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "Fuck," he breathed, shaking his head as he glared at the floor, his hands on his hips, "I tell her to stay away from that boy and now she's fucking out with him."

"He's a nice boy, Tommy," Lizzie stuck up for her step-daugther's relationship.

"He couldn't even tell me how many months he's been seeing her!" he pointed out, his angered eyes flicking over to his wife.

"And can you tell me how many months you've been seeing me?" Lizzie flipped the statement on him, her eyebrows raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. Tommy only glared at her, pursing his lips because he certainly didn't know the answer to that question. "Exactly," she nodded, quite happy that her point had been proved. Tommy only held her stare for a few more moments before he abruptly turned and exited the sitting room. "Where are you going, Tommy?!" she called after him, standing from the couch and moving to the foyer where he was already taking his coat from Frances.

"To find my fucking daughter," he answered her without so much as looking at her before he exited the house. He stormed down the driveway and onto his property down to the edge of the trees where Johnny Dogs and his kin were camped. "Johnny!" he called out as he entered the camp.

"Tom! What do you need?" the man asked, standing from the fire he was tending as Tommy came to a stop in front of him.

"I need you to take me into town. I have business I have to attend to," Tommy was vague with his ask, but Johnny didn't need much more information. Moments later, they were in a truck heading for town.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was having the time of her life. She and Damien went to see the picture that was playing in the theatre and then he'd taken her out to eat a late lunch. It was only when they'd gotten back to his car to her spirits dampened.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" Damien questioned, his eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the slight frown on her face.

"I don't wanna go home, D," she sighed, looking at her lap, "my dad's probably gonna bombard me with questions."

"We don't have to go home yet," he stated, a smile playing on his lips.

"No?" some hope returned to (Y/N) as she looked over at her boyfriend, "where else could we go?" she asked him.

"We don't have to go anywhere. We could stay right here."

"And do what?" she was still oblivious to what he was suggesting. Sitting in his car parked on a side street sure did sound boring, but it was better than going home and facing her father.

Damien chuckled, "do I have to spell it out to you, love?" he questioned.

"I guess so...I'm drawing a blank," (Y/N) laughed shyly.

"Come to the back seat with me," he told her, stepping out of the car then before he offered her his hand. She was still confused, but followed her, stepping out of the front of the car just to go into the back of it.

"And now what?" she couldn't stop herself from asking, making him chuckle again. Was she really his naïve?

"Now I kiss you," he told her, leaning in and matching his lips with hers. She was surprised at first but accepted the kiss, matching it with one of her own as he took her into his arms. She got pressed up against the window of the car by this, but she couldn't care. She was quite enjoying the position she'd now found herself in.

Tommy had Johnny Dogs slowly driving down each of Birmingham's streets, his eyes peeled for anyone who looked like his daughter or her boyfriend. They turned onto another one of the side streets and drove down it. In one of the cars they drove past, he'd seen what looked to be a couple, making out. It was only when Johnny turned back onto the main road that something clicked in Tommy's head. "Go down that street again, Johnny," he ordered, tapping his hand against the dash to show the urgency.

"Why, Tom?" Johnny questioned his intentions but listened anyway.

"Because one of the cars back there looked like the one that was in the driveway the night I came home and met Damien," he explained, ready to take a closer look as they approached the street. Sure enough, realization flashed through Tommy's eyes as they got to that car. The same car that the couple was making out in. "I fuckin' knew it. Stop the car, Johnny!" Tommy ordered through gritted teeth, already opening the door. The tires screeched as the car came to a halt, but Tommy was already walking in the direction of the parked car by that point.

"Where're you goin', Tom? What are you doing?" Johnny asked as he also exited the car, following hot on the other man's heels.

By the time he'd caught up with him, Tommy was already banging on the fogged window of the car incessantly. "What the fuck are you doing in there, eh?!" he yelled to the couple, who had now frozen in their place.

"What the fuck?" Damien breathlessly questioned as he moved away from (Y/N).

"Shit. That's my dad," (Y/N) sighed, straightening out her blouse before Damien moved more so that she could sit up.

"Open this fucking door!" Tommy hadn't stopped his banging, and it looked like he wouldn't be until the door was opened.

Gritting her teeth, (Y/N) flung the door opened to see her angry father. "What the hell, dad?!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"What are you doing with this boy, (Y/N)?" he asked her, frantic eyes bouncing from his daughter to the boy he'd caught her with.

"He's my boyfriend, dad. I'm spending time with him," she answered him, still absolutely shocked that he'd have the audacity to just come up to the car and insert himself into their space.

"Get out of the fucking car, (Y/N). I'm taking you home," Tommy tried to keep his voice level. It wouldn't be good if the MP for this city flipped out on his daughter in public. He kept reminding himself that.

"No."

"We're going to go home and you're going to...what?" Tommy stopped his originally planned sentence when what (Y/N) said registered in his mind. His eyes widened slightly as he craned his neck forward to look at her. "What did you say?" he asked for her to repeat it.

"I said no, dad. I'm not coming home with you. I'm staying with Damien because I am eighteen years old and you cannot tell me what to do," she held her ground, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Get out of the car, (Y/N)," he spoke in a low voice through gritted teeth. She was really testing him.

"No," she repeated her sentiment, "and you really need to back off, dad."

"Back off?" he asked incredulously, "I'm doing what's good for you here, (Y/N)."

"Then do what's good for me and back off," she waved him away, "back off and go home."

"(Y/N)..." the anger was rising inside of him.

"Let it be, Tom," Johnny's voice of reason came from Tommy's left before he was able to blow up on his daughter. "Come on. Leave her with him. She'll be fine," he tried to physically pull him away from the confrontation.

Tommy's eyes darted between the three other people before he took a deep breath and nodded his head. "Yeah. Let it be..." he trailed off, exhaling a breath before his eyes fell on (Y/N) for the last time, "I want to talk to you when you come home tonight," he told her, keeping his voice low so that his anger wouldn't show.

"Ok, dad," she nodded as Johnny then placed a hand on Tommy's shoulder so that he could lead him back to the truck. She mouthed a thank you to the other man, who just nodded and managed to turn Tommy away from the scene in front of him.

Then she turned back to Damien, who surprisingly didn't look too mortified at what had happened. "Where do you want to go now? Because I sure as hell ain't going home any time soon," she stated, a smile back on her face as a similar expression formed on the face of her boyfriend. She'd be ready for whatever her father had planned for her at home, but now all she wanted to do was enjoy herself. Even if it was in spite of him.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21

MASTERLIST

[starbuckie]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing(s): college!peter parker x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!sam wilson x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader

words: 8.1k words

warnings: DARK!FIC, SMUT 18+ (unprotected sex, foursome turned fivesome, gangbang, non-con/dub-con, daddy kink, oral M and F-receiving, spit kink, degredation kink, praise kink, creampie), age-gap (reader is in her early 20s), cheating, angst, there’s like zero fluff

summary: peter should’ve made it back to the tower for date night on time, or maybe just before he found his girlfriend being fucked by three other superheroes.

a/n: eee my first dark fic! im so so happy with the way this turned out, and even though it was a pain in my ass for nearly three months, im so hapy to share it with y’all. this idea was brought up by an anon from @mypoisonedvine’s saturday sleepover a few months back, but i switched up tony and sam bc i didn’t like the tony and peter stuff. hopefully my smut has improved from the first time i wrote it in january, and just a reminder that in no way, shape, or form do i condone rape of any kind. there’s a large difference from the page and the real world. i try to put all tw’s in the tags and warnings, but if there was something i missed please tell me. thank you to my lovely bestie @mermaidxatxheart for beta-reading(i have no fucking clue what i’d do without your help). feel free to leave a comment or two and reblog, but don’t repost anywhere or i will hunt down your ass. thank you again and please please enjoy <3

main masterlist || mcu masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck Y/N as soon as he saw her.

It started with a faint mention, something Tony had thrown around along the lines of, “Parker’s bringing his girl down here tomorrow, don’t be an asshole”. He didn’t give a damn what Tony said or how he acted around Peter’s girl. Years of being thrown between gruesome mind-wiping and being half-dead, asleep in a freezer would do that to a man.

So the next day when Peter brought his girlfriend in, he was scratching his ass like a fucking ape and downing a beer with a messy bun at the nape of his neck, until he actually saw her. Neat hair, even neater laces with a sweet smile but a body that could kill. Didn’t matter that she was bundled under Parker’s hoodie and a pair of jeans- he could always admire a pretty dame, but Bucky could see that she was beyond that. It was as if God had intentionally made the one being, the one ethereal creature beautiful and angelic enough to be a sin away from him, so that he couldn’t touch her. Because she was young, and in her twenties, and that shouldn’t have even been the first two things that popped up in his mind because she was also Peter’s girlfriend.

But then she had the audacity to stick her hand out, a shy grin and twinkle in her eyes as she gave her name. It sounded so pretty rolling off of her tongue, and he wondered what it would sound like while he groaned it into her cunt.

Y/N. 

So, yeah, maybe Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck her as soon as he met her, but it was pretty damn close after.

-

Steve Rogers was one of very few men who said they had the pleasure of banging nearly every woman on the north side of Manhattan. Bucky indulged in the fact that the man who had once been too shy to do so much as meet a gal’s gaze was now “a dollar whore”, but he was more than happy to keep that title if it meant he could continue to get off in the nearest woman’s mouth everyday. 

Every time he walked down the streets of New York with just a simple ball cap and jeans, he could feel stares on his back from what seemed like miles away, girls on every street corner just waiting for him to take her into the nearest public bathroom and fuck them dirty. CEOs, baristas, girls fresh out of getting master’s degrees with stars in their eyes and big dreams, until he shattered them by making them gag on his cock and scream his name into bedsheets. Or tile floors. He didn’t care as long as they were screaming. The girls of this century were just too delectable to turn down. He didn’t discriminate. His dick had been in women of every height, stature, hair color, and he had quite the variety throwing themselves at him as well.

And then Tony ruined it all and sat him down with a simple explanation that the image of Captain America was being tainted with disturbing stories of girls being fucked in the ass and thrown on their knees in dirty bathroom stalls. The blond was beyond pissed when the billionaire told him to stop dicking around, but he couldn’t do anything else if he wanted to keep his title and job. In a new century, even if he’d had a few years to adjust, he was still absolutely oblivious when it came to anything outside of aliens and sex. There was nothing left for him outside of being an Avenger, so reluctantly he agreed to keep his number of conquests to a minimum, and most definitely inside of the tower rather than out on the street.

However, inside of the tower seemed to be no problem at all when Peter brought his girlfriend over, all smiles and straight A’s, and that’s when Steve realized that he’d yet to fuck a bright, little college student. He could see himself stripping her from the innocence in her eyes, loosening up her pussy with his thick cock against the wall in his room.

Surely Tony couldn’t reprimand him for spending a little time trying to bond with Peter’s new girl, right?

-

Sam Wilson was a simple man. He had a job, a well-paid one at that, somewhere to live, a girlfriend, or a woman to keep him company, that’s for sure- but for once in his life he was seeking out something other than missions, something that would keep him busy when he was feeling bored, something like-

Pleasure, and he knew that he’d finally found what he was looking for the moment Peter brought his girlfriend through the elevator doors on the fifty-sixth level of the Avengers tower. She’d shaken his hand so daintily and spoke so politely that if he were to see her without any backstory, he’d think she was another innocent, dim-witted college student, breaking her bank account every Saturday morning and naively believing that her relationship would last longer than a few months. But by the things Parker had told him, she was much more than that.

Was it shitty of Peter to tell his teammates, the people he worked with, how Y/N was in bed? By the majority’s vote, probably, and by Sam’s strict conduct of his own morals, definitely, but when Peter’s girl looked like that and he was so incredibly bored with his routine? 

Well, fuck, Sam had never been happier that the Spider-kid had told everyone how his girl gave head.

Peter brought his girlfriend in daily after that, and every one of her visits, she grew less shy and more friendly, and the Falcon saw each of his friends gape at her growing comfortability with a wolfish demeanor. It started with the water incident with Steve in the kitchen, where he so clearly spilled water on her already thin, white camisole with intention. Sam couldn’t say he was upset though, after all Steve had offered him and the rest of the Avengers quite a show when he tried to clean up her shirt, taking his sweet, sweet time to fondle her tits as subtly as he could, his eyes staring at her pebbled nipples poking through the material. He could see Bucky hiding his boner under his cereal bowl on the couch that day. 

Then of course, he’d been no better than America’s sweetheart himself when he greeted Y/N with a hug that in hindsight, was a little too enthusiastic. His large hands squeezed into the pockets of her back pocket, and if the college student found anything weird with it, she didn’t say so, but Sam graciously palmed the round globes of her ass in his hands, feeling the muscle clench under his fingers. Oh, how he’d never hugged someone that tight ever before in his life. Maybe he would’ve gotten a bit further than squeezing her ass had it not been for his own girlfriend standing behind him, ready to introduce herself to Y/N.

Bucky, well, Sam could admit that Bucky had the most guts out of all of them. Though the super-soldier was normally well-reserved and polite, the dark glint in his eyes the day he met Y/N let him in on the secret that he had a much dirtier mind than most thought. It had been movie night that time, and he barely even tried to cover up how much he wanted the girl, his hands resting all over her as they watched Inception. Hardly a movie to get so riled up over, yet Bucky’s hand still inched its way up her thigh, his rough fingers gently carressing the flesh until they started to lightly trace the apex of her thighs. 

If she noticed anything then, she didn’t comment on it, doe-like eyes just marvelling at the screen in great intrigue. It was only when Peter’s arms wrapped around her a bit tighter did she scooch away from Bucky’s touch, with a small apology and shy grin. 

That only made his dick harder.

On the other side of Bucky, his super-soldier counterpart tapped his knee gently, forcing their blue eyes to meet each other. No words had to be said between the two, three men when they looked over to Sam, because they all recognized that look they saw in each other's eyes; predatory, dark, nearly voracious in the way they all wanted to be balls deep inside of Y/N.

And they would get there. No matter how long it took, they knew that the ultimate prize of tearing their prey apart would be more than worth the wait.

-

“Hey, babe, I’m gonna be a little late. Ned and I got stuck back in the lab, so we’re gonna need to stay until eight or nine. Can you make it to the tower by yourself alright?”

Peter’s concerned voice made Y/N smile gently as she trudged along the rainy streets of New York. He always loved to worry about her, especially when it was dark and gloomy out, but she could handle herself pretty okay. By pretty okay, of course meant she could kick ass like no other twenty-something year-old, but she wasn’t one to brag. Y/N readjusted the Kate Spade purse on her shoulder with her right hand, attempting to keep her umbrella over her head with the other. “I’ll be fine, Pete, just go finish up and get back to me. I’m gonna be waiting in your room at the tower before you go off on that mission this weekend.”

A small sigh came through the speaker, “Okay, I’ll try to get back to you soon. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Pete.” 

“Oh,” she could hear the shy but no less mischievous smile that was taking over his face, “I left you a little present on the bed, make sure you open it before I get back.”

Y/N’s face heated at the implication. “Peter Parker, you dirty little-” He ended the call with a laugh, and she huffed out a small chuckle at his childish antics.

The walk to the Avengers tower would have been nice, had it not been for the downfall of rain, making everything mushy, socks being absolutely soaked through her sneakers by the time she arrived. The receptionist at the front desk, Jenny, if Y/N remembered correctly, stared at her a little oddly, probably not expecting to see the young college girl in such a state of disorder, but it didn’t affect her at all. She confidently strutted up to the elevator, pressing in the floor number where all the rooms were located. Y/N scrolled through her Twitter feed on her phone while classic rock blared through the elevator with the constant shuffling of people moving in and out. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later she was sprinting down the halls with soggy shoes and damp hair, her cold body screaming for warmth.

Peter’s room was the farthest down the hall, and the room was fairly empty. He rarely stayed at his room in the tower, preferring to stay with his Aunt May or keep Y/N company in Brooklyn. When she entered the room, she saw a plain white shirt and a pair of socks strewn upon the carpeted floor, but what really caught her eye was the red box wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. Deciding it would add more suspense if she opened it later, she quickly hopped in the shower, letting the hot water warm her freezing, rigid muscles under the spray. 

Peter didn’t have all the products she’d usually use before she knew they were going to have sex, so she had to make do with the half-used bar of Irish Spring and his small travel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, promising the fresh, breezy smell of citrus and mint. It was a quick process; two squeezes of shampoo, shaving with the green soap as best as she could without cutting herself, one squeeze of conditioner. A fuzzy towel sat waiting for Y/N on the rack, with the Spiderman symbol as a prank gift from her to her lovely boyfriend, and without a second to let the heat leave her damp skin, she wrapped herself in it, quickly hopping out to the bedroom again.

The lingerie she set out on the bed was a deep set burgundy color, with lace decorating the delicate corset and the trim of the satin panties. The packaging really did not do it justice. Y/N grinned at the new set, one that she knew would happily be torn from her body later. A shiver ran through her as she let the cold air fall over her skin, carefully slipping the lingerie on. It was a damn shame, really; the set was quite nice, and she reminded herself to buy more of the nicely suiting color for their nights together. 

Click.

Y/N’s heart thumped with anticipation as she heard the door open and she took a quick moment to ready herself. Hair in perfect style, legs stretched along the length of the bed to make herself look as seductive as possible, a small smirk thrown on her pouty lips.

But in the darkened room, it wasn’t Peter’s shadow that appeared. Three men, three tall, bulkier men’s shadows appeared at the foot of the bed, and horror washed over her as she realized who they were. “Goddamn, dolly, I’ve imagined what you would’ve looked like under those sweaters, but this is much sweeter than I expected.”

The sinister face of Bucky Barnes came into her view, just a sliver of moonlight lighting up his pale skin. His eyes raked over Y/N’s uncovered skin, and goosebumps appeared as she tried to cover herself up under his predatory gaze.

“W-what are you doing here?” She whispered worriedly. Sam and Steve flanked the bed on either side of her, plastered sickly sweet smiles on their faces, providing her with a false sense of security that made her heart scream in fear. Though she wasn't making any noise, her lungs felt like they were going to give out, her throat closing up like an allergic reaction. 

Her head whipped every which way in robotic movement, her brain seeming to fail her as she scanned the room for an exit. Several moments of shortened breaths, cold air chilling her body, before she came out of her freezing shock to realization.

“Why are you here? Please, get out, just g-get out!”

A calloused hand pushed away Y/N’s left arm that covered her tits, and Steve groaned at the sight of her pebbled nipples. “God, baby, they’re as pretty as I thought they’d be. Been trying to feel them up all week, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Saturday the week before at lunch when he’d spilled water over chest and tried to clean her up. Sam’s friendly hug that became a bit less friendly when his hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans. The movie night on Monday when Bucky’s hand caressed her thigh a little too close to her core. All of their touches began to make more sense, and her eyes filled with tears at the realization. 

“Please,” she begged, tears blocking her vision, “I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even Pete, but please just go.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Steve asked. He grasped her chin roughly, his face close enough to hers so that she could feel his fiery breath on her lips. “We’re not leaving, sweetheart. You’re gonna let all three of us play with your pretty little body, and you’re gonna make the prettiest sounds for us, alright?”

Y/N shook her head violently, too afraid to make noise, but also bold enough to make one last attempt at freedom. The hand that held her chin quickly moved to slap her cheek, and she hated the way the sting made heat stir in her lower belly. She tried to shy away from their touch again, but Bucky’s face simply held the same smirk as he trailed his vibranium fingers up and down her leg. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t act all shy now. Peter has been telling us how good you’ve been to him and don’t think he hasn’t told us about your little childhood crush on little ol’ me. Been wanting to fuck you ever since.” Bucky’s hand quickly left her body, instead moving to palm over the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, sweetheart, got me real hard just thinking ‘bout your pussy swallowing my cock. Bet you’re gonna be a sweet, obedient girl for me, right?”

Fire started to course through Y/N’s veins, and with all the power she tried to dampen it down with, it seemed to push through her body that much more dangerously. She despised the fact that she could feel herself growing wet for the three older men, but God, she had never felt the need to be filled up as badly as she did in that moment.

“You’re a bit of a slut, don’t you think?” Sam mocked. He kneeled on her right, his eyes fixated on her panty-clad pussy, a wet patch already forming on the soft satin. It really didn’t help that three of her teen celebrity crushes were eyeing her nearly naked body like a piece of meat. “I mean, look at you, already growing wet and needy for three cocks. Is that what you want, honey? Parker not treating you good enough?”

She hesitated. Goosebumps rose across her skin at the sinister tone of his voice, like he already knew it was true. And it was true and she hated that Sam was right, but as amazing as Peter was a boyfriend, it was clear from the vibrator hiding in his apartment’s bathroom that he was not amazing in the sheets. Every time, she held hope that it would be better, that she would finally get to stop faking an orgasm before he rolled out of the bed with a filled up condom, but she knew deep down inside of her that it wasn’t happening anytime soon. Y/N forced herself to nod weakly at Sam’s questions, and Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you poor dolly, we’re gonna have so much fun with you. Treat you better than that little boy ever could.”

All it took was a whimper, a nearly audible, deadly silent whimper that managed to squeak its way past Y/N’s throat, and the three men took it as permission to ravage her body however they pleased.

Steve made quick work of his pants as Sam lifted her chin to kiss him, his tongue hot and heavy against her mouth, coaxing her lips open. The sound of belt buckles hitting the floor shamefully turned on Y/N even more. Panic coursed through her senses, her mind wanting to scream for them to stop, but her body knew her too well as she felt a wave of slick run down her thighs. Cold metal digits slipped under the waistband of her panties, moving to her wet folds, and she whimpered into Sam’s mouth at the touch. 

“You look so nice, baby, so pretty all laid out for us like this.” Bucky’s hands pulled down her panties as Steve pinched her peaked nipple through the lace, laying lavish, open-mouthed kisses down her torso. The cool air hit her pussy when Bucky’s hands pulled her legs wide open, fully exposed to the three men ready to use her against her will. “Knew you’d be so wet for us, sweetheart, just look at you. Dripping all for your daddies,” Steve murmured against her skin.

Hot breath fanned over her cunt before they rolled her over on her stomach, someone’s hands forcing her up onto her knees with her face smashed into the cotton pillows. She could feel two rough human hands pulling her ass cheeks apart, spreading her ever wider for their view. “Would you look at that, boys, look how fucking hot she is for us.”

Sam’s thick finger ran through her folds, the calloused pad of his finger just teasing her clit before landing a harsh smack to the inside of her thigh. Her moan was muffled through the mattress and she prayed they wouldn’t hear how being treated like whore made her wet like nothing else. 

Hot slick dripped down her thighs, a pool of it staining the pristine sheets by each knee. It was quite a sight, Steve, kneeled by the bed as his face hovered next to her ear, whispering filthy things into her ear as Bucky stroked his hard, leaking cock right next to him. Sam’s lips were making their way up the inside of her right thigh, cracked skin gliding across her sticky flesh. “Oh, baby,” he purred, “you smell so good. Bet you taste even better, don’t you, little girl?”

His tongue reached the apex of her thighs, finally licking a stipe up her center with no warning. Y/N sobbed into the comforter below her, mascara stained tears marking up her face. Two fingers edged their way between the bed and her face, forcing her head upwards and arching her back. Steve’s face was caught in a dirty smirk above hers, lip pulled taut between his teeth, until he saw the tears trailing down her face. “Oh, sweetheart, you look so desperate like this.” His fingers traced her smeared lip gloss around her lips, before opening her lips harshly. “Open up, you dumb baby.”

Y/N forced her jaw open wider, just enough to watch a string of Steve’s saliva drip into her mouth. The thick spit pooled on her tongue and she tried hard not to grimace in front of him, in hopes that he wouldn’t make her- 

“Swallow it, sweetheart.” He saw the hesitation in her eyes, how her lower lip trembled at his words, but he just laughed at her. “Now.”

The warm saliva slid down her tongue and more black tears ran down her face as she obliged his orders, finally gulping it and cringing at the taste. Steve loved the way her face screwed up in displeasure, how she still had the audacity to pretend she hated what they were doing though she was moaning and whimpering with Sam’s tongue attacking her entrance.

“What do you want, sweetheart? We might give it to you as long as you use your words.” Bucky taunted lightly.

Y/N stared up at the brunette, staring menacingly down at her with his cock in hand. “Please,” she whimpered.

The three found it woeful, the way she could barely get a full sentence out as Sam went to town with his skilled tongue, but even with that onslaught, a simple please wasn’t enough for them.

“Please what, honey,” Sam moaned from between her legs, “you gotta use your big words or we’ll never know what you want from us.”

Steve and Bucky nodded in fake-agreement even though they all knew exactly what she wanted and where. 

“I don’t-” her widened eyes glanced into Steve’s, blown-out and teary. “I don’t want anything, not from you.” She lied through her teeth harshly.

Sam removed his head from between her thighs and Y/N immediately whined at the loss of contact almost hilariously. “You don’t want anything, little girl?” 

The air felt static, every hair on her neck rising in the pressured silence. The angel and the devil clawed at her heart, each trying to show her what was right. And she wanted to sin, God knew that she would love nothing more than to let that little greedy part of her take over, but she’d already cheated on Peter and that damn good part of her conscience stole the wheels of her brain.

Slowly and shamefully, she shook her head, though the downright dirty monster inside of her wanted the men to ignore her words and keep assaulting her body. 

“That’s a shame, baby, I thought we were having fun.” Sam sighed. He met Bucky’s gaze on the side, and though they seemed to be in resignation with her wishes, their eyes twinkled devilishly. He positioned his body over Y/N’s kneeled over form, his bare chest glued to her sweating back as his hands ran up the sides of her ribcage and to her front, just barely grazing over her sensitive nipples. “You mean, you don’t want me to touch you here?”

He pinched the darkened buds and she had to use every ounce of self-restraint to not collapse at the sensation. His calloused hands moved back even further, tracing down to the stretch of skin just above her mound, swiping a finger across the skin delicately. “How about here? Or even,” he brought three fingers around her body, over her ass, and into her glistening cunt again, just rubbing along her entrance, not daring to go further in. Y/N couldn’t hold in her reaction to his prodding anymore, his teasing chipping away all of her dignity and pride in a few simple touches. 

“Yes, please, please, use your fingers,” she blurted against her will. Where shame should have washed over her, there was only lust, raging red and coursing through her body so forcefully that she felt braindead. “Put your fingers in me, daddy, please.”

The pet name rolled off of her tongue so easily and she was barely ashamed of how it made her feel. The name especially shocked the three men, who smiled even wider with their cocks harder than before at the little slip up. “That was all you had to say, dolly, gonna have your daddies make you feel real good,” Bucky laughed.

Sam finally plunged his thick fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt as Steve’s mouth captured hers, effectively swallowing her scream with ferocity. The long digits scissored and swirled inside of her, pressing against new unexplored areas that she’d never even gotten to with her own fingers. White dots danced along the front line of her vision as teeth clashed against hers and though it’d been mere minutes she already knew she was close and the men did as well.

“I can feel you clamping around my fingers, honey,” Sam taunted. His lips were moving sinfully around her ass, planting sloppy kisses and drooling all over her skin while he fingered her deep. “Are you gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, daddy, I’m so- fuck,” Y/N panted into Steve’s mouth, “m’ so c-close.” The blond bit her tongue hard enough for her to taste blood and she yelped as she heard Sam and Bucky laugh. 

“Watch your language, dolly,” Bucky sneered from the side of the bed. His hand was rapidly moving around his cock, corkscrew motions edging him towards the brink of pleasure. 

“Little girls like you don’t get to use big swear words,” Sam’s face was still buried between her legs, his soaked fingers pulling out of her cunt only to rub at her little pearl of nerves in circles. His tongue still lapped at her dripping entrance and he could feel her tight hole start to pulse as her breathing picked up. “Oh, baby, you’re getting close, aren’t you?”

Y/N was hesitant to answer at first, the sweat on her body seeming to cool immediately in fear of what would happen if she messed up. But after five seconds Steve stopped kissing her, gripping her chin and staring into her eyes deeply. He looked as debauched as she felt, with his rosy lips swollen with spit and cheeks tinged with pink. “Are you gonna answer daddy, sweetheart?”

That knocked her into shape real fast.

“Yes, daddy, I’m so close. P-please let me come,” she whimpered. The whine in her voice pleased the two men, and Steve went back to exploring her mouth before she felt something poking against her asshole.

“Gonna let daddy put his cock in you, little girl?” Sam asked gently. His words had panic coursing through her system, a chilling realization like water being poured on her head and she began to wiggle around, trying to free Sam’s hand from her hip. Her arms weakly pushed at Steve’s chest, trying to push him as far away as he could, but the men only laughed at her flailing limbs. Y/N wanted to scream no to them, and despite her contrasting love-hate relationship with Sam’s fingers inside her cunt she knew it was time to go. It was laughable how much she would continue to say that to herself for the rest of the night. 

But Sam managed to sense her panic, knowing exactly what the issue was before harshly spanking her and effectively stopping her struggle. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t come inside of you. I’m not risking knocking up a whore with my kids, I’ve got more dignity than that.”

He led the leaking tip of his dick down her crack, rubbing it along her slick entrance before pushing in with a groan. “Oh my fucking God, that is so hot.” Bucky admonished from the side. “Gotta get in on that soon.”

Steve chuckled against Y/N’s lips, pulling away with a strand of saliva connecting them. He adjusted himself up so his dick was centimeters from her face, a knee propped up on the bed for balance. “Gotta wait your turn, Buck, we all want a piece of her.” He noticed the way Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his cock, the red mushroom head smeared with precome along the slit, nearly purplish veins standing out prominently on his shaft. Yeah, he couldn’t even deny that he was big because he already knew how many girls had dropped down on their knees for him. “Go ahead, sweetheart, open up those pretty lips for me.”

Almost too excitedly, she dropped her jaw, allowing him to slide his cock into the silky warmth of her mouth. As his hips started to thrust into her mouth, Sam’s started to do the same into her cunt. Both men moaned in tandem with their movements as Y/N’s worries faded away to the back of her mind as they stuffed her to the brim.

“You can come now, baby,” Sam nearly ordered, “go and cream on daddy’s cock- fuck, I know you’ve been waiting.”

It was a harsh bump of his head against her G-spot that sent her over the edge, walls clamping down with ferocity and milking him for all she was worth. Y/N reeled in the sunlight infested warmth that coursed through her body as she finally let go, whining around Steve’s dick as he continued to abuse her throat with long, deep thrusts. 

Bucky was still holding his orgasm off, fondling with his tight, heavy sac while his dick remained a painfully hard mess, glistening with precome. “I’m so glad I got to see you come, dolly, look so fucking pretty when you do.”

She couldn’t deny the little skip of her heart at the praise, just a few simple words that made her feel like a good little girl. But no, God-fucking no, she wasn’t supposed to let them make her feel this way. Guilt washed away that warmth in her chest just as quickly, knowing that her boyfriend was just waiting to come back to see her, finishing up his studies so that they could live their lives out together after college while she was getting her pussy and mouth absolutely wrecked by his co-workers. 

As soon as Y/N got her brain thinking straight again, Sam started moving inside of her again and she garbled out a strangled cry. “If you thought we were done here, baby,” Sam laughed, “you’ve got a lot left ahead of you.”

“We’re not leaving until all of us have come, brat.” Steve’s palm gripped the back of her skull roughly, pushing her head so far down on his dick that her nose was squished against his abdomen. “Greedy little bitch.”

Both men started to thrust into her again, and just like that she was back to being absolutely lost in desire and lust like the bitch in heat she was until there was a sudden shift in the air. So much that the sweat on her body began to cool her skin, Sam’s hands still gripping her hips so tightly she knew they’d leave marks that she would have to hide when she wore her favorite low-cut shorts. 

Bucky’s eyes seemed to drift from her tits moving with each movement of her hips, checking behind the door as if there were something lurking there, but she was too afraid to see for herself. If she stopped she would get spanked, and they’d probably prolong her second orgasm even further, and her pussy couldn’t handle any more subtle teasing.  

“Hey there, Parker, why don’t come on out here?”

But that, that was what made the hairs on Y/N’s neck rose, dread filling her to the fullest as she realized the implications of Sam’s words.

Peter had seen everything. Peter, her boyfriend, had seen three of his co-workers, three men who she barely knew, fuck her deep into his mattress. Peter, her boyfriend, had watched her get fucked into his mattress, without trying to stop them whatsoever.

She couldn’t tell if it was the guilt of cheating on her boyfriend or the freezing realization that he hadn’t done anything to stop the three men that hurt more. 

Yet Peter still walked from behind the door, dressed in a NYU hoodie and a pair of khakis slung low on his hips, just drawing attention to the sizable bulge that stretched out his zipper. His umber eyes, normally full of so much joy and love, were possessed by the same lust and darkness as the three men, as much as he tried to hide it behind a shyer facade. 

His eyes were trained on the tightness of how Y/N’s pussy was gripping Sam, her lips glossed over with come and spit wrapped around Steve’s dick. The girl stopped in her movements, her eyes no longer full of tears for just being gagged, but as soon as her mouth came to a halt around the base of his cock, the blond slapped her across the face. A sharp crack echoed around the room and though she couldn’t see him, she heard Bucky’s feral growl of pleasure at the whorish treatment she was receiving. 

“Didn’t say you could fucking stop, sweetheart, keep working on daddy’s cock.” No more words needed to be said as Steve gripped her hair once more, forcing himself farther back into her throat to the point where she couldn’t breathe. Sam’s thrusts were quickening, closer and closer to release as the sounds of the girl struggling to breath made his balls tighten. 

“Fucking shit, baby, you feel yourself squeezing my dick? I bet you like teasing daddy like that, don’t you?” One of his hands were brought down on her ass in a quick smack that resonated with Bucky, who was staving off his orgasm for something much sweeter than his hand. She was moaning raucously around the dick stuffed in her mouth, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up every nerve in Steve’s body as he came with the tip of his dick nearly being swallowed by Y/N’s throat. There was barely any time for her to fully down the thick come in her mouth before Sam was threatening to orgasm. “I’m gonna come so soon but you better fucking not, little girl, you hear me? Gotta let your daddy come before you, you ungrateful little bitch- oh.”

It was a really fucking close call, Sam’s dick pulling out of her with one quick movement before spilling pearly ropes of come onto Y/N’s spine. A high whine escaped her mouth, clit throbbing as she was so, so close to coming, and she was too far into her crazed pleasure to realize that she was letting three older men, men who fought to defend the universe from evil, use her as an over-glorified fleshlight. 

She couldn’t really blame them for calling her a cockdrunk whore. 

Bucky sauntered over to the bed, eyes trained on the pool of come centered around the base of her spine before flipping her over onto her back with his large hands and shoving three vibranium fingers back into her hole. She gasped and held onto his forearm as he continued to fingerfuck her to her second orgasm, eyes screwed shut in a delirious haze of contentment for being filled with at least something again. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, please-” Steve slapped her along the face, correcting her words immediately. “Daddy, daddy, please let me come.”

Bucky chuckled, tweaking one of her nipples with his flesh hand as he hovered over her face. “I don’t know, dolly, you’ve been a little naughty, callin’ me the wrong name, not listening to Stevie’s orders- don’t think you deserve to get what you want.”

A muffled whimper escaped her swollen lips, and he sighed in surrender. “Okay, dollface, go ahead and come on my fingers. Let me see how you wet ‘em up real good.”

Y/N’s hips bucked into his metal digits with finality, come leaking out of her cunt and soaking the sheets below her. Her sweat-glazed skin shone even against the darkening sky, and all Bucky could do was chuckle at how her chest rose quickly as she tried to catch her breath. He thought about teasing her clit again, just circling around the little bud of nerves to get a rise out of her, but he decided against it. Sam probably had better plans for her anyway. 

On the other hand, Y/N’s orgasm was starting to wear off as she noticed the hardened stare from the edge of the room. Her boyfriend.

“Peter, I…” Y/N made eye contact with him, suddenly noticing how mousy he looked in his own bedroom. 

“I nearly forgot you were here, Parker,” Sam smirked darkly. “Why don’t you come over here and fuck your little whore. I’m feeling a little generous today.”

Steve and Bucky nodded with the same infuriating smugness as Sam. The brunette boy opened his mouth to object to the degrading statement, but when he met his girlfriend’s eyes nothing needed to be said. There was no escaping this. Nothing he said mattered to the three older men, because really they had already gotten everything they wanted right in front of their disgusting, perverted eyes. 

He unbuckled his belt, letting the weight of it drop his khakis to the floor. Maybe if he’d known he would be forced into join a fivesome later that night he’d have picked any other boxers but the Ducktales one, but no one seemed to say a word about them, rather focusing on what they were failing to conceal. 

Peter’s cock had always been admirable to Y/N by its length and God, definitely its thickness. Curved upwards towards his abdomen with a vein running along the left side up to the bulbous head, it was definitely more than average. It was really just a shame he didn’t know how to use it well enough.

His shirt was pulled over his head just as quickly, and if Y/N knew any better she would say that he was excited to get to fuck her in front of the three men. He placed himself in between Y/N’s parted legs, standing in the same position as he had so many times before.

But when Y/N cried out in pain and pleasure as he slid into her, Peter knew that this time, it was different. This time three men, men that he used to trust with his life, stood on either side of him and his girlfriend and jerked their hands up and down their cocks as they watched her get fucked relentlessly. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t romantic, but he couldn’t really think when his thick cock was stuffed inside of her stimulated pussy, juices and come leaking out of her abused sex. 

“Go faster, Parker,” Steve instructed, his face contorted in pure pleasure. The pace of Peter’s thrusts sped up, and he threw Y/N’s ankles over his shoulders, hitting deeper inside of her, with the sound of her sobs only turning them all on more. “Oh, right there, shit, shit, shit-”

Steve came first, a low groan escaping his lips as streams of come landed on her tits, still bouncing with every movement of Peter’s hips. 

“Open up,” Sam gritted through his teeth, and Y/N obediently opened her mouth to let his bitter come coat the inside of her throat, some of it landing on her face and neck. The string of curses he let out made Peter thrust even faster into her, and he hated, absolutely despised the way it turned him on to see the three men use his girlfriend to their pleasure. But soon enough a hand pushed against his chest away from Y/N and he reluctantly pulled out.

“Move aside, kid,” Bucky instructed, “Wanna come inside of her.”

As he lined his gigantic cock up with her entrance, her eyes widened with fear. “No, please, I didn’t take my pills, I can’t- I won’t, please not inside-”

“Shut the fuck up, you slut.” Bucky’s fingers came to slap her clit harshly, and she cried out in pain. “You’re gonna be quiet and let me come wherever I damn want, right?”

He punctuated his last word as he thrust inside her, filling her up to the hilt with his girth. She was too drunk on the feeling of her cunt being filled up to argue again. It was painful, extremely so, even though two different cocks had been inside her overstimulated pussy already and Bucky stretched her out wide, his cock thicker with veins to hit every pleasure point. With her legs tossed around his tapered torso, he slid out until his very tip was left in her, then slammed back in with a small moan. The head of his cock relentlessly pounded into her cervix in a nearly soundless tempo and all Y/N could hear were her own gasps of pleasure, jaw-dropping moans that made drool slide back down her throat in her laid down position.

She turned her head to the side, and though her vision was bleary through the tears, she could see Sam and Steve watching Bucky fuck her while Peter, her boyfriend, her sweet, sweet boyfriend, was caught up fucking his hand to the sound of Bucky’s balls slapping against her ass. 

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last much longer, dollface.” Bucky gasped. “You gonna come soon? You’re gonna come for daddy one more time. I think you’ve got a third one in you, you little fucking slut.”

“Shit, shit, daddy, please ‘m almost there,” Y/N wailed absentmindedly. A thumb came down to circle her clit quickly and she felt the coil in her stomach grow tighter and tighter, until she finally let out a high whine, finding her release as Bucky’s cock pulsed inside of her, ready to come just as easily as her. Her pussy clenched around his cock as she rode out her orgasm, fingers grasping at the sheets in order to find some sort of grounding. His come painted her walls white, and Bucky could’ve sworn there was no better feeling than feeling his blood warm in every vein as he finally let go. With stunted groans, his hips slowed its rhythm, lost in watching how his cock disappear into Y/N’s pussy, her slick juices coating his dick each time he pulled out. 

“Ah, fuck, dolly, you did so good for me. Pussy tight as a fuckin’ vice.” Bucky hugged her limp body close to his sweaty chest, letting his dick soften inside of her for a good few moments before pulling out. He tossed Y/N back onto the bed below him, barely even caring to clean the come dripping down her ribcage and out of her cunt before grabbing his boxers from the cabinet next to the bed. 

Steve was already buttoning his jeans up, checking the notifications on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. The blond seemed to have better things to do so soon after, rushing his way to the door before pausing where Y/N laid to watch come drip out of her pussy. One more time he pushed Bucky’s come inside of her abused entrance, watching as it oozed out from behind his digits. “Look at you, fucking full of of his come. Such a goddamn whore,” he muttered under his breath.

Those were the last words he said to her before patting Bucky on the shoulder and leading him out of the opened door. 

Maybe Sam was a bit more kind, or affectionate at least. He was already dressed but visibly hard again beneath the thick denim of his pants, and he made sure Y/N knew it, taking her left hand and placing it over his dick. “You still got that effect on me, honey, even when you’re all fucked out like this.” He dragged his fingers through the thick ribbons of come that coated her chest, bringing them up to her mouth so she could taste. Even though she was more than exhausted, she wrapped her tongue around the two fingers that were pushed past her swollen lips, sucking them clean with a tired vengeance. Satisfied with her work, he kissed her chin one more time before leaving without so much as another word, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Click.

It ended exactly the way it started, the lock jostling into the doorknob just as easily as the high of Y/N’s final orgasm slipped away.

Stifling silence suffocated the room around them. Peter refused to meet her eyes, just as much as hers did his. She laid motionless on the bed with him standing at the foot, his dick soft and if she narrowed her bleary eyes just a bit, she could see how his knees were shaking. Neither of them were able to say anything, losing the ability to converse as soon as the three men left the room.

“Peter,” her voice was throaty after the rough fucking she took, “C-can you please get me a drink?”

The brown-haired boy looked down to meet her face, and she could finally see the reason that he had hid it from her. His eyes were red and bloodshot, snot running from his nose with tears running down his cheeks. She’d been so caught up in the after haze of the sex that she didn’t even notice how his bare chest was heaving so deeply, nearing hyperventalation. 

But still, he grabbed his boxers, pulling them over his weakened legs clumsily. “Y-yeah, what kind do you want, Mr. Stark has a ton-”

“I don’t care.” She cut him off firmly, a sharp tone in her voice as she rolled over on her side. Y/N tucked her knees to her chin, fingers running over the side of her neck which was marked with bruises and scratches. “I don’t fucking care.”

Without another word Peter slipped out of the room quietly, knowing better than to try to talk to her about what they had been forced to participate in. It wasn’t as if there was much to say anyways.

Rain pattered against the window. It was only six o’clock in the evening. Cars honked and beeped and Natasha’s Igor Stavinsky record played for its fiftieth round of the day, and to anyone else in the tower it was a normal night. Normal, just like the ones spent sitting on the couch with Bucky’s hand creeping up her leg or Sam’s hands groping her ass, but this time they’d made a move. 

The silence was far too much to handle, the unspoken truth of what she’d done with Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Peter finally hitting her, knocking the air out of her lungs as she suddenly struggled to breathe. Gripping her face, clawing at it like a goddamn wolf, Y/N began to cry. Silently at first, gradually growing into heartbroken sobs, she let her trodden pride carry her voice wherever it wanted to go. 

The men’s whispered words haunted her mere moments after they’d left the room, but most audibly she could hear a faint husk of a voice, Sam’s low moan in her ear looming in the dreadful silence of the room:

Thanks for sharing with us, baby.

[athletickat]

Top Reads 2020 Fanfiction

I started reading Harry Potter fanfiction this year (thanks to Tik Tok) and these stories I’ve read keep me up at night because I cannot stop thinking about them. 

#1- Manacled by @senlinyu

This is story is a MASTERPIECE. I cannot express how many times I’ve read and thought about this story. The way Hermione loves Draco and Draco loves Hermione is unbeatable. Hermione is a literal boss bitch in this story and my favorite Hermione in everything I’ve read. The build up, the tension, the CHEMISTRY; it is the best thing I have ever read. I could write a whole damn brook report on this story and be proud of it. This story is just... ugh *ultimate chefs kiss*.

#2- Rights and Wrongs series by @lovesbitca8 

The Right Thing To Do, All the Wrong Things, and The Auction are my absolute favorite pieces of writing ever. Draco Malfoy in this series is my horny king, and the best Draco in everything I’ve read. The Auction has a special place in my heart because of hard Hermione works to stay alive and keep the Malfoys alive, as well. All the characters in each story are so well written, especially the Malfoys, and I cannot express how in love I am with each little plot detail and connection between the stories.   

#3- Remain Nameless by @heyjude19-writing

I recently read this story and I cannot get enough of it. This is first fic I’ve read with a wedding scene (two scenes!!) and I cannot put it in words of how perfect it is. This story is all about the love Draco and Hermione have for each other, and it has set such unrealistic expectations for me...ugh. Every chapter had me smiling like an idiot and I could not put it down. 

#4- Cruel and Beautiful World by Lena Phoria 

I am so happy that Lena Phoria turned this fanfiction into a book, but nothing beats the original characters in this story. The way I fell in love with all the characters (except Voldemort, gross) is immaculate. This story deals with a lot of trauma and heavy topics, but the plot and the characters are just too good. Draco is a sweetheart and absolutely whipped for Hermione, but they need each other. I have never laughed so hard while reading a dark AU fic, and this story made my abs hurt. Definitely one to read.

#5- All You Want by @senlinyu

Holy shit. This story has the best smut I have ever read. The way senlinyu describes what's happening to Alpha Draco and Omega Hermione during sex makes me laugh out loud. It is so so good and so so sexy. It is such a fun story to read, and that’s why I love it so much. 

#6- Breath mints / Battle Scars by @onyx-and-elm

This story is the definition of toxicity, but honestly, it’s still so good. Both Hermione and Draco are changed after the war, and they fall in love by rage, sex, and protection of one another. Hermione does not give a single damn about what people may say about her, and Draco just wants her to be happy (although it does take a while for him to see what that really means). Plot and characters are amazing, and the ending is *chefs kiss*.

#7- Isolation by Bex-chan 

The first Dramione fanfiction I’ve ever read, and it has a very special place in my heart. I didn’t think I would like reading Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger fanfiction, but this story changed my mind and led to my spiral of reading such amazing stories. Such an amazing read, and I love seeing Draco grow into a man that Hermione deserves and loves. This story is iconic.

#8- Hunted by Bex-chan

Another superb story by Bex-chan. A Romance/Mystery story after the war and Draco and Hermione fall in love... hard. They are great together and the plot is amazing. This story is another iconic one for me.

#9- Love and Other Misfortunes by @senlinyu

Another great piece of work from the Queen herself, senlinyu. Draco is so stubborn it hurts, but it’s okay because Hermione is there to save the day (duh). Love these two and the romance between them in this story. Also, Veela Draco with wings and fangs is too much for me. Not that it’s important or anything, but the smut level is through the roof. Love it.

#10- Bring Him to His Knees by @willhavetheirtrinkets

Auror Draco and Auror Harry are an iconic duo. I love how intricate Draco is in this story, and how his past still very much affects his present, but Hermione helps him a lot, and it shows just how much they care for each other. Hermione and Draco dance around each other until they realize *wait* they have feelings for each other! It is not complete yet, but I do check every week or so for updates because it has a good murder mystery plot and a fabulous Dramione. 

#11- The Risk-Reward Ratio by MissiAmphetamine

War fic, and honestly one of my favorite ones. Draco sucks up his pride and goes to the Order for help, and Hermione is the only one who truly excepts him. Draco is a stubborn bastard in this story, but he makes up for it. The scenes are so real, and neither character is perfect, but you’ll see how far they are willing to go for each other. 

#12- The Just World Fallacy by MissiAmphetamine

Sequel to The Risk-Reward Ratio, and this one is tough. Still so good, but deals with torture, PTSD, rape, and more heavy topics. The love that still stands between Draco and Hermione even after all that they have been through together is beautiful. I love this story, and I love seeing how each character grows into their own person while during a war.

#13- Broken by @inadaze22

I have never cried so much while reading a story. This story made ME feel broken because Hermione is quite literally shattered, but so is Draco. It’s a story that makes you feel so many things at once and it is beautiful. Super slow-burn, but in the end, Hermione and Draco are meant to be together. 

#14- This World or Any Other series by @olivieblake

Clean and Marked are incredible stories with a rollercoaster twist. I love each character in this series, and the love that Hermione has for Draco, and vice versa, is the most powerful thing in this universe. The relationship starts with a potion assignment and just extends through there. I love their characters so much alongside the secondary characters and it makes the story so interesting. 6th year Hogwarts and continues with the war, but Draco and Hermione are always there for each other no matter what. 

#15- The Eagles Nest by HeartOfApsen

Ravenclaw Draco and Hermione, 8th year, and Alchemy. This story is so complex, and I couldn’t stop reading it. I love both Draco and Hermione and how they work to settle a problem together. Also seeing all the secret rooms in Hogwarts was another compelling aspect of the story that I loved. They know they need each other, and them being nerds and all, school is what brings them together in the end.

#16- Almost Perfect, Almost Yours by BelleOfSummer

I could not put down this story. No matter how much it angered me, and no matter how much I wanted to throw my laptop at the wall, I couldn’t stop reading. The plot is so interesting where Hermione is raised by a Pureblood family, but she was adopted from muggles, so she is Muggleborn. All the while her and Draco fall in love through their teen years and go through a war together. Hermione is a bad bitch and Draco is whipped (maybe not in a good way). They experience so much together, and in the end, you learn to love them for who they are.

#17- The Green Girl by @colubrina

Hermione is sorted into Slytherin and makes all new friends that do not include Harry Potter or Ronald Weasley. I freaking love this story because Hermione is a literal Queen, and the story itself is so well written. I don’t usually read T-rated works, but I could not put this one down because it has such an interesting plot.

#18- Erised Effect by @adaprix

Smut, smut, and more smut with such a cute plot. I love little Hermione as a bad bitch and big dick Draco as a little softy. I was hooked from the first chapter and it was so crazy. The sex scenes in this are just... *fans self*. This story is a rollercoaster of smut, but Draco and Hermione are my all time favs in this.

#19- Every Day, a Little Death by @lovesbitca8

Draco tries everything to satisfy Hermione, and when I say everything, I mean everything. Such a cute story with such a cute relationship. Hermione doesn’t mean to fall in love, but alas, Draco is a sex God and it was inevitable. I love this story!

#20- Crimson with a Silver Lining by Lady Cailan

A dark AU where Draco is mesmerized by Hermione and her will to stay alive. Their love is so strong, but alas, Draco is a stubborn bastard. This story is an emotional rollercoaster and another story where I could not put it down. Also *spoiler* some family drama going on throughout the story. 

#21- Bond by MrBenzedrine89

*fans self* again because this story is incredible. Love the smut, love the club, love the love between Draco and Hermione. Super interesting details in this story with Draco, Hermione, and the infamous Bond club. Loved reading this story.

I fell down a rabbit whole of Dramione stories this year, and it made me ignore everything I had to in my life just to read them. I can’t wait to see more stories this year and procrastinate my life by reading these stories!