#how did i know exactly how this chapter was going to go

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 4

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

"You want to tell me what exactly you apologised for?" Cassian demanded as they left Azriel's bedroom. 

Azriel was curled around his mate like a tortoise shell and Cassian was quite sure that Azriel was going to slaughter everybody that would even try to get close to Irena.

Without even a second of hesitation. 

He had never seen Azriel so protective before, had never seen him so...possessive. It was almost scary how strongly his brother was reacting to almost losing his mate, how tightly he was curling himself around her like a shield. Cassian knew that mating bonds were intense, that they could drive instincts wild…Fuck, he had felt that all compassing need to pretect and claim himself…but…

But Azriel…he was radiating raw fear and intensity. 

Rhys grimaced. "I fucked up," he said frankly.

"Yeah, I agree, given that our brother preferred to keep his mate a secret for 2 years than to actually talk to us.” Cassian let out a low sigh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. "What exactly did you do that made him keep this from us?" he asked sharply, his voice tinged with frustration.

He didn't want to judge his brother, didn't want to assume that Rhys was the reason for Azriel's secrecy. But he couldn't help but wonder what had caused Azriel to keep something so important from them. And he couldn't help but feel a little hurt that he had been left out of something so significant in his brother's life.

It was frustrating and confusing, and it left Cassian feeling like there was a gulf between him and his brother that he didn't know how to bridge. He just wanted to understand, wanted to make sure that he hadn't done anything to make Azriel feel like he couldn't trust Cassian…

He knew that Azriel was a private person, that he valued his solitude and his privacy. But he had never expected him to keep his mating bond a secret for so long. 

It stung a little, that Azriel had been able to hide something so significant for so long without any of them suspecting a thing.

"Around two years ago...I warned Azriel off Elain," Rhys admitted with a grimace. "I was not...particularly...appropriate with my word choices."

Azriel and Elain?! Cassian's eyes widened at the admission, his jaw dropping open in shock. "Elain?! You warned Azriel off Elain?" he asked incrediously. "I didn't even know that there was..."

"There wasn't. Not after...They...they nearly kissed during Solstice once, even with Lucien in the house and it was...I stopped them." Rhys admitted. "It was a political clusterfuck."

Cassian felt another rush of disbelief and anger wash over him at that. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, couldn't believe that Rhys had interfered in Azriel's personal life like that. "You had no right," he growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You had no right to get involved in his love life like that, Rhys."

"I had every right," Rhys snapped. "Elain has a mate and so has Azriel, as we just found out."

"He didn't know that then," Cassian disagreed. "Elain and Azriel clearly had...something between them and yet you interfered. What exactly did you say to him?"

"I ordered him not to pursue her," Rhys admitted. "I told him to leave her alone. That if he needed to fuck somebody, he should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it."Cassian's eyes widened at the admission, his jaw clenching tight as he struggled to keep his temper in check. 

"You...you ordered him?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You actually ordered him to stay away from a girl he clearly had feelings for? And then you...you told him to..." He trailed off, unable to even finish the sentence. He couldn't believe that Rhys had done something so callous and outright cruel to their brother. It was one thing to warn Azriel off of pursuing a girl who already had a mate. But to order him around like some kind of puppet and then insult him like that...it was beyond terrible. "Yeah. No fucking wonder, he didn't say a single word about Irena," Cassian growled under her breath. "You can probably consider yourself lucky that he didn't snap your neck for that, Rhys!"

Rhys winced at the words, his expression turning apologetic. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm...I don't really have an excuse. I was just...I thought I was doing what was best for him, for our Court. I didn't mean to..."

He trailed off, his voice shaking with emotion. Cassian could see how much his brother was struggling with this, how much the knowledge of what he had done was eating away at him. And he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Rhys, even as he was still seething with anger towards him.

He knew that Rhys had always tried to do what he thought was right, that he had always tried to protect their Court and their family. But sometimes...sometimes he made mistakes. And those mistakes had consequences, consequences that were often painful and devastating.

"I did apologise," Rhys said weakly.

"Oh, did you?" Cassian said with a snort. Rhys's apology did little to improve Cassian's temper, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface. "And that makes it all better then?" he demanded, his voice tinged with bitterness. "A simple apology fixes everything? Clearly it doesn't! Otherwise we would have known! Azriel would have told us that he met his mate!"

"What apology?" A voice behind them demanded, and Cassian should probably not be surprised to not only find his own mate there, but also Mor and his High Lady.

"Feyre Darling...Where is Nyx?" Rhys asked

"With Cerridwen. Don't change the topic," Feyre demanded. "What in the cauldron even happened?!"

Cassian let out a low sigh, shaking his head at the interruption. He couldn't help but feel a little grateful for the distraction, though. "Rhys told Azriel not to pursue Elain romantically three years ago.," he explained, his voice tight. "Ordered him to stay away, even. Azriel's been keeping his mate a secret from us for two years now."

He could see the shock and confusion on Feyre's face as he spoke, the disbelief that her mate could have done something so thoughtless and hurtful. He couldn't blame her, really. He was still struggling to wrap his head around it himself.

It didn't make any sense to him, how Rhys could have done something like that without realizing how much it would hurt their brother. How could someone who was supposed to be a High Lord, supposed to be their leader, be so blind to the pain of those he was supposed to protect? It was baffling and frustrating and it made Cassian's blood boil.

But he didn't have time to dwell on it, not right now. Not when they had bigger problems to worry about...like the fact that Azriel had a mate, a mate he had been hiding for two whole years. He knew what a mating bond felt like, knew how all-consuming and intense it could be.

The last thing he had expected was for Mor to start laughing."What?" Cassian snapped, his temper flaring up again. "What's so funny?"

Mor’s laughter continued, her body trembling as she struggled to catch her breath. "I'm sorry," she gasped, her voice choked with mirth as she grinned at him. "It's just...it's just so Azriel. Of course, he would keep his mate a secret for two whole years.”

Cassian stared at her in disbelief, his anger giving way to confusion. "That's what you find funny?" he asked incredulously. "That our brother kept his mate hidden for two bloody years?"

He couldn't understand why Mor would find that amusing, why she was laughing at something that was supposed to be a serious and painful secret. Didn't she know how much it must have hurt Azriel to keep his mate hidden for so long, to keep his feelings for her bottled up inside? Didn't she know how hard it must have been for him to keep up the facade of being fine, of being single and alone?

He couldn't wrap his head around it, couldn't make sense of Mor's humour in the situation. All he could feel was confusion and frustration, and a deep sadness for his brother who had to keep his mating bond a secret for so long.

He had always known that Azriel was a private person, that he didn't like to share his personal life with others. But he had never known that he could keep something like this a secret for so long. It was...it was almost scary, how good Azriel was at hiding his feelings and emotions.

“You find it funny, that Azriel didn’t trust any of us with her?” Nesta asked flatly.

Mor's laughter died down at Nesta's words, her expression turning somber. "No, of course not," she said quietly. "It's just...it's just typical Azriel. He's always been so careful about guarding his emotions, about keeping his love life hidden. I never would have guessed that he had a mate, let alone for two whole years."

“I am not surprised that he didn’t tell you,” Nesta bit out. “Not as you spend 500 years using his own feelings against him.

Mor flinched at Nesta's words, her expression turning pained. "Nesta, that's...that's not fair," she protested. "I never meant to hurt him. I never wanted to."

But Nesta wasn't finished, her eyes blazing with anger as she took a step towards Mor. "You spent five centuries playing with his heart, using him like some kind of toy. And now you're surprised that he didn't tell you about his mate? After everything you've put him through?"

Mor looked down, avoiding Nesta's gaze. "I...I know that I made mistakes," she said quietly. "But I never meant to hurt him."

Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please," she sneered. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew exactly how Azriel felt about you, and you used it to your advantage. You used him. And after the mating bond between you and Emerie snapped, you never tried to actually talk to him!“

Cassian nearly missed Rhys wincing. Nearly.

“You have anything to do with that too?” He asked darkly.

Rhys flinched at the accusation, his expression turning guilty. "I...I may have had something to do with it," he admitted quietly. "But I was just trying to help. I didn't mean..."

Cassian stared at his brother in disbelief, his anger rising up in him like a tidal wave. "You...you interfered? Again?" he hissed. “What did you tell Azriel?” He demanded.

Rhys sighed, picking a piece of invisible lint of his jacket. "I told him not to ruin this for Mor. That she went through enough.”

Cassian felt a wave of frustration wash over him at Rhys's words. "And you didn't think that maybe Azriel had enough as well?" he asked, his voice barely more than a growl.

He couldn't believe that Rhys had tried to interfere in Azriel's life again, that he had caused even more pain for their brother. And all for the sake of Mor, someone who had rejected Azriel time and time again. It was ridiculous and infuriating. 

But the more he heard…the more he understood why Azriel had kept Irena a secret. 

He had met his mate and had protected her fiercely, cossetted her away from any of them who could hurt them…had kept her to himself, so Rhys couldn’t say any other idiotic and harebrained thing…Had kept his mate to himself, because he adored her and hadn’t wanted to share. Which quite frankly, Cassian could absoltuely understand now. 

And still… Cassian knew what a mating bond could do to someone, how intense and consuming it could be. And the thought that Azriel, their quiet and reserved brother, had had to keep that kind of intensity hidden for so long...it was almost too much for Cassian to fathom.

He didn't know how Azriel had managed it, how he had kept his mating bond a secret for so long without anyone else noticing. It must have been a monumental effort, a constant struggle to keep his emotions and instincts in check.

And the fact that he had done all of that alone, without any support or understanding from the rest of them...it broke Cassian's heart. 

And Cassian himself had not made it better. How often had he teased his brother about his love life. Even, and maybe especially,  when Azriel had told him to fuck off?

Too often, Cassian realized with a pang of guilt. He had never thought about how his teasing might have hurt Azriel, how it might have added to the burden of keeping his mating bond a secret.

He had always just assumed that they were all teasing each other in good fun, that it was harmless banter between siblings. But now...now he realized that maybe it hadn't been so harmless after all. Maybe it had been something much more cruel and damaging than he had ever intended.

He wished that he could take back every comment he had ever made about Azriel's love life, every joke he had ever made about his solitude. But he knew that he couldn't, that the damage had already been done.

Cassian could just hope that he could find a way to repair things with Azriel, to make amends for all of the hurt and pain that he had unintentionally caused. He just hoped that his brother would be able to forgive him, that they could move past this and build a stronger, more understanding relationship

But deep down, a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that it might not be so easy. That the wounds inflicted by his words might run too deep to ever be fully healed.

And that thought scared him more than he cared to admit. It scared him to think that he might have forever damaged his relationship with his brother, that his careless words might have destroyed something that he had always taken for granted.

“I don’t even have the words right now,” Feyre said with a sigh.

Cassian glanced in her direction, seeing the pain and frustration written all over her face. He knew exactly what she meant. There were no words for this situation, for the hurt and confusion and betrayal that they were all feeling.

He could only imagine what Azriel must be going through right now, how much he must be struggling with his emotions and thoughts. And he had no idea how they were supposed to help him, how they could make things right again.

“I have no clue how we are supposed to fix this either,” Feyre continued.

Cassian nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over him. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Me neither."

“Leave him be,” Nesta said tightly. “He nearly lost his mate today.”

Cassian shot Nesta a sharp look, surprised by her words. "Leave him be?" he repeated. "You want to just leave him alone, after all of this?"

"He almost lost his mate today, Cassian," Nesta repeated, her voice tight with emotion. "Let him rest. Let him have some time, space. Let him have that without us bombarding him with questions and apologies."

Cassian considered her words for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of bombarding his brother with more questions right now. He already had, hadn’t he?  He knew that Nesta was right, that Azriel needed space and time to process everything that had happened. And he knew that they had already done enough damage as it was.

So he nodded, reluctantly agreeing with her suggestion. "Alright," he said quietly. "We'll give him space. For now."

He could only hope that it would be enough, that it would give Azriel the time and space he needed to heal and process everything that had happened. And he hoped, more than anything, that it would be enough for them to repair the damage that they had done to their brother's heart.

But until then, all he could do was wait. Wait and hope that someday, somehow, they could make things right again.

And in the meantime, he would try his best to be there for Azriel, to offer him support and understanding without pushing too hard. Because that was all he could do right now.

That, and wait for a chance to finally make amends for the mistakes he had made.

Because he knew that he had a lot to make up for, and he was determined to do whatever it took to earn Azriel's forgiveness. And to be a better brother from this point forward.

***

She was warm. She was safe. Azriel was holding her...and still...in the moment she first opened her eyes, all she could remember where these last few moments before.

Irena's heart raced as the memories flooded back, of Merrill's office...of how her fellow Priestess, her friend had been sniping at her the moment she entered her office.

"We need to talk, Merrill," Irena had said.

"If Meera complained, it's her own fault," Merrill had seethed. "I don't need her help anyway, I am quicker and better on my own."

And only then Irena had realised that Merrill had already been casting that spell.

"Merrill! Stop!" she had snapped. "You can't do that! It's too..." dangerous. Dangerous was what she had wanted to say. But the word stuck in her throat as Merrill chanted that spell and then...then hell broke loose.

Then the only thing she remembered was quite a lot of pain."

There was no pain now.

There was only Azriel. Only safety and warmth and the smell of cedars...she blinked open her eyes tiredly.

"Azriel," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body weak and boneless. But still, she felt a sense of relief wash over her as she saw him there, his arms strong and comforting around her.

She wanted to say more, to ask him if he was alright, to apologize for putting him through all of this. But she couldn't find the strength to speak, the words getting stuck in her throat. All she could do was cling to him, grateful for his presence and warmth.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, clinging to her...and only a moment later she could feel his body shudder against her own. Shudder and the salty smell of tears

Irena's eyes widened in surprise as she realized that he was crying. She had never seen Azriel cry before, not once in all the time they had spent together. But now, he was crying, a quiet sob escaping him as he buried his face in her hair.

Her heart broke at the sound, at the vulnerability he was showing her. She raised a trembling hand to stroke his hair, her fingers tangling in the silky locks. "Azriel," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible. "It's alright. I'm here. I'm here."

She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, that she never meant to hurt him like this. But the words just wouldn't come, her mouth dry and her head still spinning. All she could do was hold him, trying to provide him with the only comfort she had the strength to give.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, clinging to each other in silence. But eventually, Azriel's tears seemed to dry up, his sobs turning into sniffles and then to deep, shaky breaths.

She felt him press another soft kiss against her forehead, his lips warm and gentle against her skin. "I thought I lost you," he whispered, his voice barely more than a broken murmur. "I thought..."

She could hear the pain and fear in his voice, and it broke her heart even more. "Shhh," she said, still stroking his hair gently. "I'm here now. I'm alright."

She could feel him nod against her, his body slowly relaxing as he held her close. "I was so scared," he whispered. "I was so scared."

She tightened her grip around him, trying to reassure him with her presence. "I know," she said softly. "But I'm here, alright? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Never. Not when she had a single choice in that matter. 

She felt him nod again, his body finally relaxing completely against hers. 

But for now, this was enough. Just being able to hold him, to feel him pressed against her, was enough. And she hoped, with all her heart, that it was enough for him too.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” he asked her, his voice hoarse. “Are you…”

She looked up at Azriel, seeing the concern etched onto his features. "My abdomen hurts a little…so does my bad leg" she admitted. "But other than that, I feel fine. A little weak, but fine."

Azriel nodded, his expression still tight with worry. "Madja said that it might take a few days for you to fully recover," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But she was confident that you'll be okay."

Irena nodded, trying to smile reassuringly at him. "I'll be fine, Azriel," she said softly. "I just need some rest and I'll be good as new."

And time. Time to wrap her mind around the fact that her friend had died.

“She didn’t deserve that,” she whispered. Azriel knew what she was talking about.

“She didn’t,” he agreed softly.

“Was anybody else hurt?” Irena whispered, already hating to even contemplate it..

“Just you.”

She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her. "It's all my fault," she murmured. "If I hadn't confronted her, if I hadn't..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. She could still remember the look on Merrill's face, the anger and hatred in her eyes. And she knew, deep down, that she had caused it. 

Azriel's grip on her hand tightened, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. "It wasn't your fault, Irena," he said firmly. "You didn't make her do what she did. You couldn't have known that she would lash out like that."

She wanted to believe him, to let herself off the hook. But the guilt was too heavy, too all-consuming. "I should have known," she whispered, her voice choked up with emotion. "I should have been more aware, more careful."

Azriel's expression softened, his eyes full of understanding. "You can't blame yourself for this, love," he said gently. "You can't control other people's actions, no matter how much you might want to."

She knew he was right, that she couldn't keep blaming herself for what had happened. But it was hard, so hard, to let go of that guilt. "I just...I never meant for any of this to happen," she said, tears filling her eyes.

Merrill had been brilliant. And yes, she had been snappy and cruel but she had also been funny and bright and…She hadn’t been horrible. Misunderstood maybe, not very nice sometimes but she wasn’t…she hadn’t deserved to die. 

Azriel reached out, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "I know," he whispered, his voice full of tenderness. "I know you didn't."

She looked up at him, searching his face for any hint of blame or anger. But all she saw was kindness and understanding, and it almost broke her heart. "How can you be so good to me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "After everything..."

He cupped her face gently, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "Because I love you," he said simply, his eyes never leaving hers. "And nothing you can ever do will ever change that. This wasn’t your fault."

She felt a lump form in her throat at his words, her heart swelling with emotion. No one had ever loved her like this before, no one had ever made her feel so safe and cherished. 

She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as she felt him press a soft kiss against her forehead. "I love you, too," she whispered, her voice shaky with emotion. "More than anything."

Laying in his arms, was the most peace she had ever known. 

“They know…about us,” Azriel said, exhaling softly. “I am sorry. I couldn’t…I couldn’t let them take you back to your room.”

Irena looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "They know?" she repeated. "They know about us...together?"

He didn’t need to tell her who they was. They was everybody. 

Azriel nodded, his expression serious. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I knew you didn't want anyone to know yet, but I couldn't risk them sending you back alone. You were barely conscious and..." He trailed off, his voice tight with emotion.

Irena reached out, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. "It's okay," she said softly. "I understand." And she did understand. She knew that he had only been trying to protect her, to keep her safe. And she loved him even more for it. And she had wanted to be with him. She had wanted to be held by him. It was worth it. The simple comfort of his presence was worth all the other bullshit they would need to deal with. 

Irena smiled up at him, trying to reassure him with her expression. "It doesn't matter if they know," she said. "As long as I have you, nothing else matters."

“It’s gonna be…difficult,” Azriel warned her with a grimace.

“I can deal with your brothers,” she promised him simply. She could. She did deal with them. Well, at least with the High Lord on a monthly basis. She could handle him. 

Azriel let out a laugh, shaking his head. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he warned her, but there was a slight smile playing on his lips.

She just smiled at him, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his lips. 

She would deal with whatever she needed. Because Azriel was worth it. 

“Madja should be back soon…do you want a bath?” He asked her softly, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I can ask Gwyn or Roslin to come help you.“

Irena smiled gratefully. "Yes, a bath would be lovely," she said, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her. "But just a quick one."

Azriel nodded, his expression tender as he looked down at her. "I'll go get Gwyn," he said, brushing her hair away from her face. "You just rest for a moment."

“No,” Irena said softly. “You can help me.”

Azriel's expression softened at her words, his eyes filled with warmth. "Of course," he said gently. "Anything you need." He bent down, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her towards the bathroom. His touch was careful, his steps slow and steady, as if he was afraid of hurting her.

The shadows fluttered around, filling the bathtub, pouring something or other in there until it smelled amazing.

Irena breathed in deeply, feeling the tension in her body slowly begin to ease away. The warm, lavender-scented steam filled her nose, soothing her frayed nerves and calming her racing heart. "That smells amazing," she sighed, leaning against Azriel's chest. "What is it?"

“I have no clue,” he said drily. “I don’t get bubble baths,” he said with a pointed look at the shadows. 

He put her down to sit on the edge of the enormous Bath Tub and then very carefully unwrapped the wrappings around her wounds, and her leg. The wounds were closed now, the upper layer knitted back together, but she could still feel them. 

“Can you get out of the nightgown on your own?” Azriel asked her, hesitantly. 

“Should be fine,” Irena promised. 

She watched as he turned around, giving her some privacy. She was grateful for his consideration, but at the same time, she couldn't help feeling a little sad that he wasn't even going to sneak a peek. She shook the thought away, reaching out to tug off the nightgown and carefully lower herself into the tub.

The water was warm and soothing, and she let out a soft sigh as her body sank into it. Irena closed her eyes, feeling the tension slowly drain from her muscles. "This feels amazing," she murmured, leaning back against the edge of the tub. “You can come here,“ she said with some amusement, as he still stood at the doorway, presenting his back to her. His wings were flared as wide as they could get in the bathroom, rippling as muscles seemingly twitched beneath them. 

Azriel turned back around, his expression a mix of amusement and relief. He stepped closer to the tub, kneeling down beside it. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice gentle. "I don't want to accidentally see something you don't want me to."

Irena laughed softly, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "You're too chivalrous for your own good," she teased. "But I appreciate the thought. And yes, I'm sure. Come here."

Azriel nodded, his expression softening as he moved closer to her. He gently ran his fingers through her wet hair, brushing it away from her face. The touch was tender, almost reverent, and Irena leaned into it with a contented sigh. "That feels good," she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Want me to wash your hair?” he offered her, his voice hesitant. 

Like she was ever going to turn down that offer.  Irena opened her eyes, looking up at him with a smile. "Yes, please," she said, leaning back further into the water. "I don't think I have the energy to lift my arms right now."

Azriel chuckled softly, reaching for a bottle of shampoo. He squirted a small amount into his palm before carefully working it into her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp in slow, soothing circles. The sensation was heavenly, and Irena closed her eyes again, simply enjoying the moment.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Azriel gently working the shampoo into her hair while Irena let herself relax completely. The warm water, the fragrant steam, and Azriel's gentle touch were all working together to ease away her aches and pains.

After a few more minutes, Azriel carefully rinsed her hair, his fingers tenderly brushing away any lingering soap suds. "All done," he said softly, his hands still buried in her hair. "Feeling better?"

She nodded, opening her eyes again and giving him a smile. "Much better," she said, feeling relaxed and drowsy. "Thank you."

Azriel returned the smile, his gaze full of affection. "You're very welcome, love" he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Let's get you out of here and back into bed before you fall asleep in the tub."

Irena laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "That's probably a good idea," she admitted. "I don't think falling asleep in the tub would do my injuries any favours."

He insisted on keeping his eyes closed again, but between him and the shadows, they had her dry and dressed in a nightgown quickly enough.

Azriel scooped her up again as soon as she was dressed, cradling her against his chest as he carried her back to the bed. He settled her gently onto the mattress, tucking the blankets around her before sitting down beside her.

“You know…next time…you should let me return the favour,” she said softly.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You want to wash my hair, huh?" he asked, his tone teasing. "Careful, I might take you up on that offer."

“You could join me in the tub,” she said softly, biting her lip.

Azriel's eyes darkened at her suggestion, his gaze intense as he looked down at her. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "I’ll have…some…bodily reaction to that,” he pointed out.

Her cheeks flushed but she kept a hold of his hand.

Irena swallowed, feeling a flutter of both nerves and excitement in her belly. But she didn't back down. "I'm sure," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want...I want to be close to you. Like that." She could see his hesitation and the faintest hint of doubt in his eyes.

But she knew that hesitation had nothing to do with lack of desire. It was simply that he was worried about her. Worried about hurting her, or pushing her too far. And she loved him all the more for it, but she also knew that she wanted this. Wanted him.

“Think about it. She said softly. “Maybe in a few weeeks?”

Azriel nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. "In a few weeks," he agreed softly. "When you're healed." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Let's focus on getting you better first, hmm?"

[showsandstuff]

SURPRISE! I actually have a somewhat different take.

All these Screenshots are from episodes. 3 and 4, Viktor wasn't pissed at Jayce until he gave his speech. The 5th chapter is legitimately him expecting Jayce to bring up their projects to help the miners in the fissures, and just a minute later you see him be very disappointed that Jayce hadn't.

I think he likes Jayce but he also resents him a bit. Not for overshadowing him, Viktor isn't someone who likes the spotlight, but because he feels like Jayces priority is no longer to help people, specifically those from the undercity, but rather gaining status and pleasing the council.

Here are my receipts for my claim:

Their very first Argument was in I think episode 5, where Viktor was pissed at Jayce for not presenting their projects during his speech because people need their help NOW. Viktor basically has the same take Ekko later has when talking to Heimerdinger? I believe? About how you can't exactly wait and take things slow when people are dying all around you. Viktor knows the circumstances of the undercity and it was established that before episode 4, all Viktor and Jayce did with Hextech was stuff for Piltover because the council insisted. Jayce was also shown to be fed up with that btw so I think they were still cool here.

Other moments that show this are also

- when Viktor presents the Hexcore to Jayce and how it could be used to preserve life etc., in general. It was Jayce who immediately concluded that it could save Viktor too (this isn't a big moment just worth noting imo that Jayce wasn't ready to go against Heimerdinger when it was about the miners in the fissures, but straight up fired him to save his bro!) (though Mel's influence on him probably also played a role in that)

- Then there was also the moment Jayce considered making Hextech weapons. I don't think this one needs explanation, Viktor was legit considering to blow himself up in that moment so yeah he was pissed and made his point clear

- and ofc there is the bridge argument. Viktor was pissed for multiple reasons here. For one: the blockade, he was clearly unhappy with Jayce ordering one, and two: for Jayce telling Viktor that the people from the Undercity were dangerous.

So no, Viktor wasn't jealous of Jayce, but I am absolutely convinced he was not entirely happy with him either. Throughout the season him and Jayce get more and more distant. It's what he meant when he said "our paths diverged long ago" because they did. Because while Jayce still cared about Viktor, Viktor felt like Jayce was holding them back from helping the undercity.

In my years in this fandom I've seen a lot of posts that assume Viktor deeply resented Jayce for the time they've spent on hextech or angrily imply he's 'sick of being jayce's assistant' (that's not his job, they're Partners, people.)

so today I bring you a very relevant reel of Viktor in his natural habitat utterly happy in his zone and proud of the work they do together btw. Actual stars in his eyes, if you even care

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 5

Harlow

I DON’T HEAR anything else he says. I abruptly rise from my chair, practically tipping it over, and get the fuck out of that cafe as fast as I possibly can.

By the time I reach the patio, my chest is so tight, that I can hardly pull in a lungful of air. I feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m going to pass out, and my heart is beating so fast, I can feel it pulsing in my throat.

Fuck.

I know exactly what this is. It’s a panic attack–one of several dozen I’ve had in the last few months. But regardless of how often it happens, each time is just as scary as the last. It never gets easier or less terrifying.

I feel a hand on my arm. “Harlow , are you okay?” Noah. Of course.

I shake my head and struggle to take in big gulps of air. It’s not working. “Breathe, Little Rabbit. In slowly, then out.”

His voice is oddly soothing, but the fact that he thinks he can talk me out of the panic attack that he created is infuriating. I swallow and jerk my

arm out of his grip. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

It takes everything in me to get those two sentences out, but I manage it. “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re obviously having a panic

attack,” he says.

Everyone is still staring at us–even more so now–and that just adds to my anxiety. I need to get out of here. Somewhere safe, quiet. I have a class in a few minutes, but I’m not sure I’ll make it. I have no choice, though. I’m here on a scholarship, which means I can’t afford to be bumped from any of my classes—and the first week is crucial. Each class is only allowed a certain number of students, and if I’m not there to claim my seat, it’ll be taken by someone else.

I force my spine to straighten, and I suck in a deep, strengthening breath. My heart still feels like a jackrabbit thumping against my ribs, but I do my best to ignore it.

“My next class starts in a few minutes. I have to go.” And with that, I turn toward the social science building without waiting for Noah to respond.

Damn. Day two and I’ve already been nearly assaulted, claimed by the campus king, and had a panic attack. I’m starting to think this school has too much drama for me.

But it’s the only school that offered me a full ride, so I guess I’m stuck here.

I book it to the social sciences building and find a seat in my next class. Once I’m settled in the corner, away from everyone else, my heart rate starts going back to normal. Thank God.

I pull my phone out to text Talia .

Just had a full-on panic attack in front of everyone at the cafe.

She texts me back immediately.

You ok?

I type out my response.

Yeah, better now. We were invited to a sorority party tonight. Come with me?

Considering my anxiety level, I probably shouldn’t be going to a party tonight, but I know it’ll cheer Talia up. Besides, with a couple of drinks in my system, I’ll be fine.

My phone pings. It’s Talia .

Sure. Sounds good. I have to meet someone after class, but I’ll text you later.

I shove my phone into my backpack and try to focus on the professor, who is introducing himself, and for the rest of class, I’m just kind of there. Present, but not really paying attention. All I can think about is Noah. Why am I so transfixed by him? He’s such an asshole, and not only that, he’s surrounded by other assholes. I don’t need that in my life.

The queen of bad decisions. That’s me. I should have told Noah to fuck-off last night. Well, I guess I did, but I didn’t follow it up with the vitriol he deserves—and that’s on me.

At some point, Skye texts me with the information for the party, and I forward it to Talia . One of my classes runs kinda late, so rather than have her wait on me, I suggest meeting her at the party.

It’s dark when my last class lets out. About thirty of us pour out of the social sciences building, dispersing in multiple directions.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

A familiar baritone cuts through the crisp evening air, and I shudder. Not from cold, but from awareness spiking in my veins. Noah Sabastian was waiting for me outside the building. This is the third time being accosted by him today.

I keep walking. “Oh, look. It’s you. How do you have so much time to follow me around? Don’t you have your own classes?”

“My building is next to yours,” he replies, keeping step with me.

The physics building. Hm. Maybe the guy is more intelligent than I give him credit for. Or maybe he’s buying his grades, which somehow seems more likely.

“Didn’t we kinda say everything we needed to say this afternoon?” I huff. “Why are you here?”

“It’s dark. We don’t want a repeat of last night, do we?”

I stop and turn toward him abruptly. “Didn’t you say you took care of that? I mean, the guy is in the hospital, right? Sounds like he’s going to be laid up for a while. ”

“You’re dating one of the Sacred Sons, Harlow . He’s not the only one who’ll come after you.”

“First, and foremost, we’re not dating. So let’s get that clear. Second, why would anyone come after me? Why? I’ve been here less than a week. The only questionable thing I’ve done was attend your stupid ceremony.”

And, seriously, I’m looking for less drama in my life, not more

Noah shoves his hands into his pockets and narrows his eyes at me. “Listen, Harlow , I know this campus. I know the people here. Anyone connected with the Sacred Sons will draw attention.”

I start walking again, and he follows. I’m walking toward my residence hall, which thankfully isn’t very far. “If you run this place–like you claim you do—then can’t you just tell people to leave me alone?”

“It’s not that simple.” His voice is tight. “The only way people will leave you alone is if they see us together. If they know you’re under my protection.”

Jezus. “This is beginning to feel like some weird mafia situation.”

We reach my building, and I open the side door. When he amoves to follow me, I turn on my heel and put my hand out, stopping him, “I’m good, thanks. I don’t think anyone is going to accost me in the time it takes to get to my room.”

Just as I turn back to walk through the door, he grabs my wrist. “Are you going to the party tonight?”

If I say yes, I know he’s going to insist on coming, too. Or at the very least, walk me there.

“It’s been a crazy couple of days, and I’m exhausted. I think I might just go to bed early,” I lie

He nods once and releases me. “Text me if you go out.”

Not a chance .

“Sure, whatever.”

When I get upstairs, I stop by Talia 's room and knock. No answer. Her roommate isn’t even around. Not that I expected Talia to be there. She

probably headed over to the party a while ago. She’d never responded to my last text, but she can be a little scattered, and sometimes she forgets to reply.

Emily is on her bed when I enter. Her side of the room is so much cuter than mine. A couple of days ago, both her parents came to help her move in. Her mom, especially, had fussed over her—helping her set up her desk, and arrange the pictures on her wall. Her dad had set her computer up and made sure she was connected to the wifi, and all that.

I’d watched it all with envy.

No one had ever taken care of me like that. Never. Everything I do, I do alone. I’m an only child, and I’ve lived with my grandmother since I was eleven. And my grandmother loves me, but she’s tired and has a lot of health issues. My dad is nearly nonexistent, and my mom doesn’t give a shit about anyone but herself. So yeah, she’s not coming here to take me shopping and make my side of the room cute. I doubt she even knows I’m here.

“Hey,” I say as I walk in, tossing my backpack onto my bed. “I’m headed over to a sorority party. You wanna join?”

Emily glances up from her laptop. “Um, I mean, I need to get some reading done for class…”

I open my dresser drawer and pull out a pair of jeans and a tank top. We have a shared bathroom down the hall that I could use to change, but going all the way down there is so annoying, so I decide to just dress here. As soon as I shuck the pants I’m wearing, Emily averts her gaze. I tug my jeans on and replace my baby-T with a plain white tank top.

I’m refreshing my makeup when I make my last-ditch effort to convince Emily to join me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come? It might be fun.”

Honestly, I don’t even really want to go myself, but Talia is probably already there, and I really don’t want to walk over alone. Not after what happened last night.

“We could always leave a little early, so you can get your reading done,” I add.

She hesitates for a second, then closes her laptop and sets it aside. “Okay. Maybe just for a little while.”

We’re both ready in about five minutes, and we start heading over to the sorority. It’s only a block away, so it takes us about three minutes to get over there.

The place is a fucking mad house.

The house is beautiful, two stories, and right on the beach. Inside is chaos, though, and as soon as we get there, I text Talia .

I’m here. Where are you?

She doesn’t text back right away, so I leave Emily out on the back patio with a couple of her friends and go in search of Talia .

This place is packed to the gills with hot guys, though, I’ll say that. These guys definitely weren’t at the Burning Crown ceremony last night— which is a point in their favor. The guys here have that chill, beach boy look, which is right up my alley.

Inside, bodies are crushed together, undulating to the rhythm of the music, which is blaring over the din of laughter. As I look for Talia , I grab a drink—a solo cup half filled with cinnamon-flavored whiskey. It tastes like a Red Hots candy and goes down really easy.

I’m three sips in, and already feeling relaxed as I hunt for Talia . But she’s not here. In the span of ten minutes, I’ve looked in every closet and dark corner. I glance at my phone for the millionth time, and there’s still no response from her. Where is she?

I try not to panic, though. She’ll be here. Maybe she met a new friend and she’s just running late, caught up in some random drama. Who fucking knows with her. She’s always been the life of the party, and pretty impulsive. I wouldn’t put it past her to tag along with a group of girls she’d just met.

I don’t see my new friend, Skye, either, so I’m standing alone, just finishing my first drink, when someone sidles up beside me. At first, I don’t even notice. But after a few seconds, I hear a male baritone address me.

“Hey,” he says. “Didn’t I see you at Rush House last night?”

I glance over to see a cute guy with wavy brown hair, dark eyes, and a sweet, wholesome smile. He’s wearing a blue polo and looks like he just stepped off a golf course. I nearly do a double-take, because he looks so out of place here.

“Hi,” I say with a smile, raising my voice so I can be heard over the music. “Yeah, my friend, Talia and I were invited. Are you a member?”

“I’m not supposed to say,” he says with a smile. “I’m Nathan Hearst.”

I nod awkwardly. “Harlow .”

He looks confused and leans in closer to me. His clean, eucalyptus scent envelops me. “I’m sorry, say that again?”

I inch closer to him. “It’s unusual, I know. My mom is weird.” I laugh a little to cut the awkwardness. “It’s Harlow . L-U-X.”

“Oh, Harlow .” His head bobs. “That’s a really cool name.”

“Thanks,” I answer, draining the last of my cinnamon-flavored whiskey. He notices my empty solo cup. “Can I grab you another drink?”

“Oh, thanks. I was drinking the whiskey.” I hand him my cup, and he leaves to refill it. He’s back in under a minute, handing me a fresh cup. I nod, and thank him again, taking a sip.

“You look like you’re searching for someone,” he says, watching the girls in the middle of the room as they twerk against each other.

“Uh, yeah, I’m supposed to meet my friend here. She’s probably on her way,” I say, glancing at my phone. Still no message from her.

“So what are you studying?” he asks.

I tell him what my major is, and we make small talk for a bit—all the while, I’m watching the front door, waiting for Talia to walk through it.

It’s so nice to have a normal conversation with a cute guy, though. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like. All the guys I’ve been involved with over the last couple of years have been both hot as fuck and crazy like a devil—Noah Sabastian included.

This guy is just…normal. And the longer we talk about nothing, the more comfortable I feel. Maybe my luck in guys is actually changing.

Nathan and I are just chatting about nothing when everyone in the house

—and I mean, the entire house—erupts into a roar of excitement. Everyone stomps their feet in a rhythm they all seem to know by heart .

What the…?

Nathan glances at me, and I get the sense he’s trying to gauge my reaction–which, honestly, is just confusion. “Now the party has officially started,” he explains. “The Sons have just arrived.”

[serickswrites]

Lonely Place of Longing XV.V (The missing chapter)

Master list link here (includes chapter links, summary, and character bios)

A/N: I took this chapter out because it made references to things I hadn't talked about in this story (but will in the prequel series!). And because I felt like it would have made the chapter after this one (and in the story's current iteration Chapter 16) less climactic--though it probably would have been pretty climactic with the cliff hanger in hindsight. It's a short one, so please enjoy. The final chapter will be out on its usual post day!

Warnings: physical violence, blood, knife, stabbing, wounds, referenced death, character death, mcd, unconsciousness, referenced heat injury

“You are sadly still so predictable,” Owen drawled as he grabbed for another knife from his bandolier of blades. He had slipped back into their native tongue. He had, Dylan realized, always spoken to Dylan in their mother tongue. Only when it was absolutely necessary did he use the language native to Patricanus.

And you haven’t changed either. “Does it matter? We both know how this ends, Owen. Give it up.” I will end you. I will rip you limb from limb. I will destroy you. You did this. You gave me no choice.

“Yes, it ends with me winning and imbuing your sweet paramour. Do you think she will be as monstrous as me? Or perhaps as monstrous as you?” Owen chuckled as he dodged another attack from Dylan.

Dylan and Owen continued to trade blows. Both weapons fought with their powers, Owen combining his attacks with his physical weapons. Their chests heaved as they panted. Neither had had a fight that required this much strength in nearly a decade. “Isn’t this lovely,” Owen said as he tossed a bent knife to the side before drawing another, “two of the most powerful beings in the world set to destroy one another.” He glanced over his shoulder at Halle. “Perhaps she will join our ranks soon.”

Hold on, sweetheart. I won’t let him hurt you. “Owen,” Dylan said as he raised his fist once more, “it doesn’t have to be this way. If you agree to stop, if you agree to come willingly—“

“You’ll what, kill me quickly? I’m not going to do that.” Owen released a large pulse of energy at Dylan. It missed Dylan by a wide margin, blasting a large hole in the wall behind him. Shouts of pain and alarm rang out.

Dylan gritted his teeth. His side pinched. He could feel blood leaking through his shirt and making his side slick. He didn’t dare check the wound. It doesn’t matter. It is minor. Minor pain. I have had worse. I need to stop him. I need to stop him from destroying everything. He knew he was burning through his vast reserve of energy. But most of all, Dylan hated the loss of innocent human life. “Do you care so little for your minions you would kill them to hurt me?”

Owen smirked. “Yes, wouldn’t you?” Owen sent another energy blast at the wall, vaporizing the scattering men. “That’s what they are for. They are weak. We are strong. We can destroy everything.”

“You cannot do this, Owen. You cannot destroy everything. Think of what we could rebuild. Think of all the lives we could save.” Please. Please don’t make me do this. I…I don’t want to. Dylan realized with a pang of guilt. As much as he hated what Owen had done, as much as he hated the destruction and waste of life, he didn’t hate Owen. And killing Owen would kill a part of him. Please, we were friends once. We can still be friends. Please, don’t make me kill you.

“I can. And I will. Because I can. And because I want to.” Owen lunged towards Dylan again, his knife flashing bright. Dylan easily dodged Owen’s attack once more, but realized his mistake when Owen charged towards Halle.

“No!” Dylan surged forward, realizing too late, this was exactly what Owen wanted. Owen stabbed the knife up and into Dylan’s gut, burying it to the hilt. Dylan tried to breathe through the pain as Owen rode his body to the ground.

“Like I said, Dylan,” Owen ripped the knife up and through Dylan’s body until he hit bone. Dylan gasped through the pain, “so predictable.”

“Owen,” Dylan hissed as he felt Owen rip the knife from his gut. “Owen, please,” he said. “Owen, ahh—“ Dylan cried out as Owen shoved his hand into the wound. His world whited out with pain as Owen wormed his fingers into the wound on his side.

“There, that’s it. Yes, you are where I always planned for you to be, Dylan.” Owen’s face was inches from Dylan’s. “I have been waiting for this moment.”

“Owen, I’m sorry,” Dylan whispered. I cannot let you do this. I cannot let you win. If you win, the world burns. If you win, she dies. I cannot let that happen.

Owen froze. “What are you sorry for? Wounding me?” Owen wriggled his fingers deeper into the wound. Dylan cried out with pain. “What’s the best way and only surefire way to kill a weapon?”

Dylan gritted his teeth. I don’t want to do this. But you are leaving me no choice. Please, Owen. “Owen—“

“That’s right, you destroy the heart. A head shot will probably kill them, but not always. But the heart? The heart is the only way. I’m going to rip your heart apart, Dylan. And then I’m going to wake up your love so she can see your corpse as I turn her.” Owen twisted his arm, shoving it further into Dylan’s body. “I’ll reach your heart either through your belly or through your side. It doesn’t matter. I will have your heart. I will win.”

Destroy their heart. This is the only way. I’m sorry, Owen. I’m sorry this is what it came to. You left me no choice. “Killing me won’t bring them, any of them back. Killing me won’t bring her back.”

Owen froze. Dylan continued. “Killing me won’t change what happened. Killing me won’t bring—“

“You don’t get to say her name. You don’t get to say anything about any of them. And yes, killing you won’t bring them back. But it will make me happier.”

Dylan closed his eyes tight against the sting of tears. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I tried. You left me no other way. I would have found another way. You left me no choice, Owen. Dylan raised his shaking left hand to touch Owen’s chest as Owen tried to dig further and further, searching for Dylan’s heart. He didn’t even notice when Dylan touched his shredded shirt. “I am sorry,” Dylan whispered as he unleashed his power. “I am truly sorry, Owen,” he said to the red mist that filled the air.

You’re free now. Free from pain. Free from all of this. Free from suffering. I am sorry. Fare well, my friend. May the next life treat you better.

Dylan lay in the growing pool of blood for a moment longer, slowly trying to take stock of his injuries. He had worse pain. But he knew it had to be bad. It didn’t matter. He had to get to Halle. Sweetheart. I’m coming. Hold on. I love you. I love you. I love you.

With a stifled howl of pain, Dylan rolled onto his uninjured side and slowly tried to stand up. He pressed his hand to his gut as he rose on shaking legs, gasping with pain as every muscle protested the movement. He couldn’t stop. He had to keep going. He took two tentative steps on shaking legs. Good enough. I can get us out of here. I’m coming, sweetheart. Hold on.

Halle lay where she had fallen after her head struck the wall. She hadn’t moved during his entire fight with Owen. Please, be ok. You have to be ok. Dylan stumbled over to Halle, collapsing to his knees, relieved to see she was alive.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Dylan said as he braced himself. Carefully Dylan lifted her, stumbling slightly as he tried to get his balance. Though Halle was petite, he struggled to carry her. He knew his wounds were much worse than he initially thought as he struggled to balance. “I’ll get us to the team. They’ll look after you. Just hold on.”

Halle hung limply in his arms, her limbs swaying with his staggering. The room spun around him. No. Just a bit farther. Just a bit longer. Dylan refused to give up, refused to let his body give out. She needs help. I have to get her to help. Hold on, sweetheart. I have you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Dylan only managed to get a few steps before his legs gave out completely. He didn't have the energy to get back up, to carry her and go forward. “Oh,” he sighed. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Halle. I can’t. You’re going to have to walk out of here. I….I can’t carry you. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I…Please wake up soon. Please be ok.”

He held Halle tightly in his arms. He rubbed gentle circles on her back. Dark spots flecked his vision. He shook his head. Come on, sweetheart. You have to be ok. I am alive because you are alive.You have to be alive. I love you. I love you. I love you.

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[lillaydee]

The Arrangement Part 9

Frontier! Joel Miller / Reader

Your life crumbled to nothing during a migration to Jackson, forcing you to agree to an arrangement just to survive.

NOTE: Possible inaccuracies in baby developments, food intake and inheritance or ownership laws coming. I really know nothing, but I needed to put some stuff in for the sake of the story line, so please forgive me and take everything in the spirit of storytelling yeah?

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Frontier Joel, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Virgin Joel, Virgin Reader, Minor Character Death, Period-typical Misogyny, Marriage of Convenience

I think i need to preface this chapter by saying I'M SORRY. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 8

You didn’t know how long you stood there. You heard him come out of his room, and heard splashes of water, probably cleaning himself. And then, there was silence, and after a few moments, some quiet sobs and sniffles.

Was he… crying?

What was going on?

You heard his footsteps heading towards your room. You pressed your body tight against the door, worried that he might try to open the door. You were not scared of him, exactly. You knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, that he didn’t mean for things to go the way it did, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to face him at that moment. You could feel him press himself against your door, whispering your name, his sniffs evident, his breathing heavy.

He stood there a while, but eventually he went into his room and shut the door. You waited a long time, not daring to go out in case he came out. What would you say to him? How could you look him in the eyes again?

Eventually, you went out, washcloth in hand. You could hear his bed creak slightly, as if he sat up to listen to you. You wet the washcloth, wiping yourself. An involuntary hiss came out your mouth from the sting, the light-coloured washcloth evident with blood, even in the low light. You knew that would happen, of course. Your friends, the ladies you lived with, alluded to it sometimes.

Of all the stories you had heard over the years, you gathered that women would belong in one of three categories when it came to intimacy with their husbands.

There were those who gushed about the experience. How life changing it was. How they could not imagine living without it. How it brought them closer as a couple. How much the experience made their lives so much better. How mind blowing. How they never knew ecstasy before then. How in love they were with their husbands.

There were also those who seemed nonchalant about it all. How their lives were unchanged by it. How they didn’t think much of it, neither enjoying it too much nor hating it. How their relationships with their husbands were as it were. How their lives moved on with or without it. How it could sometimes be good, but not so good at other times. How sometimes they come to a finish, whatever that meant, but mostly not. How they tolerate their husbands.

And then, there were those who feared the experience. How painful it was. How they were glad they only needed to do it until they were with child. How they would be glad to live the rest of their lives without going through that again. How it made them fear their husbands. How much worse their lives had become because of it. How annoying. How they had never known pain like that before. How much they resent their husbands.

These were often the women who were glad that brothels existed.

You had always connected the difference between these three groups of women with how they felt for their husbands, when it came to intimacy. Basically, you believed that if they were in love, the intimacy would be great. Being in love, to you, meant there was a spark, a connection on a deeper level. Which, up until now, you thought you had with Joel. So, in your fantasies, you believed that since you felt so strongly for your husband, and believed that he did for you too, the intimacy would be wonderful. That you would belong in the first group.

Obviously, that was all in your head.

**********

You laid in bed, still digesting the happening in the next room. And suddenly, you came to a realization.

He did you a favour by marrying you. Because of this marriage, you now had a roof over your head. Because of this marriage, you were living a happy life in this wonderful new town, making friends, having hobbies, a family of your own. Because of this marriage, you were not back in your old town working for pennies and scraps for something to eat. Because of this marriage, you had the pleasure of his companionship, this man who you now cannot imagine life without.

Sure, he touched you. Showed affection for you. But maybe that’s just what a good husband would do. And he promised you that he would be one for you.

He had kept every single one of his promises. He had treated you well. He had given you everything you asked for. He had never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to. He had supported you in whatever you wanted to do. He had been a good husband. He provided for you, protected you, was faithful to you. You trusted him. You knew he would never deliberately hurt you.

So the intimacy was not what you had imagined it would be. Was that so bad? Surely there was more to life than that? Those ladies you had known - even those in the third category - their lives were not miserable as far as you could tell. They lived their lives, persevering, even under the shadow of bad, painful intimacy. And you knew for a fact that their husbands were nothing like Joel. He never laid a rough hand on you. He never raised his voice at you.

See? You had it better than them, at least.

This was your own fault. You expected too much.

You let yourself get lost in the situation you were in, the good that these two months had brought you made you believe this was real.

You forgot yourself. You were not the chosen bride whom his heart beat for.

He married you for the convenience of having someone to care for his daughter, for his household.

This disappointment was your own doing.

You let yourself fall in love with him.

You turned on your side, staring at Ellie’s empty crib. You heart felt as if someone was squeezing it tight. And despite all the things you told yourself, you cried yourself to sleep that night, finally accepting that this was how things would go, that this marriage will never be more than that.

Just an arrangement.

**********

You woke up early the next day. Your sleep troubled by the images of Joel marrying a faceless woman next to your grave, the soil still red, passionately kissing her, his hands all over her body. Your face was wet with your tears, the ones you shed in your sleep.

Your body was wet with sweat. You opened the window to let the cold morning spring air in, the sun just peeking its head somewhere. You sat on your bed, mulling over how you planned to go about being in his presence that day, and the day after that, and the day after that, for the rest of your life. Could you ever look him in the eyes again? You honestly could not imagine going about life without having a constant dose of those brown eyes of his.

So, you decided there and then. When this arrangement began, you told yourself that you would be the best wife you could be to him. And that’s what you were going to do. You’re going to get up and be Joel Miller’s wife. He had kept up his end of the bargain, you should too.

You hissed as you relieved yourself that morning, the pain was searing. No matter. This was fresh. You will go to the doctor if it doesn’t improve. But that might alert Liv and Diana. You must not let them know. You shouldn’t shame your husband like that. He didn’t do this on purpose.

The door to the house opened as you made your way back from the outhouse, a frantic Joel looking relieved when he saw you. His demeanour was awkward, his eyes studying the way you were walking, worry clouding his face. He asked if you were alright, his eyes looking beyond yours, as if trying to read your mind. You gave him a smile, telling him you were alright, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. You went into the kitchen and began lighting the fire, taking a bucket and filling it with water before filling the pot with it, going outside to brush your teeth and wash your face, getting some bacon from the ice box for his breakfast.

The water had started boiling when you finally realized he was still standing there in the living room, just watching you, his face unreadable.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, placing the pan on the stove, moving to get the kettle to make his coffee.

He hesitated, before asking you if you were alright again.

“I’m fine. You should get ready. I’ll start making breakfast.”

He stood there for a good few minutes before finally moving, looking defeated.

You prepared his breakfast and Ellie’s formula, some rice flour and squashed peaches added into it, before going over to Maria’s to get her. She was happy to see you, squealing excitedly in your arms. You kissed her over and over, taking in the sleepy, milky, musky smell of her little head, realizing that you missed her.

Another reason to just persevere. You could not imagine your life without this sweet little girl.

Joel immediately took Ellie from you when you got home, showering Ellie with kisses, taking her outside to feed her, cooing and talking to her the entire time, softly laughing at her ‘replies’, clearly missing her too. Before he went to work, he stood in front of the door, looking unsure on his feet, telling you he’s going, so you brought Ellie to him for him to say goodbye. After giving her so many kisses, he hesitated a bit before bending down to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, put his hat on and left.

You told yourself that this didn’t mean anything. Of course it would be awkward. The two of you took a step into a new level of intimacy last night. It’s to be expected.

Right?

**********

Things were like that for about three days. He hardly spoke to you, and you to him. The two of you merely existed and danced around each other. You still sent him his drinks and snacks, kept him company when he was working, read to him at night. But it was with an air of unease that suffocated you both. He kept his distance from you, only kissing you on the cheek when saying hello or goodbye, and immediately took a step back when done. He hardly looked you in the eye anymore, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you whenever you were not looking.

There were no sitting on the bench looking at the view with your arms around each other. He didn’t hold your hands when you went on your evening walks with Ellie together. Every bit of conversation revolved around Ellie, to her, about her. It was as if your relationship had taken a step back, and you felt horrible for it.

By the fourth day, you were no longer in pain when you relieved yourself. Everything went back to normal. But he was still keeping his distance from you. You decided to take matters into your own hands and gave him a quick kiss on his lips before he left for work that morning, making him flinch, keeping his body away from you. But it was an improvement over the last few days, so you didn’t say anything.

That evening, when the three of you were preparing to leave for your walk, you made the effort to place your arm in the crook of his as he held Ellie. He didn’t protest, although the smile he gave you was a bit hesitant. But your arm did remain there for the rest of the walk, and that evening, after Ellie was down, the two of you did sit together to look at the view, albeit not touching.

It took a few more days of that before the awkwardness became unnoticeable. But there was no more hugging, no more passionate kissing on the lips. Your conversations went back to normal, the two of you were laughing again, joking with each other, but his head had remained on his pillow during the reading sessions, and lip kisses remained chaste.

You and the ladies were talking one day, when the dreaded subject alluding to intimacy was brought up. Liv was talking about her excitement to move into her house, just a week or so from completion now. Diana made a comment about how relieving it would be to not to have to worry about boxes and wooden trunks falling on them when they were in the throes of intimacy with their husbands in the wagon.

Oh, the wagon rocking suspiciously and everyone would know what you were doing! Liv added, and everyone laughed, nodding their heads enthusiastically. Even you played along, not wanting any awkward questions to be asked your way. Maria chimed in with something along the lines of maybe settling for being a bit boring and just lying there quietly for a while, and maybe not be too enthusiastic, and Liv said something about not being a boring wife in the bedroom.

They were all laughing until they were bent double. You laughed along, as if it was the funniest thing you had ever heard, but that night, you laid awake to a horrible realization.

What if you were just horrible in bed? Was that why Joel no longer initiated anything with you?

Oh God. No.

**********

That thought didn’t leave your head for days. When you think of the way he couldn’t get enough of touching you before, it made you think that having you that one time turned him off. Did he not like it? Sure, it wasn’t good for you, but surely it would have been good for him, nonetheless? He did… finish, if you were correct in that assumption.  

So why did he not want to touch you? Was he… disgusted by you?

You were so worried by this change, your body had become attuned to any movements from him, any pauses, even any sounds that came from his room. You were awoken one night by the sound of him leaving the house. He was careful about it, his steps careful, his movements light, making sure the door didn’t creak too much. You brushed it off that night, maybe he was just using the outhouse?

But then it happened again the next night, and the night after that.

The fourth night was a rainy one. So you placed a chamber pot in his room, not wanting him to run out in the rain. Even in full spring, Jackson was a cold place at night. The last thing you wanted was for him to get sick. But even amidst the pitter patter of the rainfall, you could hear him leave the house.

Worried, you went out of your room and peeked through the window. You saw him move towards the other side of the house, opposite to the outhouse. You heard him outside, through the wall, behind the house, near the kitchen window. He had stopped walking. What was he doing? You went to the kitchen window, careful not to let him notice you, and peeked through the gap in the curtain.

He was standing next to the laundry table he had built for you, parts of him hidden from view by the table and the barrel he had placed there. His back was to you. His hand was moving furiously in his trousers, his head up to the clouds. You could hear his heavy breathing, even with the rain.

It didn’t take you long to realize what he was doing.

You were frozen. You took your eyes off him, you thought, but you still saw him. You saw his body stiffen and bent over, holding his trousers down for a bit, before rinsing his hands in the rain and tying his trousers back up, settling his breathing, his hands laid on the laundry table while he caught his breath. You were too shocked to move fast enough back to your room, and he entered the house just as you got to your door.

He looked flushed, shocked, like a thief caught red handed.

“What are you doing up?” he asked you.

“Just thirsty,” you honestly shocked yourself at how easy that lie came out of your mouth. “Where did you go?”

“Outhouse.”

“Oh, I put the chamber pot in your room,” you can’t help but notice how flustered he got, how much he didn’t want to be there being questioned by you.

“You did? I didn’t notice.”

You wanted to comment on the lack of water he had on his person despite his claim of walking to and back from the outhouse, but you just told him to dry himself before going back to bed. You closed the door behind you and laid in bed, watching Ellie sleep.

He didn’t want you anymore. He would rather leave the house in the pouring rain to relieve his needs with his own hand than be with you.

You cried yourself to sleep again that night.

**********

That Saturday, he told you he had a job to do in town, asking you if you would like to come with him. You needed groceries, so you nodded and got ready to go, Ellie strapped to your chest since he would be working. You spent the entire journey to town in silence, you even sat far enough from him to for another person to sit in between.

It was as if you gave up. You felt defeated. You shouldn’t have asked him to take you that night. All this could have been avoided if only you had just kept your naughty thoughts to yourself. Before that night, you had a man who cared a lot about you. Now, he was but a husband who lived with you.

After you saw him that night, you distanced yourself emotionally and physically from him. You remained the devoted wife on the surface, keeping him company, cooking and cleaning for him, reading to him, going on walks with him. You were never rude or angry, you remained the gentle person that you were with him. But you didn’t touch him, just as he didn’t touch you. You didn’t talk to him unless necessary, nor him to you. His nightly habits remained, you still heard him leaving at night. Coming back after a while and snoring not long after. Good for him, getting the release he needed.

You knew it was petty. You knew you shouldn’t do it. But you found your heart hurting every time he kissed you on the cheek, or even touched you, remembering the kisses and touches he used to give you before that fateful night. Before he drew back ten steps. Before everything became awkward. So you withdrew, no more touching, no more kisses hello and goodbye. If you didn’t have it any longer, eventually, you wouldn’t miss it, right?

The first time you didn’t kiss him goodbye, he lingered, waiting for you to do so. When he stepped forward to do it instead, you used Ellie’s fussing as an excuse to take her inside for a nappy change. The second day, he moved to kiss you first, but you turned and busied yourself clearing the table. He stopped trying on day three.

You didn’t even know if he was affected by it, if he noticed. You didn’t look him in the face anymore. You couldn’t. It hurt. What if the longing looks and yearning smiles were no longer on it? What if his warm, kind, brown eyes were now filled with emptiness for you, or, even worse, coldness? How could you live like that? And if they were still there, what if you gave in, fell deeper for him, only to feel so rejected again?

Most of all, you just felt stupid. Two months of connecting, getting to know one another, gone just like that. All because you needed intimacy.

Stupid, stupid!

You were jolted back to reality when the wagon stopped in front of the grocers. You climbed down yourself, his steps stopping as he ran around the wagon to help you when he saw you had done it yourself. He placed his hand in his pocket and pulled out some money to hand to you, but you instead of taking it, brushing hands with him, you held your hand out, palm up for him to place the money on it. When his fingers almost brushed your palm, you jerked back, causing the money to fall to the ground, and you quickly bent down to get it, holding Ellie steady, before scrambling up to get to the grocers.

You didn’t know why you were being so petty. Truth was, you were worried that if you let him touch you again, you would turn to stone. Your heart hurt. And every time he showed you any form of gestures at all, you just felt it hurt even more, knowing that he didn’t want you anymore. You had to find a way to live with that. And so far, this pettiness, it’s making the hurt more bearable.

You went about the town going to different stores to place your order, setting whatever you had picked up in the wagon before moving along to another store. Just as you were getting the last of your orders, Esther came out of the tavern to sweep something into the street, her eyes looking you up and down in disgust, before looking at something behind you, sneering, and telling you that her guess was right. You were not good enough for him after all.

You turned around and saw Joel come out of the brothel, his toolbox in hand, Rose accompanying him, shaking his hand. You rolled your eyes at Esther, he was doing his job, you menace, you thought. You climbed back into the wagon, just as Joel placed his toolbox in the back before climbing into the driver’s seat. You let him coo at Ellie for a while, sitting right next to him as Esther watched smugly, letting the wagon get out of sight before moving away from him as you did before.

You nodded when he asked you if you got everything you needed. The rest of the ride home was quiet.

That night, after you read him the next chapter, you closed the book and quietly got up to go into your own room.

“Elena,” his voice came to you. You turned, eyes on the mattress rather than at him, and answered “Yes?”

He didn’t say anything, but he fidgeted a little bit, before saying goodnight. You nodded and left the room.

**********

The next morning, you went about your routine as usual. Making him his breakfast, getting Ellie ready for the day, feeding her, doing the laundry, cleaning the house, keeping yourself busy, trying hard not to think about the way things were in your marriage. Joel busied himself with the horses, doing some yard work, fetching the water, mending the wagons, before telling you that he had to go to a house near the edge of town for a job after lunch. You nodded, your hands kept busy ladling out some porridge for lunch, placing the bowl in front of him and setting yourself down with Ellie to feed her.

When he finished eating, he made to clear his bowl, but you gently took it from him and washed it yourself. He stood around watching you, fidgeting with his hat, before finally putting it on and leaving. He walked, you noticed, rather than taking the wagon. About half an hour passed before you noticed that his tool box was still at home. Maybe the house had their own tools for him to use? You had your own lunch, and put Ellie down for a nap, before settling down to begin cutting the materials for your new client’s dress.

Maria and Liv came knocking, Maria telling you she forgot that it was Tommy’s birthday the next day. Could you come with her to town? She needed to buy him something, and maybe get something from the bakers? You told her Ellie was sleeping, but Liv told you to go, she could stay with Ellie. Will was working anyway, building something for their newly completed house. So you went with Maria, the two of you walking leisurely, catching up with each other.

She got Tommy a new leather pouch for his money, his was too ratty, she said. As the two of you made your way out from the bakers on the way home, you ran into Tess, arm in arm with a man you had never met. She introduced both of you to her husband, Max. They both looked so happy. Apparently, Max had to follow the Red Cross wagon for a while before arriving in New York, before finally managing to settle and get a job to buy a land. He told you he was looking for men to build, and Tess said that the Miller men could do that? He would be willing to pay. There was no way he could build on his own, not in the time he needed to get the house done, he said.

You and Maria told him you could ask your husbands, they were about to start another build in a day or two, but you will let him know. His land was just a few lots away from the Millers, apparently, so it would be great if they could help him out. As you were talking, Tess suddenly froze. You followed her line of sight and saw him, all the way at the end of the row of stores. It was far, but you would know him anywhere.

Your husband, sans toolbox. Walking out of the brothel with Rose. His face flushed, his hand rubbing his neck, smiling shyly at her, while she gave him a kiss on his cheek, rubbing his arm up and down, a huge smile on her face.

Your body went numb. Cold. Frozen.

The good news was your heart no longer hurt.

The bad news was it had completely shattered.

Gone.

Millions of tiny sharp pieces filling the cavity of your chest.

Your legs stopped working. Tess and Maria caught you by the arms. Maria looked livid. She made to go to him, but you told her no. Just, please, you needed to get out of here, please. Max immediately helped you up onto his stripped-up wagon, Maria climbing in after you, Max telling Tess he will see her later that day.

As Max got ready to start the ride, Joel turned his head and saw you.

To say his face turned chalk white would be an understatement. He walked towards the carriage, his strides long and fast, before breaking into a small run. Tess told Max to go. Now, go.

Joel broke into a run, running after the carriage to the edge of the town, calling your name desperately, as his panicked face got blurry from the heartbroken tears filling your eyes.

Part 10

[nomie-11]

Chapter 2 - One Hundred and Eight Scars

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The flight field at Basgiath is still and dark, and appears deserted when they approach in the hour before sunrise, hugging the landscape of the mountains, the riot doing what they can to stay out of sight. 

“That does not mean that someone won’t spot us landing,” Tairn reminds her, his wings beating steadily despite having flown the last eighteen hours straight from Aretia. The window of time Xaden had given for them to get to the Vale without her being spotted is slim, and if they miss it, every hatchling will be put in danger. 

“I still don’t understand why the Empyrean would ever agree to let dragons bond human riders, knowing they’d have to guard their own kids not only against gryphon fliers but the very humans they’re supposed to trust.” 

“One, you’re projecting,” Tairn says, his voice a low grumble as he banks left to follow the geography. “And two, it’s a delicate balance. The First Six riders were desperate to save their people when they approached the dens over six hundred years ago. Those dragons formed the first Empyrean and bonded humans only to protect their hatching grounds from venin, who were the bigger threat. We don’t exactly have opposable thumbs for weaving wards or runes. Neither species has ever been entirely truthful, both using the other for their own reasons and nothing more.” 

“I never thought I needed to hide anything from you.” 

Tairn does that weird thing that makes his neck appear boneless, swinging his head around to level slightly narrowed eyes at her for a heartbeat before turning his attention back to the terrain. “You have nothing to hide from me, nothing you have ever done in your life has been morally wrong or irredeemable,” He says, his tone softer but weighted with something unspoken. “I can do nothing to remedy the last nine months besides answer your worthwhile questions now.” 

“I know,” She says quietly, wishing his words were enough to cut through the acrid taste of betrayal she can’t seem to wash out of her mouth. Or maybe that was the constant stomach acid from throwing up her guts four times in the last eighteen hour flight.But she knows that Tairn’s bond to Sgaeyl was stronger than her bond to him, so the blame is fully on Xaden. 

“We’re approaching. Get ready.” 

“Can I do a rolling dismount?” She asks, gripping the pommel of his back tighter as she leans down. Her body is already screaming after eighteen hours in the ��saddle,’ and her awful, constant headache. But the summer wind feels nice, and she bets that sitting on the roof right now would be amazing. 

“A rolling dismount would tear you limb from limb on impact.” 

“No it would not!” She huffed, rolling her eyes, which seemed to be her new signature move. “You know rolling dismounts are a second-year maneuver, anyways.” 

“One that you will not be participating in.” Tairn grumbles. 

“Why all of a sudden are you treating me like I’m so weak?” She groaned, annoyance seeping into her words as they spilled out of her mouth. 

“Because you were poisoned by the most potent evil in our world and then decided by some miracle to live,” He dipped down, and she pressed into his back. “And no matter how good you feel right now, there is still poison in your system.” 

Well, the truth was, she did not feel good at all. And she was going to practice honesty. 

“I feel like shit.” 

“You don’t say.” Tairn’s dry tone thrummed through her, tinged with a rare warmth that almost made her laugh. “And that’s why recovery is non-negotiable.” 

“Recovery is overrated,” She muttered, stubbornly straightening up in her seat as they approached the final ridge before the flight field. Her bones ached in defiance, her head pounded, but she wasn’t about to let Tairn know she was hanging on by a thread. 

“Oh really?” Train snorted, sounding almost amused. “Then prove it.” 

With that, it felt as if something around her legs snapped open, and he tipped sideways in one fluid motion. She barely registered the movement before her stomach lurched, her grip slipping as her legs failed to keep her steady. She let out a shocked gasp as she tumbled off his side, the wind whipping around her in a dizzying rush as the ground loomed closer. 

In a flash, Tairn’s colossal head appeared below her, his massive eyes narrowed in exasperation as she snatched her mid-air, pinning her back onto his broad back with a firm push of magic. The landing jolted her, and she groaned, too winded to argue. 

“Still think recovery is overrated?” Tairn huffed, banking into a smooth glide again. 

She glared at him, but her limbs felt like jelly, making it impossible to keep her dignity intact. “You didn’t have to throw me off!!”

“It’s not my fault you cannot keep yourself seated,” He chuffed. “Do you really think you held on all the way from Aretia? I had to keep you anchored with my magic the entire flight.” 

Her mouth fell open. “You… you were holding me in place?”

Tairn snorted, his wings lifting them easily over the final ridge as Basgiath’s towers came into full view. “You were barely conscious for half of the journey. Don’t get cocky now.” 

Heat flushed her cheeks. She’d been so sure she’d managed it all on her own. Flying had been an escape, something she could control. But the truth, Tairn’s truth, was a harsh reminder that she was at the mercy of her own limitations. Fuck venin poison, honestly. 

Her stomach flips as he drops into the flight field. 

“I am dropping Andarna off in the flight field with Astrape and then return and circle nearby.” 

“You need rest.” 

“There will be no rest if they decide to execute the nine of you on the dais.” The worry in his voice clogs her throat. “Call out if you even suspect it will not go your way.” 

“It will,” She assures him. “Do me a favor and tell Sgaeyl that I need to talk to Xaden on the way.” 

“Please hold on tight when we land,” Tairn snorts. “I don’t want you to go tumbling off.” 

And that’s exactly what she did as Tairn splayed his wings to slow the descent, sending her tumbling down and over his shoulder to the ground. He laughs as she lands flat on her ass on the soft grass. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles. “Love you, too.” 

Tairn whips his head to the right, where Sgaeyl lands with brutal efficiency, her rider dismounting in a much more efficient and graceful manner. “The wingleader approaches.” 

Xaden gives Tairn a wide berth to launch as he walks towards Genevieve, with Sgaeyl taking off next, followed by the rest of the riot until it’s just them left. 

Lifting her goggles to the top of her head and unzipping her jacket, she groaned. July in Basgiath was muggy as hell, even when you aren’t locked away in a humid dungeon. 

“You actually told Tairn to tell Sgaeyl that you wanted to talk to me?” He put a hand on his hip. 

“We both suck at communication. Don’t act like you would be any better.”

“You remember that you can…” He taps the side of his head and walks backwards in front of her. She rolls her eyes and secures a dagger on her thigh instead of paying attention to the singular curl that rests on his forehead and how not even a week ago she wouldn’t have hesitated to brush it to the side. 

“Talking that way feels a little too…” Fuck, why is this so hard? Xaden is Xaden, not some stranger, so why does it feel as if the person standing in front of her is someone completely new and random. How has every inch of her trust been unwoven and destroyed and put her back on square one as the girl who believed no one. “Intimate.” 

“And we’re not intimate?” He lifts a brow. “Because I can think of more than one occasion that you’ve been wrapped—”

She jolts forward and covers his mouth with her hand “We’re not intimate anymore, Xaden.” But the feeling of her palm pressed against his skin is enough of a reminder that whatever they had—maybe they were dating, maybe they weren’t, she never really knew—was physically perfect. Better than perfect. Addictive and electric. Her entire body warms as he kisses the sensitive skin of her palm, and she immediately drops her hand. “We’re walking into what’s certainly going to be a trial, if not an execution, and you’ve got jokes.” 

“Trust me—not joking.” He turns as they reach the steps, and heads down first, glancing back over his shoulder at her. Everytime he says trust me, she wants to strangle him. “Surprised that you’re not icing me out, but definitely no jokes.” 

“I’m angry at you for keeping information from me. Pulling a Violet and ignoring you instead of confronting whatever happened doesn’t solve that.” 

“Good point. What did you want to talk about?” 

“I have a question I’ve been thinking about since Aretia.” 

“And you’re only now telling me?” He reaches the bottom of the steps and shoots an incredulous look at her. “Communication is not your strength, is it? Don’t worry. We’ll work on it along with your and Violet’s shielding.” 

“Are you being serious? Do you hear yourself?” That is so ironic coming from him.

Xaden pauses at the bottom of the steps, and the barest hint of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, actually. Dead serious. I just have a feeling that if I don’t push you a little, you’re going to retreat back into yourself until you snap and you’re never actually going to say what’s on your mind.” 

She scowls, trying to ignore the way his smile is both infuriating and—unfortunately—disarmingly familiar. “Fine. Since you're so eager for honesty… What are those one hundred and eight scars on your back for? And why didn’t you tell me about the venin the entirety of the past year? Or why did you hide the fact that a rebellion my sister raised from its ashes was actively occurring?”

Xaden’s smirk vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze shifting away, a flicker of regret crossing his face. “Because I didn’t know how you’d react. And, yeah, maybe I was afraid you’d completely reject me the second you knew the truth. I didn’t want you to feel like you were being forced into a war you didn’t even know existed.” 

“You’re such a guy, you know that? It’s such a guy thing to ignore every question except for the last one.” She huffed. “I guess I have to ask one at a time. What are the one hundred and eight scars for?”

Xaden’s jaw tenses as he meets her gaze, and there’s a flicker of something raw in his eyes. He looks away, as if stealing himself, then back at her. “Those scars… Each one represents one of the kids of the rebellion. Each life I agreed to take responsibility for. One scar for each of us forced into the Quadrant—one hundred and eight lives that would’ve ended in execution if we weren’t allowed to fight for our freedom.” He forces her gaze to meet his once more, and her eyes feel as if they’re watching his soul. “It was one hundred and seven until I found out that there was a girl trapped in a cell underneath Basgiath being tortured for answers on my behalf. I just didn’t know that girl was you until you told me.” 

Genevieve stares at him, absorbing this revelation, and all her old assumptions feel flimsy, hollow. She wants to say something, but the words stick in her throat. He’s never shown her this part of himself, not fully, atleast. The realization crashes down on her that he’s the most selfless person she knows.

“So… when you found out about me, without ever even knowing me,” she says, barely able to keep the tremor from her voice, “you saved me?”

He nods, and for the first time, she feels as though she might suffocate from all the pressure from what he’s done for her. 

“And I called you a selfish bastard,” she swallows. “Twice.” 

“You did.” He nods. “And I was. I really was, Genevieve. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I didn’t realize how keeping you in the dark so I could live in a selfish fantasy where you loved me for who you thought you knew I was was really just hurting you. I was scared. The rebellion, the venin… it was all too much. I didn’t want to pull you into my mess, and I certainly didn’t want to see you hurt because of me.” 

Her chest tightened at the weight of his words. It was one thing to hear him speak of sacrifice, but this was not just sacrifice. She wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but the distance between them still felt like a gaping chasm waiting to swallow her whole. “You know you could’ve trusted me.” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I would’ve done anything to help. I still want to help.” 

“And do you trust me? Now, after everything?” 

“Do you want the uncomplicated answer?” 

Xaden glanced up at the tall doors that lead to the tunnel into Basgiath before he looks back at Genevieve. “Given our limited time alone, that’s probably preferable.” 

“Then yes, with my life. After all, it’s your life, too.” She knows that the rest depends on how open he is from here on out, but now probably isn’t the time for a ‘are we dating or do I hate you’ talk. 

There’s a flash of disappointment in his eyes before he nods, and then looks back to the other seven, who are quickly catching up. “I’ll make sure Aetos keeps his hands to himself and off of you and Violet, but you might have to play it along.” 

“Give me a shot at handling it first, and then you can do whatever it is you think will work.” Violet says and Genevieve nods, before the bells of Basgiath ring, announcing the hour. They have fifteen minutes until formation will be called for graduation. 

Xaden’s shoulders straighten. “Everyone clear on what’s about to happen?” 

This isn’t the man who begged her forgiveness for keeping secrets, and it sure as hell isn’t the one who vowed to earn back her trust in Aretia. No, this is Xaden the wingleader who slaughtered every attacker in her bedroom without blinking and never lost a wink of sleep over it. 

“We’re ready,” Garrick says, rolling his neck like he needs to warm up before combat. 

“Ready.” Masen nods, adjusting the glasses on his nose. And one by one, everyone agrees to ride into hell once more. 

“Let’s do it.” Genevieve lifts her chin. 

Xaden stares at her long and hard, and then nods. 

Her stomach twists as they enter the tunnel, mage lights flickering on as they pass. The other door is already open when they make their way through and she doesn’t argue when Xaden plasters himself to her side. There’s every chance they’ll be arrested as soon as their feet touch the quadrant, or worse, killed, depending on what everyone else knows. 

Power simmers underneath Genevieve’s skin, thrumming to life but not quite surfacing, ready if she needs it, but no one appears as they cross into the rock-filled courtyard. They have minutes before the space fills with riders and cadre. 

The first riders they encounter walk out of the dormitory and into the courtyard with cocky swaggers and Second Wing patches on their uniforms. 

“Look who’s finally here? Bet you thought you had the games locked down, didn’t you, Fourth Wing?” a rider with dyed forest green hair says with a smirk. “But you didn’t! Second Wing took it all  when you didn’t show.” 

Genevieve rolls her eyes and Xaden doesn’t bother looking in their direction as they pass. Garrick lifts his middle finger from Genevieve’s left. 

“Guess this means no one knows what really happened,” Imogen whispers. 

“Then we have a shot of this working,” Eya replies, and the sunlight glints in the piercing in her eyebrows. 

“Of course no one fucking knows,” Xaden mutters. He looks up to the top of the academic building, and Genevieve’s eyes follow his line of sight, her heart jumping at the image of the fire blazing at the top of the farthest turret. No doubt waiting for offerings to Malek—belongings of the cadets who didn’t make it through War Games. Her belongings if this all fails. “They’re not going to out themselves over us.” 

At the entrance to the dorms, the group shares a look and then breaks apart wordlessly according to plan. Xaden trails behind Genevieve and Violet as they follow down the corridor and into the little hallway they’ve called home for the last nine months, but neither of them go into their own rooms. 

Violet glances left and right to be sure no one sees them, before she pushes open the door to Liam’s room. She slips in, triggering the mage light overhead. 

Genevieve can’t even bear to look in at the room, let alone enter. She knows Violet is barely holding back tears as she looks at the bed where she once slept securely in the arms of her lover not even a week ago. She knows Violet is taking in each and every one of those moments that she ripped away from her when she chose Violet over Liam. 

I will not cry today. 

But it’s a lot. Everything is exactly the same as it was when they left. Violet has the stack of letters in her arms and a few unfinished figurines tucked into her pockets as she emerges, and Genevieve knows that she will regret not going into the room one last time for the rest of her life, but she can’t. 

Her feet are glued to the floor until Violet opens her mouth. “I got them,” She whispers, her eyes red. 

“Let’s go.” Violet walks right in front of them, emerging from the darkness as Rhiannon walks out of her room with Ridoc in tow. 

Oh shit. 

“Vi!” Rhiannon’s mouth drips open and she lunges, grabbing onto Violet and pulling her into a hug. “You’re here!” She squeezes tight, and Violet relaxes into her arms. 

Genevieve feels alone for the half a second she watches before Ridoc crashes into her with his arms prepared to wrap tightly around her. 

Genevieve’s heart swells as she is enveloped in the warmth of Ridoc’s embrace. His familiar presence wraps around her like a cocoon, making her feel at home in the midst of the chaos. The weight of his relief and affection momentarily dulls the pang of loneliness gnawing at her. She sinks into the hug, breathing in the scents of sweat and leather, a comfort she never knew she craved until now. 

“Look who’s back from the dead,” Ridoc chuckles, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “You had us worried there for a bit, you know.” 

“I’m sorry,” her voice is slightly muted by his embrace, until he pushes her back, his eyes scanning her for injuries the same way Rhiannon scans Violet’s for injuries. 

“With what everyone was saying, I thought you were dead.” Her gaze flits to Genevieve. “I thought the three of you were.” 

“There was also the rumor that you got lost,” Ridoc adds. “But considering who you were with, we were all betting on the dead theory. I’m glad we were wrong.” 

“I promise I’ll explain later, but I need a favor now,” Violet whispers, her throat closing as her gaze drops. 

“Sorrengail,” Xaden’s tone drops. 

“We can trust her,” Genevieve snaps, promising as she looks back at him. “We can trust both of them.” 

Xaden looks anything but pleased, but he nods. Guess they really were home. 

“What do you need?” Rhiannon asks, concern furrowing her brow. 

Violet steps back, and then pushes the letters and figurines into her hands. “I need you to keep these for me. Hide them. Don’t let anyone… burn them.” her voice breaks. 

She glances down at the letters, and her eyes widen before her shoulders curve inward and her face crumples. 

“What are tho—” Ridoc starts, looking over Genevieve to the letters and then falling silent. “Shit.” 

“No,” Rhiannon whispers, and Genevieve knows this isn’t her denying the favor. “Not Liam. No. Genevieve didn’t—” She cuts herself off, her gaze momentarily falling onto Genevieve before she slowly meets Violet's eyes. “I’m so sorry.” 

Violet’s eyes burn, but she manages to nod, clearing her throat. “Promise you won’t let them have these when they come for his things if I’m not–” She can’t finish. 

Rhiannon nods, before turning to Genevieve. “Are you alright? Your hair—” 

Genevieve shakes her head. She’s not lying. Not really, at least. The poison isn’t there anymore, just the after-effects that still plague her. “I’m fine, really.” 

“We have to go,” Xaden says. 

“I’ll see you guys at graduation,” Violet gives them a watery smile and takes a step back. The three of them walk again, turning the corner into the crowded main corridor of the first-year dorms. 

“How do you do it?” Genevieve whispers at Xaden as she watches Violet walk a step in front of them. 

“Do what?” his arms hand loose at his sides as he continuously scans the people around them, and he puts his hand on her lower back like he’s worried they might get separated. They’re in the thick of the rush, and for every person too busy to notice the three of them, there’s another who does a double take when they cross paths. And every marked one they see gives Xaden a subtle nod, and Genevieve knows they’ve been warned by the others. 

“Lie to the people you care about?” 

Their gazes collide and they pass one of the busts of the First Six, following the flow of the crowd past the wide spiral staircase that connects the higher years’ dorms. 

Xaden’s jaw clenches. “Gen–”

She lifts her hand to cut him off. “It’s not an insult. I need to know how to do it. I don’t lie to people I care about.” 

They break away from the crush of cadets headed out the door to the courtyard, and Xaden strides purposefully for the rotunda, yanking the door open and ushering the two girls through. He places a hand on Genevieve once more, but she shifts away from him. 

“Stay here,” he mutters to Violet, who just nods with her arms crossed. 

He grabs Genevieve and tugs her behind the first pillar they come across. The red dragon hides them from anyone who may pass through the space that connects all wings of the quadrant. Sure enough, voices and footsteps pass, but no one sees them behind the massive pillar, and no one sees Violet in the shadows covering her. 

“For the record, I also don’t lie to the people I care about,” Xaden lowers his voice as he faces her, the intensity in his eyes pinning her back to the marble pillar. He leans in, and he’s all she can see. “And I sure as hell have never lied to you. But the art of telling selective truths is something you’re going to have to master or we’ll all be dead. I know you trust Rhiannon and Ridoc, but you can’t tell them the truth, as much for their sakes as for ours. Knowing puts them into danger. You have to keep the truth compartmentalized. If you can’t lie to your friends, you keep your distance. Understand?” 

She tenses. Of course she knows that, but hearing it said so blatantly drives the knife deeper into her chest. “Does Violet know all of this too?” 

“Liam had her master this art last year when he spilled everything to her by accident.” 

“I understand,” she says after a sharp exhale. 

“I never wanted to put you into this position. Not with your friends and especially not with the General. That was one of the many reasons I never told you.” 

“How long did you know about my mother?” It’s definitely not the right time to ask this, but Geneveive will not die without answers. She needs to know. 

He exhales slowly. “I knew about it the minute she ran away from you.” 

Her lips part, and something heavy shifts, easing a weight that settled in her chest that’s been there since Resson. But another weight slams into Genevieve’s chest. Xaden’s known her mother longer than he’s known her. 

“What?” 

“You didn’t dodge the question.” She has to admit it, she’s a little surprised. 

“I promised you some answers,” He leans forward. “But I can’t promise you’ll always like what you hear.” 

“You owe me all the answers, if you ever want me back,” she huffs. “And I’ll always prefer the truth.” 

“You say that now,” A wry smile twists his lips. 

Her eyes narrow. “I always will.” The sound of boots shuffling behind them as students report to formation reminds her that they’re not entirely alone, but she needs Xaden to hear her. “If the last few weeks have shown you anything, it should be that I run from nothing, no matter how hard it is or what it costs.” 

“Yeah, well, it cost me you.” Her whole body tenses and his eyes slam shut. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.” He opens his eyes again, shaking his head, and the abject misery makes her head pound. “I know it was the not telling you. I get it. But when the lives of everyone around you—when your life—depends on how well you can lie, it’s not easy to realize it’s the truth that will save you.” A sigh moves his shoulders. “If I could do it all again, I’d tell you. I’d do it differently, I promise, but I can’t, so here we are.” 

“So here we are.” But where even is here? This isn’t home anymore. “But as long as you meant what you said about telling me everything—”

He flinches, and her head throbs again. 

“Oh hell no, Xaden, I swear on the gods, look me in the eye and tell me that you are going to tell me everything once I can properly shield.” Genevieve wants to kill him. She wants nothing more than to strangle him. “That’s what you promised in your bedroom, anything you want to know and everything you don’t. Those were your words. And I’m not joking when I say I will kill you if you can’t swear that that is what I will get.” 

“Everything about me.” 

She shakes her head. “I will not be playing these stupid games with two people.” 

He takes a step toward her, but she lifts her chin and her eyes narrow, daring him to touch her right now. And he’s a smart man for keeping his feet planted on the ground. 

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Look, I will answer any question you want to ask about me. Gods, I want you to ask, to know me well enough to trust me even when I can’t tell you everything.” He nods like those words had been included in the original promise when they both know damn well they weren’t. “Because you didn’t fall for an ordinary rider. You fell for the leader of a revolution, and to some degree, I’m always going to have secrets.” 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

For her entire life she was kept in the dark by people who thought that was best to her. Her father hid her away from the revolution and then he died, leaving her to scramble in his ashes. Her sister left and re-started her father’s rebellion and never uttered a single word in any of the letters she wrote, and Genevieve knows logically that those letters were being stopped and read, but the pain of being kept blind by those she trusts still stings. Her mother left, and didn’t look back for five years. She will not be hidden any longer. 

“I’m not kidding.” There’s zero apology in his tone. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t let you in like I promised. I’m an open book when it comes to—”

“If you’re still just going to lie to me I’d prefer you to just shut your mouth. You’ll be an open book when it comes to whatever you want.” She shakes her head. “And that’s not going to work for me. Not this time and not ever. I can’t trust you without full disclosure.”

He blinks, and for a moment she knows she’s managed to stun him. 

“I need all the details. Everything.” She demands, staring straight down into his eyes. “I reluctantly forgave you for keeping me in the dark before today. You did it to protect my own life, whether or not that being what I wanted regardless. But it’s complete and total honesty from this minute onwards, or…”

Fuck, am I really going to say this?

“Or what?” His eyes sharpen. 

“Or I’ll go back to what I was before I trusted any of you,” She took a deep breath. “A weapon.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey everyone! Fun little chapter, right? Something weird is going on with Genevieve… I wonder if anyone has picked up on it? And— if you have, what’s your theory? I would love to know what you are thinking! Also, I posted on Thursday a Liam Mairi x Reader, so if you haven’t gone to my Tumblr to read that yet, please go and let me know what you thought.

More about me as the creator of Genevieve, I actually struggle with chronic headaches and nausea (a beautiful long-lasting side effect from a medication i was put on four years ago), so writing Gen to struggle with these issues now is really interesting, because I’m just putting my own experience onto paper. I also recently passed out from blood loss (don’t donate blood if you’re anemic and also prone to throw up over anything), so I’m excited to now have some experience with that for future reference!

As always, if you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, or kudo! That’s it for now! See you all Wednesday.

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Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 15/21

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version). (Side Hangster, which is ALSO angsty).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003) FIVE (2004) SIX (2005) SEVEN (2006) EIGHT (2007) NINE (2008) TEN (2009) ELEVEN (2010) TWELVE (2011) THIRTEEN (2012) FOURTEEN (2013)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN – 2014

                Tom has it narrowed down to three candidates. He’s been chipping away at figuring it out, not making it a top priority, but definitely something he keeps circling back to. The man who he wants to keep a closer eye on, even if it’s been five years he suspects that Bradley hasn’t exactly forgotten him. He had tried gentle probing questions, only to have them deftly avoided. Clever of him, and Tom knows he’s no doubt had practice from when he was younger and serving under DADT as well as protecting Tom and Pete’s own relationship.

                However Bradley hasn’t even told Natasha, because he’d also carefully asked her and she’d simply blinked at him in surprise before shaking her head, saying she didn’t know anything, but that if Bradley had slept with anyone he’d been very discreet, because she heard gossip, and there hasn’t been any about Bradley. Well. Other than him apparently being secretly married to her. Tom doesn’t know why he should even care so much, other than Bradley is his son and he wants to protect him as much as possible, despite the fact that Bradley is now over thirty and more than capable of looking after himself. He has his own house, not that he stays there very often, preferring to be in the center of things and being here in the family home with Tamsin and Petra.

                Except Tamsin and Petra are growing up too, Tamsin in her last semester of high school. She’s been accepted into California-Irvine and he’s so proud but he is also not prepared at all for her to move away. He’s glad she’s decided to stay within state at least, and he knows Bradley likely helped sway her in that decision. Which is why he wants to find some way to ensure Bradley is never held back in anyway. So he’ll keep trying to work out exactly who it is that he still so hooked up on.

…            …            …

                “She’s going to prom,” Pete says again, and he knows he’s maybe belaboring the point, but also he can’t believe that Tamsin is in her last year of high school, is so capable and accomplished and intelligent. Hell, she runs circles around him on the regular and yet he can’t fathom how the little baby girl he held in his arms over seventeen years ago is now taller than him. A fact everyone seems to great joy in pointing out to him, however he can still pick her up and carry her. Her boyfriend hasn’t stopped trying to impress them, and Pete can’t say he likes the young man, and he has tried, thank you very much Bradley.

                “Wish I could have gone to prom with you…” Ice says, stepping in close and wrapping his arms around Pete’s waist. He leans into him, never feels safer than when he’s like this.

                “Yeah? You want to dance with me?”

                “Always…”

                “We pretending we’re at prom?” Pete asks with a grin and Ice smiles, the soft-gentle half smile he uses when he’s feeling particularly sentimental. He feels Ice’s arms tighten around him and there isn’t any music, but then Ice starts humming quietly and his own smile grows wider and he presses a kiss into the side of Ice’s neck. “God I love you…”

                “Love you too. So much Pete… Did you ever think we’d get to have this life?”

                Pete startles a little, surprised at the question.

                “Of course…”

                “Seriously?”

                “You didn’t?”

                “Not in my wildest dreams. Every day I am grateful I get to have… all of this. You. Bradley, The girls. Sarah and Melissa. Hell, even Aubrey is a blessing.”

                “We are very lucky. Want to get luckier?”

                “This was a nice moment…”

                “It’ll be even nicer soon. Let me take you to bed?”

                “Yeah. Please.”

                “Mmm. Begging already. I like it.”

                “Begging you to stop talking. You used to be a man of action, not words…”

                “Pfft. I’ll show you action…”

                “In a bed Mav, come on.”

                They undress with no haste, helping each other, trading kisses and running hands over bare skin as it’s revealed, Ice’s touch on him causing repeated full-body tingles, they always have. He hopes his own touch has the same effect, thinks it does with the way Ice shivers and presses against him, murmurs his name quietly under his breath and kisses at the soft skin just behind his ear. He presses a gentle kiss over the newly healed port scar from Ice’s cancer treatments, suddenly overwhelmed that he too is grateful that he gets to have all this. He’d have been content with just Ice to call his own, but to have his odd little family, to have a son and two daughters who are all turning into these amazing individuals.

                “Pete…” Ice says, voice deep and raspy, the way it gets when he’s just woken up or when he’s getting really turned on. Then there are warm dry fingers wrapping around his cock and he follows Ice down onto the bed, lets his hands find purchase on Ice’s hips as he rocks against him. It’s warm and comforting, and despite wanting everything else to go fast in his life, this, with Ice right now, is something he’s happy to draw out. Knowing they don’t have to rush, not the hard-fast-desperate times that they had in the beginning, terrified of being caught.

                He’s married to this man, it’s on his record and they live together, always come home to the same place. He realizes he didn’t think he’d get to have this, but he had always hoped and dreamed he would. That despite everything he’s damned lucky and he shouldn’t take what they have for granted.

                “You want to fuck me?” Pete asks, straddling Ice’s thighs and grinding his erection in a rocking motion against Ice’s.

                “Yes.”

                He grins then, knows his face is probably scrunched up in happiness but he doesn’t care. They don’t do this very often, it’s more effort than either of them are usually wanting to put in, but sometimes it’s exactly what they both want. He leans back, rolls off the bed and pulls open the bedside table drawer for lube; hears Ice shuffle off to grab towels. He follows, uses the glass on the sink to have two large glasses of water.

                “You planning on working up a sweat?”

                “Yeah… you better be able to keep up.”

                Ice snorts at that, but follows his example and throws back a glass of water, but his eyes stay on him, the light grey-blue shaded darker with arousal and Pete’s cock jerks in anticipation. Ice, being the smug bastard he is, and because he knows him so well smirks, lets one of his hands come to rest on Pete’s flank, fingers digging and rubbing and pulling him close so they can rub together. He’s being moved, Ice using his height and breadth to encourage him back to the bedroom, like he somehow needs convincing.

                “Hi…”

                “Hi. Can we…”

                “Always trying to rush…”

                “Not this. Not with you.”

                “I know.”

                Then he’s on his back, Ice dragging him so his hips are raised on a couple of pillows, which are covered with one of the towels. Ice kisses him, then there’s the slick slide of fingers between his ass cheeks and he reaches blindly for him, needs to touch him so he can feel grounded, know that Ice is there with him. It’s not fast, Ice always takes his time, makes sure now that he’s not going to cause any pain or even discomfit. Pete has learnt that he’s allowed to just lie back and enjoy. The whole preparation aspect is something Ice takes pleasure in, the building anticipation and knowledge he has time, permitted to touch Pete and make him feel good. He does that now, their years together making him an expert in Pete’s body.

                Pete doesn’t often have the patience for this; time shifts and passes in a liquid state, seconds measured in kisses against his skin, minutes in the growing and easing pressure of fingers stretching him. He’s hard and leaking, feels like Ice has been driving him around the edge of a whirlpool for hours and he’s just waiting for them to get sucked down together. He feels Ice’s cock push into him and he lets out a groan, cants his hips to make the press deeper and let’s Ice manhandle him so his legs are around his waist.

                “Ice…”

                “Yeah. I got you Mav…”

…            …            …

                He’s home five weeks early, and they’re managing to pull it off, and god, if he makes her cry and her mascara runs she’s going to kill him. But it’s her prom night and while they’d planned on him arriving during a school assembly to surprise her, they’ve modified it because she’s going to prom alone because her boyfriend is an asshole.

                So.

                Bradley is going to turn up in his dress whites, sweep her off her feet and he’s going to consider himself lucky if Tamsin doesn’t punch him. She’s standing with a group of her friends, nearly all of whom he recognizes, Ice and Mav are failing at hiding behind a pillar, Petra with them and looking bored. A lot of sets of eyes are on him and he can see someone making a signal for the music to be turned down, and that has Tamsin and her group look around and he steps forward, hand out stretched.

                “Can I have this dance?”

                “Bradley!”

                Then he’s being hugged tightly, she looks so grown up and he’s reminded again that parents do this all the time; that he works with some who leave their young kids for months at a time and he’s simply an older brother. He steps back to take in her dress and hair, is pretty sure Mav and Tom probably had collective heart attacks given the split up the side.

                “You look amazing.”

                “I know!” she laughs. “It took hours. I cannot believe that some people do this every day before they leave their homes…”

                There’s applause and he’s got the usual thanks for your service and he nods and smiles his way through it all, because he’s in the service to fly planes because he can’t imagine doing anything else, and if it has the added bonus of serving his country then that’s okay. But he knows what came first for him.

                He dances with Tamsin, can actually dance the more formal and traditional dances but steps away when she starts throwing her hands up to a song he doesn’t recognize. So this is what old age begins to feel like. Ice and Mav have left, and some of Tamsin’s teachers come and introduce themselves, and he finds it a little alarming that one of them is in fact younger than him, the others only a few years older and he hopes his freak out about being his age isn’t showing on his face.

                “You’re actually in the Navy huh?” a man asks, and he thinks this is Tamsin’s English teacher.

                “Yes. These are my actual dress whites. Thought I’d try and make tonight better after her boyfriend decided to dump her.”

                “Ah yes, he’s a bit of a social pariah now. Tamsin is well liked.”

                “Good. She’s awesome.”

                “The words of a completely unbiased bystander, I’m sure,” the guy says with a gentle teasing smile and Bradley turns slightly, thinks he’s being flirted with.

                “Protective and proud older brother instincts aren’t ever going to go away. I’ll be in a rocking chair and I’ll still think she’s awesome.”

                The glint of something intensifies and Bradley raises an eyebrow, licks his lips and doesn’t miss the other man’s eyes flick down to the movement.

                He is never telling Tamsin that he got a blowjob from her English teacher, however he also doesn’t feel like he’s so ancient after all, so he’ll definitely count it as a win.

…            …            …

                Tom isn’t an idiot. When Petra turns sixteen he very politely recuses himself from even being an option to teach her how to drive. He did it with Bradley and Tamsin. Petra is another thing entirely, and he knows Pete has already let her drive his motorbikes up and down the airstrip at the hangar, has no doubt that she’s already done the same with a car. He can only hope that Pete doesn’t make any exceptions around safety. He doesn’t expect he will, he never has with Bradley or Tamsin. It’s only his own body he’s a little reckless with. They both come back super excited, fizzing with more energy than he knows what to with and later when they’re curled up in bed Pete admits he knows what he’s going to get Petra for Christmas. Laps at the nearest racecourse.

                Tom sighs.

…            …            …

                “Hey Bradley?”

                “Yeah Pet?”

                “If you try and pull that prom bullshit on me I will castrate you and make you wish you’d never been born. Got it?”

                Bradley snorts.

                “Yeah. Got it. Is that a no surprises ever, or just big public ones where you might cry?”

                “No public ones. Nice surprises are fine.”

                “Okay. Well I’ll try and keep the big public displays saved up for Tamsin.”

                “Yeah. That sounds good.”

…            …            …

                “I have to look over these promotion recommendations before sending them on to the SECNAV. We’ve got a young aviator who chalked up an air-to-air kill, so he’s being recommended for accelerated promotion to Lieutenant… A Jake Seresin.”

                Tom recognizes the name immediately. Jake Seresin. He remembers having dinner with him, he’d been polite and engaging, flown in a way that made him itch to be in the sky again. He’s also on the very short list of men that are potentially Bradley’s ill-advised hookup that he is adamant about leaving the fuck alone. Tom isn’t so sure, but also he’s got a feeling in his gut that this is him. That Jake Seresin is the young man that Bradley hooked up with. Which makes him worth his attention, but it doesn’t stop him from halting the other man’s career trajectory. He signs the paperwork giving his recommendation for promotion and asks for an invitation to the ceremony.

…            …            …

                “Jake.”

                “Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

                Bradley bites back his immediate retort, because he guesses he deserves that.

                “Congratulations on the promotion.”

                “I’m sorry, are you talking to me now?”

                “Well, we’re currently the same rank so I can’t have the fraternization rules thrown at me as a warning. So yeah, I guess I’m talking to you…” Bradley starts, even knowing that the previous difference in their ranks is a weak excuse for his previous behavior.

                “Yeah well, I’m not listening. Catch you around Bradshaw.”

                Fuck.

                So much for trying to apologize.

[misspelledwordswizard]

Chapter 21 - I have never cried so much in my two lives as I do today

Previous chapter / Next chapter

I wiped the tears that rolled down my cheeks, trying incessantly to calm myself, taking several deep breaths so I could speak. I want so much to be able to tell him everything, to all of them. I want to get rid of this weight, but I don’t have the courage to do so, but I know I can’t keep everything to myself.

— I... I’ve been having nightmares. – That was the way I decided to start, at least I should tell that part, after all, it involved them directly. – with the shadow. It started the night I first saw him, and I have reason to believe he’s behind it.

As I spoke, Time remained quiet, understanding, letting me talk at my own pace while rubbing circles on my back in na attempt to calm me down further. My voice was weak and tearful, shameful, I must sound pathetic right now.

— He doesn’t exactly appear in the dream, but it’s always something dark. The second time it happened was when I passed out, but it didn’t seem like a nightmare, until tonight, when I discovered that it was all created by that thing. – I continued, considering how much I could tell him. – He made me dream about my family, to the point of making me think that meeting you had been nothing more than a dream. I think he wanted to trap me in that.

My voice weakened at the thought of it, thinking that that thing used people I love for such a vile reason filled me with anguish. I need to be more honest with him.

— So, that night I had another nightmare. He talked to me, he kept talking about how I shouldn’t be with you guys and... – I took a deep breath – that you would leave me, hate me when you found out the truth.

— The truth about what? – Time asked, his tone seemed intimidating when I knew that the answer to this question could upset him, anger him or even hurt him.

— He threatened to tell my secret, a secret that if you guys found out you would hate me. I’m so sorry, Time, I’m so sorry! I never wanted to keep any secret, I never imagined something like this could happen. – My crying intensified, and I struggled to control the sobs that were hampering my speech. – At first I didn’t know who you guys were, I didn’t trust you completely, I was just a stranger and you would think I was crazy if I said that kind of thing! And as time went by it became even more difficult.

— Calm down, it’s okay. Whatever it is, I will understand, you don’t need to be afraid, we won’t leave you. In these last few days, you’ve managed to become more than just someone we need to protect, my dear. You’ve become part of this group, and we won’t leave you no matter what happens. Whatever it is, we’ll help you get through it.

The Old Man’s words were comforting, even though I still had my doubts about how far he would go to keep this. I don’t know if I’m ready, but I know they need to know, if I keep this to myself any longer, even when Time was so supportive, it would be a reason for them to not trust me, one more reason for them to hate me in the end.

— I want to tell you. I really want to, I need to too, if I find out through the shadows it could be much worse. I don’t know if I can, or you won’t believe me, or you’ll hate me, and both options are bad. – I tried to prepare him before everything, maybe if he knew how bad what I was going to say would be the impact would be better. – But first, there’s a problem. I don’t think I’m in my right mind, I can’t sleep.

— Well, I could tell that, why? Was it because of the threats?

— Yes, but it’s worse. There are not only empty threats in the dreams that await me, if I sleep and he makes me have nightmares again, I might never wake up. Last night, he did something with the dream that made me hurt my ribs... – I said, then I moved to lift my tunic until the purple on my skin was visible. – And today I came across this, in the same place, and there’s no way I could have done it outside of this nightmare.

I tried to read the hero’s expression as I made my point, I couldn’t tell if he believed it or not. But I wouldn’t judge him if he didn’t believe it, it was hard for me to do so. I definitely didn’t expect Time’s normally serious gaze to turn into a melancholic look full of regret, seeing it in his eyes made my heart clench, I felt guilty.

— I’m sorry. – He said, his voice low and weak, and that was definitely not what I expected to hear. Before I could question, the large man beside me pulled me into a warm hug on his lap, squeezing me firmly, but gently so as not to hurt me. – It’s my fault, I should have paid more attention. Your safety is my responsibility, and I relaxed when I thought I would be safe around here. I should have considered all the possibilities, I should have been more cautious, I should have noticed the signs to prevent things from getting that far.

His hug was warm, his warm body against mine was comforting, I had to hold back the emotional tears that filled my eyes. Time was without his armor, which was good, because I don’t think hugging him with that serious thing is that comfortable. I don’t know what made him think he was somehow to blame for all this, but it wasn’t true.

— Please don’t blame yourself. I’m the only one to blame for having kept all this from you for so long. Link, I want to tell you the truth, all of it, and I ask that you please listen to everything before you jump to conclusions. And also, I don’t know if I can do the same for others, but I’ll understand if you think I should, because it’s true. – He shook his head, trying to contradict my pessimistic assumptions, but I just wanted to get this weight off my shoulders. – I had a life before this.

If he found that last sentence strange, he didn’t show it, but he was definitely contemplative. Of course, that alone wouldn’t be enough for him to jump to his own conclusions, but it might be enough for him to think I’m delusional.

— I mean, literally, a past life that I remember clearly. I died and was reincarnated here, in this life, with all the memories, even those of my last moments. That in itself seems crazy, or not so much if you stop to think that you have also been reincarnated, even if you don’t have the memories, you can literally know your past life, I mean. – I interrupted myself, seeing that I was getting away from the focus. – The problem is that in my past life I was from another world. Or rather, another reality, probably. A very different one from here, different countries, kingdoms, culture, technology, races. A place where there is no magic or monsters, where the only rational race is the human being. With round ears, different from the Hylians. Oh, and the goddess Hylia herself or any other deity from here doesn’t exist there either.

I observed his expressions, waiting for any sign that would make me give up. But there was nothing, he seemed to be accepting all of this well, he just waited for me to continue until I got to the point of it all, the secret that I was so afraid to reveal. When he realized that I wasn’t continuing, he decided to say something to calm me down.

— I don’t think that’s crazy, if you want to know. For someone who has traveled through time several times, divided the timeline into three, is the reincarnation of a hero’s spirit and fought the demon king himself, a different reality isn’t that absurd. – He said, trying to comfort me and making me laugh softly in a tearful voice.

— That’s not the big problem, yet. – I sighed, mentally preparing myself for this, and continued. – In my old life, the world was full of technology, after all, we didn’t have any magic to help us. Among these technologies, there was something called video games, games, made to entertain people, telling stories, giving challenges, it was a type of thing that we saw on a screen like the one on the Sheikah slate in Wild and controlled characters with controllers, for fun. And for everyone that’s what it was, games, just that, just stories invented to entertain us.

It was clear he didn’t understand the point of it all, but he remained silent as I continued to explain, trying as best I could to make it all make some sense to him.

— I played several of these games, I loved them, but my favorites were a series of games with a particular story, one that seemed to be complete among them, even though it was possible to play them separately. These games told your story, Link. Yours and the others. Each of you had at least one game of your own, which I played and got to know all of your heroic adventures, from your point of view, I learned things, secrets, that you never told anyone. Not just me, but thousands of other people too. – I stopped, feeling my breathing become nervously uneven. I sighed and continued, not daring to look him in the eyes. – I didn’t know, I had no idea that it was all real. That was so common to me, so everyday, as common as reading a book around here. I didn’t know that everything was real, I didn’t know that you existed, I had no idea who was invading your space, and I definitely didn’t imagine that one day I would meet you! Me- I’m sorry, I acted like they were strangers to me when I knew so many things I shouldn’t have. I acted like I didn’t understand what was happening when I experienced everything from the comfort of my home. It took me a few years to understand everything and come to terms with it when I reincarnated, that everything I played was a fact, and when I did I felt bad about it, but I didn’t think it would go any further. I never thought I would meet them, much less that they would end up becoming such important people to me, to whom I would end up lying like a traitor!

I was already in a state of aesthetic crying again, the hero’s grip tightened around me, bringing me even closer to his body, letting me cry into his chest while rubbing my back in comfort. Even after that, even after I told him all these things, he was still worried about me, about how I was feeling. He should be furious, for being seen as just a story, for being a game, for not telling him. But no, he didn’t show any of that, at least not now.

— Hey, look at me. – His voice was soft as he gently held my chin and lifted it so I could look him in the eyes, but I looked away, unable to bear the weight of the guilt. He just wiped away the tears that were running down his face. – It’s okay, I believe you. I really do. And I’m not mad.

— You’re not? – I couldn’t be more perplexed.

— Of course not, dear. You’re not to blame for anything in this story. It would be the same as blaming someone for reading a book, wouldn’t it? To you, we were just characters like so many others, just like the ones in books I’ve read, and who’s to say they’re not real too? Maybe they’re in another reality, if this happened to you it can happen to anyone, and that doesn’t make you a bad person. – His words hit me like a wave of relief and doubt at the same time, making me cry horribly more, but this time, my crying was much more associated with how relieved I was by this reaction coming from him.

— But I kept this secret, shouldn’t you be mad at me for it? – Of course I didn’t want him to be, but I had to be sure.

— No, I understand you, in your situation I might never tell anyone. You were brave and selfless, you had your home destroyed, you were forced to join us, knowing full well what our enemy is capable of. You didn’t use any of your knowledge against us and you were always empathetic. That in itself shows what a good person you are. – Even with those words that warmed my heart, I still felt guilty. – You made the best choice, I don’t think it would have been wise to tell you this when we first met, and it’s totally fair that you were afraid. Please, don’t blame yourself.

— Link, I’m so sorry... – His look was enough to make me stop with that sentence, I was blaming myself again. – But I want you to know that you are all very special to me, and that was the reason I avoided telling you the truth so much. I don’t know what I would do if they hated me, but I couldn’t blame them. But I don’t know if I’m ready to tell others either.

— I understand, you don’t have to, not now. I also think it’s better to wait, we have other things to deal with now. I don’t think they’ll react badly, but it’s a lot to process, and right now I’d prefer for them to focus on the mission. – He ran his hand through my hair as he spoke, trying to calm the rest of the crying that was still left. – Don’t worry about them getting upset about keeping this to yourself either, I’ll tell them it was my idea.

That was good enough for me, I was able to calm down and think better about it all. In the end, I think I should thank that shadow for something, if it weren’t for his threat maybe I would have taken much longer to reveal this and things could have been much worse. I’m grateful to have Time’s support now, a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I wouldn’t be able to show him my gratitude with words, but maybe with actions it will become easier. I grabbed the big man in a tight hug. It was a little difficult, he was quite big to hug, but man, what a good hug. He wrapped his arms around my back, returning the hug warmly.

— Thank you, really. I don’t know what I would do without you. – My voice was muffled because my face was against his body.

— It’s okay, honey, I’m here, and I’ll make sure that shadow doesn’t hurt you, ever again. – I felt his grip tighten, protectively. – So, you’re technically older mentally than physically, right?

— Hm? Oh, well, yes, I must be twice as old mentally. Why?

— Nothing, I was just curious, but that kind of makes sense. – He said, laughing softly. – Now, you should sleep.

— Oh, I’m exhausted. I don’t know how I’m saying it yet. But I can’t...

— Yes, you can, don’t worry about it, I’ll stay here with you, I won’t let anything happen, and I’ll wake you up if you have another nightmare. – He said, pushing me away so he could look me in the eyes.

— What? But then you won’t get any rest! – I complained, I’m not willing to rest at the expense of others.

— It’s okay, seriously. I’m used to it, and I can sleep in the morning, it’s good to enjoy it while we’re still in Skyloft.

I sighed, too tired to argue with this. The empathetic part of my brain said it wasn’t right, but everything else was begging for a long nap. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all, at least I was willing to give it a try. Before I could agree, Time picked me up with impressive ease and stood up, able to put me down on the bed properly for the night.

— Hey, what’s up? It wasn’t necessary.

— Yeah, it wasn’t necessary, but I wanted to.

Sometimes this grown man could be very childish when he wanted to be. I like that. He laid me down on the bed and covered me with the blanket, pulling the armchair in the room closer so he could stay there during the night. He kept only a flickering light from the lamp on, so he could continue reading a book and avoid accidentally falling asleep. Then he finally approached me, placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

— Good night, my dear, have sweet dreams and rest. I’m here for you.

With that, it didn’t take long for me to lose consciousness and fall into the dream world I had been waiting for, dreaming, for some reason, of muscular blonds who carry me in their arms wherever I want to go.

[bobfloydsbabe]

I didn't think it was possible to love this more, but then you added all these little details that made me so invested in them and their story. So, here's an incomplete list of things I absolutely adored about this chapter:

❋ I highly recommend reading this chapter while listening to the Tailspin playlist. Hey Mickey came on right as Caro showed up in the chapter.

❋ A wild Payback appearing and a subtle reference to his callsign in terms of him collecting his winnings on the bet. We love a subtle detail in this house. And Payback.

❋ Fanboy's relationship with Penny, and their easy interactions. She may be done with the song, but she's rooting for Mickey and Caro. There's no doubt about it.

❋ Caro accepting that she's getting thrown overboard, even though my Scandi ass was clutching her pearls and freaking out at the thought. Caro just steps into his arms like it's nothing.

❋ Mickey getting distracted while carrying Caro, having to think about generic and ordinary things to distract himself, but then being too distracted and almost running into a door. What a dork.

❋ THEIR BANTER IS EVERYTHING. The back and forth between them feels so real and genuine, and exactly what two smart people trying to get to know each other should feel like. I adore them.

❋ THE CHAPEL IN VEGAS. WANTING TO KISS HER. WANTING TO HOLD HER HAND. Stop, I'm soft. He's a sap of the highest order, and I love him so much it hurts.

❋ Mickey admitting that he lowkey cheated by asking her friends, and that he even had to play darts with one of them to get them to relent. Smart man.

❋ YOUR HONOR, THEY'RE IN LOVE.

Anna, your writing never ceases to amaze me. The way you add little details, subtle references, and play with what the reader knows and doesn't know. I could see all of it play out like a movie, and I'm so excited to find out what happens next.

In conclusion:

Tailspin - Part 3 (Fanboy Garcia x F!OC)

SUMMARY ››››› Having grown up just across the bridge from North Island, Carolina Alvarez has been told her whole life to stay away from the Top Gun boys. And for the most part, she has. That is, until Fanboy catches her putting quarters in the jukebox at The Hard Deck and initiates a game of cat and mouse that ends with her exactly where she swore she’d never be.

PAIRING ››››› Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x F!OC

WORD COUNT ››››› 5,474

WARNINGS ››››› None

A/N ››››› Wow this took forever to figure out. But here it is! Also, yes, this takes place two years before Penny buys the Hard Deck, but in my head, she works there before she buys it from the previous owner.

It was entirely possible that the whole Top Gun class would be banned from The Hard Deck by the end of the week.

Or murdered, if the look on Penny's face was any indication.

The bartender stormed out from her station behind the bar, crossing the room in long, purposeful strides. She looked every bit like an Admiral herself, ready to ream out a young officer for a fly-by.

A hand came down on Fanboy's shoulder, diverting the WSO's attention from Penny's warpath and onto his friend who offered a smile that somehow managed to be equal parts amusement and sympathy. "Good luck," Payback said, his eyes flicking from Fanboy's face back to Penny.

The woman stooped down, yanking out the jukebox's cord and cutting off Van Morrison mid-lyric. The resulting quiet was short lived as the bar filled with cheers and applause from the other patrons.

"The next idiot to play that song is getting thrown overboard," Penny announced, prompting the applause to swell once more in agreement with the order.

Payback raised his eyebrows before turning back to Fanboy. "You're gonna need it."

Fanboy nodded in agreement. He was definitely going to get banned if she didn't show up by tomorrow.

The pilot patted the backseater's shoulder before heading off towards the doors to rejoin the rest of the aviators headed back to base, leaving Fanboy alone at the Hard Deck once more.

As much as he wished Columbus or Payback had stuck around a bit longer, he wasn't exactly sorry to see the rest of the class go. Three straight nights of Ripley and Beaker ripping into him for "pining over that jukebox girl" was enough to have him at the edge of his patience. He was just as relieved as everyone else to hear Blondie singing when the jukebox whirred back to life.

"So you're aware, that rule goes for tomorrow night too."

Fanboy whipped around to face Penny, finding her standing just behind him with a finger pointed threateningly at him. "And if I do have to hear "Brown-Eyed Girl" again, you're buying everyone a round."

"Fair enough," Fanboy conceded, offering a good-natured smile.

"Good," Penny said, lowering her finger. She didn't move though. Instead, she fixed him with a stern look, as if that would help the warning to sink in and take hold. It reminded him a lot of the look his mother had when she'd catch him reading his comic books after bedtime, coupled with a threat to take them away..

Penny's stare didn't stay as long, the bartender finally relenting with a jerk of her head towards the bar. Fanboy slipped from his seat at the high top, gathering up his friend's abandoned beer bottles before following Penny toward the bar.

"You know," he started, placing the bottles down in front of what had become his usual spot over the past three nights. "I'll even help throw them overboard."

"You'd better," Penny huffed, tossing the bottles a couple at a time into the recycling where they crashed with the others already there. "It's your fault I'm losing my mind."

"If I could control Beaker, I'd be a Captain by now," Fanboy reasoned, smiling appealingly at Penny. The bartender shook her head, throwing the last of the bottles into the bin before heading over to the fridge.

"You know damn well, they only play that song because you keep responding to it," she rebutted, pulling out a new beer for him.

He acknowledged the truth of this with a sheepish smile and tilt of his head. She was right that they only did it to get a reaction out of him, but he couldn't help it. Every time the beginning guitar riff started, his heart stuttered with the possibility that it could be her. None of the other aviators, or even Penny, had experienced the warmth of her smile directed solely at them as some oldies song played in the background like a moment straight out of a movie. If they had, maybe they wouldn't be on him as much as they were.

"It's only Tuesday," Fanboy shrugged as Penny set the beer down in front of him. "I'll start to give up hope on Friday."

"God willing she shows up before then," Penny muttered as she removed the bottle cap, water vapor curling up and out of the neck as the piece of metal clinked down onto the bar.

"She will." The words were out before Penny could even pick up the cap from the bar. She paused, looking up at him with a single skeptical eyebrow raised.

"She will?" Penny repeated, not even bothering to keep the doubt contained to her face. It sept through every syllable, prompting Fanboy to widen his smile as he nodded. He opted not to admit that if she didn't come by Thursday, she probably wasn't coming at all.

He'd worked it out in the spare moments between the drills and lectures and debriefings that filled most of his time in Fightertown. He'd reviewed all of the details from their too short encounter on Friday: from the look of wonder on her face while scrolling through the song catalog, to the subtle upturn of her lips when she spoke about her friends, to the glint her eye as she set up their agreement before slipping into her Uber. He'd turned over her statement that she didn't talk to naval aviators and her friends' confirmation of her stance. He'd considered every possible scenario of how this week could turn out and all with the same precision he brought to analyzing a mission.

"She'll show up," he affirmed. "And some of the pilots are going to lose a lot of money when she does."

The skepticism faded from Penny's face, replaced with a resigned disappointment. "Really? It's a bet?"

Fanboy shrugged. "They bet on everything," he remarked. "I just hope I get to watch when Payback collects his winnings."

This seemed to mollify Penny as she simply shook her head with a slight smile before catching sight of a customer attempting to flag her down from the other side of the bar. "I hope you're right," she said to Fanboy, patting the bartop in front of him before heading over to help the other customer. Fanboy grinned to himself, taking a sip of his beer as his eyes drifted to the closed front doors.

They remained closed, for the most part.

Over the next few hours, the only time the front doors opened was to usher patrons back into the outside world, the already light Tuesday night crowd growing thinner and thinner as last call ticked closer. It was looking increasingly likely that Fanboy would be helping Penny close down the Hard Deck again tonight. A prospect which Penny did not seem ready to resign herself to.

"I don't suppose you have a picture?" she asked, stopping in front of Fanboy with her hands on her hips.

"A picture?" he repeated back, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Of the girl," Penny clarified. "So I can give you a call if she comes in."

Fanboy raised his eyebrows at the bartender, a grin forming on his face. "Trying to get rid of me?"

Penny offered a half-smile as she leaned down on her elbows. "You're too young to be spending your nights here waiting on some girl you hardly know and who may not even show up," she said a little too kindly. "Go downtown. Find someone who actually wants to give you her number. I'm sure there are plenty of girls out there looking for someone just like you."

There were.

Over the past few days, he'd waved off more than a few girls and their offers of drinks or feigned interest in his work as a WSO. His dismissals had sparked criticism from the other pilots and almost indignation from Ripley.

"Top Gun is made for flings," his front-seater scolded. "It's thirteen weeks where you can get your dick wet before heading back to the carrier and your left hand. Stop wasting it on some girl."

The others had agreed with Ripley, Beaker chiming in with his support saying, "Dude, you have got to start seeing what's in front of you."

But if Fanboy only focused on what was and didn't consider what could be, his frontseater would probably be dead instead of here at Top Gun, leading the charge in making Fanboy's life hell.

Only Payback had had Fanboy's back, pointing out how odd it was that Ripley was so focused on Fanboy getting laid instead of finding someone himself.

Fanboy had a feeling that saying the same thing to Penny would get him banned sooner rather than later. Instead, he offered her a shrug. "There are, but I want to see about this one first."

Her half-smile bloomed into a full one even as she shook her head at him. "You're a good one, Fanboy."

"Th-" The word died on his lips as the all-too familiar guitar line picked up, raising a chorus of accompanying groans.

"Jesus Christ," Penny swore, pushing herself away from the bar and towards the bell, giving the rope five sharp tugs. The grumbling amongst the patrons shifted, changing into cheers.

Fanboy spun in his seat to see who had come back to harass him, and his heart jumped in his chest.

Caro.

He couldn't believe he'd missed her entrance. She stood out like a beacon with her bright red top and jeans compared to the working uniforms of the men who slowly made their way to where she stood.

Fanboy turned to Penny, finding the bartender stood with her arms crossed and an amused look on her face. "That's her, isn't it?" she asked.

He nodded.

Penny smirked. "If I were you, I'd hurry over then."

"She didn't know..." he started to appeal, but she stopped him with a shake of her head, her smirk widening.

"Rules are rules."

Fanboy hung his head, but he couldn't stop his own smile from his face. She was here. She came. Before Friday. "Ring me out?" He asked, looking back up at Penny.

She nodded, turning to the POS system as Fanboy left his seat and his beer, making his way over to Caro. She seemed to have taken notice of the officers hovering around her and based on the look on her face was growing increasingly apprehensive.

"I got this one," Fanboy said, arriving at the jukebox.

The attention turned from Caro to him, but he couldn't find it in him to care. Instead, his eyes were locked with Caro's, and he watched as her shoulders lowered half an inch at the sight of him.

"Mickey," she breathed.

"You came," he said.

"I came," she nodded.

The other patrons around seemed to catch on to the shift in the atmosphere, nodding at him before moving back to their seats. Caro watched them leave, confusion tugging down her lips into a frown before she turned back to Fanboy.

"What was that about?"

He gestured towards the jukebox. "There may or may not be a ban on that song."

Her eyes narrowed immediately. "Since Friday?"

He nodded. "I'll explain outside."

"Outside?" Caro repeated, disbelieving. "Why?"

His grin turned sheepish. In all of the scenarios he considered, kicking Caro out of the Hard Deck hadn't even crossed his mind. And he'd entertained one course of action that led to them driving down to a Vegas chapel. "You're being thrown overboard."

"I'm what?" Caro blanched.

This was not going to go over well.

"Going overboard," he said. "Penny's kicking you out."

"Because I played a banned song?" Caro asked, looking around the room. From behind the bar, Penny offered a wave goodbye and a sympathetic smile.

Caro paused and despite her impassive face, he could see thoughts racing through her head. He'd be lucky if she didn't just get in her car and leave.

"I promise, I'll explain," he pressed. "And it's going to give you some excellent material to make fun of me with."

"It better," Caro said, shaking her head as she started walking towards the door.

"Rules are rules," Penny called out, and Fanboy stopped Caro with a light hand on her arm.

"What, has the Navy banned walking too?" Caro asked, sounding completely exasperated.

He grimaced. "Part of going overboard is that you have to be thrown overboard."

"You're kidding," she said flatly.

He shook his head.

Caro stared at him blankly, time stretching on as she waited for him to break under her stare. When he didn't, she sighed, stepping forward.

"Don't drop me," she ordered, stepping into his waiting arms and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He scooped her up easily, reveling in the small gasp that escaped her.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he assured her, looking down into Caro's face.

She broke eye contact first, readjusting her hands clasped around his neck, and a small thrill shot through Fanboy at the reaction.

He started out of the Hard Deck, passing by a smiling Penny on his way towards the front door.

It was difficult to keep his mind focused on figuring out how he could explain this to her in a way that didn't send her racing for her car. Instead, his mind kept slipping to how soft she was and how perfectly she fit in his arms. He had to focus on keeping his hands in the right places and not how she smelled like vanilla or how if he looked down at the right angle he could probably see–

Boot camp.

Punching out of a plane.

Watching Spock—

"Mickey!" Caro exclaimed, holding out a hand to push open the door he had almost run them into. He muttered an apology as she kept it open with the tips of her fingers so it didn't swing back in his face.

He stopped just outside of the door, leaning down to deposit her on her feet.

Caro found her footing again with a hand on his shoulder, using it for support as she straightened up. "So," she started, turning to face him with arms folded across her chest. "What did you do to get that song banned in four days?"

"You might be impressed to know that it only took three days of excessive playing for the song to get banned," Fanboy answered. "I wasn't here on Saturday."

"Oh," Caro said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "I'm very impressed."

"Thought you might be," Fanboy grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Caro shook her head, something like a smile ghosting across her lips before fading. "Did you think if you played it enough I'd just appear like Beetlejuice?"

"Didn't you?" he asked. Caro opened and shut her mouth again before he decided to save her. "No, uh, my friends played it a lot to mess with me for waiting here all night. Every night."

Caro looked surprised. "Every night?" She repeated.

He nodded, offering another shrug. "Didn't want to miss you."

"That's…" she trailed off, and his stomach tightened, hoping for her to end the sentence with "romantic" or "clever" or even "cheating." Instead, she decided on "Pretty desperate." But her eyes crinkled at the edges, and rather than it coming out as an accusation, there was a fondness to her voice.

Fanboy tipped his head in her direction as an acceptance of the charge. "According to my friends, it's incredibly desperate."

This was what earned him a laugh from Caro, the sound bubbling out of her and causing a warm feeling to blossom in his chest.

"It worked, though," he asserted. "I mean, if it wasn't the Beetlejuice thing."

Caro shook her head at him, the smile still remaining on her face. "Well, it's good to know you're not the type of guy to be hanging out at a bar on a Tuesday night an hour from close."

Fanboy whistled at her, shaking his head. "That's pretty judgmental coming from the girl who just got thrown out of a bar on a Tuesday night an hour from close."

Caro's mouth hung open for a second before she pushed at his chest. "That was entirely your fault."

Fanboy laughed, holding a hand over the part of his chest that she'd shoved. "If you'd just come on Sunday we'd both be inside, and you'd be having your one drink."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. "Well, since I can't get my drink, I think I might as well go home."

"Or," he started, taking a step towards her, a part of him relaxing when she didn't step backwards to reassert the space. "We could go somewhere else to get a drink."

She shook her head. "I'm pretty sure this is a sign I should stay out of bars tonight. When I get in my car, I'm going home."

"Then don't get in your car."

It came out faster than he intended, slipping from his lips easily and without much thought. All he knew was that he couldn't let her slip through his fingers.

Caro raised her eyebrow and opened her mouth, probably to remind him that she wasn't about to get into the car with a strange man desperate enough for a chance with her that he spent the last three nights waiting alone at a bar for on the off chance she'd show up. Before she could tell him any of this, he spoke again. "Take a walk on the beach with me."

She raised her eyebrows. "That wasn't the deal."

"No," he agreed. "But it's nice out, and you're already here."

Her eyes moved from his face to the beach. "You're not going to get me kicked off the beach are you?"

He grinned and shook his head. "No."

She nodded twice, thoughtfully. "Alright," she agreed. "A short walk."

"Do I get to decide what counts as short?"

"No," she snorted. .

"Will you at least hold my hand?" Fanboy asked, extending an open palm to her, ready for her to entwine her fingers with his.

"We're not holding hands," she said, a smile quirking her lips. She gave his hand a small high-five as she brushed past him, starting towards the path to the beach.

Fanboy stared after her, frozen in place for a moment as he watched her go, a blend of cool moonlight and warm patio lights illuminating her figure against the darkness. She seemed to sense his eyes on her, and maybe just that he wasn't following, because she paused and looked over her shoulder.

"Change your mind?" She asked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

The question spurred him into action, and he started after her, pulling at his boots' laces as he went and then hopping as he tugged off his shoes and socks, desperate to be by her side as quickly as possible. She waited for him, watching the spectacle but saying nothing, even when he rejoined her.

The pair walked down to the water's edge in companionable silence, the night air cool on their skin. The beach was largely empty, only a few couples dotting the sand here and there. Fanboy was careful not to pay too close attention to what they were doing, instead keeping his eyes on the girl beside him. The girl he wasn't sure would come despite what he said to the rest of the Top Gun candidates and Penny.

"I'm glad you came," Mickey said, his voice coming out softer than he was entirely proud of. She didn't seem to mind, offering him a gentle smile and shrug, her dark hair falling off her shoulders and down her back.

"We shook on it."

He could have kissed her then.

He could picture it so clearly in his head, reaching out to tug on her hand so she turned back into him, only so he could tilt her head back and press his lips to hers. They would move together in the same gentle rhythm of the waves washing over the shore, and it would be perfect.

He could have kissed her, and he would have, if he wasn't dead certain that if he did he'd probably lose her. And she'd probably slap the shit out of him before she went.

She seemed to notice the awe on his face and misinterpret it as something else. "I'm a bit offended you think I'm the kind of person who doesn't follow through with her agreements."

"No," Fanboy said, shaking his head quickly, breaking eye contact with her to look back ahead. "I just thought you were the kind of person who doesn't talk to naval aviators."

She hesitated for the briefest of seconds before dismissing the remark with a shrug. "I'm not. I just really didn't think you'd be waiting here every night. What did you even do?"

He shrugged. "My friends were here part of the time. The rest I mostly spent talking to Penny."

"The bartender," Caro remembered, and he nodded. "About what?"

"Yours and mine's deal, what it's like for her working at the bar, Star Trek," he said, shrugging.

"Star Trek?" Caro repeated with a laugh.

He nodded. "I've been a fan since I was little. It's why I wanted to fly," he explained. "And join the Navy."

"I didn't think Star Trek was about the Navy," Caro said, eyes focused down the beach.

"It's not," he shook his head. "The characters are part of Starfleet which is kind of like the UN's peacekeeping forces meets space Navy but for exploration and diplomacy."

"Two things that militaries have historically handled extremely well," Caro snarked.

"That's the thing," Fanboy pressed. "The show shows what could be. It teaches us why we need to value diversity and—stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Caro asked, before pressing her lips tightly back together.

"Like you're trying not to laugh at me," he said, bumping her shoulder with his.

"I just didn't think you'd be such a nerd," Caro defended, bumping his shoulder back.

"You say nerd. I say fan," Fanboy protested. He couldn't help but notice that the distance between them had closed some, the space small enough for him to reach out a finger and hook it with hers. He resisted the temptation.

"Anyway, it's how I got my callsign: Fanboy."

Caro burst out laughing, and Fanboy raised his eyebrows at her. "What?!" he asked in mock defense, a smile taking over his face.

"I can't decide if Fanboy or Mickey is worse."

He laughed then, and Caro grinned back at him.

"Alright then, tell me something I can make fun of you for," he charged.

She shook her head at him and shrugged. "Unfortunately for you, I don't really have anything you can make fun of me for."

"Nothing," he said, disbelieving.

"Nope," she answered, popping the p.

"Are you a good dancer?"

She looked up at him with a smile. "I'm a really good dancer."

"Do you have a boring job?"

"I don't have a job," she shrugged. "I just graduated USD and my cert program doesn't start until September."

"Your cert program?" he repeated, and she nodded.

"I'm going to school to become a chiropractor."

"So you're a future doctor who's a really good dancer and also extremely beautiful."

"Yeah," she nodded, beaming up at him.

The urge to kiss her rose up in him again, but he pushed it back down, instead reaching out to loosely tangle his fingers with hers before pulling his hand back to his side.

"Well, what made you want to be a chiropractor?

"Have you ever seen the TV show Bones?"

"You're really funny."

Caro shrugged. "I know."

The two continued along the beach for a moment more in silence before Caro spoke again. "I just think the spine's really interesting–how it coordinates so much of what happens in the body. I just think it's underrated. Like people know it's important, but so few people actually care for it until suddenly they have back problems or get in a car accident."

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

Instead, she offered him a sheepish smile "I totally just have you something to make fun of me with, didn't I?"

"No," he shook his head. "It's a good point."

"Really?" Caro raised an eyebrow. "Because I think I just said that the spine was underrated."

He cracked a smile and shrugged. "Maybe I just think you're right."

The conversation wound from there, Fanboy sharing some of his other interests much to Caro's delight and teasing. Caro continued to amaze him, with her wit and insight and stories of musical festivals and time as a yoga instructor.

It almost felt like no time had passed by the time he finally looked at his phone and realized he had to wake up in five hours.

"So," Fanboy started, prompting a smile from Caro. He wouldn't be surprised if she already knew the question he was about to ask. "This rule about not dating naval aviators…how firm is it?"

"Pretty firm," Caro affirmed, nodding her head.

"Bad experience?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I just live too close to base for there to be any mystique. I've seen this story play out too many times."

"You've seen our story play out?" He asked, brows raised in amusement. "You should have mentioned you were psychic."

Caro stared at him, unimpressed, but he pressed on. "How does it go?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes with a shrug. "You go through Top Gun and split your scraps of free time between me and your friends, but somehow I still end up too attached. After your program's up, you go back to wherever it was you're from or maybe off on some assignment, and I'm left behind. If we're really stupid, we kid ourselves that we can do long distance, but that crashes and burns within a couple of months and ends with at least one person getting hurt."

She went silent after that, her face somber as the moment stretched out before she broke free of her thoughts and shrugged again. "The only way it works is casual and short and that's not for me."

"Definitely not," he agreed.

She shot him a quizzical look. "I can't tell if you're making fun of me or trying to agree with whatever I say so I break the rule."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "No, I just meant--you don't seem like the type to love 'em and leave 'em, and I can't see anyone spending five minutes with you and thinking they could shake you off as just a one night stand."

Whatever stormcloud had hovered over Caro while sharing the reasoning behind her rule seemed to dissipate, and instead she seemed amused by his analysis. "What about you?" Caro asked.

"After one night? I think it'd take at least a month to get you out of my system," Fanboy nodded. "Maybe two, depending on how good it was."

She laughed then, and he grinned, thankful for the sound.

"No, I meant, can you do casual and short? One night stands?"

He shrugged. "Not usually."

"Ohhh," Caro said, taking a step back to make a show of looking him up and down. "So you're the 'I don't usually do things like this' guy?" She laughed as accused him, and he couldn't help but laugh too, shaking his head and looking down at his feet.

"You are!" she exclaimed, coming closer once more to walk beside him.

"In my defense, it's true!" he defended.

"Mhmm," Caro hummed skeptically, bumping her shoulder against his. "Of course it is, Fanboy."

"It is," he insisted. "I'd much rather date you than just go back to your place."

He meant it, and he hoped that she could see it in his face. As much as he would enjoy a night in her bed, making her forget how ridiculous she found his names as she cried them out, it wouldn't be the same if he didn't get to wake up with her in his arms.

Caro flushed, looking off to the side and away from him, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Alright, well, you've still got your question and your guess for my number."

"So I have a chance?" Fanboy asked, tapping at the back of her hand with a finger.

"At getting my number," Caro responded, moving her hand away and offering him a coy look instead..

He bit his lip and nodded. "Ok. Fair enough."

The pair stopped at the bottom of the path up to the Hard Deck's parking lot, Fanboy narrowing his eyes in mock-assessment as he looked over Caro. He had thought about this moment too over the past few days, contemplating what question he would ask to confirm his guess. It had only taken a few hours and seven scratched out options in the margins of his notepad.

"Do you relate to the lyrics?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she stood in thought, and he wondered if the lyrics were running through her head right now in the same way that they filled his. He wondered if she was matching the same snippets of verses to herself that he had when pairing them up with memories and the facts she revealed about herself on their walk.

Finally a small smile turned up the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah," she said, and then nodded to herself. "I do."

Fanboy nodded too, waiting a beat and fighting the smile rising to the surface.

"You have a guess?" Caro asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I have the answer," he corrected and her eyebrows shot up as she ooohed at him playfully. "It's 'She Way Out' from The 1975."

Her jaw dropped.

But instead of the surprise or amusement that he had hoped for—or the throwing of herself into his arms that he had dreamed of—apprehension crossed her features.

"How did you—how did you know?"

All of the quips he's come up with about his strategy or cleverness or own psychic ability flew from him in the wake of her unease. Instead, he softened and admitted the truth: "I asked your friends after you left on Friday."

"They told you?!" she burst, indignantly.

"Sort of," he said, tilting his head back and forth. "One of them was going to, but then the other convinced her not to. She said I should at least put in some of the work."

"Sami," Caro breathed. He couldn't remember the girl's name, but Caro seemed so sure, he nodded.

"She gave me the band after I beat her in darts. And bought a couple of rounds."

Caro barked out a laugh at this.

"I looked them up, saw they only had one album and listened to it a few times. It's pretty good."

"It's incredible," Caro corrected. She continued to stare at him before shaking her head. "I can't believe you just listened to it and guessed."

"Well, I had the answers to my questions," Fanboy said. "But that one reminded me the most of you."

Caro started to say something, but he cut her off half-singing, "She said it's not about your body / It's just social implications are brought upon by this party that we're sitting in."

She blinked several times before finally quipping, "And here I was thinking you were about to call me intelligent or compliment my style." As she said this, she fished into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled napkin with purple writing on it and passing it to him.

She Way Out - The 1975

619 - 92 - 113

He looked up and grinned at her.

"I'm still not going to date you," she said, turning around and heading up to the gravel parking lot, Fanboy lightly jogging to catch up with her.

"Of course not."

"But since my friends are off starting their new lives and you're stuck here for a bit, maybe we can hang out."

"Sounds good," he nodded, walking with her over to her car. She pulled open the door, but before she could sit down, he leaned on top of the frame. "What are you doing Friday? Wanna hang out?"

"Text me," she said, offering a grin. "And we'll see."

[bunnieswithknives]

sorry if idk this but what do you think about Wordgirl now in 2024 do you still like it do you still want to make art or talk about it or are you just done with all of it forever and plus i seen that you haven't made art of it since 2022 so you just done with all of it oh yeah and what about The Magnus Archives + Wordgirl ao3 fic too like is that just going to be and i know that your working on 2 au's now just wanting to know that's all

My interests tend to come in intense bursts and then fade. Unless something like, big happens like it gets a reboot its unlikely I'll be coming back to it anytime soon. As for the fic I don't have any current plans to finish it unfortunately.

[potatobugz]

my reaction to the return of the gay sex book

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I think I accidentally made Wriothesley AuDHD. fuck

[minakoaiinos]

Like. Gay people no surprise in this series. But I love this panel bc there are a million different ways that this scenario could have been framed and Yana went with the gayest.

[lesbianyosano]

legitimately what the fuck was that

[akkivee]

the arb brand surprise for the 1️⃣🐴💉event was an unexploded bomb going off and helping ichiro’s senpai’s business out in the process, which truly is just ✨arb things✨ lol, but it reinforces the impact the war had on japan, as we see from jakurai’s homecoming conversation in the fpmtr➕ manga

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

did smth rly important for all of society to benefit from