#now my sister thinks i broke (bruised?) one of my ribs

[caffeinated-rat-bastard]

I have to stop telling lies when I'm bored

[theamityelf]

"Be still, don't move" + Makoto/Nagito

(Okay, I leaned pretty wholesome for the Kamuegi one, and I already have a hunch that this one is taking my brain in another direction, lol. If someone wants wholesome Komaegi, all you have to do is ask!)

...

Makoto woke to the sound of someone humming.

His whole body was sore– a soreness only interrupted by a few distinct points of sharp pain –but he could feel that he was in a pretty comfortable bed. As he worked his eyes open, he had to fight against the interference of crusted tears that seemed to momentarily cement them shut. Which told him that he'd been asleep for longer than normal.

"Ah. I thought my terrible singing might wake you up. Sorry about that."

He focused his gaze on the face hovering nearby. He felt the vague, niggling familiarity that meant he was supposed to remember that face. He'd recovered a lot of his school memories, with the Future Foundation's help, but some things took longer to come back than others. And surviving a helicopter crash didn't help.

Wait! The helicopter!

"I was just very excited to get to tend to your wounds, is all," the stranger (or non-stranger) continued. His tangled, white hair stuck out in so many directions, it seemed to defy gravity; a ratty, striped shirt hung loose on his narrow frame; and a peculiar radiance in his eyes spoke to an excitement that was triumphing soundly over a deep physical exhaustion. "Of course, for your sake, I wish you had someone a lot more competent to assist you. But for my own, well...I am of course more than glad to serve you any way I can." A pink flush filled his cheeks as he offered up a strangely enthusiastic smile.

Makoto shook his head, baffled beyond words. "Serve me? Where are we? Where's...?" He shut his eyes for a moment, focusing. "I was in a helicopter. The...The city was under attack, and my sister...My friends..."

"Wow! You're so selfless, for someone who broke his leg in a helicopter crash."

He noticed, then, that his knee had been crudely bandaged into a thick makeshift cast. "Broke my leg?"

"Well, I'm no doctor, so I suppose you can take my words with a few grains of salt. It might not be exactly broken, but...I wouldn't recommend trying to walk on it."

Oh, that was never in question.

"It's funny. Your sister isn't nearly this injured. Did you try to shield her with your body, or...are you just that unlucky?" He seemed to delight in the question.

"You saw my sister?! Where is she?"

The delighted expression sobered into an apologetic smile. "I’m sorry to say that she isn’t here. She was made a prisoner of the Warriors of Hope. Ah, sorry! I shouldn't use such an inapt title in front of you, of all people. But I was able to hide you away from them. Fortunately, this house’s previous owners no longer have need of it. Very lucky for us, don’t you think?"

The second reference to luck stirred something in Makoto's mind. A name was trying to rise to the surface, very slowly...But he couldn't focus on that right now. "Who are the Warriors of Hope? What do you mean, my sister is their prisoner? And...are we still in Towa City? How long was I asleep?" His voice cracked as it became too painful to support it; it felt like he might have at least one bruised rib.

The non-stranger laid a pacifying hand on him, smiling besottedly. "There's no need to strain yourself. The world's savior has more than earned a nice, comfy spectator seat for this round. It's someone else's responsibility to prove hope supreme, right now. It would be far too easy for you. Not worth your time."

"But you said my sister is someone's prisoner!" Makoto tried to sit up, but the pacifying hand turned restraining, guiding him back down to the bed. He couldn't try again; the pain that had flared in his ribs would have grounded him if the hand hadn't.

"Be still; don't move. Ahh, the pull to heroism that emanates from you...It's a good thing I'm here to serve you, or who knows what you'd get into. Haha, just imagining it almost makes me feel faint..." One of his hands grasped his opposite arm, whereas the other remained in his lap. The latter was covered by a thick-looking mitten. (It reminded Makoto of Mukuro's tattoo and Kyoko's scars.) He looked giddy, exultant, and it didn't make sense. It didn't go with the horrible things he'd said. Something was seriously wrong here!

A part of a memory came into focus. A part of a name. "Ko...Ko-something..."

The non-stranger froze, suddenly looking almost fearful.

"Isn't that your name?" Makoto asked. "I'm sorry, I still have trouble remembering some things..."

Kyoko and Byakuya both had warned against being too open about what he did and didn't remember. They said that telling anyone how unreliable the recovered memory sometimes was, risked informing enemies that they could pretend to be friends. He knew that he should be more careful, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this person was a friend, or close to a friend. Maybe...a fond acquaintance?

But the look of alarm on his face seemed to mean Makoto had made some kind of mistake. "There's no need to remember me! I'm nobody. I don't deserve to be named by someone as incredible as you. Oh, I certainly hope you haven't been wasting your mental energy on something so pointless. I wouldn't forgive myself!"

"Hey, it's okay," Makoto said. "Please, I just-" He winced. Yeah, too much talking for his poor ribs. "Just need you to explain," he whispered, "what's going on here. The city, my sister..."

Ko-something's face softened at the first sign of pain. He dabbed the sweat from Makoto's face with a cold rag, smiling dreamily all the while. "Poor hope. As I said, you're not allowed to be the hero for this round. Your sister is alive. The city is...well, it's certainly not thriving any longer, but it's not entirely defenseless, either. And you are perfectly safe here. I will use my every breath to ensure that, especially."

Makoto wanted to say something, but the throbbing in his ribs forced him to just focus on breathing, for now. There were so many things he needed to follow up on, with this person he had definitely known before. Why was there a chain around his neck? Why did he seem to know everything that was happening? What was happening? Where did he know him from? Was it from Hope's Peak? What did he mean when he said he didn't deserve to be named? And what did he mean by all that servant stuff? Why had he saved Makoto and not Komaru, if they had been in the same crash? If it was just Ko-something alone, it probably would have been impossible for him to carry two people at once...Most likely, he'd carried Makoto first, because he was so injured, and then he'd gone back for Komaru and found she'd been abducted by those Warriors of Hope people. That made sense, right?

And he still hadn't gotten an explanation about the Warriors of Hope. The name sounded friendly, but the assertion that they were keeping Komaru prisoner definitely didn't. Ko-something had said the title was inapt.

There was so much going on, and breathing hurt.

"My friends," he said weakly.

"They're both alive, too," Ko-something assured him sweetly. "Everyone is alright. They all have their parts to play. And you" (He wiped the cool rag over Makoto's lips, even though there definitely wasn't any sweat there. He did sometimes drool in his sleep; maybe some of that had dried on him?) "just have to enjoy your vacation. Consider me entirely at your disposal to make your stay here more comfortable. Unfortunately, I can't always be at your side; I do have another job. But I'll give you a way to call me, and I promise you I will always rush right over. Nothing over there is more important to me than you. Oh! And you can call me Servant." That smile seemed...really genuine.

Komaeda. That was his name. Komaeda. And...he was from Hope's Peak. Another class. Another...

"You're like me," Makoto realized. "Ultimate Lucky Student."

Komaeda's smile tensed into a rictus of...what looked bizarrely like shame? "You can call me Servant," he reiterated, almost desperately. "Or whatever else you'd like to call me. I can understand if you don't think someone as unworthy as me should be allowed to be called a servant to the Ultimate Hope himself."

"This is wrong....I...I just-"

"I'm privileged to be under the sound of your voice, but I think you should hold off on talking much right now. It's clearly taking a toll, and I wouldn't be a very good servant if I let you puncture a lung." He presented a bottle of medicine and poured a bit of it into the cap. Makoto noticed he held the bottle between his knees to open it, rather than using both hands; his covered hand still lay in his lap. But he did use that hand to hold the cap steady while he poured into it. "This should help with the pain and help you to get some real sleep. Here."

As Komaeda brought the medicine to Makoto's lips, he could just hear what Byakuya, Toko, or Hiro would say about accepting medicine from someone so suspicious. But...he was already at Komaeda's mercy in every other way. He couldn't move, couldn't leave. His hacking gun was nowhere to be seen, and he had no way of calling for help, at least for now. If Komaeda wanted to hurt him, why would he have gone to the trouble of bandaging him and...?

After only a moment's hesitation, Makoto parted his lips and took the medicine.

Komaeda's pupils dilated slightly. "Thank you for your trust," he breathed, maybe more exultantly than Makoto would have liked. "I swear, for all my filthy word is worth, that you will not regret it. I'll guard you with my worthless life, I'll keep you abreast of all the good news, I'll attend to your every need until my final breath. Of course, I mean, until the battle is won. Of course, I will return you to your friends once the danger has passed. Yes, of course."

The tone Komaeda used when he said "of course" reminded Makoto of the many times Komaru had dismissively said that she'd get to something "later" and then inevitably forgot.

"Komaeda?" he tried to say, but he found that his speech slurred on the way out. He blinked and found that his eyelids were heavy.

"Shhh," the upperclassman shushed him, with adoration in his eyes that didn't match the friendly but casual rapport Makoto remembered from school. "Don't fight it. As I said, my hope deserves a good rest. I'll be back with your dinner by the time you wake up. I'll...try to have something that's worth eating, heheh."

[defire]

Chapter 28: Striker Being Very Impolite

[this chapter canonically has a rape scene. For the nsfw version, you can find the full book on amazon, and this part on ao3. This version is a similarly intense alternative; content warnings below.]

Content: restraints, slapping, knife, HUMILIATION, belt whipping, forced to count, dissociation, hurt/comfort

"Wait, Enimee," Nife pleaded, "you're not going to leave me alone with--"

She was cut off by the slam of the door as Enimee did leave.

Striker was undoing his belt as he stepped closer to the already-injured girl huddled in the corner.

It had been a couple months since Nife even considered fighting back, given the damn tattoos. But Striker didn't have one. And whatever he was planning to do, she couldn't let him. She didn't like the grim look on his face as he pulled his belt off.

She tried once more to get up on her own, but the sting down her welted back when she tried made her crumple back with a small whine.

Striker wordlessly took her by a horn and yanked her back toward the middle of the room. She landed on her chest and his boot was planted lightly on her back, stopping her from getting up. Even that pressure was enough to make her whimper.

"You whip me with that belt, your sister will be angry," Nife said desperately. "They're not supposed to break my skin."

"Just your bones." Striker said, and Nife heard the buckle clink.

She shivered.

"I'll fight you." She said softly. "I'm not just your victim. And I can't tell you shit about the magic–agh!"

She broke off into a cry when he ground his heel into her bruised ribs.

Striker removed his foot and squatted down next to her, knee leaning onto her left shoulder just enough to threaten, without actually making the throbbing ache worse.

She felt a hand on the back of her head and winced, but nothing happened, and a stupid hope burst from her positive little heart, telling her that maybe, he wasn't going to hurt her at all. His hand patted lightly–no punching, no pulling.

"You brought this on yourself." He said.

"Okay, yay, I'm scared." Nife said in a monotone, but her voice trembled. "What part of 'I don't know' don't you understand?" She rasped, tasting floor dust that had gotten onto the side of her mouth. He was pushing her face gently into the floor as his fingers tangled in her hair with slowly-increasing pressure.

"Nife, I don't think you understand what is happening right now." He said. He reached over her and grabbed her right hand, pulling it behind her back despite her struggles. "I'm not trying to intimidate you."

"Well, you're failing." She let him press her wrist against the small of her back, knowing she wasn't even going to try to fight. She couldn't even stand, let alone throw a punch. Still, it made her hate herself a little more.

The belt clinked again and she felt it lightly tossed across her rear.

"Your lordship," Her voice hitched in a sob. "Please. I'll do whatever you want."

Except tell the truth about the magic.

"It's a little late for that." He said.

"What do you mean it's too late?" She struggled as her other wrist was crossed over the right one, pinned under his long fingers. "I'm scared! Okay? I'm scared. Just tell me what you want."

She could see him smile with her heat vision. It was a sickening grin. She realized he was stretching this out because he enjoyed it.

"Fuck you, just tell me what you want!" She said through a strangled sob. "I'll do whatever!"

"Like I said, this isn't intimidation." The belt eased under her wrists and got even tighter around them with a clink as the latch fell into place. "This is punishment."

His hands traced up her bruised sides, pressing in just enough to hurt. She held her breath so she didn't give him the satisfaction of a whimper of pain.

When he reached her shoulders, he gripped down on them like the way you grab a jar before unscrewing the lid--very fucking tight.

"I don't want you cursing now," He said into her ear, and she realized he was standing over her body, straddling her. "For every curse, there'll be another lash."

"Fantastic." She muttered. "I, lordship, I think they'll want–"

"This is about what I want." He said, gripped a little tighter, and flipped her over onto her back.

He got down on his knees, resting some weight on her stomach and making her nauseous. She watched his heat increase in his face and hands as he reached for her, and he was so hot by the time his fingers touched her temple that she expected him to rip her face off. They touched firmly, without causing harm.

"I don't want you speaking and distracting yourself from what I'm about to do." He said. "You're only allowed to say what I tell you to say. Do you understand?"

Nife could hardly make sense of the words. The weight on her stomach was pressing against the bruised rib on her back and it made all the words in her mind mix up. The nails pressed into her temple and she grimaced and turned her head, but he jabbed his thumb into her eye socket and dug in deeper.

"Do you understand?" He said, his voice even and calm, his face hot with rage.

"Yes–" She gritted out. "Sort of."

"That's two lashes."

"What–you asked me!"

"Six."

Nife bit her lip so she didn't curse and blinked a tear out of her eyes. Knowing Striker could see the pain face she was making in the lamplight didn't make her feel any better.

"Now do you understand?"

"...Yes." Nife guessed that was what he wanted to hear.

"You're missing something."

"Lordship." Nife said. She was almost grateful that he hadn't added a lash for that. It was infuriating to be grateful for that shit.

Striker leaned back, pressing into her stomach until she grunted. He eased up and scooted forward, knees on either side of her bound arms, and sat down higher on her chest, crushing her hands and the injured ribs. She wheezed out her air and nearly asked for mercy, but she was biting her lip to keep herself quiet.

"Is that better?"

"No, lordship."

"That's seven. Is it better?"

"F–" Nife bit her lip before she cursed at him. "Yes. Yes your lordship."

This fucking bastard wouldn't even let her use her mouth. Angry tears spilled out of her eyes as she tried not to sob under his oppressive weight.

He pulled out a knife.

"You Druids name yourselves when you turn thirteen, right?" Striker said calmly, placing the tip to her temple where he'd just been scratching.

"Yes. Lordship." Nife said in a monotone.

"You really like knives, then, don't you?"

"Yes lordship." 

He put the tip to her temple.

"Do you want it here?" He moved it to her mouth and tapped the hilt against her teeth through her lips, just hard enough to make them ache in her skull and she grunted and jerked away. 

"Eight."

Nife groaned wordlessly and a little sob came through her teeth. She was trying so hard not to cry. She couldn't break now.

"Here, or here?" He tapped the two places again, and this time she kept her face still. Before she could answer, he said, "I can either knock out a tooth with the hilt, or I can cut a nice little mark in your forehead. That one is much less painful. Yeah?"

"Yes lordship." She closed her eyes to roll them.

"Then you're going to sit up against the wall and let me. But the moment you struggle, I'll take one of your teeth. Understand?"

Nife licked her lips.

"Yes lordship."

"That's enough. No more talking." Striker got off her and she took a deeper breath.

He helpfully shoved her back onto her stomach with his foot and she wormed her way toward the wall. The effort to get herself up to the wall was so painful she almost wanted to give up and let him take a tooth. But she didn't. She was completely breathless and moaning by the time she got her back up against the wall.

All she heard in her head was her own voice saying "yes, lordship" over and over. Nothing funny, nothing clever, nothing to keep her sanity or remember who she was.

He knelt down over her legs and took her face in his hands, pressing her head back to the wall in a way that hardly let her breathe around his hand. He pressed the tip of the knife to her forehead and watched her flinch, then dug it across the edge of her forehead. She whimpered and hissed a breath through her teeth, forcing the noise down. Whatever he did, she wasn't going to scream. That would just get her more lashes anyway.

It must've been deep, because blood flowed and itched down the side of her head, into her eyebrow and over her eye, which she squinted to keep the blood out.

He leaned back, appraising her face.

"I expected you to mouth off already." He said thoughtfully. "You're so disgusting with blood running down your face. But don't worry. I don't mind getting my hands dirty." He slapped her, and a small smile flashed over his features before he hid it again.

She felt a flush coming to that side of her face, a stinging and tingling on top of everything else that was just very irritating. Maybe he wasn't planning on doing more than the whole... cutting, slapping, whipping thing. She could... maybe... handle that.

I can. She told herself. I can handle it.

She realized Striker was donning leather gloves; she'd seen him wear them before on horseback. She winced as he raised his hand, and again that tiny smirk twitched his mouth before he hid it again.

"I'm going to slap you." He said.

Yeah no shit.

"And every time I slap you, you're going to say, 'I am worthless'."

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, perhaps having momentarily forgotten what an absolute jackass he was. Well, now she was reminded.

"Go ahead. I'm waiting."

She opened her mouth to speak, but froze before the first word came out.

"Nine."

She licked her lips and gritted her teeth. Fuck it, it was just another lie. She lied all the time.

"I... am... worthless." She said, and her head ached for some reason.

He slapped her again.

She hesitated.

"Hm." The smile was more noticeable this time. "Perhaps you don't believe me?"

He reached back to the table and pulled something off it. A whip–a small one, maybe five feet long.

"Perhaps you think I'm afraid to hurt you?" He added. "My sister wants you to be miserable. I'm here with permission. Don't worry. I'm almost done."

Slap.

"I am worthless."

Slap.

"I'm worthless."

"That's eleven. I didn't tell you to say 'I'm', I told you to say 'I am'." And he slapped her again.

"I am worthless." Tears were running down both cheeks, and it wasn't from the slaps.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned mockingly, and hit her again. “It’s just a slap.”

“...I am worthless.” She said.

He kept going. Her face was swollen and stinging and numb all at once. She was sobbing every time he slapped her. She would sob hard and it would keep her from speaking, and then he'd add another lash to the tally. She was terrified. She almost wanted him to keep slapping her so that he never got to the whipping. Her head felt like it was sloshing against her skull now. The raised places from the slapping had bruises underneath.

"I am worthless." She slurred through swollen lips.

“And pathetic. And gross.” Striker looked at his bloody glove, rubbing sticky fingers together, and sniffed it as if to confirm.

He looked up at her, his mouth pressing itself against that cruel smile.

She braced for another slap, head against the wall, chin tucked, teeth clenched, tears drenching the sides of her face and shoulders.

He smiled briefly, stood up with a sigh, and removed the gloves. Then he took her by the hair and the beads and pulled her back onto her stomach. She winced as her cracked lips touched the cold boards. 

"Alright," He said rather enthusiastically. "Now, your twenty-one lashes."

"You're going to want to open your hands. Show your palms. Unless you want your fingers broken."

Or you could just not whip me. She thought. It took a force of willpower to open her hands, knowing how much more it would hurt to be hit across the palms. But no, she did not want her fingers broken, not when she knew she'd be forced to work even while injured.

Crack.

Her body lurched and she rotated sideways to protect her back. If only her hands were free, she could at least squeeze them over her mouth.

Crack.

"Count."

Crack. If only her hands were free, she could at least squeeze them over her mouth to keep from screaming. But she couldn't.

Crack. It hit her palm and her body jerked sideways, hand reflexively closing into a tight fist.

“You’d better count.”

Crack.

"Fuck you!" She screamed, breaking into sobs as the whip came down over and over. "Five!"

"Start over."

She groaned, melting into a series of loud sobs and screams. 

Crack. Crack. Crack. 

She wasn't coherent anymore. Nothing made sense, and she didn't want it to. She didn't want to say that she was worthless anymore, she didn't want to participate in the torture anymore. He'd get tired eventually.

She screamed and writhed, and he planted his foot on her calf to keep her from going further, no longer giving her orders. No longer anything but lashes coming down over and over, harder when she screamed. She became too tired to scream anymore, even though the pain only increased. It was like the cuff, but endless. It didn't stop after the torturer stopped. The cuts stayed and burned and layered on each other.

Finally she heard the whip toss on the floor–no, it was thrown, he was angry.

It still hurt, stung and burned and cut, everywhere. She felt sure she was bleeding; there were cold and hot places all over her legs and arms. At some point she'd rolled back enough that the lash had landed on the front of her thighs. One had caught her in the face and left a bloated welt on her jaw.

She tried to think. To remember who she was. Say something clever.

I am worthless.

That's all she could think. She'd said it herself. Why would she say that?

She couldn't think straight through the pain.

Finally he knelt again by her head.

"I want to hear one thing from you." He said in a soft tone. "One thing."

She closed her eyes and waited for him to finish, still out of breath from her struggles, and just from all the pain. Maybe he wanted to hear her scream one more time, but she wasn't going to give him that so easily.

"How did you stop the magic." He said. "You answer that question. If I hear anything else, I'll break a rib for every word. Understand?"

She could hardly think, but she knew she wasn't telling him that.

"Do you understand?" He repeated in a harder tone.

"Uhuh." She said hoarsely.

He pushed her sideways and took her chin in his hand, tilting her puffy face up toward his. He was backlit, golden eyes nearly black in his dark shadowed face. For a moment she felt like a piece of mud being observed by a prince.

"Answer the question." He snarled.

She panted, squinting at him, crying silently.

"You're not going to answer, are you." He said.

She swallowed and closed her eyes. She would take anything, rather than give up her chance at escape. She’d rather die.

"No." She whispered.

He stood up slowly and she braced herself. Eyes closed to watch him with her nightsight, she saw him bend forward a little like he was inspecting her body as she lay there, shuddering. She didn’t even have the strength to cringe. He moved one foot, and she braced for a kick. But nothing came. 

He picked up the whip and put it in his back pocket, hiding it with his coat.

He stepped softly toward the door, then paused, looking back at her on the floor, hands still bound by his belt.

He tilted his head at her, wearing the same expression Gaylord had when she said something clever, then he grimaced angrily.

“You will.” He said.

Then he opened the door and left her there, alone.

In a few minutes, Enimee returned. She silently freed Nife, shaking a little. Nife could tell, with a few furtive glances at the woman's face, that she was scared–likely scared of Striker, Nife thought. 

Once her arms were free, the girl curled up with her face away from Enimee, putting a hand over her swollen mouth. She didn’t want anyone to see her face.

"Are you... bleeding anywhere?" Enimee said.

"No." Nife lied, voice still hoarse and painful from screaming. She didn’t want to be touched or seen by this woman.

"Good." Enimee said. "Broken bones?"

"How should I know?" Nife snapped. "Is that why you're here? Make sure I can't fucking work for another–" She stopped short, feeling a scowl growing on Enimee's face.

"--I’m sorry!" She burst into tears, but she couldn’t even cry, it just sounded like a whine. She wanted to beg, but there was nothing left for that.

"You wanna try that one again?"

Nife groaned and dragged her body away from Enimee. The woman stepped toward her, then saw the state of Nife’s body a bit clearer as she moved out of the light. Nife felt her mouth open and close, then her shoulders drooped a little.

“Nife,” She said. “Broken bones.”

“My knee,” Nife cried. “And my rib.” 

“What makes you think they’re broken?”

“Because they hurt!” Nife wailed hoarsely. “Please… please…”

“Please what?”

Nife couldn’t–she didn’t know what to say, she’d already forgotten. She just wanted the pain to end.

Enimee was looking over her body, which trembled with exhaustion and agony. The swelling and blood on Nife’s face that she tried to cover by rolling out of the light. The girl was destroyed. They both knew it.

Enimee huffed and looked off to the side. She did that when she was deciding to "look the other way", Nife had noticed. 

"Here," Enimee said, shoving a glass bottle onto the table. "Take this, and... Rest up a bit. I'll throw in some bedding in a few. Back to work in the morning."

"I–I can't move." Nife squeaked.

How was she supposed to even get to the bottle from there on the floor? Let alone work tomorrow?

Enimee was already leaving.

"Do you hear me?” Nife groaned. “I can't move!"

Enimee was in the hall now, clearly pretending not to hear for Nife's own sake. Somehow rationality wasn't present anymore–hell, Nife herself wasn't present. She heard her own distant voice screeching in a rib-splitting cry, something stupid–something she'd immediately forget.

"Do you fucking hear anything?” Her voice broke and she pushed against the sobs that tried to overtake her body. Every movement made her back feel like it was being beaten with a hammer. 

Her words and groans reverberated down the hallway as the door slowly fell closed on its own. Nife listened for Enimee’s footsteps to turn, to come back. Because naturally, Nife should get the beating of a lifetime for that.

But there was nothing. Nife dropped her head back into the cold puddle of tears and bit her lips to keep from groaning anymore, whispering “Don’t. Don’t.” Over and over.

It had been about half an hour. The tolling of the hallway grandfather clocks told Nife that it was eight, time for the slaves' legally mandated rest time. Time that Enimee would probably be locking the slaves in their quarters.

Nife's door hadn't even been locked. Obviously Enimee understood exactly how fucked Nife was. That just made it worse that she expected Nife to blazing work tomorrow.

Her bruises were setting now, cuts failing to scab over. Her free hand hovered over the worst one on her other arm as she tried to focus her magic there. Apparently some people who had had near-death experiences could heal themselves using magic, but apparently none of Nife's marvelous adventures had equipped her for that. The blue line leading down toward the cuff flickered.

She reached an arm toward the table where Enimee had left the bottle and the whole other half of her body just gave out. She writhed on the floor, clenching her fists, feeling the warmth in the hand that had been struck by the whip. It still stung like mad.

She tried again. If she didn’t treat her wounds she’d get infected; she was probably already going to get sick. When she moved her legs, her knee ground sideways and she choked off a scream, hitting the ground and rolling onto her side.

With groans forcing their way down her raw throat, she almost didn't notice the warmth of a busty young woman making her way down the passage in her direction. She was only a few steps away when Nife recognized who she was–Iridiss.

The girl stepped in almost silently, lifting a finger to her lips as Nife looked up at her. Then Iridiss froze, looking at the indecisive way the heat was spreading over Nife's body. Nife could feel it too–concentrated in her back and the outsides of her arms and legs, but there were other injuries too. Iridiss could probably see all of them. Especially judging from the way her shoulders went limp and her face warmed behind the eyes in the shape of anger.

"Herdja hollerin way up in the kitchen." Was all she said.

Nife lowered her head to the ground again. She wanted to say something. Maybe a self-deprecating joke or something. But all that came out was a dog-like whine.

Iridiss came in and knelt down in front of Nife with a small sigh, which she did before she started a fresh task.

"It's dangerous." Nife said, finding her tongue swollen and her lips puffed partly open. Her friend could be seriously punished for being out here after dark.

"Not that dan'jrous." She shrugged, gently touching the top of Nife's head. It was one of the few places that wasn't blazing with pain. "Mind if I getcha lil cleaned up?"

"Gonna have to touch me?" Nife said with a broken voice.

It was supposed to be rhetorical.

"I'll be gentle, I promise."

Nife groaned weakly.

"There's a, uh," She licked her lips to make herself speak even though it hurt to even breathe. "A bottle. On the thing."

Since it was the only piece of furniture in the room, Iridiss didn't have to look far before she found it. She turned it around in her hands, blindly tracing the outside with her fingers. She couldn't read, but it wouldn't have mattered, because they didn't have any light.

"I know what this stuff is." She said after a pause. "Seen the bottle."

She opened it and dipped a finger in, sniffed and nodded. Then she sighed and reached for Nife's back without so much as asking. Nife tried not to recoil as she put whatever it was on the bruises.

Iridiss doesn’t know that I’m worthless. The thought came up by itself and she frowned. Ridiculous–that was just lies for Striker’s stupid sadist ego trip. She thought. I haven’t changed. I can make myself at least look like a human.

Iridiss touched the worst spot, a rib on Nife's right side, and Nife gasped and flinched away.

"Not there not there not there." She whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. More tears coursed down her cold cheeks.

"I know I know, but yer makin it worse." Iridiss said.

Nife nearly broke into sobbing again; the only thing stopping it was that she knew how much it would hurt to let it out. Instead she shuddered softly.

"Tell me what it's like bein a noble." Iridiss said. "Always wanted to be rich."

Nife knew she was trying to distract her. She didn't answer.

"Come on, Nife." Iridiss said, petting her hair. "You thinkin about the bruises makes em worse."

"If this is another old wives' tale..."

"'Ts a sayin for a reason, 's all I'm sayin." Iridiss shrugged and put the ointment on the worst place.

Nife flinched and dragged herself away.

"I said don’t.” She whispered. “So don’t.”

Iridiss's eyes immediately got hot but the rest went cold. She was sad and scared.

"I just... I just asked you not to..." Nife said.

"'M only tryna help." Iridiss said.

Nife rubbed tears away, and her hand came away bloody. She cursed under her breath. Then again, and again.

“I’ll blazing kill that bastard. Making me… That… Bastard.” 

Iridiss just sat there with the ointment jar on the floor and her hand held in an awkward pose like she was ready to spread it for Nife.

Nife turned her face away, covering it as well as she could.

There was a sniffle. Nife felt Iridiss wipe a tear away.

"Think yer alone, do ya?" Iridiss said. "Think you're the only one knows his lordship that well?"

"I should hope." Nife said softly.

"Yer not." Iridiss said.

Something about the coldness in Iridiss' tone felt strong. Nife wanted to ask her how she did it, and how she felt like she wasn't alone, but talking hurt so much right now.

"I was so happy when they bought me." She said. "Slave to a wealthy noble. Only dreamed of somethin that good."

Nife scooted back closer to Iridiss, who began spreading the ointment again.

"So 'magine my sprise when I wasn't good enough." She sighed. "Right?"

Nife nodded, digging her nails into her palms to keep from flinching away as Iridiss finished the bad ones on her leg.

"This one's a little broke, Nife." Iridiss' hand hovered over the worst place. "Imma fix it fer ya, right?"

"No–" Nife grunted. "You're not even a–"

"Doctor? You think they send'em for us?" Iridiss pulled back.

"How do you do it?" Nife said.

"Bandage it up tight fer the swellin."

Nife groaned.

"Not the damn bandage, the..." Nife swallowed and winced. "Lonliness."

"Oh, that." Iridiss said, pulling something out of her pants pocket. She'd actually brought a bandage. "I kinda don't. One a these days Imma kill myself, that's what keeps me goin." She laughed harshly, passing the bandage around Nife's torso and moving the beads. "I'm not really havin a fun time."

The bandage tightened with a yank that made Nife want to both puke and scream. Her breath wheezed out weakly instead.

"Sorry." Iridiss said. "Better all at a time, right?"

"You are not a doctor." Nife hissed.

Iridiss left her as softly as she had come after treating Nife as well as she could. She left the bottle on the floor so that it looked like Nife had been the one to use it.

Nife stayed face-down to keep off her back, periodically grimacing under waves of horrible aching. She liked focusing on it. That was so much better than the other thing.

She tried not to think about what would happen when the pain was gone.

First chapter: next chapter:

Taglist: @tildeathiwillwrite @mimostic @fleur-a-whump @a-n-j-a-maria @bamber344 per Tumblr's content policy, this is the non-nsfw version, but you can find the canon Dance of Death on Amazon and this chapter on ao3 (which I'm updating shabbily as fast as I can). Also if you want, it would mean so much to me if you leave a review or comment while you're there.

[dsireland86]

There is Beauty in the Pain Chapter 4 Pt.2

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey @an0mallly @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12@sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @thatamazingvampirestory

Noah: “She’s a wreck, Jolly. I don’t know how she’s managed a normal life with all the baggage she carries.” I was pacing the living room floor back and forth, hands on my hips, then to my hair, then to my jaw then back to my hips. “Dude, calm down before you become almost as wrecked as Sophie. She’s okay now; she’s safe. Relax.” Nicholas was right. I needed to relax. “I know, I know,” I agreed, flopping down on the couch next to him. Sighing, I ran my hands through my hair again and laid my head back. “You should see all the fucking bruising on her ribs and stomach. They stretch around her sides to her back.” I choked back sob, afraid to let the others know how affected I was by Sophie’s appearance, although I’m pretty sure they could already tell by the way I was acting. “Shit, that bad? He really fucked her up then,” Nick said, seeming to be seriously shocked. “Did you not think it was that bad?” I asked, my voice taut. “No, I knew it was that bad, I just, I don’t know, guessed it wasn’t that bad,” he confessed with a shrug as his brows drew together in concern. I turned my head away, laying it back down on the couch. “What a fucking mess,” I breathed, dragging my hands down my face. “It’ll be fine, Noah; Sophie will be fine. She’s got us now.” Glancing up at Jolly, I wished I could have his optimism, but I didn’t. My gut was telling me this was only going to get worse. 

Sophie: I was pulled from a deep sleep, awakened by the intense pain and pressure in my body. Even though I should've been used to it, I wasn’t. Healing sometimes hurt more than the actual abuse and it was those moments that always made me break down and close up into myself. But oddly enough, this time I didn’t feel the need to; I didn’t want to. Maybe it was because subconsciously I knew Noah was around and the idea somehow made things a little easier. But if there was anything I knew for sure from past experiences it was that laying around after being used as a human punching bag always made things worse. I needed to get up. Taking a deep breath, I used the muscles that were screaming at me not to to sit up and toss my legs over the side of the bed. I seethed in frustration, angry and disappointed with myself that all of this was a result of me not being strong enough to fight Perry off. I should have been. I should’ve been ready for him, no matter what. 

The quick, sudden breaths I took burned as they penetrated my lungs and I wished that the arms that held me last time were holding me now. For some unknown reason to me, I desperately wanted Noah; I needed him. “I can do this,” I told myself, taking short breaths through my nose and lifting myself up. I cried out softly, pushing through the pain, and the longer I stood and straightened myself, the more the pain subsided and I felt better. I exhaled with a sigh, looking around for the door.

“Dude, you have no idea what it’s like being up in the back with barely any light. I can’t see shit,” Folio laughed. “Wasn’t that how you hurt your knuckle that one show?” “Yeah, I wacked it with the fucking stick so hard I thought maybe I broke it.” Laughter rose from down below as I walked out into the dark, empty hallway. I was hesitant to leave the room, unsure if I was ready for anything; I wasn’t, but I had to at least try. I peered over the side of the wall and looked down, recognizing the three faces: laughing, passing popcorn, and watching Anime. But there was one face I didn't see. Where was Noah? My head raced with all kinds of negative thoughts about him and why he wasn’t here, none of which I knew were true. But that was how my anxiety worked in my head most of the time. It took a situation, made up shit, and ran with it. The end result was always horrible. Breathing deeply through my nose, I sat down with my back against the wall, fixing my mind on things I knew were fact; my name, my age, my phone number, things like that. Then I thought about the color of my eyes and my hair, then somehow switching over to the color of Noah’s hair and eyes both brown; a warm sort of brown like smooth chocolate. How was it that he kept finding his way into my thoughts every time I needed him? I scowled, trying to think about something else, but failed. Noah was it, the perfect distraction away from my anxiety attack and I swear at one point I felt the feeling of his arms around me. “Wishful thinking” I told myself. Getting up off the floor, I made the quick decision to return to the room. I wasn’t ready for all of this yet. I needed more time.

"Sophie!" I jumped, startled by the calling out of my name, looking down to see Jolly peering up at me. Shit. Before I could process anything the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs wrecked my plan as Jolly appeared, not even the slightest bit out of breath even though I was pretty sure he took the stairs two at a time. 

"Sophie, hi," Jolly greeted, his smile wide and bright. It was hard not to smile back at the tall, handsome Swede. Jolly had one of the sweetest smiles I’d ever seen and it made me feel less anxious. “Hey, Jolly,” I replied, only glancing at him before dropping my gaze. I didn’t know how my appearance looked, but from past experience, I knew it wasn’t pretty. “You’re up and walking around. That’s a good thing,” he expressed with a slight grin. I could tell Jolly was trying to be encouraging, “I guess so,” I replied. “How are you? Besides all of this,” he said, waving his hands around between us. I shrugged, not really having an answer. “Honestly?” “Of course,” he replied sympathetically. The evidence of my sadness became visible as a few single tears rolled down my cheeks. “I’m scared, Jolly. I have no idea what to do right now. I don’t know if I should stay, if I’m even allowed to stay, or if I should go home, assuming Perry isn’t there anymore.” The words kept rolling off my tongue as the anxiety in my chest rose, making me feel like I was starting to spin out of control again.

 “Okay, hey, hey, hey, listen to me, relax, Sweets, you’re okay,” Jolly asserted, pulling me into his arms carefully and stroking my hair. He pressed my head gently against his chest making me feel that safety and security I’d been longing for earlier, and even though he wasn’t Noah, he was a perfect substitute. I took some deep breaths while gripping the back of his shirt until I calmed down. “See, you’re okay,” Jolly repeated as he pulled away to look me in the eyes. I nodded, wiping my tears aways with the sleeves of Noah’s large hoodie I’d forgotten I was still wearing. “It’s a little big on you,” Jolly chuckled, eyeing the length of the hoodie that reached almost to my knees and the sleeves that protruded out way longer than my hands. I laughed, finally feeling calm and together. “I was cold.” “Sure you were, it’s okay. Noah won’t mind. You good?” I nodded, tucking some hair behind my ear. "Come on," he urged, holding out his hand to me and nodding towards the stairs. I was reluctant at first, but decided to trust Jolly despite my feelings. He tucked me snuggly into his side, wrapping his arm around my waist to safely secure me close to his body and led me down the stairs. "You still good?" he asked when we reached the bottom. I shot him a painful smile, clenching my teeth. “Yup.” "Liar," he chuckled. 

Walking into the living room, lots of eyes turned and looked at us. I lowered mine so I didn't have to look at them, knowing I couldn't handle the scrutiny. Jolly led me to a long, white sofa where Nicholas was sitting, and I sat down next to him, feeling very self conscious and nervous. Usually the day after, I would lay in bed and avoid the world, and try to process everything that happened, but this time that wasn’t an option. I was quickly realizing with these guys, I didn’t have very many options; and that was a good thing. 

“Hey beautiful,” Nick greeted, reaching over and placing his warm hand over mine. I shifted around, trying to get more comfortable while Jolly took the chair across from Nick. “Here,” Nick said, placing a pillow behind my back for support. “How’s that?” I sighed as I leaned back, feeling a hundred times better. “Better?” “Mmm hmm, much,” forcing a smile and sitting back with better ease. “You’re awake!” I looked up to see Folio coming out from the kitchen, holding another bowl of popcorn and wearing such a sweet smile that my heart skipped a beat. I returned the smile, quickly looking away out of self conscious fear. “Don’t worry, you’re still pretty,” he sweetly complimented, handing over the bowl still in his hands to Nick. Folio was a very easy going guy, never critical, never judging, just understanding and supportive. He reminded me of an oak tree; dependable, resilient, and strong. He took a seat next to me, our shoulders pressed together, and at first he just sat there with me with no interest at all in talking. Then he reached over and took my hand and placed it between his. They were slightly cooler than Nick’s and more calloused, but the feeling of mine tucked safely between them was indescribable. I raised my eyes to meet his eyes, seeing nothing but concern in them. “Be honest,” he advised, biting his lip then looking away. “How are you?”

When he looked back, his mouth was taunt and I knew he was thinking of things that weren’t sitting well with him. I examined his face and all the little things about it that made him so irresistible, one of them being the small gold hoop that sat snuggly in the bottom left of his nose, and the other was how his unaligned teeth made his lips look so pouty and soft. I smiled and he noticed, cheeks turning slightly red. Sighing, I swallowed, trying to make my dry mouth moist, thinking of how to properly put my thoughts and feelings into the right words. I couldn’t though and since Folio asked for honesty, that’s what he was going to get. “Like shit,” I answered bluntly. Nick and Jolly both snickered and Folio grinned. “Honest enough?” I asked, raising my eyebrow. “Honest enough,” he repeated with his grin growing into a wide smile.  

The sound of the front door closing disrupted our small reunion as Noah walked into the living room, wearing a pair of band merch joggers and a hoodie. He was sweaty, the moisture covering his forehead visible even from where I was sitting and out of breath. He had yet to look up and notice me, as he placed his earbuds back into their case, but man did I notice him. His tall presence loomed before me, looking like something that had just walked out of a wet dream. My core tightened just from the sight of him. With a lump in my throat, I brought my hand to my neck, quickly diverting my gaze away from him and began to nervously play with my skin. Even though my mind and body had been longing for Noah since our last encounter, I suddenly found myself uneasy.

“Hey,” his voice called to me, soft yet low and deep. My eyes snapped up to him, finding his dark brown eyes intently fixed on me. There was a look of relief in them, yet I could see the tension. He looked worried. “Hey,” I answered. At first we just stared at one another, but then he walked over, offering his hands to me. He opened and closed them quickly, implying he wanted me to take them. Obliging him, he helped me up, steadying me before placing both long hands on my hips. “Why are you staring at me like that?” I asked, looking away. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. “I’m happy,” he stated, plainly. “Do you stare at every girl like that just because you’re happy?” I quickly glanced at him, seeing the grin on his face. “Just you.” It felt like there were a million butterflies in my stomach. “Nice hoodie by the way.” I looked down, completely forgetting again that I was still wearing it.

I thought that maybe I'd overstepped a boundary and Noah was upset, but the smile on his face said otherwise. I couldn't hide the shy grin on my face, but I turned away just the same. Noah leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my forehead, before wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. I didn't hesitate to lay my head on his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne, and slide my own arms around his waist, suddenly feeling a small sense of possessiveness which was utterly ridiculous. Noah was not nor would he ever be “mine”. But I couldn't overlook the fact of how easy it was for the two of us to share such intimate affections with each other either. “You should sit; take the pressure off your feet. Standing too much might cause more swelling.” I looked at him, puzzled. “And how do you know that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. His coy smile made me feel so weak. “Doesn’t matter. Now sit.” He pointed to the spot next to Ruffilo. “I'm gonna get you some pain medicine and a glass of water. Are you hungry?” I shook my head, thanking Noah, before he walked off towards the kitchen. 

I was at peace; completely relaxed despite the excruciating pain ravaging my body. Folio left his spot next to me, saying something about having to do his laundry to which Jolly asked if he would do his too. Folio grumbled and rolled his eyes, but in the end agreed. Nick, however, was still next to me, busy sketching flowers in the notebook on his lap. “Those are beautiful,” I commented on the simple, yet intricate detail on the vines and roses. Nick’s charming smile did something to me. The way his soft green eyes twinkled when he looked at me took the edge off my nerves. “I can give you one if you want.” “A flower?” He chuckled. “Well yes, but as a tattoo. Do you have any?” “Yeah I have a few.” Nick raised his eyebrows. “Really?” “What? Why is that so surprising?” He shook his head, turning back to his work on the paper. “You don’t look like a girl who would have tattoos, that’s all.”

Jolly laughed as I scrunched up my face in confusion. “Holy shit, Nick, judge much,” he chided. “What! I’m just saying.” Nick dropped his pencil and looked at Jolly. “So rude,” Jolly teased, shaking his head. “She has three tattoos,” Noah’s deep voice startled me as he appeared from the kitchen, holding a glass of water and some crackers, and my pain medicine. “And you know this how, exactly?” I stared at Noah, puzzled that he would know such a detail about me that most didn’t; not even Alex. “Who do you think got you into those clothes,” he pointed out, handing me the stuff in his hands, his magnetic eyes trailing me up and down. I licked my lips, wincing when my tongue skimmed the swollen cut on my lip, trying my best to steady the nervousness rousing up inside me. Not only was Noah implying he saw me in only my underwear, but that also meant he saw all of the bruising on my body, and that didn’t sit well with me. 

Taking the medicine and handing the glass back to Noah, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him again knowing what he saw. I was too embarrassed. “Anyway,” Nick chimed in, quickly changing the direction of the conversation. As I listened to him I risked a glance at Noah only to find that he wasn’t there anymore, and a part of me was glad. I wasn’t ready for that yet. I wasn’t ready for all of Noah’s sympathy and words concerning my bruises. They would fade in time and eventually be forgotten and when all was said and done, the trauma of it all would too. I knew this, but Noah didn’t and I had to consider that; for his sake. “Now that I know you like tattoos, I can do one if you want.” I smiled. “I would love that, Nick. One of those?” nodding to the paper in front of him. “Sure. The ivy would look sick on you.” The excitement in his voice was adorable. Discussing tattoos was obviously something Nick liked doing. “That’s what I was thinking of too.” We both chuckled and Nick went on drawing, but I couldn’t escape the uneasy feeling I had. Noah was upset. I saw it on his face and it hurt me that he was. But he would just have to learn that once something bad happened to me, I didn't like talking about it. What was done was done. Besides, none of it was his problem nor his burden to bear.

“Are you watching the next season or can I put something on?” Nicholas snatched the remote from Jolly quicker than lightning. “Don't even, bro,” Nick growled. “There's one more season left and we're watching it.” “Ughh, fuck Nick, come on man, no more Anime. You can watch it later. Let me pick something.” “Okay, fine, Sophie gets to pick.” I popped my head up from Folio's shoulder, who had finally come back from laundry duty, shaking it quickly. “Nope, I'm good. Honest. Let Jolly choose.” “See,” Jolly said hotly, grabbing the remote from Nick. As Jolly picked out something new to watch, Noah appeared freshly cleaned and looking more relaxed, holding a thick fluffy red blanket. His hair was still wet with pieces of it falling over his forehead and eyes and it made me squeeze my thighs together because of the unholy feeling he was giving me. “Here, I brought this for you,” he spoke softly, holding out the blanket, but I didn’t take it. Instead, for some stupid reason, I hung my head and to avoid letting Noah see the tears that had formed in my eyes. Nick got up and Noah sat down, gently laying the blanket around my shoulders. I shivered from its warmth that created a warm barrier between me and the cool air. Noah was still, our knees practically touching, and to say my body wasn't screaming internally would be a lie. 

I took a deep breath, breathing in the intoxicating scent of him and slumped into the warmth and security of the blanket. The feeling of his hand slipping over my thigh caused me to stiffen. Noah retracted it, but I grabbed it quickly before he could take it away entirely. “It's not what you think,” I said softly as I drank in the beauty and handsomeness of his face. His full, pouty lips, the freckles over his nose, his dark almond shaped eyes, they all did something to me I'd never felt before and weakened all senses. His eyes searched mine, looking for answers that I believed he would never find, but those eyes saw right through my tough-girl act; they saw through my walls.

Tears threatened to fall again so I dropped my gaze, breaking the connection and retreating into myself. I didn't deserve to get close to anyone, let alone Noah. I was toxic. I was a mess, and I wasn't about to drag this perfect man down with me to the gates of hell and force him to battle shit he had no obligation to fight.  "He's never going to hurt you again, Sophie," Noah whispered in my hair.

I stiffened and tears that I’d been fighting finally flowed down my cheeks. “It makes my blood run cold when I think about what he's done to you; all the pain, all the hurt. It's not right.” Tears dripped from my chin. “I'd give anything to battle this fight for you.” I shook my head in confusion? “Why?” I asked a little louder than I meant to. “Why would you want to, Noah!?” I jumped up from the sofa, shrugging off the blanket. “I'm a fucked up mess, Noah. I'm nothing but a broken vessel, all used up, battle worn and tired.” By now the tears were falling faster than I meant for them to and my words were more hurtful and mean than intended. “You owe me nothing. None of you do. And I can't,” I paused for a moment and as the tears and crying caught up with me, I began to sob uncontrollably. The shit that had been pent up the last forty-eight hours was now coming out, as if the dam had broken.

Folio got up and stood beside me and for a moment just stood there, but when I couldn't catch my breath, he took me into his arms and there I cried until my throat hurt. The reality of my life was all coming to a head and I couldn't or  maybe just didn't want to, deal with it all anymore. I wanted out. I wanted to die. I screamed this into Folio's chest as he held me tightly. I gasped for air and when it didn't come, I began to panic. The anxiety attack came harder and faster than ever. I slipped from Folio's embrace and dropped to the floor hard, and there I sobbed completely and utterly confused about everything. “Shhhh… It’s okay. I've got you.” Noah's arms snaked around me and wrapped me up tight against him. His body covered mine, covering me like a shield. “I'll keep you safe, Sophie .  I'll shelter you. No matter the cost.”

CHAPTER 4 PT.3

[kuro-ttsuki]

One | Rising High

My fist connected to my opponent's jaw beautifully, his skin rippling like a wave at the aftermath, a mixture of blood and spit escaped his busted lips and onto the mat beneath us in slow mo.  I watched him as he hit the floor hard with a thud, just waiting for him to get up but he never did, he just laid there, unconscious. The arena was silent for a while, I guess they were also trying to  process what just happened too, then the sound of people chanting my name filled the place. But yet I just stood there, tired, shocked, confused, everything and anything filling my head as  a fake smile was  plastered on my face.

Can't let the people see me stuck in thought.

The referee held my arm up for a few seconds  before giving me my titles. I placed them both over my shoulder as I just stood there again, this time drinking in the chants and screams of joy. I won, even though I had a busted lip, bloody knuckles, bruised ribs, and even maybe a concussion... I won. I just beat the best UFC fighter there was for his title.

This is has to be the greatest moment of my life, even if this wasn't the career I wanted in the beginning, this is my life and let me say I fucking love it. It brings me joy, happiness, excitement. It's a challenge everyday and each challenge is harder than the next.

And to think, all of this started with my dad training me how to fight and protect myself in his basement. And look at me now, I'm the first ever UFC and MMA women's champion to hold not only two championships but also a male championship. I even beat Ronda Rousey's winning streak, which..she didn't like so much. But hey, if she has a problem, she could just fight me and get her ass handed to her. Again.

After taking in the chants and cheers, I finally left the arena. The sound of people yelling and cheering became muffled as I walked further out and to my own locker room. The cold air hitting me in the face as soon as I stepped in the hallway to my room, its less crowded than usual. Usually the place would be filled with staff just running around. If I wasn't in such a hurry to get to my room, I would probably go investigate, not.

Once opening and closing the door, I threw the championships on my couch near by and just slid on the floor face first,  groaning at the sharp pain coming from my ribs. That guy really fucked me up badly.

My eyes felt heavy, I couldn't fight it any longer so I let them shut. I just need to rest a bit before getting up to shower. I just wanted peace. But the sound of knocking interrupted that.

"Hey, vonna ? Yovanna? Nana? ANNA!? I know you in there bitch, open the damn door you cadela." The high pitched voice yelled at me through the door as the sound of the door knob rattling followed. That annoying high pitch voice that definitely sound like it belonged in Disney was my childhood best friend Eva. We met in Rio, Brazil when I first came with my father and twin sis. Eva was the only welcoming one there, the rest of the Brazilians was so rude, not because I was mixed...well..maybe, but it's because I was American. And Brazil was never the one to take kind on foreigners but not Eva, she clunged onto me since day one. She helped me learn Portuguese and the Brazilian culture. Ever since then we were like sisters, I forced her to move to America with me so I could start a career. My father made me join UFC while Eva started her own dancing company which fucking gain millions if I might add.

The sound of her yelling and banging on the door like a mad woman broke me out my thoughts and forced me to get up. My legs felt like jello, just being up caused my body to react poorly. I felt so much pain, my arms and legs wanted to give out but I pushed through it like I always do. Opening the door, I was greeted with a tackle combine with a hug and before I knew it, I was back on the floor. My poor ribs man..

"Oh my gawdd! You took forever to answer, I was this close of being dragged out by security but they know I would just slip out and run back to your room. Anyways, congrats on retaining your championship girl! You almost broke that guy's jaw.." She added which made me frown a bit. I'm glad I was able to beat one of the toughest guy in this joint but I didn't want to hurt him too bad. Hurting people so much to where they gotta go to the hospital was never my intention in this. But it always ended happening, I can never control my strength and I always end up badly hurting people, I went so far to end a girl's career last year...which earned me the nickname "The Serial Killer" or "The Goddess of distruction." My personal favorites was; "The sociopath of the century" and "The Devil's Daughter."

It was cool and all but me being the  person I am, I always end up feeling guilty as hell. It was like I was playing god with people's lives and I fucking hated it.

Eva must've noticed my frown because she just simply squished my cheeks and pecked my bruised lips, which stunged like hell if I might add, before pulling me up from the floor. "Don't worry about it vonnie..I'm sure he's fine. Probably embarrassed that he got his ass kicked by a 5'7 girl...but fine." I just sighed deeply which was my only response.

"Don't worry about him, what you should worry about is showering because you smell like a football team. To think...a beautiful girl like you smell so damn bad." She pinched her nose with a disgusted look behind it, I  didn't even bothering commenting, I just simply rolled my eyes at her harsh insult as I made my way to the shower. I don't think I smelled that bad but damn...she went a lil overboard with all of that.

30 minutes later

I finally stepped out the shower, I'm pretty sure I used up all the hot water by now but at least I'm clean and smell....fresh...? I was clean, super clean, let's just leave it at that.

Putting on my leggings and a hoodie, I walk out the bathroom only to spot Eva on my phone. "Hey did someone call or something?" I asked, peering over her shoulder which was a wrong move. She jumped violenty, hitting me in the face with own my phone. And yet she didn't even apologize...She just glared at me before answering my question.

Bitch...

"Yeah, it was some old dude named Vince mac-whatever. I told him you was in the shower so he told me to deliver a message...he wants you to join this place called WWE."

She said with a shrug of her shoulders, meanwhile I stood there completely dumbfounded. WWE?! Really?! The fucking place that caused my aunt's fucking career to downfall. She was so heartbroken once she was fired, no...she was heartbroken when she found out she was cheated on. She was actually pissed once she was fired or at least that's what I thought, even though she pretended to be fine..I knew she wasn't. She did things she never would of done and then..she overdosed. Her death hit everyone hard, it pushed my mom so far to commit suicide without no one to save her.

They want me to join? How could they want me? I mean I'm happy where I'm at. The pays good, the company let's me do whatever I want, fight who I want. Why would I leave?

Why would they even think I'll join their stupid company anyway.  From what I heard, WWE was corrupted, toxic, and not to mention sexist as fuck. I see those divas they got there, plus almost everything in there was scripted meanwhile here, when I kick ass and win it's real. When I knock someone's tooth down their throat or break their nose till they are bleeding during our match..it's real. I want to say no but shit...being in WWE is a really great opportunity and is the only thing I have to remind me of my aunt.

Mix emotions began to clogged my head, part of me wants to tell Vince to fuck off but the other part wants to give in and say yes. What would my fans think? What would my coworkers think? I've been working in UFC for five years, I can't just abandon them to wrestle.. I would seem like a traitor or a sell out. This could ruin everything I worked so hard for. What about my titles? My championship run, how can I end that without ruining my winning streak?

I was so busy being in my head that I didn't even notice Eva getting up and approaching me only to slap me right in the face which was her attempt to bring me back to reality.

She just loves hurting me.

"Earth to vonnie. I would appreciate if you get out of your head and off your fat ass so we can go. I'm starving!" She grabbed ahold of my hand and just dragged me out the building. I followed behind with my bags in my hand but my thoughts still drowning my mind as I just continue thinking over everything. This is a awesome opportunity but this company was known to be toxic, let alone racist too.  If I do join, I'm definitely going to make some changes in my contract with that company. Jesus..I might regret this but...I think I'm going to join WWE.

Notes;

Soooo, Hope you guys enjoy the first chapter but I want to clarify that the timeline is wrong on purpose. This story takes place in 2013-2014 when the shield dominated the wwe and when CM Punk, John Cena, and Daniel Bryan was against the authority. Ik Chyna died in 2016, just pretend she died in early 2013 for the sake of the story. Thanks! ❤

[fullmetalscullyy]

tagged by @tsaritsa ​ to share some work from a wip ✨

so....... this post i shared a few weeks ago has been rattling around in my brain and daydreams have been dreaming, thoughts have been thunk and 👁👁 here’s an original piece!

i literally cooked this up on the spot haha so no one has names yet but think fantasy, one of them thinking the other wants to kill them when really they were just concerned and afraid for them and doesn’t know how to properly deal with it!!!!! bc they “““hate””” each other!!!!!!!!!! love it

anyway lol enjoy <3

“What happened?” 

They’d barely stumbled into the room before the command came from across the room. She looked up and saw him striding towards them both, closing the distance quickly. His eyes flared with fury and his hands formed fists by his sides.

She immediately put herself between him and her sister as a barricade.

He wouldn’t hurt her. Not anymore, she was sure of it. Not physically anyway. But there were other ways to hurt someone, and she clung to her injured sister, keeping her close and lifting her chin to face him head on, despite how her heart fluttered with a hint of fear.

She’d never seen him look so angry before.

She would not back down.

“Nothing we could not handle ourselves.”

“Clearly.” His face twisted into a sneer and she locked her knees to keep them steady. The fatigue was setting in and her own injuries were taxing enough as it was, along with supporting her sister.

[Name B] grasped his bicep and the contact appeared to jerk him out of whatever dark thoughts or retribution he was levelling her way. “Leave it,” he frowned. “We have more pressing matters to deal with right now.” He pushed passed [Name A] and rounded her side to help support her sister. The weight which was now off her bruised ribs allowed her to breathe easier for the first time in hours. Ever since finding her sister.

Maybe she shouldn’t have left their camp, alone, to find her sister. But she would not lose her. She’d promised no harm would ever come to her, and look what had happened. She was hurt and almost unconscious. She swayed back and forth on her feet and when a quiet whimper left her throat it broke her heart in two.

She should have been better. More vigilant. But she hadn’t. And now her sister had paid the price for her shortcomings. Her distraction.

A heavy exhale escaped him and he pinned her with a glare, but she would not back down from him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, my sister needs help.”

She saw him moving to open his mouth to say something further on the matter, but it was irrelevant now. Nothing else mattered than getting her sister the assistance she needed. If he wanted to lay into her for “stupidity”, going off by herself and the risk it posed to them all, then he could do it later. She was sure they’d be back at each other’s throats come morning, but she was too tired to deal with him tonight.

After she’d rested. After [Name B] hopefully had the energy left to heal her too, but she wouldn’t hold her breath. Her sister would probably draw on all of her strength, but that was okay. She’d encourage it, in fact. So long as her sister would be all right. The pain overnight would be her punishment for being distracted by him.

She was sure they’d be back at each other’s throats come morning, but she was too tired to deal with him tonight.

tagging @firewoodfigs @dairogo @megthemighty @nightofnyx8 @roseofbattles if you want so share yours 🥰

[sortofanobsession]

hi! i’ve genuinely read every single one of your roy/jamie fics and i’m obsessed with your writing!

i’d love an angsty established relationship fic — they get into a fight or break up but they’re trying to not have it affect the team or jamie’s playing but it’s hard when they have to see each other everyday. so the team + coaches try to parent trap them back together x

A/N There was a second ask that added this: i just wanted to add i love the way u depict darker themes so diving into their respective unhealthy coping mechanisms for dealing with the breakup would be amazing to read! x

I honestly wanted to keep what breaks them up vague, because I thought it was bit more interesting wondering. I have what I think it was, and I drop hits. But I might save that for it's own thing...maybe not sure.

Word count: 6k+

Ao3

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Paring: Roy x Jamie (Romantic), Jamie x Ted (platonic), Roy x Ted (platonic), Keeley x Jamie (platonic, formerly romantic), Jamie x AFC Richmond Himbos (platonic, duh, but Sam, Dani and Jamie are besties)

Content warning: Anxiety, nausea, mentions of vomiting, heavy drinking, mentions of violence, fear, paranoia, manipulation, injury, self-esteem issues, ptsd, self-deprecation, swearing/cursing/cussing, jealousy.

It’s Phoebe, so yeah

Roy had been staying with his sister until he could find a new place, and as much as he loved his sister and Phoebe, it was frustrating.

"Just admit you miss Jamie," his sister said as she sipped her tea as her brother prepared for training.

"Like a hole in my head," Roy says. 

"You don't think just abruptly stopping his training will mess with his game?"

"So you think I should have stayed in a failing relationship so he doesn't suck?"

"I am just saying, don't take shit out on him or the team. You aren't the only one miserable here," his sister says. 

"You think I'm that unprofessional?"

"You took your shit with Keeley out on Jamie, but the difference is, back then, he was a willing participant. Just don't ruin your career as a coach because you and your boyfriend had a spat and broke up."

Jamie is fucking miserable. He hates being alone. Dread had already had his morning shake threatening to make a reappearance twice before he made it to the Nelson Road car park. But he had nearly two decades of hiding his pain and misery. And heartbreak couldn't be as hard as hiding bruised ribs or broken toes, right? The team didn't have to know they split. How would they know that Roy had left him? Roy wouldn't tell them. He didn't like people knowing about his life. All Jamie had to do was go in, change into his kit, do his job, and he could go home and fall apart. He jumped slightly when someone knocked on his window. 

"You good, bruv?" Isaac asks when Jamie gets out.

"Yeah, just a rough morning," Jamie says. He is already ruining his own plan. 

"Try and shake it off. We have a brutal match tomorrow," Isaac says.

"Yeah, 'course," Jamie agrees as they walk into the building. "I'm sure I'll be fine once we get on the pitch, normalcy, yeah?"

"There we go, good vibes," Isaac says as they enter the locker room. Jamie keeps his head down and goes through the motions of getting changed. He mentally talks himself through the well-rehearsed process to keep his mind from wandering so he doesn't think about anything else. He must mutter something out loud because Cockburn gives him an odd look. 

"Miss training this morning?" He asks Jamie.

"What?" Jamie asks, shocked he was so terrible at hiding shit these days. 

"You are usually a ball of energy, but you're like a…live wire today," Cockburn says.

"Oh, yeah, slept like shit, so yeah, no training." He didn't have to tell him that it was because Roy didn't want to see him anymore. That Jamie had fucked up and ruined everything again. And now he was risking fucking up the team again. And he hadn't been this anxious for training since he came back to Richmond after getting booted from Man City. Yeah, he just keeps fucking up.

"Well, channel that shit into the ball. You're good at that."

"Yeah, thanks," Jamie says before he finishes changing. When his boots are laced, he doesn't wait to be told to head out. He just does. Maybe Cockburn is right, and he can work his shit out on the pitch. He is already out warming up by the time the team joins him. He doesn't notice the way Ted and Beard look at each other as Jamie silently joins them. 

Roy does everything he can to avoid looking at Jamie. He won't admit it out loud, but he's a bit concerned about what he will see when he finally does. He hadn't missed what Cockburn had said or how Jamie had responded from where he was waiting on Ted by the office. He thinks about what his sister has said, and then Cockburn calling Jamie a live wire. But this is Jamie Tartt. Sure, he might have an off day, but he's young. He's talented. He'll bounce back in a day or two. He ignores the tiny voice of doubt in the back of his mind that points out Jamie never got over Keeley. If he did, it was because of Roy. So he might not get over it until he finds someone new. And that made something twist in Roy's stomach. The idea of Jamie with anyone hurt, even though Roy was the one that walked out. He had no right to be mad at a hypothetical version of Jamie. So he tried to focus on doing his job. He was thankful that Ted called for 11 on 11. That meant Roy wouldn't have to try and coach Jamie and the other forward players directly yet. Because he isn't sure, he is ready. That little voice is back, asking him if he ever will be. He has to finally look at Jamie when he misses an easy shot. And just looking at him, he can already tell Jamie is being harder on himself than anyone else could be. He knows that from the way Jamie waves off Dani and Sam, trying to cheer him up. Normally, Roy would go over, hype Jamie up, and get him over whatever is in his head, and it would be fine. But Roy's the problem this time. He knows it. He is the one that packed his shit and walked out on Jamie. And he can't do that to Jamie. He doesn't want to be that couple that breaks up constantly. No. He has to stay away from Jamie. It's for Jamie's own good. He's young. Being with Roy could fuck up his career. The little voice points out he already has. Jamie's a mess, missing wide-open shots and shutting out his friends. Jamie’s backslid, and it's Roy's fault. Roy really needed a drink. As soon as he got out of training, he was going to the pub. 

Jamie is wound tight like a spring and rung out like a rag by the time training ends. He doesn't say anything to anyone. He just changed and goes home. At home, he doesn't eat or even change out of his clothes. He face plants on his bed, which still kinda smells like Roy, and tries to shut his brain off. He stays there until he eventually falls asleep after hours of tossing and turning. He wakes up, and everything is dark except for his phone. His phone is ringing. 

"Hmm?" He answers.

"Jesus, Jamie, I've been trying to get a hold of you for hours. The team is freaking out. What is going on?"

"Roy broke it off," Jamie tells her.

"I'm sorry, babe, how you feeling?"

"Like shit," Jamie admits. 

"Right," Keeley says as she thinks about it. "You get some sleep tonight. I'll let Sam know we talked. He's worried. And I'll come by tomorrow night, and we can talk, yeah?"

"Okay," Jamie says. He hangs up, double-checks his alarm, and goes back to sleep. 

Roy goes to the pub but ends up just getting food and leaving. He was not in the mood to deal with annoying fans. Normally he just tells them to fuck off, but he just wants to eat his dinner and drown his sorrows. So he goes back to his sister’s, goes to her liquor cupboard, and grabs a bottle, not really caring what it is. He pours a glass of whiskey and eats his dinner. Phoebe joins him, and he goes through the motions of listening to her. He tries, but he just doesn’t have it in him to entertain her. But he doesn’t send her to her room or get mad at her. It’s her home, and he’s just crashing there. The glass doesn’t stay empty for long. He drinks a bit more than he probably should before he passes out on the couch. He wakes up with a hangover. He finds a bottle of water and painkillers left for him by his sister. And he hates himself for being so stupid and being a burden on his family. 

Jamie’s stomach threatens to reject the small breakfast he managed to eat. But like the day before, he pushes through. 

"You look like shit," Colin says when Jamie walks into the locker room to prepare for the match, they have later in the day.

"Good to see you too, Colin." 

Jamie takes a nasty tackle during the match. He is so pissed at himself that nothing anyone says registers as he makes his way to the locker room. He'd come down hard on his wrist, and it was already swelling by the time he gets to there. The med team splints it and gives him an ice pack. He sniffles when he is alone in the treatment room. A voice that sounds suspiciously like his dad mentally berates him for being weak, for being soft, and a crybaby. He looks up to see Ted approaching him.

"Should be fine in a bit, don't use me hands in the game anyway, so should be good to go in-"

"Not sure that's the best idea, Jamie. Took a heck of a hit. You should rest."

"I'd feel better if I was back out there."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, you have been struggling before that hit. Have been since yesterday. I figured you'd talk to someone eventually, but clearly, it is starting to impact your ability to play-"

"You're benching me because of this?" He gestures to his splinted wristed.

"I'm benching you because you don't look well, Jamie. And I tried to see if you could sort it out on your own, but short of calling your mom, I'm not sure how else to get through to you. Take a day or two and try and sort yourself out. Call someone if you need to."

"You're serious," Jamie says in disbelief.

"Go home, Jamie, rest up. Heal up. Check-in with you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Jamie says, his tone a bit cold. He goes back to the locker room and changes out of his kit. He leaves before the team even knows he's out of the game.

"You what?!" Roy shouts at Ted.

"Sent him home, he's injured, and clearly he-"

"He needs his support network, not to be sent home to overthink every mistake he made."

"For someone that walked out on the guy, you sure seem to be mad."

Roy has no comeback for that. All he can do is send a text to Keeley asking her to check on Jamie. And Keeley leaves the match early to do so.

"When was the last time you ate?" Keeley asks him when he lets her into his flat. 

"Earlier," Jamie says.

"Did you eat after they gave you pain meds?"

"Not hungry."

"Tell that to the future ulcer in your stomach from taking painkillers on an empty stomach."

"If I eat a sandwich, can I go back to bed?" 

"Jamie, I know you are hurting, but you can't just sleep all day."

"I'm not allowed to train. I can't focus on shit. I'll heal faster if I sleep, so seems fine to me."

"You aren't resting to heal. You're depressed. I know breakups are hard, but you can't just-"

"Yes, I can," Jamie says. 

"Jamie," Keeley was shocked by how defiant he was being. He had been a prick in the past, but this felt different. This was him determined to wallow in sadness. 

"Sorry," he mutters before going to make a sandwich he didn't even want but would eat because Keeley said so. "No guarantees it stays down," he adds.

"Are you sick?" She goes over and feels his forehead, and he lets her. But he knows he isn't sick sick. It was just in his head. 

"I'm not that kind of sick," he points out. He taps his head. "It's in me head. I just, I think about having to go to training. About having to see him. About letting the team down again. I feel like I'm back trying to get accepted at Richmond all over again, but I just keep fucking up, and everyone is going to hate me. And I can't even train to be better because he was the one training me, and I try to eat, but my stomach won't let me. I try to sleep, and I can't and-" He doesn't realize he is crying until Keeley hugs him.

"It's understandable to be anxious, babe," she drags him into the living room and sits him down. She gets out and orders him something she thinks he can eat to be delivered and something for herself because she has a feeling she isn't going anywhere for now. 

After they eat, Jamie falls asleep snuggled against her on the couch. Her phone buzzes, and she checks it. She rolls her eyes. It's Roy asking if Jamie is okay for the sixth time.

Keeley: if you are so concerned why not see for yourself

Roy-o: I'll only make it worse 

Keeley: how

Roy-o: because I am the reason he is this way

Keeley: no shit

Keeley: that means you could also fix it

Keeley: you're an idiot and a right prick you're both miserable

Keeley: you could fix it for both of you but you won't 

When Roy doesn't respond, she gets frustrated. She texts Ted.

Keeley: I got Jamie to eat, take something for his wrist, and sleep.

Ted: how bad is he?

Keeley: he is an anxious and heartbroken mess that has himself worked up that he is letting the team down

Ted: which only makes it seem like he is failing more which makes it worse and he's caught in a spiral of bad. Got it. 

Keeley: I'll stay with him tonight but I have to work tomorrow.

Ted: don't sweat it. We'll handle it.

Keeley: thanks Ted

Roy is the last one in the office, and the locker room is empty. Everyone else had gone home after the game. No one was in the mood to celebrate. An injured and benched striker could really hurt their chances in the league. Roy had thrown his phone across his desk after rereading the texts from Keeley. He gets a bottle of scotch out of his desk drawer and pours himself a drink. He wanted to check on Jamie himself. He wanted to make sure that Jamie wasn’t beating himself up for someone else tackling him. But he knew he couldn’t. He had been the one that put Jamie off his game. His phone goes off. 

Ted: You’re right. He needs his team.

Ted: He will still be at training but he is not allowed to train.

Roy leaves him on read and drains the rest of his drink before heading back to his sister’s place.

Keeley is trying to coax Jamie to eat the next morning when his doorbell rings. She finds a smiling Dani Rojas and a concerned-looking Sam Obisanya. 

"Oh, hi," she gives them a tired smile.

"Coach said Jamie needed friends," Dani says. 

"And breakfast," Sam adds. 

"He does," she nods and lets them in. "Look who dropped by, Jamie." 

Jamie immediately gets up from his spot on his sofa but relaxes a bit when he sees it's just Dani and Sam. 

"Hi guys," Jamie says. 

"I have to run home before work. Text me if you need anything." She hugs Jamie. "Let them help you," she whispers to him. "They care about you like I do. Don't fight them." She feels him a nod. She gives Jamie a kiss on the cheek, which earns her a small smile. "Okay, babes, see you all later." 

"How is your wrist?" Sam asks as he sets the takeaway containers on Jamie's coffee table. Dani hands him a paper cup. And Jamie smells the lovely scent of coffee, and he almost cries because Keeley is right. His friends are there because they care. They don't hate him. He hasn't actually ruined his relationship with his teammates. Maybe it was all in his head.

"I…fuck, it's good to see you guys," Jamie says, and he does have tears in his eyes.

"Of course, mi amigo," Dani smiles. "All you have to do is ask. We will be here."

"But we cannot help you if we don't know what is wrong," Sam says. And Jamie tells them everything because he can't keep it in, and he is a fucking mess. But Dani hugs him and tells him he is okay that he isn't bad or a failure. 

"You haven't ruined anything," Sam says. "Well, nothing that cannot be fixed. If you need someone to train with, just ask. Might not be 4 in the morning, but a few extra hours could be good."

"And we can do it together," Dani agrees. "Always more fun with more friends."

"You guys would do that for me?"

"Of course we will, you are our friend and our teammate, and this could help all of us be better, but not until after your arm is healed. Until then, we can still keep you company." Sam finds the remote and turns on the TV. He finds some mindless show that will work as background noise or a distraction. And they all settle in to eat. 

A few hours later, Sam has to leave to help his dad at Ola's, but Ted swings by to take his place for a bit. Dani and Ted fill the quiet and put Jamie's mind at ease until Dani leaves in the afternoon. Leaving just Jamie and Ted. 

"How you feeling?" Ted asks as they eat a light dinner.

"Better, actually. Like my thoughts aren't so loud, and I can eat without it coming back up."

"That's good, Jamie," Ted smiles at him. "You know I didn't send you home as punishment, right? I knew you were struggling, and I was going to call and check on you after the match. I was worried, but being with the team was making it worse, so I figured you needed a breather. Maybe I should have waited until after the match, but you do need rest, Jamie. Maybe not the time away from the team, but you need to let yourself relax. And I know that being alone ain't helpful when your head gets caught up in everything, but running yourself into the ground isn't good for you. You don't have to hide it, though. No one will think less of you for being in a rut. You have friends. You haven't failed anyone. You've worried them, but the team knows that this isn't the normal you. They aren't mad. They want to help. Let your team help you."

"It's just hard because…" Jamie can't say it.

"Because Roy is there?" Ted finishes for him. Jamie nods. "I can't imagine that is easy to deal with. But you aren't alone. You have the team. They're a good buffer and a great distraction. Now that Sam and Dani know, they'll help you. Keep you out of your head. Hopefully, keep a few of the others from asking questions."

Jamie groans because he knows the whole team is going to know now, and they will probably blame Jamie or Roy, and it could get even more awkward. He doesn't want anyone to be mad at Roy. He wasn't even mad at Roy. He missed Roy, and having to see him every day didn't make it any easier not to miss him. He was so fucking close, but it wasn't the same, and it hurt Jamie's soul. 

"Jamie," Ted starts. "This is just another obstacle you have to learn to navigate. Can't be avoided, but it can be overcome. You might need a bit of a boost from your buddies, but you can, and you will get past it. It just takes time. It will get easier."

"Thanks, Coach," Jamie says. 

Roy gets a text from Ted that Roy's going to be working with the defenders and reserves for the time being. And Roy knew this was coming. When Keeley told him, he was an idiot. His sister was right. He needed to find a way to make this work, or he'd have to leave Richmond. He couldn't let his issues ruin Jamie's career. And Richmond was good for Jamie. Yeah, it was Roy's home, but Jamie thrived there. He was hours away from his fucking old man. So he was safe from that bullshit. He had friends on the team that loved him. And he had Ted. Roy could find a new team if he needed to. He didn't want to, but he wanted Jamie to get better. And he did want Jamie to get better. But fuck, he didn't know how else to fix this. Jamie deserved better. 

A few days go by of Roy coaching the defenders. He tried to ignore the way Sam and a few of the team members would look at him. It made Roy feel uneasy. Most, if not all, of the players, knew that he'd left Jamie, and that is why Jamie was struggling. They knew Roy could see Jamie suffering, and as Keeley figured, he was just being a prick by letting it go on. They didn't know that they had fought over stuff they do all the time. That Jamie would be better off with someone that wouldn't ruin his career if the press found out. That Jamie deserved to be with someone his age. The nights are filled with liquor, and Roy’s mornings are usually a blur from being hung over. 

Keeley and Sam meet Ted and Beard at the Crown and Anchor. 

"We have to do something," Keeley says as she takes a pull off her drink. "They are both miserable, but Roy thinks Jamie is better off without him, even though Jamie is clearly not better off." 

"How do you know Roy thinks that?" Beard asks.

"Because his sister told me so, that and he has been drinking more than usual, and as much as Phoebe loves having her uncle around 24/7, his sister knows it isn't good for Roy."

"Okay, so what do we do?" 

"Make them realize they are idiots in love and are at their best when they are together."

"You want to Parent Trap them?" Ted asks.

"Exactly!"  Keeley grins. 

"But how?” Sam asks. “Neither of them are parents."

"Technically, they aren't,” Keeley states. “But I know at least one child they both would do anything for, and her mum is willing to help."

Keeley drops by training with Phoebe a week later. The match the day before had been a draw, and tensions were high. But they all knew something had to give. She leaves Phoebe with Ted and goes, as planned, to see Rebecca. 

Roy has no fucking clue how it happens, but one minute his niece is fine kicking the ball around with a few players. The next moment she is crying. Jamie is, of course, faster than he is and is physically closer to her. He is there before Roy even realizes what is going on. Even with his splinted wrist, Jamie picks Phoebe up and takes her inside. Ted tells Roy to go with them, and he'll find out what happens. Roy doesn't need to be told twice. He finds them in the treatment room with the med team looking over Phoebe's ankle. She sniffles, but Jamie is on the treatment table next to her, talking her through it. Her small little hand was in his. Jamie gets up when Roy enters and looks like he is about to leave. "Your Uncle's here now. You'll be-" Jamie starts to say, but Phoebe interrupts him.

"No!" Phoebe shouts and sniffles. She whispers something neither can hear to the medic, and the medic leaves. Both Roy and Jamie gape at Phoebe as she hops down off the table and hurries out the door. It slams closed, and they hear it lock behind her. Roy tries the door, but it doesn't open.

"Phoebe, open the door," Roy demands.

"No! Not until you two fix it," Phoebe's muffled voice shouts. "You love each other. So fix it!"

"Open the door now, Phoebe!" Roy shouts, and Jamie winces at the volume in the small space. 

"No!" She repeats.

"Did we just fall into a trap set by an 8-year-old girl?" Jamie asks. And Roy grunts.

"She has a key," Roy points out. "Which means she had help."

"Is it even legal to have a door lock like this in a public building?" Jamie wonders.

"Probably not, but she had help, and if Beard was in on it, then we are fucking stuck." 

Jamie goes to put his hands in the pocket of his trackies and winces as it moves his sore wrist.

"She didn't make it worse, did she?" Roy asks, now worried Phoebe just made Jamie's life even more difficult than it already was. 

"It's fine," Jamie says, now fiddling with the velcro on the splint and staring at the floor. "She's not that heavy."

"I know," Roy starts. "But if it's bad enough you can't play, then-"

"It's fine, Roy," Jamie repeats. "It's Phoebe. Wasn't just going to sit there and do nothing."

"Even if it made your injury worse?"

"It's Phoebe, so yeah," Jamie shrugs. "You might not like me anymore, but I'm not going to-"

"Who says I don't like you anymore, Jamie?" 

"Leaving with your bag and avoid me like the plague since has made that crystal fucking clear," Jamie says. "I'm going to visit my mum after the match in Blackburn. So you can get your shit if you want."

"Jamie," Roy starts, but he doesn't know how to finish. It is awkwardly silent. Because Roy asked for this, he wanted Jamie to move on. But even when Jamie was a prick to him and literally toasted to Roy's death, it didn't hurt this much. Because he hadn’t loved Jamie back then. And now, Jamie was guarded. Cold. He made Jamie this way. 

"Thought so," Jamie muttered. He pushes past Roy to the door. "Phoebe, I know you mean well, but can you please open the door? No matter what happens, you still have me. You have my number. You can use it. And I'm not mad you tricked us. And your uncle won't be either if you open the door," Jamie kept his tone just loud enough for her to hear through the door but not in an angry shout because he wasn't mad. He was numb. It was quiet for a minute before they heard the door unlock, and then it opened. Jamie gives Phoebe a sad smile. "Thanks, Phoebs." He pats her head with his good hand. "I owe you a quid," Jamie says, and he heads to the locker room. 

"Are you mad?" Phoebe asks Roy. 

"Not at you, kid," Roy says honestly.

"Are you mad at Jamie?" She asks.

"Fuck no," Roy says. He sighs. "I'm mad at whoever gave you that key. And myself, because I think I did more damage than I thought I did."

"Oh, is Jamie's hand okay?" She asks.

"I think so," Roy assures her. "He doesn't mind if it is sore. He cares more about you than he does his wrist. And he's right. No matter what happens, you still have both of us. If you want to talk to Jamie, you can. Be kind of shitty of me to take away another person in your life."

"I know," she says, her tone sad because both Roy and Jamie were still upset.

"Let's find Keeley, and you can make her get you ice cream."

"Okay," Phoebe says. 

"Fuck you," Roy glares at Ted as he throws the key Phoebe had given him before she left with Keeley. Keeley had already received a full Roy speech about using his niece in a childish plan. Roy goes and pours himself a drink because he is beyond done. His day is fucked, and there is no way he can do without something to take the edge off. 

"Hold on, let me-" Ted starts to say, but Roy is not having it. He growls as he slams the drawer of his desk and is back in the main office. 

"Fuck both of you!" Roy shouts at Beard too. "What gives you the right to fucking do what you did? She is a fucking child. You had her fucking lie to me. My own fucking family! You risked Jamie Tartt hurting his wrist worse because, of fucking course he wasn't going to let an injury stop him from helping Phoebe. He loves her like his fucking own. If you ever think of involving Phoebe in your fucking Rom-Communism bullshit again, I will punch you in the throat. She is a child!” He glares at Ted. “You are a fucking father! You should fucking know better! And this isn't a fucking movie! Things are never that simple, and you only made it worse! Because now he fucking hates me more! Made that perfectly clear! So stay the fuck out of it!" 

Roy storms out of the office. A few players and staff members hurry to get out of his way. 

"Well, that's not good," Ted says, looking over at Beard. 

"Nope," Beard agrees.

"Hey, Ted," Keeley says later that day when she calls him. "I need to warn you that-"

"Roy is very angry, I know," Ted sighs. 

"Well, yeah, but I think we did some additional damage to Jamie." She says.

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, I called to ask if he wanted me to pick up dinner and come see him, but he said not to bother. He just wants to get his stuff ready for Blackburn and for going to his mum's. Told me he wasn't mad, but he is just done."

"What do you mean done?" 

"I don't know," Keeley admits. "He says he cleared it with Rebecca and Higgins to take the week after the Blackburn match off. He's going to Manchester. Just wanted to give you a heads up."

They load the bus for the 4-hour drive to Blackburn, and it is oddly subdued compared to the normal liveliness of the team. Everyone knows Jamie wasn't going to be returning with them. He'll be at the game, but he is taking the train to Manchester after. Jamie had assured his friends he'd be back in Richmond after a week. He didn't see his mum much, and with his wrist being fucked anyway, he was going to stay with her. 

The trip there was an uneasy one. 

Jamie and Dani Rojas shared a room. Normally he roomed with Sam or even Roy, but Sam had admitted to helping Phoebe with her plan, and Jamie had said he wasn't mad, but he still wasn't happy. He forgave Sam before the match, but nothing changed.

Roy paces around his hotel room after the match. Jamie had told him he was going to see his mum. But knowing he was and seeing him leave were two very different things. He had watched the team say goodbye. Some members of the team gave Roy pitying looks, and a couple of them glared at him. But Jamie had barely looked at Roy. And that had Roy's chest feeling painfully tight. He still loved Jamie. He couldn’t deny it. He’d already eaten the food he ordered and more than one beer. Only stopping when he realized how stupid it was to keep drinking like that. Jamie didn’t mind if the people in his life drank. But he was not a fan of drunks. Jamie’s father had thrown a few too many bottles at him while pissed. Roy ended up leaving the rest of the pack in the hotel room fridge untouched. He needed to get his shit together and drink until he passes out because of the idea of falling asleep without Jamie beside him fucking hurt. 

After a mostly sleepless night, Roy made a decision. He had everything set before most of the team was probably even awake. He went and knocked on Ted's door. 

"I am going to Manchester."

"What?" Ted was half awake.

"I'm going to Manchester. I won't be on the bus."

"Going after Jamie?" Ted asked hopefully.

"Might end up a fucking disaster, but I'm going to go."

"Good luck," Ted says. "Let me know how it goes."

Jamie thinks he's losing his mind when his mum answers the door, and he can swear he hears Roy. He makes his way to the hall and hears her arguing with someone. When he rounds the corner to the stairs, he freezes. It was Roy. 

Roy's eyes meet his, and he can see how tired Roy looks. 

"Fine," Jamie hears his mum say. "But you upset him, and I will throw you out. This is my house."

"Understood," Roy says, looking back at Georgie. She disappears down the hall and into the kitchen. Roy steps further into the entryway and closes the door behind him. He looks up at Jamie again.

"Hi," Roy says.

"Eh…hi," Jamie says. "What are you doing here?" 

"Can we talk?" 

"Sure," Jamie makes his way down the rest of the stairs and leads Roy to the living room. Jamie waits silently.

"I don't want to get my shit. I don't want to find a new flat. I…want to go home."

"You want me to move?" Jamie asks, annoyance in his tone. 

"Fuck no," Roy says. "Not really home if you aren't there." 

Jamie just stares at him. Roy sighs.

"Phoebe was right. I need to fix this." Roy gestures between Jamie and himself. "I know I fucked up. I just keep thinking you would be so much better off with anyone else. Someone that isn't an angry and broken idiot."

"But what if I don't want anyone else? What if I'm happy with an angry and broken idiot?"

"Are you happy?" Roy asks bluntly.

"Been a shitty few fucking weeks," Jamie says. "But I was happy before that."

"Even when I pick fights for stupid reasons?" Roy asks.

"Even then, because when we fight it out, the sex is fucking awesome," Jamie grins but it fades. "Not so much when you leave and don't come back. Even when you had the chance." 

"I didn't want to make things harder for you," Roy admits.

"Harder? Roy, I couldn't eat or sleep unless Keeley, Sam, or Dani stayed with me. I fucked up my wrist and couldn't even play. It was already too fucking hard. And after what happened with Phoebe, I didn't even want to see them. I just shut down. Went numb."

Roy grimaces. "I thought it would be better for you in the long run if you had the team. You would find someone new."

"I don't want anyone new!" Jamie shouts. "I just want you."

"I know but-"

He is cut off by Jamie grabbing his wrist and dragging Roy upstairs to his childhood bedroom. "Fucking look!" Jamie gestures to Roy's poster on the wall. "I told you I fucking loved you. Loved watching you play. Then I said I love you for you. Fucked up knee and-" Jamie goes over and takes the plastic whistle off the wall. "And your stupid fucking allergy to whistles." He throws it at Roy. He points at the poster again. "You fucking think I would want anyone else? I used to fucking dream of this, you fucking prick. Quit trying to fucking fight me, and let me love you."

Roy stares at the whistle as everything Jamie just said sinks in. Jamie loves every version of Roy. He can see that now. And it's a violent and terrifying feeling of love at times. But he feels it. And Roy is moving before he even knows what he's doing, but he just needs to be with Jamie. He feels like shit when Jamie isn't there. He pulls Jamie in and kisses him. 

"I can't fucking sleep either," Roy tells him. "Could only drink until I could actually sleep. Seeing you struggle and not being able to help was eating away at my fucking heart. Fucking shattered it when you told me you wanted me to move out."

"I never wanted you to leave, and if I was there when you came to get your stuff, I'm not sure I could have kept it together. I'd have lost my shit and either begged you to stay or just cry. So I gave you an out."

"I don't want an out," Roy puts a hand on Jamie's cheek and wipes away a few stray tears that were there. "I want you to be happy."

"I'm happy with you, you fucking bellend." Jamie kisses him desperately, hoping to make his point. "No one is ever happy all the time, not even Ted. It's how you handle the shit times that matters. You can't just run away, Roy."

"I know, and I won't. Not like this. Not again." Roy holds him close. 

"Fucking good," Jamie says. He even nudges Roy until the older man is sitting on his bed. Jamie goes over and kicks his door closed. "Now fucking prove it."

"Fulfilling those childhood dreams of yours?" Roy grins. 

"Fuck yeah," Jamie says as he straddles Roy's hips. 

"I fucking missed you," Roy growls before pulling Jamie into a kiss. 

"Missed you too," Jamie says against his lips.

"Fucking love you, you know that, right?" Roy grunts when Jamie shifts his weight, and he hits Roy's clothed and half-hard dick. 

"Yeah, I do," Jamie grins. "Fucking love you too. Now shut up before my mum hears you." Jamie kisses him. Roy swallows Jamie's moan when in a quick move, Roy pins him to the bed. 

If Jamie's mum hears them, she doesn't say anything when they finally make it back downstairs. She gives Roy another lecture about taking care of her son before telling Roy he is welcome to stay. Roy thanks her but says he booked a hotel. She even serves him tea.

"For how long?" Jamie asks.

 "Didn't want to assume you'd just accept me back," Roy says. "Or that your parents would even let me in."

"Thought you'd have to prove it, yeah?" Jamie says. The striker smirks when Roy chokes on his tea. Jamie had told him to prove it in his bedroom, and Roy had fucked Jamie under Roy's Chelsea poster.

"Goodness, Roy," Jamie's mum took the mug of tea from him as he coughed. "Are you alright?"

Roy nods. His eyes were watering. "Yeah, I'm good," Roy manages when he can breathe again. "Sorry," he says. 

"No need to apologize. Just try not to inhale it this time," Georgie insists. She hands him back the mug. 

"Thanks," Roy says. Jamie laughs. 

"Fucking finally," Someone says as Roy and Jamie walked into the locker room together a week later. 

"Fuck off," Roy glares.

"We're just happy for you," Sam says. "Feeling better?" He asks Jamie. 

"Yeah, thanks, mate," Jamie grins and puts his hand over his heart. "Didn't know you all missed me so much. I'm touched." 

That earns a mix of laughs and boos.

"Well, I'm glad you are back, mi amigo," Dani hugs him.

Jamie hugs him back. "Me too, mate, me too." 

[micahwright]

@wintersaurora​ location: Fairy King’s Memorial Garden notes: “Love is so short, forgetting is so long.”

There were a few hours until the memorial party... Whatever started. Games to honour the dead, Micah wondered what would go wrong this time. If the sky would open up and split the forest with lightning, if a fire would wash over the crowd, if the fey would poison the wine and make the city go feral. Maybe there’d be zombies again, Micah seemed to miss all these things when they happened. High out of his mind under the forum tripping on space magic or whatever that was, turned into a beetle and locked in a cage by Emma at the masquerade, asleep in her subconscious as she fought for her life against hordes of the undead. Even Lupercalia he’d spent the afternoon between Emory’s thighs, when the fighting broke out he just went into the woods. Fighting had never been his thing. Maybe that made him a coward because Emma... Emma was always in the thick of it. Fighting for her life, for his life. 

Now she was gone. 

Lilies were her favourite, there was a few varieties that grew wild in the mountains of Aurora, him and Emory used to wander them together, pluck them for his sister and surprise Emma when Micah went to sleep. She told him that when lilies grow wild she thought of him, that he was some wild thing that did best with free reign. He had it now and the truth was he didn’t know what to do with it. Micah had sifted through her things at Mutat Domun, tried to find a reason, an answer. There was a letter but Micah hadn’t been able to bring himself to open it. Crumpled and folded up in his pocket he felt like it might burn a hole through his leg. He was tired of this place, tired of these people, tired of their fighting. He wanted an end to it, for Emma. 

A chill brushed past his shoulders and Micah wondered if anything had ever really been his. There was something different about her now, Micah didn’t have to ask to know that Aurora had changed. He’d heard that she was taken prisoner by the drow, probably tortured for - who knew why. Micah didn’t keep up with the politics, he’d been distracted. The last time they’d spoke he’d hurdled every horrible thing he could think of at her feet, blamed her for everything and a part of him still did. Always would. Grief had left him tired though, too tired to fight, too tired to scream. They spoke of it like it went in stages, a smooth cycle that the faiman might move through neatly, one after the other until he finally accepted it. It wasn’t so clean or tidy. It was messy and it was confusing, rage filled his heart in one hour while objective denial tormented him the next. Hollow cries carved their way through his ribs as his sister’s absence defined every waking breath, and there was nothing. There was the press of Emory’s lips, the laughter that Flora drew from him even though it was too soon too laugh. 

That was what happened when someone died though, life went on. All these graves. Names foreign and familiar, people Micah had never known and one that he’d never forget. We can spell them, one had said, spell the flowers he brought to keep them from dying, but there was something comforting in the act of brushing away the vines, in clearing the leaves, in making sure her name read clear for everyone to see as he decorated her with lilies of red, white, and purple. 

Emma used to dream of the fairy court, now there was a piece of her that would lay here forever. A stone slab embedded in a rowan tree read: 

Emma Wright

Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew. Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you. In my arms lies Eternity.

“I’m still waiting to believe that she’s gone.” Micah admitted as he turned towards the chancellor, mended by the healer’s touch but the gifted clairvoyant could see the bruise that held its stain. The warrior. The prisoner. The curse-maker and curse-breaker all rolled into one. Micah knew then that he didn’t have it in him to hate her anymore, she’d suffered more than she should have. All of them had. He was tired of vengeance and hatred. He was tired of weeping too, though in his heart of hearts the faiman knew it was not done with him. 

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 63

“It's fine,” Danni said. He raised his hands. “Really. Relax a little, sis, I'm not as stupid as this nova thinks. I can think just fine.”

Lumen's color warmed again with a quiet radio drone. Nyota wasn't sure what expression that might be. He had never done it before. 

“I can make my own decisions.” Danni offered his hands again, one each to Lumen and Nyota. “Ma sent me here to kill you. I think bring back her big grey head were the lovely dramatic words. Yes, dramatic is genetic. But Lis defends you, so that would make her sad, and what kind of brother would I be, making my dear little sister cry?” 

Hadley buried her face in a pillow. “Danni,” she hissed, “I am going to kill you slowly. Why did you lead us on? You bastard.”

Danni just laughed until he coughed and had to press a hand over his ribs to ease the pain again. “Because I had to be sure.” The tease vanished, though his smile didn't. “This Novakid defends her too. Hard to brainwash them, no brains, not wired like us primates, right? Even if she had gotten you, he might have been a tell. And these.” He pressed a little against the bruises where Nyota had hit him. “If your Captain had been aiming to kill, I wouldn't be talking to you now. Quite the arm on her.” 

Hadley's head shot up. “You let her hit you?!” 

“I'm not that stupid.” Danni's smile became a grimace. “Just misjudged when you flicked those lights on. Could have been bad... But you didn't hit to kill, even at some stranger in your ship.” He offered his hands a little more emphatically. “I think I can trust that.” 

Nyota took his hand. Lumen followed suit after a moment. “Fair enough,” she said, and she meant it. Danni also reminded her of Isobu, in the strangest of ways. So open and frank, and quick to trust for the strangest things. She liked that. “Just don't make a habit of it, for your sister's sake.” 

“Yer an idjit,” Lumen told him plainly, “but I guess Captain likes ya.” 

Danni's grimace faded back into the grin that Nyota strongly suspected was just his resting expression. “Hey, I'll take it.” 

“But will Ma?” Hadley asked. She put the pillow back. “She won't like you making your own calls.” 

“Isn't she always on our case about growing up and taking charge?” Danni countered. He shrugged, the family resemblance more obvious in that gesture than ever. “It'll be fine. I can at least buy you some time to soften her up, make sure she won't sent Ivo next time.”

Hadley's eyes went wide. 

Danni nodded. “Yeah, my thoughts exactly. But I'm sure we can make this work.” 

Nyota caught a recent memory, her talk with Lana at the Ark steps. Had Lana guessed...? No, she would have warned much more clearly if she had. Still. “I'll meet her myself," Nyota said. "Let her decide.” 

Danni started to laugh, realized she was dead-serious, and broke off with a long whistle. “Damn! You are crazy. I thought Lis was exaggerating.” He leaned forward. “You did hear me, right? Ma sent me to knock you off. You want to walk into the viper's den?” 

Lumen shook his head hard. “Captain, don't like agreein' with him but that ain't-” 

“Reina Hadley won't take just their word, will she?” Nyota said over his protest. “She has to see for herself. Buy me some time, Danni. I have my own matters to handle first. But I will meet her myself.”

Danni smacked his own forehead. “Lis, talk sense into this crazy lady? ...Lis?”

"No, she's right," Hadley said slowly, to the dismay of both men. “Ma won't listen long. Even if she likes it, and she won't. You're flipping on her call, Dan. She's gotta save face, see? But this?” Hadley grinned at them in a close imitation of Nyota's fiercest fanged smiles. “It takes guts to walk into a bandit queen's lair. She's gonna love it.” 

Danni sighed and bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any idea how much work this will give me?” 

Hadley just laughed at him. “Suck it up. It'll be good for you.” 

“Alright, alright, fine," Danni conceded, raising his hands in defeat. "I'll help pull your strings. Just don't complain when Ma grounds you for this.” 

Hadley snorted. “I came home with a big tame poptop last time she tried that.”

Danni sighed again. “That's what I'm afraid of.” He stood up, dusted himself off properly, and returned his ice pack to Lumen. “Well, my dears, it has been a pleasure, and I dare say I will be as grey as the lady here before this is done.” He turned toward Nyota and flicked her a surprisingly sharp approximation of a salute. “Do as you need, ma’am. Just don’t leave me hanging too long.”

[cheyohara]

One too many times Chey had seen her eldest brother's charm in action. The man was a master winning friends and influencing people, he read others easily and used those insecurities to his advantage. It was manipulation at it's finest.

Often it was so good that for most of her childhood, the little brunette believed the way she was treated and handled was normal, that she'd earned and deserved it somehow. So, she always tried to be small and quiet, be out of the way as much as possible. Which had proven difficult when friends like Atlas came along in Carter's circle. He always tried to talk to her, joke with her, and in a way— felt like someone's sister.

It was a brutally painful friendship for how desperate she was for someone to notice how much pain she was in. Not just emotionally, sometimes she'd been so bruised and battered it hurt to move around too much. She'd seen it plenty of times in movies or with other girls, when people could see that they'd been crying— Chey was always brushed off.

It was because of Carter, she knew that, but how badly had she wished things had been different.

A small grin formed on her lips, "that's already happened. The phone wasn't in my hand. I didn't have pockets so I quickly stuffed it in my bra and when I couldn't find my phone later, we tore up my friend's apartment and her car until we decided to call it..." A slight roll of her eyes at her self that it had taken that long for them to have gotten to that genius point. "Well, my chest started ringing and I thought my friend was going to kill me when I pulled it out."

"No," Chey's head shook, "no big plans. Just means I made it through another week." These days all she wanted was for the world to swallow her up. Or for her to become one of those statistics of people getting hit by cars when crossing the street. "What about you? What do you do on a Saturday?" If it was something with his kids it could be the slaughter she welcomed yet knew she couldn't take.

With interest, the professor's brow lifted as he left the rest of his story to her imagination. "Please don't tell me you hit your head while making out or something..." A smile slowly formed, it was weak though still visible. "Anyway, definitely sounds like brain damage to me."

It seemed impossible not to roll her eyes in his company, and it also proved to be too difficult to not smile either. At least, a little bit. "You're just about mid-thirties, right?" Truthfully, Chey didn't know what was considered middle aged but it was humorous how sensitive people were to aging. For her, it felt like an accomplishment. "Of course you're still a selfish prick," the brunette jested, her elbow reaching for Atlas again to rib him.

The dark cloud that moved across Atlas face was proof to Chey that he didn't really have a clue what her older brother was up to these days. That he wasn't just another person that turned a blind eye because they figured it wasn't their problem, nor did they want the trouble. It was hard to blame anyone for that but she really wished someone would put Carter in his place.

"Her front screen door was ripped off the hinges and I think he broke a table. I told her I'd try to get a new screen and put it up for her." Mostly the damage was to her aunt's broken heart. "She's still shaken. Worried that he'll come back." Because that's what they did when they found they could get what they wanted. "We talked about fencing her front yard with a locked gate but then we knew he'd just jump over or break it." The defeated feeling in her chest swelled, her childhood was coming back to haunt her and induced anxiety that she didn't need right now troubled Chey.

"I don't want you to bring drama onto yourself, or potentially your family if he comes around your place. I appreciate it, I really do, but you've got yours to look after."

Growing up, all he'd ever wanted was to fit into something with someone. It wasn't as if his home life had been particularly rough, but all too often, he felt like a fly on the wall while his little brother and parents defined the family unit. When he was getting attention, it usually stemmed from a scolding over one fuck up or another. It didn't matter how well he did, the only thing anyone ever noticed were his setbacks.

Carter had felt more like family. While everyone else shied away from Atlas' chaos, it was Carter who'd embraced it and had even welcomed his unruly ways. Rather than an outcast, he'd finally felt accepted into something more.

His patience with Carter eventually wore thin. Where Atlas' chaos was untimed and in no particular direction, the other male wreaked havoc wherever he could. It was all fun until it wasn't, but Atlas had never truly believed that Carter was capable of doing anything awful. He was an asshole, but weren't they all?

"Give it a couple of years. You'll be forgetting where you put your phone and it'll be in your hand." Spoken from true dumbass experience. What he understood was that some parts of life were unforgettable, no matter how hard one tried. "What? You got big plans on Saturday or something?"

Tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, features scrunching in thought. "There was this one time in high school where I took a line drive right here," he explained, a finger lifting to brush down the bridge of his nose, "and then there was this one time I hit the back of my head at this party, but," he trailed off, grin stretching wide as if he were insinuating the rest of the story wasn't safe to tell.

"Probably dad brain though. It's definitely a thing."

A playful scoff rattled from his throat and eyes rolled. Middle aged? "I'm not even forty yet. Don't age me like that," he countered with an immature pitch of disbelief. In a few years (though if one rounded down, he was still closer to thirty) he'd be there, but until then? "I'm more of a one man band anyway. Can't let anyone steal my spotlight."

The boyish grin he'd worn the entire time faded away. Worry bubbled in his chest and so did a pit of anger. Carter had taken his teenage bullshit into adulthood? "How is she? Did he destroy anything?" The offer to help fix whatever Carter had broken was on the tip of his tongue, but he chewed at the inside of his cheek and listened as she continued on. "I'd rather him come knocking on my door than hers. Or yours." At least if Carter tried shoving his way into Atlas' place, it'd be a fair fight. A sense of protectiveness washed over him, one that he could afford. "I could reach out to him and see what the hell's going on? I won't... I won't mention you or the aunt thing. If he tries anything with me, I can handle it."

[once-upon-an-imagine]

If you are still taking dialogue request, maybe James with twin sister reader, like how she is in the “10 Things I Hate About You” series (but before she’s dating Sirius) and she gets hurt really bad during a Quidditch match as the seeker, maybe during a bad storm, and James being the dramatic and protective older brother he is freaking out while trying to take care of her? Thank you and I truly love your work!

yeees for protective!Jamie 🥺 and thank you so much for liking my work, love 😊

"Nobody touch her!" James said as he made way for Fabian and Gideon as they carried you into the Hospital Wing.

"James-"

"Don't talk! You're hurt-"

"I think I just broke my arm-"

"You're not a Healer, you don't know that!" he yelled.

"Prongs, I don't think that-" Sirius started.

"Shut up!"

"Mr. Potter! What is all this yelling?" Madam Pomfrey said, approaching all of you.

"My sister is hurt!"

"She's hurt because you made us practice in a bloody storm-!"

"Sirius, knock it off!" you told him.

"Hey, I'm actually defending you for once. How 'bout a bloody thank you, Potter?"

"You were the one that bumped into me!"

"I couldn't even see where I was going-!"

"Enough!" Madam Pomfrey yelled. "Mr. Prewetts, place Miss Potter over here, please" she instructed the two boys and they carried you to the nearest bed. "Now, if no one else is hurt, I'm going to have to ask you to leave" she said, calmly. Most of the boys left. Except for your brother and, surprisingly Sirius. And it wasn't long before Remus and Peter joined. "Alright, dear, you should be fine by the morning" Madam Pomfrey said after she finished fixing you up. "You'll just have to stay the night, just in case, alright?"

"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey" you smiled, trying not to show as much pain as you were actually in. You had a broken arm, three broken ribs, bruises all over your body, and your head was killing you. "See, Jamie, I'm fine" you smiled at your brother.

"You are not fine!" James said, grabbing Remus' bag.

"What are you doing-?"

"I asked Remus to bring your things" he said, getting your books, your favorite deserts, your pillow, and a stuffed animal out.

"You could have left this in my dorm" you said grabbing the stuffed animal and putting him away.

"Aw, that's lovely, Potter" Sirius mocked you.

"Shut up, Black!" you glared at him. "Jamie, I'm fine. You should go get changed, both of you" you said, looking at Sirius. "You're both soaked, you'll catch a cold if you don't-"

"No! I'm not going anywhere!" James snapped.

"Jamie" you said, grabbing his hand. "This wasn't your fault" you told him.

"But-"

"This. Wasn't. Your. Fault." you repeated.

"B-but you're hurt" he said, sadly. "A-and I made you practice in the rain and-"

"And I'm fine. Just a couple of broken bones" you smiled. "Nothing that hasn't happened before with you as my brother" you said, and James smiled but just barely. "I'll be fine, Jamie" you assured him.

"You guys can go and get changed" Remus said. "We'll keep her company until you get back" he told James.

"Yeah, Remus also brought those board games you like" Peter told you.

"You guys are spoiling me" you laughed before looking at James again. "Go."

"Alright" he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"Of course, I do" you said. "I love you too!"

Once James left, Peter started setting up one of the board games they had brought and Remus went to get you a cup of tea. And you turned to look at Sirius, who hadn't moved.

"May I help you, Black?"

"Uh, you sure you're okay? That was a nasty fall-"

"Aw. Were you worriefd about me or something?" you smirked, making Sirius roll his eyes.

"Shut up, Potter" he chuckled. "I'm just... glad you didn't die, I guess" he muttered, looking away.

"Charming" you smiled and he sighed before he started walking out.

"Well, you're clearly fine so-"

"Hey, Black?" you called and he turned to look at you. "Thanks... for sort of... catching me" you told him.

"You're welcome, Potter" he smiled.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Reaper and the Death Angel Part 2

Hello Dear Reader. I have done my best to keep the reader's/oc's appearance as neutral as possible, but it's getting to the point where I'm no longer enjoying writing someone as a vaguely woman shaped blob. From now on there will be some description, as much as I want to include everyone it can be hard for me to write when all I'm worried about is making sure I never describe anything in too much detail. I'm sorry if what you read no longer relates to you.

Part 1

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, Clay is a dick, implied child abuse, migraines. On this blog we hate cops and the courts, living in an unrealistic home.

2.3K words

Comment if you want to be tagged in this series.

Love at first sight?

Two months before the prospect vote.

"Can your Sister speak Mandarin?" Sam didn't want to tell Clay that he had asked a stupid question.

"Remember Little Brother, the only stupid questions are the ones that don't result in learning."

"Of course she does, why do you ask?" Clay was struggling with Sam a bit, he wasn't used to being met with such indifference from a member, prospecting or not.

"The Chinese have asked us to do some things but we don't think they're being all that honest. We need some text messages to look at, just to make sure." he was getting a bit sick of Clay using you like the Club's personal google translate.

"I'll call her now" Sam went outside to find a burner and didn't bother sitting down before calling you.

"Hello Sammy", you only really called him that over the phone when you missed him.

"Hey Cricket, the Club needs your help with something." And he only really used your nickname over the phone when he missed you.

"I'll do my best."

Tig leaned in to whisper in Clay's ear.

"I wonder if she's always so helpful" the way he said it was very 'wink wink nudge nudge'.

"Just some texts in Mandarin, can you still video call?" Sam could hear explosions in the background, he had no reason to worry about them right now, they didn't sound close.

"No, but I can give Mr Ortiz my Anvil email, it's used to pass covert intelligence so it's secure."

Jax tilted his head, Sam played everything very close to his chest when it came to you but he was starting to think you weren't just a doctor.

Sam went to respond but there was a huge bang on your end. He could hear someone moving around, everyone at the table was sitting in stunned silence.

"Is anyone hit?" Sam released the breath he had been holding. They could hear shouts in a different language and then your voice again.

"If you go now, you can cut them off. Don't let them get off the site alive."

Sam heard you pick up the phone.

"Are you ok?" The worry was there now, he could hear you moving around so it couldn't be that bad, but still.

"I'm fine, some cuts and bruises, maybe a broken rib or two. But I'm fine, I really need to go now, there are injured people who need my help. Please tell Juice to send the texts through, I'll try to get them translated by the end of the week"

Sam hung up the phone and sat back down, Jax was deep in thought.

There was no way you were just a doctor.

William Russo was easy to spot, he drove his Wraith onto the T-M lot and got out with the grace of a dancer. He was tall and thin with sharp well groomed features, it very obvious that his confidence was not misplaced.

Sam walked over to him and they embraced, and Juice leaned over towards Jax to let him know what was going on.

"That's y/n's friend, he runs one of the best private military contracting companies in the US." Jax regarded the man, he had no idea what to think of him and he knew that was on purpose.

Sam and Billy wandered over to the garage to make introductions.

"Everyone, this is Billy Russo, y/n says that he's her dearest friend so that should tell you all you need to know." Billy's face broke out into a supermodel smile.

"I was coming here to make sure the security system in your new home is working, but my car is crapping out on me so I figure I can kill two birds with one stone." Chibs got up and got the keys off Billy.

"We'll get on that, depending on how bad it is we should have it back to you tomorrow."

Billy gave a curt nod then turned back to the room.

"Anyway, it was nice meeting you all but y/n won't be impressed if her and her Brother's home is broken into just after being fixed."

What?

Billy left with much fanfare, but not before promising to pay them well for their work.

"Your Sister is moving here?" Tig looked like he was going to jump up and down.

"Don't get your hopes up, unless I get patched, you won't see much of her."

"Why?" Clay had that tone in his voice again.

"Because she doesn't want to judge any of you unfairly. She said to me that she doesn't appreciate how 1% clubs treat prospective members and doesn't want that to colour her view of any of you. She wants to you the chance to give the best first impression."

Clay huffed but Jax cut in, he seemed genuinely curious.

"Doesn't she think we can be nice to you?" Sam shook his head.

"It's not that, she puts honesty above most things and she knows you would treat me differently when she around and she thinks that's disingenuous, her words not mine."

It made sense, they had the feeling that you weren't exactly happy with how they lived their lives but you still going out of your way to give them the best chance.

"How do we help her make the right decision?" Jax heard the most about you simply because he was Sam's sponsor.

"Be genuine, treat her as if she was anyone else. If you lie or try to bullshit, she will know and she will never trust you." Clay rolled his eyes, you were going to hate him.

"Well I can't wait. I just hope she easier to look at than you." Sam looked over at Jax but didn't say anything, his look said it all.

Back off Teller.

****

One month before the prospect vote

"Your lunch looks fancy today." It's wasn't really fancy, it was just packed nicely.

"My Sister's in town setting up her new job, she always cooks for me." The air changed a bit , there was of an elephant in the room.

"She's taken a public museum job working in the historical identification department. I mean, she could work anywhere but she chose to come and live here with me so I'm not going to complain about her talents being wasted."

He was worried how the guys would react, some people responded badly when they found out how close you two were.

Juice spoke first

"You guys are really close, aren't you?" Not bad so far.

"Yeah, she raised me. Of course we're close" He hoped they wouldn't ask any more questions.

"Where were your parents?" Tig wasn't very good with boundaries, you wouldn't like that either.

"Busy, I've said it a hundred times but y/n is one of those people who came out of the womb an adult." he hated it, you sacrificed everything so he could have a childhood but he wasn't going to tell them that, at least not yet.

Clay, Jax and Happy had just come back from a meeting with the Niners and had joined the conversation.

"No offence Sam, but she sounds like a cold fish" Sam was going to respond before Happy spoke up.

"No she's not" he added no context.

Clay dropped it but the guys were passing looks back and forth. You had asked Happy not to tell anyone about what you did for his Mother and you wouldn't admit that you paid the bill no matter how much he pressed you.

"You know her Hap?" Clay sounded like he was trying to recover ground, as much as Happy wanted to obey your request, he also didn't want let him speak badly about you.

"No, she just did some stuff for Mum. I can't say anything bad about her and she was never cold to me."

Clay was stunned.

"Well shit, she must be special, I never heard Happy say a full sentence before." Sam was grateful to Chibs for breaking up the tension.

Sam spoke one last time.

"Yeah, she is."

****

The day of the prospect vote

You were still debating going into T-M when you got the call for district attorney, he pretty much told you to stop what you were doing and come in to see him.

By the time you were done, you didn't have time to see Sam, and you didn't think you had the energy to make introductions. Plus, that asshole's stinking perfume had given you a migraine so you wanted nothing more than to go home and lock yourself in a dark room.

He was very clear with what he wanted, if you wanted your new department funded, you would clear cold cases for him. You try to explain that you took this job because you didn't want to deal with decedent's family members but he gave you no room to move.

You had managed to talk him down from doing only criminal cases to only working with decedents who were part of a protected class, if you were being forced to work with the cops, would at least try to get justice for the people no one cared about. He only accepted when you told him how good it would look for his career.

****

It was unanimous, no one even had a hesitation. Sam was handed his patch with great excitement and the party started.

"Big Sis isn't coming?" Sam knew the question was coming but it was not his place to give your reasons. He wanted to be at home to take care of you but you had insisted in that mildly ashamed voice that you were ok and being in pain was nothing new. You had told him to enjoy his night and that you would fuss over his achievement tomorrow.

"Nah, she had a thing with some city officials so she's pretty had it." It wasn't really a lie. Sam thought long and hard about what he was going to say next.

"You can meet her tomorrow if you like. I need to move all my stuff and I could use some help. Y/n is pretty much done with her stuff but I'm sure she'd appreciate some help will all her books." Jax gave Sam a huge smile.

"Hell, let's invite everyone. Gemma can come along and we can cook you guys some dinner. Meeting her on her home turf will make you look very civilised." He didn't say that they would be helping with the dinner, but he thought it was best to leave off your political views until they knew you better.

"Great" Jax was excited to say the least, he had heard so much about you and he bearly knew what you looked like. All he had to go off was that you were short and had very curly hair, Sam showed him a photo but it was taken from far away and he couldn't see much.

The party was really going now, members from other charters had come and friends and family of the SAMCROW guys. Sam was sitting with one of the Club girls, he really didn't like how some of Sons treated the women and hated the term 'Crow Eater.'

It mattered a little less now that he had his patch, he could call out a member for his behaviour without having to worry about getting yelled at. He wasn't worried about how you'd handle it, he was more concerned about what you'd do to the first guy who put a toe out of line. His money was on Tig.

By the end of the night, everyone had been invited over to help you and Sam move in. Against his better judgment, he pulled Tig aside to talk to him, he had no idea how this would go but he wanted to make sure Tig knew his limits with you.

"I'm telling you this because I care about you Tiggy, and I want you to get along with y/n. She can be a very hard person to get to know, and she doesn't appreciate people don't respect the boundaries of others. So for the first little while, maybe take everything she says at face value, if she asks you not to do something, don't ask her why.

Tig looked like he was going to ask why before he stopped himself.

"Understood Brother."

****

Jax had decided to be punctual, so he turned up at your house at five minutes to eight . It was mostly in hopes of having a few moments alone with you but he was out of luck, half the guys met him on the way in.

The property was huge, there were trees everywhere and he could see garden beds behind the house. The house itself was massive, three stories and styled like an old farmhouse. Sam came about everything clean after Clay asked if you were some 1% socialite.

You had bought the house in total disrepair and had gone out of your way to hire people who needed the job, rather than building using more of the land for house space, you built up and split the house down the middle so you and Sam could have your own spaces.

He didn't want to moralise to them, but he didn't want them to think you were stuck up. He explained that the whole house was green, that you even had the property listed as a micro nature reserve, and that part of the design of the house was so you could be self-reliant.

The front door was open when he pulled into the driveway but he couldn't see you, he was about to get off and come in when you walked out.

He felt as if his breath had been stolen from his chest, then suddenly, he couldn't hear the birds singing or the roar of other bikes. His whole world shrunk down to just you, standing on your front lawn.

At that moment, Jax could swear there was a god.

I'm so so about this chapter, I think the next one will be a lot more exciting.

Part 3

[razorblade180]

Nine Days of Lancaster

[Day 4: Soulmate au]

Everything has a routine. From the everyday worker, to the cat resting on a fence. Cars pass by, birds call, life goes on. I’m truth, there’s nothing wrong with that. Not everything is meant to be grand. However, everything was meant to have color, vibrant and glorious visuals that made the mundane a little more grand. Unfortunately such a right was only given when life’s greatest thing was found, love.

Jaune Arc walked through the muted Vale streets. It wasn’t too bad. Color wasn’t truly loved, but never experienced deeply by most. Faint flickers of green signaled him to cross the street which, rushing to lunch before meeting with his visiting family. He weaved around the colorless bystanders then continued on his way. He was making good time. That was until Jaune made a sharp left turn around a corner. The young man was stopped dead in his tracks as somebody crashed right into him, toppling them over and sending a skateboard into the road.

“Ugh..what on Remnant?” Jaune groaned as rubbed his side. It felt like he hit a car instead of a person. He looked across from him to see why that was. Oh it was a person alright. Unlike him however, they had a helmet. “Hey, are you o-”

His words were caught in his throat as the stranger sat up, removing the helmet to rub their head. Slowly, as if like tie dye, color begin to spill into the world before his eyes. Stark black hair revealed hints of red end. Their fair skin became more peach while white jeans became blue and muted gray turned to black. The only color that remained unchanged was the pool of silver eyes he peered into. With a couple blinks, Jaune Arc’s world became vibrant.

Ruby looked that boy she just hit and gasped, hoping to her feet. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry.” She reached her hand out to help him up. “Dad always tells me not to skate on busy sidewalks. Guess I should’ve listened. Are you okay?”

“Umm…uhhhh”

“Oh no, I broke you!” She panicked. The girl had half a mind to call for medical help, when a hard snap made them both turn around to see a big truck pass by and broken board in the street. Her jaw dropped and so did her head.

“Woah, bad luck.” Jaune said.

“Oh, so you can speak? Guess that’s good.” She sighed, “Well, guess I deserved it.”

“I’m partly to blame. I shouldn’t be running around corners like that. Are you…okay?” He quickly became aware of this girl’s beauty again, making him nervous.

“Me? I had the helmet. You’re the one rubbing your ribs. Oof, please tell me they’re not broken?”

“No, no, I’m…pretty sure?” He was legitimate pain but not that much pain. “I might bruise by I tend to bounce back quickly.”

He saw her frown. Clearly she wasn’t convinced and by her earlier reaction, probably feels bad. Jaune wasn’t really sure what to do. He didn’t even know her name. Also, she didn’t appear to be as startled as he was either. He didn’t want to think about it much but it’s entirely possible that he was only one seeing in color now. That’s happened to more than a few unfortunate people.

“That’s unfortunate.” He thought to himself. Still, everything and anything became more…alive. Even the sky he’s seen all his life was finally the magnificent blue his parents described. That alone was a blessing. Not the mention the sense of warmth he was getting from her. It made him nervous, but not unpleasant.

“Were you going some place important? With your board gone, I don’t mind buying you a bus ticket.”

“Don’t worry about all that. I wasn’t going any place special. Just my sister’s. Anyways, scroll.” She holds out her hand.

“Excuse me?”

“Your scroll. I’m giving you my number. If you end up having to see a doctor or anything then call me. I’ll pay the bill.”

“Oh, you don’t really have t-”

“Scroll please.”

“Yes ma’am.” Her stern yet polite voice was somehow both sweet and intimidating. He got his scroll back and took a look. “Ruby Rose, that’s a nice name. I’m Jaune Arc by the way. A not as nice name.”

“Hehe, I don’t know. Rolls off the tongue pretty easily. Well I hope you feel better genuinely. If not, don’t hesitate to call. I’m a clutz but a responsible one.” She said with pride.

Jaune got a laugh at that. He nodded and just like that, Ruby went on her way. He saw her look at her board for a moment before her shoulders slouched as she abandoned the idea of grabbing the pieces.

“Ruby Rose…huh.”

xxxxxx

“I can’t believe you hit someone!”

“Leave me alone!” Ruby yelled defensively, plopping down on her sister’s couch. “I lost the board and my knee hurts. I’ve suffered enough. Yang, please tell me you have an ice pack or something?”

“You’re lucky I always have a bag of something frozen whenever you get hurt. Hold on.” She walked over to her kitchen.

“You always have something because you don’t cook.” Ruby mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing~”

“Thought so.” Yang chuckled, opening the freezer. “So, what’s this Jaune fellow look like?”

“Tall, a bit scraggly, but seemed nice. Also…deep blue eyes.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds n-” it took a second but did she hear that right? Yang immediately closed the fridge and ran back to the living room to see her sister bunched up in the corner of the couch, a deep blush on her face.

A smile slowly started to spread across the older sister’s face. “Ruby, can you see in color!?”

She hugged her knees, “Oh you know…yeah~”

“You ran over your soulmate!?”

“It was a crash and I think I did!”

Yang in her special way started off getting really excited for Ruby, before immediately bursting into laughing. All Ruby could do was cover her face in embarrassment. She didn’t need any color to know just how red she must’ve been. Oh well. At least she got his number.

[uncpanda]

The Ties that Bind: LDSK AU

AN: An AU version of the LDSK episode!!! I really love how this turned out.

Synopsis of series: Being the older sister of a literal genius? It’s not easy. Raising said genius from childhood on? An act of love. Uprooting your life again when he gets in over his head? A no brainer. Finding a new family and support system for yourself? Well, you suppose that’s just luck.

Master List

“Do you want me to kick his ass? Because I will fly to Virginia, storm the FBI and kick his ass.” 

Spencer can’t help but smile. You’ve always been his knight in shining armor, never afraid to rush to his defense. “You know. . . for a teacher you resort to violence fairly easily.” There’s silence on the line, and he knows you’re glaring at the phone, “That was a joke. I’m fine. Morgan was just being . . . Morgan.” 

“It was rude. You don’t kick someone while they’re down. When someone you care about is hurting you help them . . . like Hatch did.” 

His brow furrows, “Hatch?” 

“The guy who tried to help you with your shooting. He took you to the gun place?” 

Ahhhh, you mean Hotch. He’s not going to correct you. Not yet. “Do you mean the shooting range?” 

“I’m an English teacher, not an FBI agent. Sue me. But Yes. Hatch was nice. He was encouraging. I like Hatch. This Derek Morgan though . . .” 

“Is nice. He’s just messing around. I’ll figure out a way to get back at him. I don’t need my big sister fighting my battles.” 

“You’re tall enough now, that we could tag team.” 

The two of you talk for a few more minutes, and by the time the call is done he’s feeling much better about things. 

-----

He’s sitting in the back of an ambulance, his ribs are killing him, and he’s just killed a man. And then there’s Hotch. He can see the guilt written on the man’s face from a mile away. It doesn’t take long for his boss to make his way over, in fact he’s fairly certain Hotch is putting off boss duties to come check on him. 

“You all right?” 

Spencer can only smile, the look of concern on Hotch’s face reminds him of you. “I’ve had worse.” 

Hotch winces, just slightly, at that, “I’m sorry I had to kick you, I needed to make sure you knew the plan. I didn’t hurt you too bad did I?” 

A grins makes its way on to his face at that, “Did I ever tell you, I have a sister?” 

Hotch leans against the ambulance, brow furrowed, as though he’s playing back past conversations, “No . . .I don’t think you have.” 

“She’s five years older than me and . . . well it’s a lot. But we went to high school at the same time. It took me two years to graduate; her junior and senior year. And of course I was young and gifted and a very obvious target. I got picked on a lot, and for the most part it was just verbal and I could deal with that. But sometimes the jocks got involved, and one day Mark White, the running back,  beat me up. Kicked me, hard. . . much harder than you, and stuffed me in a locker. My sister found me when I didn’t meet her to walk home. 

“I broke down in tears from pain and embarrassment, and I remember my sister’s face just going blank. She grabbed my hand, and we walked just outside of the school’s boundaries where Mark and his buddies were loitering after practice. 

“She looked down at me. Told me to wait where I was unless things got out of hand, in which case I should run. She dropped her bag a second later and launched herself at Mark White. And she did it with this crazy battle cry too. She took him down to the ground, and started wailing on him. She broke his nose. It took three of his buddies to pull her off of him, and she managed to bruise a few of them. They didn’t retaliate, they didn’t want to hit a girl. And Mark didn’t press charges because we could have pressed them back. He never bothered me again. He never looked my sister in the eye again either.” 

Hotch has a smile on his face, “Is this your way of telling me you’re going to call your sister to beat me up in retaliation?” 

“Pffft, no. She’d understand the situation, and be happy you got me out alive. I told you that, so you’d understand that I know the difference between someone hurting me, and someone protecting me.” 

“Well your sister sounds interesting.” 

“She is. She threatened to come and kick Morgan’s ass for the whistle thing.” 

“And you told her no, right?” 

“I told her no. She thinks your name is Hatch though.” 

Hotch blinks at him several times, “Why does she think that?” 

“She’s not good with names, she’s better with faces. Plus I didn’t correct her.” 

“Reid . . .” 

He smiles, “Don’t worry. I’ll correct her next time we talk. She likes you actually, since you tried to help me with my recertification.” 

“You told her about that?” 

“I tell her everything. She’s my best friend.” 

For a moment he feels a stab of jealousy, a wish that he and Sean were closer, but he pushes it away. He has Haley and a baby on the way. He has a family. “Tell her I say hello the next time you talk.” 

“Will do.”

A small grin makes its way on to his face, “Have the paramedics check you out one more time please.”

He turns to walk away, and stumbles ever so slightly when he hears Reid say, “Sure thing Hatch!” And then he laughs a little to himself and keeps going, because he owes the kid. Afterall he did kick him in the ribs, even if it wasn’t as bad as Mark White. 

-----

You listen to Spencer recount the past few days and you try, very hard to not reach through the phone, and drag his ass back to California where you could see him safely employed at any university. Joel’s watching you with an amused smile, not focused on the book in his lap at all. 

“And then I handed him back the whistle without a word. It was awesome.” 

“You have the most twisted job in the world. In any other place of business, a boss kicking you in the ribs is grounds for a lawsuit.” 

“I was a twelve year old prodigy in a Las Vegas Public High School. Hotch kicks like a nine year old girl.” 

Your brow furrows, “I thought his name was Hatch?”

“Nope. Hotch. Short for Hotchner. His full name is Aaron Hotchner, but I don’t think anyone calls him that.” 

You relax back against the sofa and gently place your feet in Joel’s lap. His hand encloses around your ankle, and he rubs his thumb against the bare skin. 

“Weird, but that apparently goes hand and hand with your job. But how are you doing? And I mean how are you REALLY doing?” 

There’s a pause before he says, “Okay. I think. I play it back in my head a lot. But Gideon and Hotch have both been there for me. So has Morgan. He and Hotch have actually been helping me practice at the shooting range. I’m getting better.” 

You smile, “Well then, I suppose I should take Agent Morgan off my to beat up list.” 

He hmms, “I would. He has my back. And he’s built like a linebacker. Mark White was just a running back.”

You roll your eyes and then you feel Joel’s fingers tickle your foot and you giggle. 

“Is Joel missing your attention?” Spencer’s voice is dry and filled with sarcasm.

“Spencer.” It’s a warning. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got to get back to work anyways. I’ll call you later.” 

You don’t bother arguing, “Love you kid.” 

“Love you too.” 

You hang up the phone and stare at your boyfriend. He has that devilish look on his face, and he waits one, two, three seconds before launching himself forward and kissing you. And as you surrender to the kiss you can’t help but think, life is very good. 

Tag List: (If your name is crossed out it won’t let me tag you out) 

 @hateinthemorning @nightressposts @bulldozed88 @toastedside @am3l1a-24 @wintelu @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @moonwarriorx3 @fallen-wolf22 @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @kathleenjasmine @l-vvne @sekhmet5 @lil-frenchfri77  @prettylittlemoonlight @webreathfandoms @fandomsstolemylife00 @gracesd1ary @eli-side-blog @sleepy-time @bcarolinablr @acoolnight @violet-potter @ssavanessa22 @inlovewithhonestlyeveryone @louisaland @averyhotchner @lostinwonderland314 @prentisswrites @starandbooklover @vxxn128 @csloreen @srosegarden @zetasaturno99 @greenprisca @rouge-fandoms @fandom-oneshots-etc  @elejah88  @cm-chaos @thestarssalign @gspenc @mochionly @Jinxy_175  @big-galaxy-chaos @princess76179 @unaware-dumbass-here @miahelen @baumarvel @sydbriann @cm-chaos @infinite-tides @rexit-mo @belledawnidk @rousethemouse @bluepvnkrocker @evans-dejong @pixietilly1924 @thewannabewriter @livinthesweetlife @simplysophi @crazymar15 @bestillmystuckyheart @jklemps @ghostklnk @sagittarianwolf  @kittengirl998 @dontcallmekittens @eternalharry @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx 

@irrelevant86 @reichelhache @messedupmyfuckinglife @itsnottilly

[mochie85]

Darkside Of The Moon

Chapter 22 of my Mayari series

Mayari Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki struggles with the fact that you might not come back. But when you do, are you still the same deity he fell in love with? A/N: I took liberties with "The Punishment of Loki" in the P. Edda. It's a rough retelling/sampling of what the myth was. This entire series is inspired by songs. The complete playlist can be found here on Spotify. Word Count: Over 3.4k Warnings: Angst Dividers by: @firefly-graphics Artwork by: Starry Goddess - pinkincubi

“THOR! I can’t lose her, Thor.” “She’s alive, brother. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure she gets well.”

“Loki, I need you to step out of the room.” “The hell I will. I am not going to leave her, Banner!” “Strange is here. I promise we will get to the bottom of this. But right now, this isn’t helping her. Or you. You can watch through the window, but you need to get out of this room!”

Beep…Beep…Beep…

“She will find her way back to you. If you believe in anything, believe that she loves you enough to find her way back to you.” “Thank you, Agent Roman…” “Loki…call me Nat.”

“She’s stable. Her heart rate and blood pressure are a little low. We’ll keep her in an IV for now. I don’t know the proper dosage for a Vanir, but I assume it’s similar to you Asgardians. Her x-rays came back, and we removed the splinter of bone that broke off from her ribs when she got stabbed. Luckily we got to it before it punctured her lungs. She did crack her patella on her right knee. She’ll be unable to walk for at least six weeks. Maybe sooner because of her lineage. We won’t know anything else until she wakes up…and that is a mystery itself. She should be awake. Neither Bruce nor I know what’s going on with her. We think she might be in a self-induced coma. But again, we don’t know until she wakes up.”

Each time Dr. Strange listed off a problem, Loki felt a sharp stab right in his chest. It was twisting and sinking deeper and deeper into his heart. He hadn’t slept in days. He hadn’t eaten either. “Now as for you, I suspect trauma and depression, possibly guilt…”

“Don’t push it, Strange.” Loki snapped.

“Let’s put it this way, how are you going to take care of her, if you’re not altogether here yourself? She’s going to need you in the next couple of months, Loki,” Strange admonished him. Loki let out a sigh. He ran his hands through his dark hair staring into your room. There was bruising on your arm where they had tried to stick the IV initially but failed. Loki almost beheaded the nurse for that. Your right leg was in a brace, post-knee surgery to fix your broken patella. You had gotten to the compound four days ago and you haven’t woken up since.

“He’s right, brother. At least have something to eat. She would hate to see you like this.” Thor said gently.

“Go take care of yourself, Loki. We’ll be here. And we’ll have FRIDAY contact you as soon as she wakes up.” Tala nudged him. Loki nodded, finally accepting some relief.

“Tala,” Loki said slowly. “There is a word in our realm to describe what your sister means to me. The words do not compare when translated into any Midgardian language. ‘Loyal Girlfriend’ just doesn’t seem to encompass all the love and support Mayari has given me. The word ‘girlfriend’ alone seems insulting when she is so much more. She is my Sigyn.” Loki watched you through the window one last time. You were lying perfectly still with wires and monitors attached to your arms. Loki looked at Thor, then at Tala. She cupped her hands on Loki’s face. “I apologize dear Tala. She is your sister. This must be harder for you.” Loki realized.

“Kuya, we all worry for her. We do it in our own way. Don’t worry, she’ll come back to us.” She said with borrowed confidence. “She is always victorious. She always gets her way, doesn’t she?” 

“With all that she has been through, and then picking you to be her sjelevenn, she has proven to be tough and unbending. She will undoubtedly pull through. She is too strong-willed to let this stop her.” Thor said wrapping his arm around Loki’s shoulder. He nodded his head and started to walk towards the private rooms.

He had to make this quick. A shower, a change of clothes, and he’ll make a sandwich to eat while on his way back. He doesn’t want to miss being there when you wake up. 

The shower felt refreshing. It was relaxing to feel water spraying him, to know that he hasn’t lost all his senses. He felt numb after coming back to the compound. He lathered himself with soap and tried to wash off the bad mood that was settling on his shoulders. He rubbed and squeezed them, trying to massage the tension away.

He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off with a towel nearby. He wrapped it around his waist, his hair still wet, dripping water on the tile floors. He came face to face with himself in the mirror. His eyes had formed dark circles and his face looked gaunt and lifeless. He looked sickly and it was heightened by the fact that he had started growing a beard hiding his face. One that almost rivals Thor. He didn’t like the look of it. He searched the drawers for a razor and thank The Norns, there was shaving cream too. He dressed in his most comfortable shirt and loose slacks. Then made his way to the kitchen.

“Hey, Loki.” Barnes greeted him from the small dining table. Loki was surprised to see him here. He nodded a quick hello and made his way to the fridge to start making his sandwich.

“When did you arrive?” Loki asked.

“We got to the tower yesterday evening. I drove up here with Sam after the debrief.” Barnes said, taking a sip of his coffee. There was silence. All that could be heard was the hum of the fridge. Loki continued to spread mayonnaise on a slice of bread, his butter knife scraping against his toast.

“Are they all dead?” He asked Barnes, breaking the silence.

“Apart from Dreykov who escaped. Ya, we got’em all Loki.”

“Pity. I’m out of practice. I could’ve used new targets.” Loki said, taking a bite of his ham and cheese sandwich.

“I’ll make sure to save you one next time.”

“There had better not be a next time…if she knows what’s good for her.” Loki chided.

Barnes let out a small chuckle. “We all knew this was gonna happen. I think that’s why the team tried to keep it from her. How is she though? I was just down there and she’s still under. Tala was sleeping on the couch and Thor…well he was very stoic.”

“A lot of blood loss, a broken rib, and a broken knee. Strange says that she won’t be able to walk for at least six weeks. That is if she even wakes up.”

There. He said it. He didn’t mean to. He tried to be positive, but the thought that you might not even wake up from this ordeal…scared him.  Loki threw his sandwich to the counter and leaned over it. His head was in his hands, his elbows supporting the weight. One silent tear dropped onto the counter.

What happened? His whole life was upended. He felt pain and grief. Feelings he swore he would never allow himself to feel again. He felt anger and rage so violently that he blacked out from the fight until Thor had to pull him into his senses. He’s never acted so out of decorum before, and it was all because of you.

But because of you, he’s also never felt so free. He’s never felt so loved and wanted. Because you unapologetically love him, you allow him to be himself around you. The thought that you might take that all away the moment you leave him, was enough to crush his soul.

He heard Bucky’s chair scrape across the floor as he got up to go to Loki. Bucky gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “Come on. You said you were getting rusty. Let’s go train. Get your mind off things.” Loki straightened up and let out a sigh. “After you finish your lunch.” Bucky continued. He could see the strain under Loki’s eyes. He hasn’t been taking care of himself. Loki nodded his head and picked up his sandwich again, but he honestly couldn’t take another bite. He threw the sandwich down the disposal and washed his plate.

An urgent alarm blared through the intercom system. “Mr. Laufeyson, you are urgently requested in the medical wing.” FRIDAY chimed in. Loki started running. His worst fears seized his mind. He didn’t have a contingency plan if you left this world. He wouldn’t know what to do.

Bucky followed closely, keeping in time with Loki’s long strides. They happen upon Thor and Strange crouched down in a defensive position. The nurses and doctors behind them huddled for protection.

You were awake! And you were pointing your daggers out to Strange and the other medical staff you weren’t acquainted with.

“Ate, he’s fine. He’s healthy. He’s alive.” Tala said on Thor’s other side, trying to comfort you.

“Where is he?” Your voice resonated. It had weight. It rang through Loki’s ears reverberating in his mind. You were working your way to stand up. Despite the many cables attached to you, the only thing that stopped you was the cast on your right leg.

Loki used his seidr and collected your daggers. It flew from your grasp onto his waiting hands, nearly scratching Tala. You both had locked eyes then. His ocean blue to your all-black ones? What happened to her? Is she in her moon form? Your markings were there and more defined because now they weren’t illuminated, they were etched on with the blackest ink. Your hair was not the shimmering silver-blue he was used to when you were in your moon form. It was a haunting shade of nothingness. It was devoid of color or form as if the space it occupied was just erased from existence. Just absence – black matter. You were in your moon form, but dark.

You reached out to him with both arms, unable to stand off your bed. He ran up to you and wrapped you in his arms. You started weeping. Your hands grabbed him tighter, pulling him closer to you.

“I thought you died. I thought I had to carry your soul to the underworld.” You whimpered in between cries. Loki tried to shush you. Tried to comfort you. He patted your hair and wiped the tears from your face.

“I’m here darling. I’m not going anywhere.” He assured you as he caressed your face. He looked you in the eyes, bewildered. You were alive! You were awake. You had survived. Everything else you can figure out together, later.

The other nurses and doctors left; thankful they weren’t compelled to do something. Thor and Bucky were next.

“We shall inform the others. Welcome back milady.” Thor said giving you a small smile.

“We’ll be around doll. Don’t do anything stupid.” Bucky said. Tala was the next to leave. Loki moved aside to give you two your moment. She cupped your face, and you cupped hers. Your foreheads touched as she cried for the first time since she got here.

“You have to stop doing this!” Tala cried. She locked eyes with Loki and smiled. “See, she always comes back,” she said to him. Loki nodded and smiled. “We’ll catch up soon. I love you.” She whispered to you.

“I love you too.” You whispered back. As she left, your eyes caught Doctor Strange standing by the doorway.

“Yup. Still here.” Strange had quipped. “I need to assess you, considering you just woke up from a coma.” You nodded your head as Loki introduced the doctor to you.

“Darling, this is Doctor Stephen Strange. He helps the team out from time to time. And occasionally, he can be very useful.” The doctor rolled his eyes at Loki’s little quip.

“He was the surgeon that operated on your lungs and knee.”

“Thank you, doctor.” You said to him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, goddess.” Strange listened to your heartbeat and checked your eyes and ears with the otoscope. Loki sat next to you on your bed. He observed you. He watched you breathe. He examined your eyes blink and your lips quiver. You weren’t lying lifeless on the bed anymore. You were awake and alert.

“Ok, your heart is fine. I can hear a slight wheeze in your lungs. But that’s to be expected considering the surgery you just had. I can’t see your eyes. We might have to make appointments regularly for us to figure that out. (Sigh.) Just relax for now. I’m going to call Bruce over, maybe Tony. I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, Strange left, leaving you and Loki alone.

 Loki clutched your hand in his and kissed every knuckle. He massaged his way up to your elbows, following the now dark lines of your markings. He wasn’t used to this look on you. He didn’t know if this was permanent or temporary, but it didn’t matter. He ran his fingers through your hair, pushing them away from your tear-stained face. His fingers disappeared into nothingness. He could feel the texture of your hair, but it was just, black. He let you cry again until you had calmed down.

The room was quiet except for the beeping of the monitor behind you. You started with a whisper, “I was empty. I took a part of your soul. Then I took the others. I had become a vessel. My payment for living was to become a bridge, a guide for the souls I took to the next life.” Loki listened intently, watching you with subdued fear. “I had your soul with me. I didn’t want to let it go. It was different, unlike the others. I recognized that it was you and I selfishly kept it with me. I hid it from the Great Snake River, where all the souls flowed into the next world. I followed it back here, where I woke up. I thought I had lost your soul. If I wasn’t there to protect you, you would’ve gone towards the world beyond. I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to wake up in a world where you weren’t in it.” You cried again. He wrapped his arms around you, embracing you with all his love.

“My darling girl …my goddess divine. You had stayed in that awful purgatory because you wanted to be with me? Not even the real me, but a small token of what I am? All because you didn’t want to live without me?” Loki asked, awed and humbled by your admission. “How could I ever equal the depths of your love? I will spend the rest of my long, immortal life, loving and proving it to you, my Sigyn.” He kissed you. A long searing kiss filled with passion and longing.

You broke the kiss, out of breath, needing reprieve. Your lungs had started aching. Something was coming out as if something were sucking out your soul. A bright glowing sphere had left your body, knocking you down onto the pillow. It flew into Loki causing him to stumble down as well. All at once, Loki felt full and rested. He felt calm and energized.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I think that was your soul. The one that guided me home.” You said smiling, your eyes drooping. “The one that guided me to you.” You sighed weakly as you stayed lying in the bed. “I’m so tired.”

“You had a long journey, my dear. Sleep. I will watch over you now.” With his hand in yours, you closed your eyes and fell back asleep.

“What does she mean, ‘a bridge to the other world?’ Is she the Grim Reaper now?” You heard Tony ask. You woke up to voices in your room.

“Keep it down. You’re going to wake her up.” Strange had said. You felt Loki’s hand squeeze yours. He knew you were already awake but kept your eyes closed.

“Tala, dear, has she ever done this before?” Tony asked your sister.

“No. Not in the thousands of years I have known her.” She answered.

“There are some sects in ancient Greece that believed that the moon carries the souls of the departed with it across the sky. I gather, they tried to explain the waning and waxing of the moon. The dark side being the souls it collects. Ultimately, helping them find another body in rebirth or their final resting place in the beyond.” Strange offered.

You could feel Loki’s hand tense in yours. “How do you explain me?” Loki asked. “She took my soul first. And according to her account, she led that soul back here to me. I was still coherent. I was up and about while she was in her ‘supposed’ coma guiding the other souls to the beyond.”

“It could be because you are another deity, maybe?” Tony theorized. “Or that you weren’t completely injured. You had to injure those men to give their lives over to her, did you not?” Tony questioned. Loki gave a thoughtful nod.

“For the sake of scientific pursuit, you still looked dead though,” Strange said. Loki looked at him menacingly. You squeezed his hand silently, telling Loki to calm down. “You had not eaten since you all arrived here at the compound. Neither did you sleep. You looked pale and tired. You were not yourself, Loki.” Strange continued. “Now, look at you. She had returned a piece of your soul to you, and you look as annoying and smug as I’ve ever seen you. Like your old self again.” You could hear Strange’s smile even though you couldn’t see it.

“Is that true?” You finally spoke up. Everyone’s eyes turned to look at you. They were all startled that you had been awake.

“Darling…” Loki tried to explain.

“Yes, it’s true,” Strange answered your question. Tony had come closer to you, examining your dark, blank eyes. He was surprised to see you like this. You sat up to greet him. The movement made your hair fall all around you and Tony watched as your hair erased the space it had taken up. As if nothing was there. He was spooked. Not an easy feat considering he’s seen many things as a hero.

“I’m sorry, Loki. I didn’t mean to keep your soul away from you. I didn’t know that you were still here. I would’ve returned as quickly as I could.” Tears started rolling down your face.

“Shh. Shh. It’s ok darling.” Loki said trying to calm you down. “I was fine. As you can see. I was more worried about you. You hadn’t woken up in four days. You had two major surgeries. I thought I was going to lose you. Anyone could’ve deduced that I was just distraught over your absence. That’s all. It wasn’t your fault.” Loki looked at Strange threateningly to keep his mouth shut.

Just then, Thor and Bucky had opened the door. They each carried two boxes of pizza. “Milady you’re awake!” Thor yelled exuberantly.

“Doll, why are you crying? Is the doctor being mean?” Bucky asked and Strange gave an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands in the air. Loki gave Strange a smug grin. “Hope you’re hungry. We bought you Guido’s.”

“Absolutely not!” Strange interjected. “She is on a strict diet for 24 hours until I know her constitution can manage it. I’ll have the nurse send up some food for you.” Strange said to you, as you wiped your tears.

“Thank you, Stephen. For all that you’ve done for me. I’ll find a way to repay your kindness.” You said thanking him.

“No need, my dear. You’re welcome. At least someone here appreciates it.” He shook his head and left to find the nurse. Loki kissed your hand that he still held and went after the doctor.

“Strange!” Loki cried out.

“What is it, Mischief?” Strange said looking over your chart in front of your door.

“Thank you,” Loki said. “I know we might not get along. But I want you to know that Mayari means everything to me. She is my life. It means so much to me that you gave me my life back. So, thank you.”

That caught Stephen by surprise. He wasn’t expecting any gratitude from Loki, especially not one that was so sincere.

“You’re welcome, Loki.” He smiled. “Seriously, though. Don’t give her any pizza. The oil and the cheese…just don’t.”

“I won’t. I promise. But I can’t speak for anyone else in the room.” Loki quickly answered as he closed the door behind him.

⬅️Chapter 21: Destiny | Chapter 23: The Ruler and The Killer➡️

kuya - older brother, até - older sister, sjelevenn - soulmate, Sigyn - victorious/faithful girlfriend.

🏷️Mayari Taglist: @user13cabs @alexs1200 @lokiprompts @huntress-artemiss

[jeyramarie]

Drawings (part 2)- Amy March x Reader

summary: sometimes you have to make sacrifices for love, even if they kill you

wc: 4,627

warning: domestic violence, makeout session

a/n: here’s part 2😁 the previous part did so well i thought it would be unfair to not give you all a glimpse of what happened afterwards. phillip is portrait by tom holland, keep that in mind. i hope you enjoy, happy reading 🦋

part 1~

The romance grew and grew everyday. Amy invited Y/n over to her aunt’s regularly. As well as the brit invited Amy over to her house. The March sisters caught on what was going on when Meg and Beth saw the women kissing in their backyard. The only people that didn’t know about the affair was Y/n’s grandmother, Aunt March and Marmee. They were hoping it stayed that way.

“My grandmother’s returning tomorrow. I got her letter this morning.” Y/n said as she walked next to Amy around her blossoming backyard.

“Which means that our escapes won’t be so often.” The blonde frowned slightly as she grabbed the brit’s hand, making her turn around.

“We can still have our escapes, we just have to be more careful.” She smiled as moved a piece of hair behind Amy’s ear as she grabbed the brit’s wrist, kissing her palm.

“I’m gonna get going. Meg is waiting for me.”

“Alright, love. Be careful.” The blonde nodded and she smiled, leaning in to give Y/n a soft kiss. Amy cupped her cheeks as the kiss grew hungry, making the brit grab her waist and pull her closer.

“Mm, I have to go.” Amy mumbled into the kiss making Y/n chuckle and part from her.

“I’ll go to your house tomorrow.” The brit smiled as the blonde returned it.

“Alright, I'll wait for you.” And with that Amy walked out of the garden, into the house and out to the street. She walked into her house and took off her coat.

“Meg! I’m here!” She shouted as she walked into the living room to see Beth, Jo and Laurie.

“And the lady returns.” Laurie said as he dramatically extended his arm towards Amy.

“How is Y/n doing?” Jo asked as she stood up to place a book on top of the fireplace.

“She’s lovely, as always.” The blonde blushed as she sat down on the chair in front of the couch.

“You look so happy, Amy.” Beth said with a huge grin as she continued to knit something on her lap.

“I am happy.” The blonde smiled as she fidgeted with her fingers.

Across the street, Y/n sat alone in the library. She was reading Shakespeare, feeling an incredible attraction to his tragic love stories. The maid knocked and walked in with a silver tray carrying tea and biscuits. She placed the tray next to Y/n catching her attention.

“Thank you, Margaret.” The brit smiled as the red head courtesy and walked towards the door, quickly remembering something.

“Madam, your grandmother is on her way here. Some locals at the market told me they saw her getting out of the boat.”

“She’s a day early… thank you, you may go.” The maid courtesy once more and walked out leaving Y/n feeling uneasy. Her biggest fear would be her grandmother finding out about her affair with Amy. Which meant that she needed to have a serious conversation with the blonde. A few minutes later, she put the book down and walked downstairs, the exact moment when her grandmother walked in.

“Y/n, darling. I missed you.”

“Granny, you’re home.” They both smiled as they wrapped each other in a tight hug.

“How was London?” Y/n asked as she intertwined her arm with her grandmother’s, beginning to walk towards the garden.

“Oh darling, it was so lovely. The flowers are beautiful this time of year and the weather was just perfect.” She said as her smile grew, staring at the brit and back at front. Suddenly, she stopped and turned to Y/n immediately grabbing her hands.

“I brought you something, someone really.”

“Someone, gran? I- I do not understand.” The brit’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion not understanding what her grandmother was talking about.

“I think she means me, madam.” A manly voice said behind Y/n, making her turn to the man. He was a bit tall, not so much. His hair was brown and a bit curled, his brown eyes were sweet and welcoming. He could make any girl melt. Any straight girl, that is.

“And who may you be, sir?”

“I’m Phillip, madam. Phillip Sherrington.” He said and bowed towards Y/n, out of respect, with an extended hand for her to grab.

“Pleasure, Mr. Sherrington.” The brit said coldly as she turned back to her grandmother.

“Granny-“

“We agreed you were going to find a husband and I found the perfect man for you.” The lady said as she gestured to Phillip with her hand.

“I wanted to find him myself, Gran.” Y/n muttered as she became more nervous with her Amy situation.

“Nonsense, darling. Now, you both are gonna have some tea tomorrow afternoon, get to know one another.”

“Granny, I was going to have tea with Amy March tomorrow.”

“You’ll have to cancel.” and with that the lady walked to Phillip, taking him into the garden. Y/n stayed alone in the middle of the living room looking out the window towards the March’s house. She grabbed her coat and ran out of the house, bolting across the street. Once at the house, she knocked on the door desperately in hopes that the blonde was still home. She felt as if God had answered her pleas when Amy opened the door, her smile quickly turning into a frown once she saw her love’s watery eyes.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“Granny’s home, she brought back a man… a-a rich man to be my husband.” Y/n ranted as she walked into the house.

“A man, what?”

“She brought back a man, Phillip, from London. She brought him here to be my husband.” The brit cried as she placed both her palms on her head. Amy grabbed her arms and shook her slightly.

“Y/n, love. Look at me, please.” Y/n looked up and met the blonde’s green eyes as she began to cry. The brit wrapped her arms around Amy, pulling her into a tight hug as the blonde immediately wrapped her arms around Y/n.

“I can’t take you for tea tomorrow. I have to go out with Phillip… but we can go somewhere the day after tomorrow.” She sniffled as she parted from the hug.

“It’s alright, love.” Amy cupped her face and pecked her lips, not remembering that the girls and Laurie were still there.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you… all of you. I-I’m sorry. Now if you all will excuse me, I have to get going before my grandmother notices I’m gone.” Y/n said, looking at everyone in the room and finally staring at Amy.

“The day after tomorrow, alright?” She whispered softly as she cradled the blonde’s face. Amy nodded leaning into the brit’s palm before she parted from her and ran out the door. The blonde stood there looking at the door for a few seconds, then turned to her sisters and Laurie with tearful eyes.

The next morning came around and Amy barely slept the night before. Thinking of Y/n and her possible future husband. The brit didn’t sleep either, not being able to get the blonde’s eyes out of her memory. She was currently laying on her side, staring at the wall when Margaret walked in. The maid opened the curtains, letting the bright sunlight in as Y/n turned in her bed, looking at the ceiling.

“Your grandmother is waiting for you in the dining room to begin eating breakfast.” The redhead said as she took a dress from Y/n’s closet, placing it on the bed. The brit woke up with a grunt as she sat up on the bed. She stood up and walked towards Margaret who unbuttoned her sleeping gown, taking it off her body. Y/n got into her undergarments as the redhead looked for the corset that went with the dress.

‘Breathe.’ Y/n reminded herself as her body jolted caused by the harsh pulling of the strings being tied behind her. The corset became tighter around her waist as it bruised her ribs more and more. Once in the dress, she sat down on a wooden chair for Margaret to start on her hair. Y/n winced as the redhead pulled, braided and pinned her hair back.

“Thank you, Margaret.” The brit said softly, walking out of the room, down the stairs and into the dining room. Her grandmother was there, reading the newspaper with her reading glasses as she sipped some warm tea. The lady heard the heels against the wooden floors.

“Good morning, darling.”

“Hello, Granny.” She said as she sat at the chair next to the grey haired women.

“Phillip will come by around lunch time to pick you up.”

“Alright.” Y/n answered dryly as she sipped from her tea, she was going to take a bite from a piece of bread when her grandmother spoke.

“Darling, maybe you should start cutting off carbs for some time. You have to look your best to become Phillip’s wife.” The brit looked at her and nodded, giving her a fake smile. Her ribs screamed for air as she stayed on the chair, feeling nothing but pain. Y/n stayed quiet for the rest of the morning. She practiced on the piano right after breakfast to kill time till Phillip arrived. Her fingers moved against the piano tiles with delicacy, creating a beautiful melody that she had written for Amy. Y/n was lost in the song, having her eyes closed and once she opened them she saw her grandmother standing next to a smiling Phillip. The brit gasped and stood up immediately as if she had been caught.

“That was incredible, you’re very talented.” The british man smiled as he clapped while walking towards the brit.

“Thank you, Mr. Sherrington. How do you do?”

“I’m doing quite well, how are you this fine evening?”

“Well sir, I’m doing good.”

“That’s lovely, we should get going.” He smiled and took out his hand for Y/n to grab. She grabbed it and he placed it intertwined with his as they began to walk towards the door.

“Have a lovely evening.” Y/n’s grandmother smiled as she kissed both her granddaughter’s cheeks. The brit grabbed her coat and small bag before walking outside. She immediately looked towards the March’s house to see Jo walking out. They looked at each other for a few seconds until Phillip broke her trance.

“I beg your pardon.”

“The carriage is ready.” He smiled, taking her hand, helping her onto the carriage. Phillip sat in front of Y/n as they began to move. The carriage ride was mostly silent as the y/h/c clearly showed she didn’t want to be there. Of course, it wasn’t Phillip’s fault. He was quite the lovely guy, respectful, sweet, attentive, every lady's dream. Y/n just didn’t want him in that way, she wanted Amy.

“Are you always this quiet?” Phillip asked, making Y/n look at him.

“Sometimes, yes. I’m just… a bit closed off with new people.” She said and looked out the window.

“What do you normally do?”

“I like to read.”

“Oh really?” He was surprised with her answer, not expecting a lady of her position to enjoy reading.

“Yes, really. Why is it so surprising?” She asked, looking away from the window and towards him.

“It’s not, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting a woman from your social standard to enjoy reading.”

“And what am I supposed to enjoy?” Y/n with a straight face, starting to feel annoyed.

“Well, I don’t know. I suppose, buy dresses, go to balls, gossip…, and drink tea…”

“Is that all a lady should do, Phillip?”

“No… I believe a woman is free to make her own choices. I just mentioned all of that due to the expectation a lady from your social standards has.” He answered respectfully before turning his face to the window like Y/n did.

“My apologies then.” The brit muttered as she fidgeted with her fingers. They stayed silent until they finally made it to the park. There was a blanket set up with food just for them. They sat down and took in the scenery for a few seconds.

“There’s some biscuits your gran said you liked.” Phillip said as he handed Y/n a plate of sugared biscuits.

“Thank you… so tell me about your family.” The brit said, making him grin. He began talking about his folks, his siblings, the place he grew up in. Phillip began to tell Y/n some of his childhood stories making her chuckle and laugh from time to time. After a few more smiles and giggles Phillip put down his bitten biscuit, thinking of a new topic.

“What about your parents?” Y/n looked at him immediately, starting to feel uneasy and nervous.

“I don’t feel quite comfortable talking about them, Phillip-“

“Well it’s just parents.”

“I don’t wish to talk about them. So please, I beg of you, do not mention them again.” The brit said strongly and her brow furrowed in annoyance and anger.

“I-I… my apologies, Y/n.”

“It’s alright.” She quickly changed the topic and they began to talk about the countries they’ve visited. They also walked around, taking in the scenery until it was time to leave. The ride back to the house was filled with more conversation and a few laughs.

“Thank you for the lovely evening, Mr. Sherrington.” Y/n smiled as Phillip walked her to the door.

“Of course, I had a great time. Take care of yourself alright?”

“Yes, you too.” She chuckled as Margaret opened the door, letting her in. The brit took off her coat and handed it to the maid, as well as her purse.

“How was it?” Her grandmother asked, walking down the stairs.

“It went well, he’s really lovely.”

“Ugh, I knew you’d like him. Keep this up and you’ll be married to a rich man very soon.” The grey haired lady walked towards the living room leaving Y/n and Margaret alone. The brit quickly turned to the maid and ran towards her.

“Margaret, I’m going to need your help. I need you to go over to the March’s house and tell Amy that I will pick her up at 12 in the afternoon. Please? Will you help me?” Y/n asked with pleading eyes as the redhead smiled slightly since she was the only servant of the house who knew about the affair.

“You know I love you girls, of course I'll help.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Y/n said as she pulled her into a tight hugh which was immediately returned.

“I’ll go now, distract your gran.” The brit nodded and walked into the living room to see the lady reading a book. Y/n sat down on the piano, beginning to play her song. Across the street, the redhead knocked on the door. It opened to reveal Jo.

“You must be Ms. Amy’s sister. I’m Margaret, Ms. Y/n’s maid. She asked me to come here and talk to her.”

“I’ll go get her. Amy!” She shouted up the stairs, after a few seconds a blonde walked down.

“What?” Amy asked, standing next to Jo and moving her eyes towards the redhead.

“Margaret… What are you doing here? Is everything alright? Is Y/n okay?”

“She’s fine Ms. Amy. She asked to come here to tell you that her carriage will come by tomorrow at 12 in the afternoon.” Before the blonde could answer, the redhead looked back at the house across the street and back at the sisters.

“I have to get going but I hope you both have a lovely time tomorrow. Goodnight.” Margaret said and turned around, beginning to run back towards the house. Once inside the house, she nodded at Y/n signalling her that Amy knew about the next day.

The next morning Y/n was well rested. Her heart felt content knowing she was going to see Amy in a few hours. Margaret dressed her in a yellow dress and pinned half her hair up with a few braids, letting her curls cascade down her back.

“You let your hair down.” The grey haired lady pointed out as Y/n sat next to her at the dining table.

“I did. Thought I’d try something different today.” She smiled and lifted her teacup to her lips, drinking the warm beverage.

“Looks lovely.” The lady muttered, moving her eyes back to the newspaper.

“Thank you.” Y/n replied as she smiled to herself. She spent the rest of her morning in the library, looking for a new book to read. The y/h/c wanted to take one with her so she could share it with Amy. It was finally time to leave, causing her smile to grow and grow by the second. After a few seconds she was in front of the March’s, poking her head out of the carriage as the blonde opened the door.

“Are you ready, your majesty?” Y/n smiled as Amy smiled back with a small giggle.

“For you, I always am.” The blonde closed the door behind her and walked towards the carriage where the footman helped her get on. They were finally alone in the carriage, sitting next to each other as they suddenly felt nervous.

“I love your hair like that.” Amy said, smiling as she grabbed Y/n’s hand.

“You do? I thought I'd try something different. It’s been a long time since I've let it down like this.” The y/h/c said as she twirled a curl around her finger.

“You should wear it like this more often.” The blonde said as she moved some curls over the girl’s shoulder.

The carriage began to move and they continued to admire each other. Amy placed her hand on Y/n’s cheek, rubbing her thumb on it against it as the brit leaned into her palm. They stared between their eyes and lips as they both leaned in slowly. Their lips came together in a sweet slow kiss. Amy’s free hand cupped Y/n’s other cheek, pulling her closer. It grew more passionate as the brit gripped the back of the blonde’s neck, feeling hungrier and hungrier for each other.

Their tongues fought for dominance before they both parted to catch some air. Amy lowered her head and began to kiss Y/n’s neck making her breaths heavier. The blonde bit, sucked and licked on the soft skin making the y/h/c blush heavily, starting to feel hot.

“Amy..” Y/n moaned as she threw her head back, feeling the blonde’s lips kiss the top of her breasts.

“You… taste… so… good…” Amy said as she kissed a piece of skin with every word she said. She reached the y/h/c’s lips and kissed her again before the brit moved her lips to the blonde’s breasts. Y/n bit and sucked on the skin wanting to create hickies. Her breathing became heavy as she closed her fist around the brit’s hair.

“Oh God…” Amy threw her head back as Y/n’s lips kissed up her neck to bite her jawline. Their lips came together again in a passionate kiss, tongues going crazy as they mixed together. They parted with their foreheads together as they tried to catch their breath. Amy was going to lean in once again when the carriage came to a stop making them sit normally again. The footman opened the door and held out his hand to support the girls as they climbed out. They began to walk towards the park, quickly disappearing among the crowd to walk around the lake.

“How did it go with Phillip?” Amy asked as they walked close to each other, holding the urge to connect their hands.

“It was alright. He talked about himself more since I closed off when he asked about my parents.”

“What happened to your parents?” Y/n took a deep breath as she stopped walking while staring at the sky. Amy stopped and stood in front of her, giving her time to gather her thoughts.

“They’re dead. They were killed when I was a little girl, that’s why I was raised by my grandmother.”

“Forgive me for asking.”

“Love, it’s alright. I was going to tell you sooner or later.” Y/n said, giving Amy a small smile. They walked around for some time until they found an open field, away from everyone. It was the perfect moment for them to touch. They immediately held hands and ran down the grassy fields, beginning to play tag. Amy laughed hysterically as Y/n tripped over her shoes while running away from the blonde. Once they got tired, they looked for a tree and sat on the ground. Amy sat against the trunk while Y/n laid her head on her lap, staring at the leaves and back at the field. The blonde’s fingers ran through the y/h/c curls, taking in their softness.

“Amy?”

“Yes?”

“I’m in love with you.” Y/n said, staring into Amy’s green eyes as she sat there stunned. The brit got anxious and quickly sat up, turning to her.

“I apologize for that, I beg for your forgiveness.”

“Y/n, calm down. I’m in love with you as well.” Amy said with her hand on Y/n’s cheeks making the brit let out a breath of relief. They both leaned in and kissed, feeling their hearts swell with joy.

After their date, Y/n took Amy back home, kissing all the way there. Everything getting heated again, of course. They kissed before the blonde got out of the carriage, neither of them wanting to part. The March sisters were staring out the window as the lovers kissed goodbye making Y/n wave at them. The brit made it into her home with a bright smile on her face as she remembered the feeling of Amy’s lips on her skin. She was about to walk up the stairs when she saw Phillip and her grandmother in the living room.

“Oh Phillip, I did not know you were coming today.” He remained with a straight face as well as her grandmother who moved to become angry.

“Is everything alright? Granny?” Y/n asked as she fidgeted with her fingers while walking towards them.

“You’re a disgrace to this family.” The lady muttered, making the brit furrow her brows in confusion.

“Gran, I don’t-“

“Phillip saw you today… with Amy March… kissing.” Y/n’s face went into immediate fear as she felt like she couldn’t breath.

“Granny, I-“ She was quickly shut up with a loud slap against her cheek, making her face turn to the side.

“You’ll never see that girl again. You’re to marry Phillip next month.”

“I don’t want to marry Phillip.”

“You will marry him. I don’t care what your thoughts are.” The lady began to walk towards the stairs as Y/n anger grew.

“You can’t make me marry someone I don’t love! Just because you married someone you didn’t love doesn’t mean you have to do that with me!” The brit shouted, making her grandmother immediately turn to her to walk towards her and slapped her across the face. Y/n touched her lip and saw red on her fingertips. Suddenly, her grandmother gripped her hair harshly causing her to shout in pain.

“I don’t care if I have to drag you to the church myself. You’re going to marry Phillip and I don’t care how you feel about it.” She said with gritted teeth and let go of Y/n’s hair harshly making her fall to the ground. The brit turned her head to see the british man standing there with a devilish smirk.

“You’re a pig.” She whimpered, standing up from the floor as he chuckled.

“Darling, I’m not the one who dishonored my family.”

“I can’t believe I began to think you were a good person…” Y/n almost whispered as she walked closer to him, looking up at him due to the slight height difference.

“I don’t care how much money you may give my family but I won’t bear your heirs… I won’t let you touch me.” His face transformed into anger as his hand flew to Y/n’s neck, gripping it tightly. Phillip began to tighten his hand more and more every second, cutting off her air.

“You will be mine, Y/n… you will be mine and you will have my heirs whether you like it or not…because that’s what a lady is meant to do.” He muttered with gritted teeth, watching as a tear ran down her cheek. He harshly pecked her lips and let go of her neck, making her fall as she coughed dryly trying to breathe again.

“I hope you take this time to shape into the perfect wife for me because we’ll be leaving for London after the wedding… don’t expect to come back.” and with that, Phillip walked out leaving Y/n whimpering on the floor as she began to cry. She kept crying the whole night, even when Margaret gave her a bath. The brit laid her head on her knees as the redhead scrubbed her back.

“You will get to see her again.”

“When?” Y/n sniffled, turning to Margaret who reflected her sad eyes.

“How, Margaret? I won’t be able to see the love of my life for Lord knows how long. I swear to you… I’ll go insane.” She said as she held her forehead with her palms.

“I’m not supposed to do this but I’ll whisper it in case your grandmother has listeners.” Margaret whispered into the brit’s ear as she continued to run the water over the body.

“Go write a letter for her and I’ll deliver it when I can.”

“You would do that?” Y/n asked as she sniffled, feeling a glimpse of hope in her heart.

“I will but I’ll give it to her when I can. I don’t know how long it may be.”

“It’s alright… It’s alright… Thank you, Margaret.” The redhead nodded, giving the brit a slight smile. Once out of the bath and in her sleeping gown, Y/n sat down and began to write.

‘My dearest Amy,

My grandmother found out about us. Phillip told her. I won’t be able to see you or write to you, possibly ever again. I’m not allowed outside the house anymore. Margaret may be my only messenger right now and this will possibly be the last time she’ll be able to do this.

The wedding is in a month. Of course, it is all against my will and I'm not sure what to do. Phillip told me we’ll be leaving for London after the wedding…

I will forever be in love with you, Amy March. I will think of you every second of every day for as long as I live. I beg of you, please don’t forget me. We’ll meet again, my love. Someday. I’ll love you for all eternity.

Forever yours, Y/n.’

Amy fell to the ground, tears running down her cheeks as her cries became louder. Her sisters burst into the room quickly cradling the blonde who was crying hysterically as she clenched the letter over her chest. The love of her life was being ripped away from her. Thanks to social standards and roles.

So close, yet so far away. Both women cried themselves to sleep that night, feeling impotence and out of control. As if they were reaching out and the more they reached the farther they were. Wanting, desiring nothing more than to be holding each other, forever.