#so you would go under meditate under the night sky and ask the gods for those powers

[acourtofsnakes]

You Can Let It All Go - Freefall, Chapter 2 | | The Bad Batch x Jedi!Reader

Summary: Can you break someone's spirit if they're already inside themselves? If they've retreated into memories of happier times, of safety?

a/n: The chapters in this series are split into sections, Before and After. The before chapters are set during the Clone Wars, before TBB, with a slight AU. This chapter is mostly set 'before'

Warnings: hints of reader being in danger, fluff, oh god so much fluff, teasing brothers, flashback chapter set in the past, cuddling, teasing, Hunter in wet clothes

I do not allow any of my work to be republished without my consent, that being said, reblogs and comments are much appreciated if you liked it!✨

Words: 4.8k

Tags: @arctrooper69

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Now

They were trying to take everything from you. Your spirit, your strength, your power. They would keep going until nothing was left. 

But they couldn’t take what was in your head. 

They couldn’t take your memories. 

Before 

Coruscant always fascinated you. The way it felt almost real up on the higher levels, bright sunshine and open sky, plants that burst with colour and even a breeze that tickled your skin. 

You especially loved the night sky, when they lowered some of the lights and you could find pockets of darkness where the real stars came through, winking and sparkling in colours you couldn’t even name. 

But each level down, lower and lower, the light faded, the air became choked and the denizens became people you wouldn’t want to meet on those dark streets. 

You supposed that was the downfall of the whole galaxy. Look a little deeper and things weren’t quite as they seemed. 

There was barely a shift in the air around you, the smallest movement that any normal person wouldn’t have been able to feel. 

But you were so tuned in, so aware of him, of all of them, that you’d feel them in your sleep. Even if the intensity of that awareness did surprise you sometimes. 

You felt them all the time, moving around you like moons orbiting a planet. A unit that could not exist without the other. 

You’d felt him approach a while ago, then settle into a state of stillness and calm, like he hadn’t wanted to disturb you. 

Initially, you had been meditating, wanting to do it up here in the setting sun, and then under the stars rather than in a closed room. 

He always managed to find you, always knew exactly where you were, all the time. 

But as soon as that you’d sensed that feeling of strong warmth, fierce loyalty, a steady pulse that would never ever change… How could you focus? 

So it had become a little game of sorts, you watching the skyline, feeling your Force sense itch to play, to wind through his ankles and drink up his steadiness, an anchor in the storm. 

You still couldn’t put a finger on why you’d felt this strongly lately, why that admiration of how he led and moved had turned into something deeper and more intense. 

But, you had had enough of the game. You wanted to talk, wanted to sit with him, just… be with him, without the clamour of battle or others. “You know, if you take a holograph, it’ll last longer. Then you can stare at me all the time, even when you’re brooding.” Your voice was light, playful, even if there was some kind of floaty feeling like wings in your chest. 

“Should I ask why you’re staring so intensely at that skyline or do I not want to know?” Hunter’s deep, smooth baritone broke you free of your thoughts, his broad figure casting a slight shadow over your face. Then a very faint pout touched his lips, “And I do not brood.” 

You gazed up at him finally, quirking an eyebrow, “Hunter, you brood more than anyone I know. You brood more than Cross, and that’s saying something.” There was a faint laugh in your voice, one that only he could draw out of you and you patted the space next to you, reading the silent question in his eyes even from down here. 

Still, he hesitated a second as if to check you were okay with this, before he eased himself down, stretching one leg out and keeping the other up bent by his chest, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He grumbled the words but you could spy the tiny twitch of his lips, the glint in his eyes, reflecting the starlight from above. 

His shoulder brushed yours with every easy breath he took, sending tiny shockwaves through you each time. 

You chuckled a little again, looking out at the stars with him, just enjoying the quiet up here, the steady weight of the man beside you. 

When you first joined the boys, Hunter would try and fill these silences, unsure of himself, the words sounding stilted almost. But it wasn’t until he began to learn that you liked the quiet moments with someone else, especially when you’d fallen into a non-verbal mood. 

It was just… reassuring. To sit here, no pressure to talk, to just share each other's warmth and presence like the very anchor he felt like. 

“Are you okay?” Hunter’s rough voice broke the silence after a moment, and you could tell he had been fighting to ask from the moment he found you up here. He was so in tune to his squad, not just from those enhanced senses but because that was his job as a Sergeant. That’s what Rex would do, and that’s what Hunter tried to do and be. 

A star sparked and shot across the sky, bursting into hundreds of tiny fragments, capturing your attention and you let out a breathless smile at the sight, not caring if it was real or if this was a simulation. It was still breathtaking. 

Hunter gazed down at you, wondering why you’d fallen silent but then he caught your expression, the wonder filling your eyes that gave him a glimpse of the girl beneath Ghost, the one who just wanted to see the world, without all the smoke and carnage and pain. 

It hit him like a bantha tearing over his chest, the sudden urge, no the desire, to give you that freedom, that space to become the girl you really were underneath the armour the war gave you and you donned to protect yourself.

You watched the star fall toward the horizon, drawing your eyes to land on the shining Jedi Temple across the city, the beacon to all that their galaxy was protected. Of course, there was something to be said about the fact that it sat on the highest level, the cleanest level whilst everyone else toiled and fought miles below.

If he noticed you avoiding the question, he didn’t say anything, choosing instead to focus on what you were feeling right now, “Do you miss it? Being in the Temple, being with General Skywalker and the others?” He adjusted his arm resting on his knee, his shoulder brushing yours again, sending yet more tingly shocks through your blood.

Did you miss it?

That was the question, wasn’t it?

A thoughtful little hum rose from your chest, making you cock your head as you still watched the Temple, “I do miss them, being with them and getting into trouble. I miss the way it felt so easy, like it was us four against the world, you know?” You looked over at Hunter, knowing that's how he felt with his boys, “That even though everything can be turning into a mess outside, you still have that close knit bond that nothing can break.” 

He nodded, a faint smile touching his lips as he no doubt thought of his brothers, “You always have each other, no matter what.”  He toyed with something in his hands, a rock or something from the roof, “We could see how close you all were when we were on Skako Minor, the way you all moved without needing to see each other, the way you trusted each other.” Hunter was quiet for a moment, “You were the only one who truly believed Rex. I could see it in your eyes, you had the same look as he did.”

A cold breeze danced down your neck and you shivered lightly, drawing your gaze away from the Temple, bringing it down to where your sabers rested on the ground in front of you, “I knew. I always felt something, I felt something at the end of the Force but I could never put my finger on what it meant. I just knew he wasn’t dead… And when Rex told me what he’d found, I realised what it was. That he was alive.” You toyed with the belt clip on the end of your lightsaber, needing something to occupy your hands with, “I would have gone with Rex alone to find him. There was no way I was leaving one of my soldiers, one of my best friends behind.” A heavy breath escaped its way from your chest, because that mission was one of those that had set up permanent residence in your brain, choosing to rear its head on the nights you attempted to sleep. 

Hunter brought his other leg up to his chest, swapping so the one closest to you was stretched out, opening his body up to you, giving you a space, “The way you and Rex tore through that facility, the determination in your eyes… It was what I feel for my brothers, that acceptance that you would do anything to protect them.” His brows drew in heavily, jaw clenching and the pattern of his tattoo rippled along his skin, “I’ll never forget what he looked like in there, hooked up to that machine.” 

You swallowed the bitter taste that arose in your throat, that crawling sensation that skittered over your skin like a thousand tiny legs. In the darkness of the shadows, you saw Echo hooked up to those machines, saw the life being pumped out of him, the way they’d changed him, tried to dehumanise him. “Me either.” The echoed words were hollow, that sensation becoming almost too much to bear and you instinctively curled your nails into your palms, desperate to feel that sharp bite of pain, needing something to shake away that clammy feeling and the memories that followed, the way you tore through the facility and wrecked vengeance on those that hurt your best friend. 

So much blood.

He didn’t say anything, just shifted closer, his hip then his side coming in to press against yours. His warmth seeped into your bones, chasing away that feeling like sunlight on ice and you sunk against him without a second’s hesitation, allowing your body to unclench as you trusted in him to hold you up. 

Safe. Steady. Two of the things you always associated with Hunter, no matter the situation, even if you were disagreeing over something. 

He was a sturdy shelter in the storm, so much like Rex, yet his own man too. 

“What was he like? Before all of this?” Hunter’s voice rumbled gently from above your head as the weight of his jaw rested carefully against your hair, the sensation sending more of those pleasant shivers through your body and calming you. 

You brought your legs up so your knees rested against his thigh, allowing your eyes to unfocus, for that part of your mind to dissociate and turn to happier memories, “Headstrong. Vibrant. A soldier so incredibly loyal to his men and Commanders that he wouldn’t hesitate to do the right thing.” You smiled a little, feeling your eyes turn a little heavy with Hunters warmth, “Much like he is now, actually.” 

Hunter chuckled very softly, more a rough hum in his throat, “Yeah, you got that right.” He breathed once, twice, voice softer, “Was he happy?” 

You released a sigh of your own now, allowing your eyes to drift closed, “We all were… But despite everything, I wouldn't change a thing. This was the path chosen for me by me. If I stayed where I was.. Maybe I wouldn't have been truly happy after all. I wouldn't have been whole, I wouldn’t have been myself.” The words might not be making sense, but they were important, and you needed to tell him how grateful you were, “I can be myself with you and the boys, Hunter. I don’t need to hide who I am.” 

As if he felt the way your body was relaxing - which he most likely did, he carefully settled his arm over your shoulders, large hand encompassing the top of your arm as he rubbed it gently, “You never need to hide with us, Ghost. You’re one of us now.” He lightly tapped the top of your arm, where your own version of the Batch’s skull sat on your armour when you had it on, “You’re what we always needed, what we didn’t even realise we were missing.” 

A happy hum lifted from your lips, your body lulled into sleep almost instantly just from his presence, his warmth. You didn’t know how he did it, how he made your brain and body give into the slumber you so desperately tried to fend off with caf and stims. But like this, with him… There were rarely any nightmares, like they didn’t dare venture out of the dark for fear of the hunter tearing them apart. 

Hunter rested his chin on the top of your head, eyes closed as he felt you slump into him, heard your breathing even out and he spoke the rest of his words into the Coruscant night, “What I didn’t realise I was missing.”

~~

The change from warm body to cool sheets stirred you from your sleep, making you blink with sleepy eyes, seeing the blurry shape of Hunter filling your vision, “Hunt?” The words were incoherent, sleep still taking over your brain so all your defences, your walls… They were gone. 

You felt his heart stumble through that permanent Force link you kept with the boys… Or maybe you just imagined it in this state, “I’m here, Ghost. It’s okay, I’m just putting you to bed.” He settled you in comfortably, making sure your head was supported by pillows before he brought your covers up over your body, their warm weight already easing you back down. 

As he smoothed them over your shoulders, you were suddenly hit with the undeniable urge to have him stay here, to revel in that feeling of safety and the knowledge that you could let go of those walls and just be. You didn’t have to think, you didn’t have to use your head or feel or do anything. Right now, in this space, you could just be you. “Stay…” Sleep was beginning to drag you down but you fought against it, needing him to understand. 

Hunter hesitated, his honey-dark eyes widening in the faint light of your room as he gazed down at you, one hand still on your shoulders, “Ghost…” He breathed the word, wondering if he heard you correctly, if this was something you truly wanted. 

You managed to fight sleep enough to force your eyes open, focusing on him and you laced your fingers through his own warm, rough ones, the hands of a soldier, just like your own, “Hunt, please stay with me.” You looked up into his eyes, eyes that kept you safe, eyes that you’d seen countless times and trusted but yet they were so unique in their own right. 

His entire expression softened at the nickname, the question, his neck bobbing as he swallowed and he nodded, “Of course.” He settled himself carefully on the edge of the bed, as if to perch there and watch over you but it wasn’t enough. 

You shook your head a little, clutching his hand closer, fighting to keep your head upright, “No…” You squeezed his hand, willing him to understand the words you were too tired to say. 

But this was Hunter, and he knew you. He didn’t need enhanced senses for that, even if it felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest and his breathing felt unsteady. It was a feeling he felt around you, but he just couldn’t put a name to it, couldn’t put a name to the cacophony of intense emotion he felt whenever it came to you. “Okay, okay... One second.” He squeezed your hand back, allowing you to move first and disentangle your fingers before he walked around the bed, hesitating again before the mattress sunk and he sat down next to you with his legs stretched out and back against the headboard. 

He just hoped the darkness of your room was enough to hide how badly he was shaking right now. 

You made a noise, a sleepy one as you shuffled onto your other side and rated your head over his thigh, letting unconsciousness begin to claim you once more, “Thank you…” The words were a whispered breath carried on the unshadowed truth of the nightime as you relaxed once more. 

Hunter rested a hand on your shoulder, the other subconsciously carding through your hair as he marvelled at the feeling of it on his skin, “Anytime…”

And there he sat, unmoving, unwavering, watching over you and wondering where in the hell he would start to unravel everything in his mind when it came to the Batch’s Ghost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was shining brightly the next morning, the warmth feeling almost real as you wandered from your apartment toward the Batch’s usual haunt. You had a pretty good guess that they’d be at the shipyard, the clear day providing them with the chance to work on the Marauder. 

With some careful words to the right people, you’d secured them a few days off under the claims of regrouping after their mission and saying you would work with them in training. 

In reality, you’d asked Master Plo and he’d said yes straight away and said he’d sort everything out. Big softy.

You’d woken up from your sleep last night feeling… remarkably refreshed. There were no nightmares. No lingering effects of the stims that you used to run from the memories. 

Sleep had surrounded you in its arms and allowed you to rest peacefully, no doubt thanks to the man who stayed by your side all night. 

When you’d woken up, he was gone, which you’d expected. 

At first you thought it had been a dream, asking him to stay. You’d never normally cross that line, but you’d been so tired, and the thought of being alone had crushed you. 

Then you felt the lingering warmth of the bed beside you and caught the masculine scent of him still gently caressing the air and you realised he had stayed the whole time. Watched over you and your dreams, protecting you when you were at your most vulnerable. 

He always protected you. 

You were beginning to head down a path that you usually tried not to let yourself follow, lest it send you tumbling into a black hole of spiralling thoughts and realisations about your emotions, discoveries you weren’t sure you were ready to admit yet. 

Luckily, your dissociation meant that the trip to the shipyard had gone quicker than expected, and there was the Marauder, sitting proudly and lovingly with her angled gleaming under the Coruscant sun. 

As you got closer, your boots hit puddles of soapy water, the fresh scent of it hitting your nose as well as that particular scent of wet duracrete in the sun… It was a silly little thing that made you smile, a scent that just felt good and familiar as you approached the half wet, half dry ship. 

Despite the puddles on the ground, you were still as silent as your namesake, hearing and feeling him, as well as Tech’s particular and unique force aura. You always imagined them as colours, Hunter a deep, rich red and Tech a glimmering gold. 

When you were all together, and you tuned into the force around you, it was like a shimmering, shifting blanket of colour in your head. Each one mingling perfectly with the one around it, beautiful on their own but gorgeous all together. It helped to chase away the emptiness and filled you with light rather than darkness. 

“... could add upgrades to make the ship faster, if I could get my hands on the parts.” Tech’s voice reached you when you finally paused in the shadow of the upbent wings, peering round the corner to observe your boys. 

Hunter was… Stars above. He was the first thing your eyes landed on, in just his black flight suit, sleeves rolled up past his forearms to reveal the lines of his tattoo marking out his bones. The fabric was a little wet, clinging to him more than usual and cutting sharp lines across the broad expanse of his shoulders, not to mention the way it gave you an unaltered view of his waist. 

Pull it together, Ghost!

You could practically hear Anakin laughing in the back of your head, doubled over with a hand on his chest and a teasing grin on his face as he watched his one of best friends turn into a drooling mess.

“Faster? Are you planning on getting us in trouble, Tech?” Hunter’s voice held a playful tone, eyes glittering as he passed a wet sponge over the ship above his head, arm straining and muscles rippling, “I didn’t have you pegged for such a speedster.” 

Tech poked his head out of the ships inner workings, brows furrowed as he stared at his brother, “Hunter, you have known me for as long as we can both conceivably remember, and for as long as we have been in a unit, the ship’s piloting duties have always fallen to m-” 

“I’m joking, brother.” Hunter cut off Tech’s word dump before he worked himself up, with a good natured roll of his eyes, “I’ll have a word with Rex and some of the others, maybe they can find what you need. Make a list.” He paused, water running down his knuckles and down his forearm, “You have a list already, don’t you?” 

Head already back inside the ship, Tech’s voice came out somewhat muffled, “Of course. I had one compiled since the last mission when I noticed the upgrades would be beneficial to us.” He was sprawled out on the ground, one leg bent up with his foot planted on the ground, with a myriad of tools surrounding him. 

Hunter chuckled softly, a rough noise that rumbled in his throat and chest as a smile tugged at the edges of his lips, “Of course you did.” He dunked the sponge back into the bucket of water by his feet, his head ducking down and thick strands of his umber hair falling forward, slipping over the bandana and into his eyes. 

It made your fingers twitch, ache to brush it aside and follow the line of it down his jaw, to trace his tattoo again and watch his eyes flutter closed at the touch of affection all of you had been starved of.

Anakin really would be beaming at you now, that knowing look in his eyes as he nudged you with an elbow, “Daydreaming again, Sparks?”

“When I gave you your nickname, I didn’t think you’d use those skills on us, you know.” Hunter’s words, directed at you this time made you jump, heart leaping to your throat like you’d been caught because… Well. You had been caught. Caught oogling him?

You muttered a silent curse to yourself before moving around the ship and coming into view, feet splashing in the water now, “I only just got here, I think your Hunter-senses might be running thin.” Raising an eyebrow at him, you prayed that the sun could be to blame for any flush in your cheeks. 

You were an ex-Jedi commander!!! You didn’t blush or get flustered!

Hunter raised a dark brow at you, those eyes of his twinkling in the golden light above, “You do realise those senses told me where you were the second you set foot in the shipyard, right?” He rose to his full height, water pooling from his hand onto the floor and he cocked his head at you, “You forget how intune we are to you, Ghost. Just like you are with us.” Had his voice gotten rougher? Deeper? Or did it just feel that way because he was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t name, one that set that fluttering feeling loose again. 

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, lost for words for once and you instead focused on the pooling water by his feet, “That is.. Completely unfair.” You breathed the words, unable to stop the grin that shone on your own face, brightening your expression and revealing that same troublesome playfulness that bonded you and Anakin so closely. 

Hunter stepped closer to you, the scent of him washing over your senses just as a breeze swept over the shipyard, “Unfair, huh?” He tipped his head back, gazing down his nose at you, still smiling, “That why your cheeks are flushed? Are you feeling a little warm, Ghost?” His eyes darted past you toward Tech, an almost imperceptible nod there.

Wicked, wicked man.

Damn.

You cleared your throat, refusing to miss a beat and you tipped your own head back, “In case you hadn’t noticed under all that hair, it’s rather warm and sunny today. It’s just the heat of the day, that’s all.” You resisted the urge to cross your arms, leaving them loose at your sides, even as you toyed with the edge of your saber.

“Actually, according to my data,” Tech’s voice suddenly came from a couple feet behind you, and you jumped, actually startled, “Your body temperature isn’t high enough to cause a flush from the sun. You do, however, have an elevated heart rate and your breaths per minute have increased above your usual level.” 

You spun round to face him, watching as he pushed his goggles up with the hand not holding his datapad, expression neutral but you swore you could see a smile playing about his eyes and feel it in the shimmery golden aura that surrounded him, “Tech!! You’re reading my vitals?!” Even you could hear the way your voice flickered an octave higher than usual, completely destroying your mock indignation, “You two are ganging up on me!!” 

Hunter chuckled softly, sharing a look with Tech as he moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother, “Ganging up on you? But if we’re wrong, surely there’s nothing for us to team up against?” His head tilted again, his expression so clear and bright, even it was full of teasing aimed at you. 

Damn these stupidly attractive, smart brothers. They knew you too well. The only people in the galaxy who could reduce you to a damn blushing, wordless mess. Stars above, you needed to reign yourself in and have a word.

Tech peered down at his data pad, “Interesting. Your heart rate has increased by thirteen beats in just a few moments.” He looked back up, honey eyes imploring, “Perhaps you need to sit down, Ghost. A sudden increase in heart rate can cause a rush of blood to the head.” There. Now the smile twitched his lips, making his eyes as liquid gold as Hunter’s, matching expressions as they both stood there filling your vision.

Even you could feel the blush now, sucking in a breath and then you laughed, shaking your head and running a hand across your hair, “Damn you both.” You rolled your eyes, planting your hands on your hips, “I bet you were sitting there planning that, weren’t you? From the second you knew I was here.” You turned your attention to Hunter, raising your eyebrows at him, smile turning into a full grin now. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but Tech took a step forward, leaning into it and holding up a hand, “Actually,” He cut a glance to Hunter, but carried on, “I noticed Hunter had the same reaction as you upon your entrance to the shipyard. His heart rate-” 

“Right.” Hunter suddenly moved forward, shouldering past his brother - gently - and he pushed the wet cloth in your hands, “Since you’re here bright and early, you can help with the ship.” He cleared his throat, “C’mon, it won’t clean itself.” He spun round and moved back to the Marauder, picking up the dry cloth he’d been using to polish the surface after it air dried. 

What was that all about?

Tech avoided your curious gaze, turning to move back to the engine but not before you caught that certain look in his eyes, the one he wore when he might have started to discover something no one else had and he needed to know the answer. 

With a puff of your cheeks and another soft laugh, you joined the boys at the ship, dunking the cloth in the bucket and falling into an easy routine with them beneath the Coruscant sun.

Now

You had never been this cold before. 

Not even on the missions to Hoth, or when you used to visit Kamino with the boys. 

This cold… it wasn’t just temperature. It was agony. It was the type of cold that seeps into your bones, your soul, chasing away every warm feeling, every phantom touch that lingered from memory. 

They were trying to break you, trying to crack that shield wrapped around your heart and mind that kept you whole, safe. 

You had survived so much, so so much. 

You just had to survive a little longer.

[egipci]

Vertigo, 1999

(for @wincestwednesdays)

What they have in common is they're loud, and they talk too much. That's what Dad used to say. Nine out of ten hunters have no fucking idea what they’re doing. You put four of them in a room together and you get twelve tall tales and intel that’ll set you back three days. Not that he spent much time with any one of them. There was a time, back in the beginning, he'd take on a job with a guy, say, someone Bobby knew, or he'd just run into a random dude on the scene, and they'd try to crack it together, talk theories, or they'd do interviews, bad-cop-good-cop, that sort of thing, and right in the middle of it, no matter how it was going, he'd turn to that other guy and suddenly remember he hated all of them. He'd tell me about that stuff. That's why he roped me in soon as he could. He didn't like anybody else. I don’t know how he stayed friends with Pastor Jim as long as he did. There was a fight once after Jim offered to take his confession, but they got over it eventually. Sometimes I wonder what the two of them would say about your praying. I still can’t do it. I couldn’t do it the first time you died, and I can’t do it now. I try to meditate, for Lisa. She says you can think of anything or nothing at all. So I close my eyes and I think about Wyoming that one winter.

There were hunters there too, and they warned us. You were in the car, and I was with Dad in a convenience store on the edge of Indian country. We were questioning the cashier. Mostly Dad was doing the talking. It was a two-stall restroom kind of joint and he'd backed me up against the sink and put his hands under my shirt so I was still in that warm stupid daze I could never tell you about. He was asking about the missing girls, if any of them had stopped by before they'd disappeared, and these two guys who knew him from somewhere came up. Right away he couldn’t stand them. They asked what we were there for. You could tell they were really freaked. They said there was something out there. A god, maybe. They could feel its strength and nothing else. Of course Dad didn't believe them, and that was all that mattered. 

Anyway, here is the part I keep replaying: he's walking ahead of us and it’s getting dark fast. It hasn't snowed yet but it's cold enough he let me wear his jacket. You and I are about the same height, so I got my arm around your shoulder, your neck in the crook of my elbow, and I'm dragging you along, and you're squirming and being a bitch, so we're lagging way behind, and I'm saying stupid shit to make you laugh, trying to make you feel better, and you’re trying hard not to crack up. Then you elbow me in the gut and you stop walking, so I stop, and I turn to look at you. The trees are humming around us, all the way down to their roots. At least that’s the sense I had. We never found anything out there, so I never brought it up again. I never asked you. But the way you looked at me. You said my name, and you looked into my eyes then at the bottom half of my face, and when we finally set up camp you slept outside the tent. I slept with my head sticking out so you wouldn’t be alone. Something bit you first and then bit me. That night we stayed up staring at the sky. What I wouldn’t give to feel us so small again, to hear you naming the constellations.

[itsrebaby22]

I thank God for not allowing things to turn out the way I prayed they would a year ago, or how I prayed things to go even as recent as six months ago. & yes they were both different pleas from my heart. I am gracious that He spoke a word over my life and even through my impatience, ignorance, disobedience, and open displeasure with how He was leading me on my journey through the wilderness— God never left my side. His spirit was always closer than I could ever truly understand. Much like the people of Israel who were following Moses through the unknown, away from slavery and towards the promised land— I cried, complained, compared my present to the past, wanted to go back, and even took for granted the provision that He had given to me. I am not saying that I am out of the woods by any means, but I know that I am getting close. I see the beauty in this new thing that God is doing in my life, even though I truly have no idea what He has in store for me, I know one thing about my God and it is that He is able to do far beyond all that I could ask or imagine by His power at work within me.

I can see how I have grown, how I have healed, how I have changed. Yes, I slipped and stumbled a few times and the grace of God protected me. I haven’t missed a meal. I’ve had a bed to sleep in every single night. I have been able to pay bills on time. My health is the best it’s been in years. I have finally been able to use this time and space to heal the wounds I hid so deep within myself with the help of my own meditations, therapy, and most of all the Holy Spirit. I have forgiven what others have done to me, what I have done to others, and what I have done to myself. I am free.

I have made major progress in my own career path by continuing to prioritize my education, and perfecting the job I already have. I’ve been able to remember who I was before I gave my life away, and I have been dedicated to refining myself. I have hobbies I never thought I’d love, I have so many interests that I have been using to make new friends. I have even rekindled with old friends who haven’t heard from me in YEARS prior to this past year of preparation.

That is what I declared the year 2024 to be, the year of preparation. On January 1st 2024 at 12:00am, sitting under the moon and stars watching the fireworks my neighbors sent into the sky slice through the clouds— that is the only word I felt the spirit put on my tongue. With tears in my eyes, and my heart in my hands, it was never more true to me that 2024 was going to be the loneliest year I was going to experience for the first time in a long time, but that was okay with me. It was that moment that I realized that God prepares us in isolation, so I was ok with it. I agreed with Him in that moment, I said as long as I am being prepared for what He had for in store me next and that He stayed with me that it was good and I would be okay.

Spoiler alert: I am better than okay. I am prepared. Thank you, Jesus. I am prepared for what He is calling me into next. Above all else, I am grateful and I am blessed.

The end of this year is quickly approaching and I have been thinking about what to declare over this upcoming year. Yes, I have a few ideas of my own so far but I’d like to make sure it is what God is speaking to me. I already feel that the year of 2025 is going to have a lot of newness for me thanks to all the preparation that I have been undergoing lately and that excites me beyond measure truly. Restoration? Redemption? Action? I have a few more months to figure it out, so I’ll be back with my declaration. Hallelujah.

[thebarefootcajun]

Sister Bernie’s Derailed Vocation

Sœur Bernie completed High School and just when she was about to enter a convent, her Père (Dad) passed away. He had tuberculosis, better know as TB. She and her Mom buried her Dad on the highest point of their property. Each day they visited his grave praying and adorning his grave with beautiful native prairie flowers, especially, coreopsis, Père’s favorite. So many had been placed upon his grave that they began to seed themselves and grow upon and all around the perimeter of the grave. This author has been told that if you go there today, Pere’s gravesite is laden with coreopsis the color of the sun.

Immediately, Sœur Bernie told her Mom, “Mère, je vais rester ici avec tu parce que Père est mort.” (Mom, I Will stay with you since Dad died.)

Sœur Bernie’s Mom responded, “Mais non, ma fille, tu pour pas rester ici. Tu dois suivre ta vocation.” (No, my daughter, you must follow your calling.)

Sœur Bernie told her Mom, “Mais oui, Mère, c’est ça je ferai.” ( Yes, Mom, that’s what I’ll do.”

Mom responded, “Nous avons fini la discussion. C’est tout.” ( We are finished the discussion. That’s all.).

Now, please don’t think that Sœur Bernie didn’t take her vocation/calling seriously, but how could she leave her mom? So conflicted that she spent all her free time praying, asking God to help her with a decision about what to do with her mom and her decision about her calling to go abroad, riding a big ship across the ocean and living with people who spoke a different language ministering to their physical needs and leading them to Jesus.

Deep in her heart Sœur Bernie knew all long she couldn’t leave her mom on the old homestead located high on a hill reaching up to the sky. Her life was miserable as she felt so conflicted about this particular commitment. Either way she would be letting someone down, God or her Mom. Both were important in her life; her Mom had birthed her and God had given her eternal life.

One night as she prayed out under an old Courtableau tree the answer came clearly under the prairie night sky. On her knees God spoke to her that she should stay on the prairie with her Mom and open up her own center for hearing impaired and those who could not physically see.

Author’s note: I might add that the South Louisiana Cajun Prairie lends itself to meditation, prayer and spiritual growth. Many people have said to me upon visiting there they feel a deep sense of spirituality. Sure, nous passé Des bon temps, but we make time for our Heavenly Father who dwells right alongside us on the prairie.

BACK to our story: Sœur Bernie thought to herself, “ Deaf and blind persons both have a language, ASL, language using fingers and facial expressions, and Braille, a system feeling combinations of raised dots.”

On that day she praised God for his clear response to her prayer. She could stay right on the prairie, care for her beloved Mom and give blind and hearing impaired a new life of hope in communication. She wouldn’t sail on the ocean to a faraway land, but she would minister in another way through Braille and ASL. Sœur Bernie could share Jesus with those who came to learn new languages. And through it all she hoped to make leaders of the people who came to her center. Persons unable to hear or see should eventually take over her work. Always Sœur Bernie’s mission was leading people to the infinite love of her Lord and Savior Jesus.

Fast forward: Soeur Bernie’s Mom never questioned her daughter’s decision; she knew that on that one particular night years ago when her daughter had knelt under that Courtableau tree that God had touched her soul, sealed her calling and used her in a way to minister to physical needs first and then to spiritual needs, leading people to Jesus.

Now as a reminder; however, I know we all know this: God answers our prayers in a way that’s BEST for each individual.

For Soeur Bernie it was exactly as she sought, but couldn’t imagine. God gave her the desires of her heart, caring for her precious Mom and also

a ministry among people who spoke a different language. I grant you, she didn’t sail in a big ship across the ocean; however she crossed bayous, rice fields and crawfish lakes.

Et ça mes cher amis c’est la petite histoire de Sœur Bernie.

(And that my friend is the little story of Sister Bernie.

C’est tout!

(That’s all!)

[cilly-the-writer]

MAGIC SEEKERS, GRANTEES, AND MORE | Part 3 | 2,037 words

NOTE: Final installment of a short story! First part is here. The short story is 5,296 words total. 

WHAT’S IN IT: Magic powers + agents + evil villain(?) forcing the good guys(?) to work with his son and see he’s not all that bad! It’s supposed to be a slightly less serious story, but not without a heaping cup of big drama and suspense

CW: Violence and mention of death

--

     Zion sat in a dim interrogation room. The overhead lights buzzed like they were about to burn out. There was a nagging, growing pit in his stomach as a GIA agent asked him the same questions over and over. 

     "Why are you covering for this person?” the interrogating agent asked.

     "I’m trying to tell you��he's not that kind of person!” Zion said. “He's never even killed anyone!”

     “But he works for your father. Your father has people killed. That makes him an accomplice to a murderer.”

     “My father doesn’t kill innocent people! It’s not like that! Maybe it’s not right… I don’t know. But he’s saved people’s lives when your organization sat back and said there was nothing they could do. I’m telling you… he’s not that kind of person.”

     Vincent was standing in the room while Zion gave the speech. He’d been there the whole time, silently judging him as the interrogation went nowhere.

     "But he'll plant twelve bombs around the city?" Vincent finally spoke up. 

     Zion grit his teeth and seethed at the way Vincent made him feel like a liar.

     "Listen, if any more of these bombs go off," the interrogating agent continued, "you'll be held responsible.”

    "Wait. Any more?” Zion asked. “As in, one of them already went off?"

     "Yes. You're lucky there weren't any injuries or casualties."

     "Oh my god!" Zion threw his head back in frustration and snapped back to narrow his eyes at the interrogator, "I told you the bombs were set up in a pattern. How am I supposed to help you figure out the pattern… if you don’t tell me anything?!”

     “You need to tell us who did this so it doesn’t become a pattern,” the interrogating officer said. 

     Vincent, on the other hand though, seemed to contemplate whether Zion had a point. He didn’t want to give Zion all the details of the case. But at this point, he wondered… What harm could it do?

     “The first bomb went off downtown at the old post office,” Vincent said. “There’s been no second bomb. There’s no pattern to find.”

     Zion sucked his cheek in and squinted at the floor. Maybe that wasn’t enough for them to go off, but Zion knew the MA a lot better than that.

     “Which had a fire a few years ago, right?” Zion asked.

     “It did.” Vincent said, still annoyed. "Why?"

     Somehow, Zion convinced them to take him to a five-story office building downtown. It was a sleek building with shiny glass windows. The lobby and much of its decor were visible from the street, showcasing a white marble water fountain with angels carved into the sides as its grand centerpiece. Renaissance paintings even hung on the walls like it was a fancy art museum. 

     A couple of “FOR SALE” banners hung over the front of the building, listing a phone number in bold black lettering. The lights were on inside, but it was clearly abandoned.

     The GIA had caution taped the street, checked the building inside and out, and hours later–there was still no leads about any bombs. The caution tape remained, but the GIA doubted anything was there. When the news got back to Zion, he insisted they take him there. Right to the building himself.

     It sounded like a pointless trip, but given the circumstances and the letter from Mr. Marquette–they allowed it. They let him go with Vincent, who was beginning to feel like he’d wasted any faith he’d had in the kid.

     “I don’t know what you think you’re gonna find that the GIA couldn’t,” Vincent said. “It’s empty.” Then he crossed his arms and leaned back into a street lamp, gesturing for Zion to go ahead without him.

     “You don’t I’m gonna run away?”

     “Your father said he’d send you right back to us if you did.”

     “What?” Zion said, offended. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Vincent. He did. It was just definitely like his father to make sure every detail had been accounted for.

     Zion shook his head and headed across the street, ducking under caution tape on his way to the building’s front steps. He quickly headed inside to the front foyer, but once he got there, he slowed down to glance around and marvel. The foyer ceiling rose over twenty feet high, shimmering with accents of gold paint and imagery of gold suns all around. Zion remembered reading about the Apollo Center in the newspaper. It was rumored to sell for an estimated $2 billion.

     Zion stopped in the middle of the lobby and stared at a glittering, gold sun behind the hardware and mechanisms of a giant clock. The fine details and luxury were definitely mesmerizing. It was hard to look away from the beauty and sparkle of all of it.

     As Zion got lost in his trance, he almost didn’t hear as the entrance doors smashed open and glass shattered across the floor. The next instant, someone was grabbing him by the waist and he was out of the building before he could take his next breath. He opened his eyes facing the street and the change in scenery startled him. It happened so fast that he thought they had teleported back to the building’s front steps. 

     And in that moment of surprise, the deep boom of an explosion went off behind them. Smoke and debris flew into the air and clouded the street so fast that Vincent’s face fell and he ran into the clouds casting his time-reversing magic.

     The clouds of smoke shrank backwards in time and pieces of debris reformed, but there was no saving the building. He could only reverse some of the explosion. But that was enough to repress the fire and shrink it to a single flame. It took some effort to get there, but it went out easily with a small gust of wind.

     In the meantime, Zion had winced at the sound of the explosion while his savior, Vera, yanked him down the rest of the building steps–dashing into the street until they made it to safety on the other side.

     “Oh my god,” Vera said, shaking her head at Zion’s foolishness, “I can’t believe you did that. Boss just realized what you were doing when he saw your location. He said NOT to do it again.”

     “Oh really?” Zion smirked.

     “Do what again?” Vincent called from across the street, having just finished containing the fire. He took sharp steps Vera’s way now. He recalled her from the other day. She was part of the MA too.

     “He also said not to get involved,” Vera whispered fast to Zion, “I’d love to help, but I don’t know anything.” And with that, Vera just took off in a speed run. She was gone with a blast of pink energy in the wind behind her.

“What was that all about?” Vincent said bitterly, “How did you know the Apollo Center was next?”

     “I mean, I didn’t,” Zion shrugged, “not for sure. But I heard about this cover up after the fire. I know it was a small fire, but the damage was bad. One of the renovation crew members came to the MA and said the building was severely compromised… But he couldn’t say anything out of fear of retaliation.”

     Vincent stared back at him, speechless. He wasn’t sure if he should believe Zion.

“My dad’s kept tabs on the building ever since the renovation. He had some of his agents check it out and they said the guy was right. It was a disaster waiting to happen. It could have collapsed on a bunch of innocent people.” 

     Vincent held his tongue for a moment longer.

     “Then what do you think is next?”

     “Well… there’s a few other buildings that should have been condemned too.”

     Zion listed them off, and within the hour, the GIA got to work blocking all the corresponding streets off. It was enough for the GIA to stop pressing him for information, but Zion still insisted he visit each of the locations he’d given. Just as he had visited the Apollo Center.

     Sure enough, if Zion was in any danger–if he came near any of the bomb sites–Vera was sent to stop him. It was a rather quick verification process. And by the end of the day, the agency had identified all twelve bomb locations thanks to Zion’s help.

     The last building they stopped by was an apartment complex riddled with black mold and water damage, covered up by superficial renovations. Over a hundred tenants were scheduled to move in next week. So naturally, it was next in line to be blown up. GIA agents were already there though. The building went up into flames under a starry sky, and agents threw magic energy fields around it to contain it.

     By that point though, Vincent and Zion had been walking back to the GIA headquarters. They had already left the scene, leaving other agents to take care of any fallout. But Vincent still stopped in his tracks and turned to watch the blazing fire captured by a rainbow of energy fields.

     “You said your father doesn’t kill innocent people.” Vincent said, seemingly out of nowhere. He paused, appearing to be deep in thought. After a moment though, he continued, “So why did he kill agent Valli?”

     “Agent Valli?” 

     “Five years ago–a GIA agent was killed in broad daylight by an MA agent. It was all over the news. They said Mr. Marquette ordered it. There was even surveillance footage.”

     “Oh…” Zion’s voice grew quieter. “I remember hearing about it… Yeah. It was one of his coworkers that came to the MA. With footage of a crime he committed… they erased it from the surveillance cameras, but his coworker kept a copy.”

     “A copy? A copy of what? What crime?”

     “Uh, well,” Zion said, not wanting to get into the details. It seemed like a touchy subject. “He set a fire. People died.”

    “Set a fire? Are you kidding me? He literally saved people from a burning building the week before they killed him.”

     Zion blinked, nervous as Vincent took a step closer. 

     “The Aurora Havens?” Zion asked to confirm if that’s what he was referring to.

     “Yes, the homeless shelter.”

     “That’s…” Zion scratched the back of his head, “...that’s what he set on fire.”

     Vincent stared back, processing a wave of anger in complete silence. It looked like he was trying to decide what he was going to do–if he wanted to hit Zion or kill him right then and there. But after about six seconds of Zion holding his breath in fear, all Vincent did was shake his head and say, “No.” in a grim tone. He rejected Zion’s story. It couldn’t be further from the truth to him.

     “I’m… I’m not lying.” Zion was sweating this one out. He was starting to think he should have just lied and said he didn’t know anything. “I swear.”

     But the situation didn’t escalate much further.

     “Go.” Vincent gave him a cold look. “Get out of here. And stay away from the GIA.” 

     Confused, but not stupid, Zion heeded his warning and ran off. 

     Their business together was done. He had helped the GIA like his father wanted. There was nothing more to discuss. Vincent and the rest of the agency could continue to hate him if they wanted to. 

     Only a few weeks later though, Zion walked into the MA intel room and froze at the sight of Vera with Vincent. Vincent sat at a computer watching the rollback of footage from the night the Aurora Havens caught on fire. Confirming that every bit Zion had told him, was true.

     Mr. Marquette didn’t kill innocent people.

     Vincent’s father, Agent Valli, was a murderer.

     Nothing was said for a long while. Vincent had even noticed Zion’s entrance in the security cameras nearby and said nothing. The footage was hard to accept. He hadn’t wanted it to be true. He didn’t want to remember his father this way. It had taken him a few weeks to even entertain the possibility–to ask the MA to show him the footage.

     When he finally turned around, all he said was:

“How do I join the MA?”

[marvels-bitch-boy]

Emerald Eyes Part 2: Chapter 9

Chapter 9: (Multi POVs)

Word count: 4.5k

Masterlist , P1 Chapter 1 , P2 Chapter 8 , P2 Chapter 10

A/N: please let me know if this could be improved in any way! I feel like some parts of it aren't as fleshed out as I'd like them to be. But I do hope you enjoy it!

(Y/N’s POV)

Time skip 1 month–

OH MY GOD!!! I’M DATING NATASHA!!

HOLY SHIT

Now I know that I must be going insane because how on earth did she feel the same for me? I felt dumbstruck as I sat next to the woman. She acted like this was a new normal. Like I was always here. We sat in the common room under the same blanket. The lights were low and I could see the way she was captivated by the movie. I couldn’t get over the fact that I was holding her so close right now. I heard the sound of the fridge opening behind us and Nat separated from me as fast as possible. I sat up and created space between the two of us, we both looked at each other for a second with panic on our faces. No one else was supposed to be at the compound. Tony said he was going to stay with Pepper, Steve was visiting a friend in the city, Pietro was on a date, Wanda… Wanda had been distancing herself from me currently. Bruce had been on a meditation retreat for a week. Thor was fine -he found us near the pool sharing a kiss and simply grinned from ear to ear. I turned my head and saw the back of the figure's head. Closing my eyes and pursing my lips as I clenched my jaw I took whispered “Stark…” Nat just cursed under her breath and when I opened my eyes Tony held a spoon between his teeth as he grinned and wiggled his brow. “Don’t say a word Stark”. He held his hands up in surrender and held the spoon up “Ohhhh…but this is so good”. He walked over and took a seat in his regular spot. His legs were dangling off the side of the armchair and gestured between the two of us. “Soooooo?”

God, I hated his joy right now. “So what?...” Nat stayed separated from me and I couldn’t help the anger that this gave me since Tony was delighted that he ruined a moment between us. “What happened to the night with Pepper?”

I hoped that would shut down his smile but he simply kept it up. “Oh no, you don’t. I asked first…” he looked towards Natasha “something you want to share with me, tiny dancer?” She clenched her jaw and took the remaining blanket from me.

“Not really, I wouldn’t say anything new has happened” she had completely left me. She made a void of space between us, I felt cold…I literally generate heat but I felt chilled deep inside. She didn’t look at me and I felt absolutely confused. Why was Tony finding out so much more different from anyone else? I cleared my throat and got up from my spot.

“Yeah, absolutely nothing.” I didn’t look at her as I made my way away from the couch “I think I’ll hit the library. -Good night Tony… Romanoff” As I walked down the hallway I could hear a small bicker come from the room I just exited.

Now was I going to the library? No… I don’t know where I was going, but I knew that what just happened made me extremely angry. Only two members of the team didn’t know about us. One of them just found out and apparently what I thought was real wasn’t. Isn’t that just hilarious?!?? My body felt like it was on autopilot. My legs wouldn’t stop moving forward and I just followed them. I excited my head and found myself in the middle of the dirt track under the night sky. I looked back to the building I exited. I looked into the window that allowed a view into the common room. I saw Natasha’s back face me as her arms went up and down and she seemed to yell. I saw Tony laugh and I caught him glance at me. The anger inside of me just seemed to want to spill out in a matter of seconds. I felt the cold in my body eat at me. I felt it exit my body and suddenly my left hand was as heavy as a boulder. I looked down and it was covered in a block of ice. My breathing became rapid once again.

HOLY FUCK

I collapsed to the ground and attempted to melt the ice off. I had to use my right hand as it became engulfed in flames and finally, my hand was free. I couldn’t help that the anger was still inside me. I couldn’t stop it from eating at me. There was a scream building in my chest as I let the flames die. I finally let it out and something that I can’t fully explain to even myself happened.

“AARRRRGGGHHHHH!!....” Every muscle in my body tensed as I let the anger and sadness enter the atmosphere. A blue light came from me and I saw ice cover the grass I knelt in. there were shards of ice glowing from all around me and I panted as I looked them over. It felt again like a shackle on myself had been unlocked and I decided to scream again. The noise left me and I felt the light ignite once again. My skin became cool and snowflakes began to hit my skin. They calmly descended and I just smiled at the night above me. Was I going crazy? Maybe.

I closed my eyes and I let the screams continue until my voice went silent. It felt like I had joined the rest of the world in the night. I laughed at how insane I felt. I laugh until I felt a pair of arms wrap around my shoulders. A voice came into my ears and I couldn’t make out the words. I turned and saw the red hair and those Emerald Eyes. The Emerald Eyes that had hurt me. “Wanda…?” I croaked out through the rasp of my torn throat. I felt her turn me around and she held my face in her hands. She checked me for injury -I think that's what she was doing- and I saw Natasha and Tony run through the doors of the compound and make their way to me. Natasha began to slow as she caught my gaze and I froze. (Pun not intended)

Wanda continued to speak but her words seemed to hit a brick wall when they attempted to enter my head. Tony reached me and analyzed the ice that circled me. He spoke too but my mind was too occupied with the woman who seemed to be questioning if she should reach me. Wanda helped me up and held me tight but my eyes were still on her. A sense of deja vu was filling my chest and I didn’t how to make it go away. I exited the ice and finally made my way to her. She seemed hesitant to hold me. That stung me deeply. She seemed to be speaking but again I couldn’t hear her. My face held confusion and she picked it up quickly. She looked me up and down quickly before she almost knocked me over in an embrace. Her arms held onto me as if I would disintegrate if she let me go. I hesitated for a moment before I wrapped my arms around her. I took her in.

She softened and looked up at me. I looked into her eyes and I felt both the sadness inside me and anger begin to melt like snow in the summer heat. She moved closer and I bent down to close the space between our lips. It felt like our first kiss all over again. I felt new and what was between us felt new. When we parted I saw a small smile on her face creep up as she took my face in her hands. She slowly rubbed her thumb over my cheek and I only let my thought carry one word. Love.

Would I tell her this? Hell no, it’s only been a month of us being together. I only looked at her and kissed her forehead. She began to lead me back into the compound. She took me to the med bay and inspected me for injuries in depth. I felt her eyes on me as I removed my shirt to allow her a closer look. She traced her fingers over the scar that ran along my chest. I kept my eyes trained on the wall in front of me. I couldn’t bear to look at her face. “Am I all good?” I spoke softly to not strain my voice anymore. She looked up into my eyes but didn’t remove her hand from my skin. She tilted her head and made a look that said “if you were all good we wouldn’t be here” -obviously she would say it with more sarcasm than my mind has.

“What happened?” her voice was faint but I could hear it. It sounded softer than she has spoken in weeks. My head dropped as I tried to think of an explanation. “I- I don’t know… I just felt-” she cut me off “no… this.” she pressed into my chest and her gaze went back to my torso. I took a breath and tried to think of the shortest way to phrase it.“When a building falls on you, you get hurt” she lightly laughed at my words and I smiled back. “I never noticed them before” Her finger went towards the scaring on the lower part of my ribcage. “I’m good at hiding things”

She probably assumed I was being coy with her but I simply just wanted to spare my voice from any further damage. The conversation ended at that and we made our way to my apartment.

—

The next morning I woke to someone's arm slung across me and a head nuzzled deep into my chest. The light that came through my window illuminated the woman and I smiled to myself as I watched her sleep. This was the first time she had stayed the night with me. She had slept in my bed and I woke up next to her. This was something I never experienced, and it was something I only wanted now. I didn’t care if we never spent a full day together again, as long as I got to wake up next to her and capture this image again I would be set for life. She stirred slightly and I moved the strands of hair from her eyes. I watched as they opened and revealed a landscape within them of forests. I saw her smile and dig her head into me once more.

“C’mon… time to get up you koala” She held onto me tighter and I felt her laugh reverberate into me. She sat up now and greeted me with a kiss. “I thought you’d love to sleep in” I attempted to follow her lips as they became farther away. This made her giggle as she began to get up. Only she was stopped by me pulling her back down and showering her with kisses. “Only five more minutes, okay…then we get up”

—

We walked into the kitchen this time together. She wore a sweater that was stolen from my closet and it made my heart swoon. Pietro sat on a stool and witnessed us enter. His mouth created an o shape and a smile accompanied it. Natty~ didn’t bat an eye at him as she made her way to the coffee pot. I grabbed two mugs and stayed close behind her as she worked. After seconds of silence, Pietro spoke up “So…Guessing I missed some stuff last night” I heard Natty giggle slightly and speak on my behalf “Only some things, don’t worry we saved Ferris Bueller for later” I kissed the side of her head and turned toward -as I could only describe the grinning cat- and took a slice of his toast.

The next person to walk in was Tony and I immediately avoided his gaze and kept the space between me and Natasha. As he spoke up she noticed the lack of contact from me and spun around. “Romanoff, How’s our icicle doing?” Pietros brow furrowed at his words. Nat simply handed me my mug of coffee and planted a kiss on my lips that caught me off guard… My eyes went wide while a delicate smile stayed on my lips.

“He’s doing perfectly so far. Thank you for asking” He stood in slight shock at this display but his smile from last night reappeared. “Oh…So I’m going to guess this is official?- I’m thrilled for you two please remember that.” He quickly spoke up and took Nattys mug and sat next to Pietro as he stole the last piece of toast. She glanced at me for a moment and as If I knew what he was doing my mug was waiting in the air before she spoke “-yes, it is official. And I would like to avoid a repeat of last night please.” I saw a window to speak and took it “Tiny Dancer?” Natty spat out her coffee and I chuckled at the reaction those two little words got out of her.

“Uhuh, no you don’t! That’s our thing” Tony spoke up through a mouth of toast. I shook my head and raised my brow in protest. He backed down and I turned back to Natty. She was biting the inside of her cheek as she thought for a moment before continuing. “Yes?”

“City date?” I made sure to use the fewest words but get my point across. She nodded her head and smiled.

—

I’m dragging her down the sidewalk as we get closer to my final destination.

The place that I had been hoping to take her to since that night we talked in that diner. I didn’t know that she would be the person I would bring but my heart is fluttering faster than a hummingbird's wings. We made out way down the street and avoided bumping into other pedestrians. She laughed as I almost tripped on the uneven surfaces below my feet and I held her closer. -Obviously to make sure she doesn't trip too… and not to keep my balance.

“Iggy… where are we going?” I held in a smile at the name, every time she’s called me it this past month it digs itself deeper into my heart. She put one hand in her jacket pocket while the other crept its way into my pocket with my hand. I knew exactly what she was doing… and I loved it!

“Okay fine! it’s a small museum that…” those words died in my throat as I looked forward and were stopped dead in my tracks by the same brown eyes that had stopped me for years. My feet felt like they were stuck in cement. I couldn’t move, I was trapped in my body as I watched her from afar. Her large chestnut curls looked the same as the day I lost her. She looked around as if she was waiting for someone on the corner. I felt the instinct to run to her and take her in my arms. But I couldn’t move. I felt frozen in place. A group of people were let out of a nearby building and they began to obscure my view, I slowly moved forward to attempt to reach her.

I could hear Natasha's voice coming after me, she sounded concerned and I didn’t blame her. I continued to make my way until I was pulled back by a pair of arms and spun around. “Y/N!-” she began to shake me as I turned my head to attempt another glance at the brunette. “Y/N!-hey, hey! Look at me, look over here, what’s the wrong Igg? You gotta speak to me detka.” she raised a hand to my face but I lifted it off and attempted another glance. I was too late though. She was gone.

I looked back at Nat and she only stared down at my hand that held her wrist. I began to feel dizzy as it fully hit me what I just say -no not what…who. “It was her…-I -I -Natasha…” I began to lose my balance as I attempted to speak “who? Who was it Iggy? It’s okay you can tell me” she held me up while she looked deep into my eyes.

“It- it was- it was grace” she was taken aback and looked at me like I was ill. I felt insane last night but this was a whole nother level of insanity I felt I had reached. Grace was here, I saw her… “it was my Gracie…” as I said those words I felt as though I was going to throw up and I collapsed to the uneven concrete below.

—

(Natasha’s POV)

The previous night-

“...Romanoff”

That was the last thing that Y/N said to me, he didn’t even look at me as he left. I knew that denying what was between us in front of Tony had hurt him but it felt different now that Tony found out. It felt like our secret of us was beginning to unravel and soon we’d have nothing sacred together. In my heart and mind, I knew reality was the farthest thing from that. I was just so scared.

Once Iggy had left Tony looked at me with an innocent smile that I knew was far from the truth. It bugged me the reaction he was able to get out of me. “Really?... You had to do that?” I threw the blanket at his face and groaned as I got up and paced the room. “Seriously Tony, you need to quit this whole ‘I’ll know when the right guy is with you’ crap! It was fine with Steve because we both agreed to be friends was best. BUT Y/N is the right guy.” I was angry with him, not only did he ruin the only time we had alone outside of our private rooms but he also seemed to drive a wedge between us.

“Well, Nat if you had just simply told me the truth I would have left you two alone to enjoy the night…You’ve never done that before, you’re usually the one staying close” he adjusted himself in the armchair and I couldn’t help but glare at him. “Yeah, when I know it’s just a fling… not something that could be real.” His face perked up at my words he stood up as well. He laughed with a smile on his face before speaking again “You mean to tell me, that-” his words stopped for a moment before continuing “-That this more than a fling? Then why haven't you told the whole team?” My breath was caught in my throat for the smallest of seconds as my brain began to think of why I hadn’t. Was I that scared of this ending so soon? Was I afraid of him being taken from me as soon as I became truly vulnerable? Or did I just want him to myself for a little while longer?

I couldn’t respond before a gut-wrenching scream came from outside. I whipped my head and I saw Iggy covered with a blue hue as he screamed out in what I thought was pain. I was stuck in place as I watched the light dissipate and what appeared to be ice formed around him. “Holy shit..” Tony spoke up from behind me and watched in awe as a second scream came. I was entranced by Y/N as he seemed to form snow and spears of ice all around him. I could hear Tony’s footsteps rush away and into the hall. No doubt going to grab scanners to assess what was happening. The steps were followed by more and more screams in a row and as they came and went I made my way to the source. As I reached the doors I saw a sight that caught my heart in my chest. It was the witch with her arms around him as he knelt on the ground. She caressed his cheek as I would have, I slowed my pace as Tony reached him, he was speaking fast and it looked like Y/N was unable to take in any of his words. As he was lifted by Wanda the sight of her arms all over him made me regretful of the words I used.

As they began to walk forward and I decided to meet him in the middle. I felt scared of how he would react to me but as I walked his eyes never left mine. When I reached him I didn’t know if he wanted to be near me but I gave in to my urge to hold him close. “I’m sorry, I got scared earlier and I just wanted this to myself for a little while longer” He put his arms around me delicately like I was a flower in the hands of a giant. He didn’t speak and I only softened my embrace to analyze his facade. He didn’t seem mad or upset, only confused. He hadn’t responded when Tony spoke to him and when Wanda said passed him off to me. He didn’t speak or understand the words we said. “Can you hear me?” I said but to no avail, his face remained a statue of confusion. I held him again and when I looked back into his eyes he began to bend down and plant a soft and delicate kiss on my head. It carried both warmth and cold. I ushered him inside and took him to the medbay to inspect him for any further injuries before bed.

—

“It was my Gracie” his words made me freeze and my grip on him softened. As soon as I did that however he collapsed to the ground and those around us made room as they continued walking past. I attempted to wake him and immediately called 911 when he would not come to. I knelt next to him and monitored his breathing as I waited for the ambulance to arrive. It took them what felt like an eternity to arrive and head to the nearest hospital. When we pulled up they carted him in and I began to call the team. Steve, Tony and Pietro were called first and I relayed the same information the dr had given me. “He’s stable, they think it was related to stress being put on his body and his brain. A psychologist spoke to me and she thinks he had a trauma response to something around him.” They looked relieved and Pietro was the first to offer me a hug. It was odd how calm he was staying currently. I expected him to rush into Y/N’s room and try to wake him up himself.

I saw Steve and Tony retreat to a corner and begin talking. Steve seemed on edge as he listened to Tony’s words. Whatever they were talking about didn’t seem good.

—

About two hours later a doctor came and informed us that he was awake and responsive. My body felt lighter and I made a b-line for his room. When I arrived I wasn’t greeted by a smile on his face. I was greeted by Director Rambeau of S.W.O.R.D. sitting next to him with a stunned look on her face at the words he spoke. “It was her, Maria. I swear. I saw her” he looked spooked out of his mind and she forced him to sip water before she stroked his forehead and reassured him. She slipped out of the room and gave me a faint smile.

I slowly made my way into his line of sight and offered up another smile. “How do you feel?” He looked down at the water cup in his hands and sighed “I feel insane…She died, but Nat- I swear it was her” My heart softened at his words and I held a hand out for him to take. It sat for a moment before I felt the heat radiating off of him fill my palm.

“You’re not insane… okay? It could have been her or someone who looks similar-” He attempted to interject but I continued “-But that doesn’t mean you’re insane.” He nodded his head and moved over in his bed. He looked at me softly and softly gestured with his head. I took my place in his arms and I lay my head on his shoulder as he fiddled with my fingers absent-mindedly.

—

1 week later

(Y/N’s POV)

After I was discharged from the hospital I decided to begin my psychological treatment offered by Stark. I realized I need to heal from my past to remain completely in the future I have. I realized I didn’t see Grace. It was just something my mind did to play with me. I needed to move on to give the love I have stored deep within. One of these pasts… is my brother. He hasn’t spoken to me since I enlisted, my mother told him I abandoned him for the army. I found out when I spoke to a friend of his who reached out. It hurt me to think that he believed her, I was the one who took care of him. The one who stayed up with him late at night during thunderstorms. I was there for him and when I had to leave she stuck her claws into him. My father was just there for the ride if I’ll be honest.

I decided to reach out, it took everything in me to send that message. Natasha was actually the one to press send because I threw my phone across the room as soon as she counted to five. And then again days later when he responded… We had to go shopping for a new case by Thursday. But we reconnected and he began to tell me his side of everything. He hadn't realized how much I had shielded him when I was there. There weren’t words to describe the feeling I had when I called him for the first time. We talked for hours and I told him about my job.

The boy lost his shit. He had me put Steve on the phone and proceeded to berate the poor fossil with questions. I apologized and attempted to continue but he wouldn’t stop talking. I never realized someone could speak faster than Pietro…

Just as he was slowing down we got an alert for a high-level emergency mission. I was tempted to sit this one out and stay on the phone. I wasn’t recommended for field work for another week but I had a sense inside me that this wasn’t any ordinary mission.

I ran to the quin jet in civilian clothes and changed on the route. I took my place next to Pietro near the rear and I could sense the nerves radiating off of him. In fact, I could feel the tension and the looming fear from everyone on the jet. I didn’t want to admit it but I knew something would go wrong. I had a feeling that things might not work out for us in the end…that it might not work out for me…

Taglist:

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[kosmosguk]

5 days of spooktober~ #3: purity

day #3: angel hoseok x reader x demon yoongi

word count: 2.1k

summ. it seems like mortal beings, too, can fall from grace. 

warnings: smut, dubcon/noncon themes (mindbreak), yandere themes, 18+, blasphemy/sacrilegious acts, violence, abuse, explicit language, kidnapping

a/n: this was lowkey rushed (so lemme know if I made any spelling/grammar mistakes) because I’ve been super busy and I caught a mild cold because I was outside in freezing weather for several hours, but I hope you guys like it. Less than one week until Halloween <3

You were kneeling in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary, your hands clasped in prayer, and your eyes firmly closed. Your lips moved, softly and then rapidly, and a soft breath left them whenever you closed the last syllable of a word for the prayer. Even then, you could feel the marble eyes of the benevolent statue in front of you on you, watching you with serene eyes as a stone snake wrapped around her bare feet.

“For the strength to resist temptation, and for purity so that I may live clean of sin. Blessed mother, look upon me and guide me.”

You pushed yourself up onto shaky legs. When the door of the chapel shut clicked behind you softly, the building returned to a hush…

Until the eyes of the angel in the stain glass blinked open and the tongue of the stone serpent by Mary’s feet flickered out.

~

The convent was the safest place. As an orphan abandoned by your parents on the front steps of the building, you were left under the care of Benevolent Sister Bernadette and the other nuns of the convent. There, you had grown up, sheltered from the cruelty of the outside unforgiving walls, biblical scripture leaving indents in each bump of your tongue.

It was to no surprise that you had never encountered a man before. The sisters had told you, along with each of the girls you had grown up with, that God was your husband and that looking at a man with impure eyes would put you at the level of sinners banished to hell. So, it was a surprise when the sisters had let in two men.

They were travelling holy men, and they were seeking rest during their tiring journey. And they were handsome young men too, the kind that attracted the innocent-minded young girls of the convent’s school and left them giggling and whispering softly when the sisters had their backs on them.

You were at the back of the crowd, your fingers rolling on the beads of the rosary you kept firmly clasped in your grip at all times. You had no time to be giggling hopelessly about men who had sworn their own vow to God, not when you were only a few steps away from swearing yours. Having safely passed adulthood, you had made the decision to become a sister yourself.

You stepped back from the crowd and moved back to the sanctuary you found within the pews of the old abandoned chapel no one frequented. As you walked away, the echo of your footsteps on the cobblestone grounds drowned out by the hum of frivolously murmuring voices, you did not pay heed to the contemplative gaze that lingered on your retreating back or the lecherous eyes pinned to you.

~

“What was the sin of Eve? What had tempted her to be lured in by the Devil’s words?”

The ear-scraping echo of Sister Antoinette’s voice resounded in the walls of the nearly silent room. You propped your chin up on the palm of your hand, your eyes pinned to the carefully dried ink of the Bible in front of you. You had heard the creation story hundreds if not thousands of times to the point where you had memorized each verse and could recite it blindfolded and upside down.

The same situation would happen once more. After Sister Antoinette’s question, a girl would raise up her hands and answer in the same old way: “Her sin was that she did not know her position in the world. She was to be man’s wife.”

And like always, the words would leave a bitter taste in the back of your throat that you would swallow as you watched Sister Antoinette smile, pleased. And you would move on because moving on was the only way to don your habit and continue living a safe, sheltered life.

One of the younger girls was called on instead. You waited for the usual answer, but this time…this time was different.

“Sister Antoinette, I believe Eve had no sin. She did not want to live a life in which her position would be unequal to man, in which she would be trapped in a role subservient to him just because she was made from his rib. That was why she was tempted. She was not tempted by the apple, but she had been tempted through freedom.”

You couldn’t help the curve of your smile, and you shielded it with a careful hand. There was a sweeter taste in your mouth, but it quickly went bitter at the harsh sound of leather meeting tender palms.

Your eyes were drawn to the outside of the window, to the lush blue sky and the gray walls that shielded almost everything. Even then, your fingers couldn’t stop rolling over the wooden beads of your rosary.

Freedom, freedom…was it worth the cost of instability? In that very moment, for the first time in your life, you couldn’t help leaning on the side of agreement.

~

You were in the chapel again, your knees turning numb on the worn-out cushion as you recited your prayers. You were alone once more, until the soft swing of the door broke the soft hush of silence, and you swung around to look at the intruder.

There was one of the men that the sisters had let in. He seemed kinder than his counterpart, a warm smile brightening his features, and he shook his head softly as you got up to leave.

“Sorry, I did not mean to disturb your prayer. I was simply searching for a quieter place to meditate. Continue on and pretend that I’m not here.”

You nodded silently before turning back and clasping your hands back together.

“What’s your name?’’ his voice broke once more through your peace. “I’m Jung Hoseok.”

Your eyebrows crossed in agitation before they smoothed out. God would not want you to be angry at anyone, especially if they were one of his holy men.

“Reverend, it is the sanctity of the house of God that we as mere mortals of His creation do not dare to break. If you wish to know my name, ask me when we leave. But there can be no more earthly matters that exist while we are in His house.”

You heard him chuckle, the sound strangely dark compared to the light voice he had, and you heard him come closer to you.

“It must be lonely to be in here, no one by your side. How about we become friends?’’

“Hoseok, what are you doing here?’’ you heard another voice break out in your silence. This voice was richer than the Reverend’s voice, a deeper timber that sent unsettling shivers down your spin. While Reverend sounded like warmth, this voice sounded like a chill.

You did not make a peep to answer his question nor a move to look at the second intruder. Instead, you silently got up and bowed respectfully towards the Reverend and his counterpart before you swiftly left the chapel.

~

Your dreams were plagued that night. Soft hushes of low moans brushed your ears, and you felt hands curve around your breasts and brush the place that the sisters had warned you to never touch with impure intentions. Your fingers wrapped tightly around the sheets, a haze in your mind as you panted out hopeless cries to be touched, to be fucked. Your back arched as you felt a tongue swipe at your pussy, lapping up juices as you twitched in lustful agony, and your lips, stretched out in moans, was covered by another mouth.

“Give in, (y/n). We’ll take care of you,” a voice purred into your ear, gentle and sweet and God you were melting.

You woke up in a cold sweat, shivering, and you startingly realized that your fingers had been buried deep within your forbidden heat. You pulled them out, shame flickering against the heat deep in your stomach, and they made a soft schlick sound. You frantically wiped them against your sheets and tried to go back to sleep, but the heat of lust never seemed to cool.

~

You were disoriented when you woke up for morning prayers. You felt something sticky stain against your inner thighs, and your mind was in a haze. Every touch from another human being left sparks that seemed to build the heat of desire within you, and it wasn’t until you were back in the chapel in the middle of the night that you dared to let out a breath.

You kneeled in front of the statue, ready to pray once more, but your hands slipped from their position and slid down until they were pulling up your skirts. Your body didn’t feel like it was yours anymore, and you were slipping one and then two fingers and then three. Your eyes burned in shame, but your body didn’t care. It begged to be touched, and the plea seemed to grow even more insistently when you couldn’t get relief.

“Ah, what a whore you are.’’

Your head spun around to look at the intruder. Instead of feeling ashamed and pulling your fingers out to restore some kind of dignity, you could only spread your legs wider, whimpering for relief.

“Yoongi, I suppose it is part of our fault that she’s been dragged to such a state. Why don’t we help her?’’

Your vision was blurry, but you felt a cooling touch on your feverish body and grabbed at it desperately, trying to press it down to where it was the most hot. You heard a low chuckle, and you only grew more desperate.

Your memories spun together, your thoughts dizzy, and before you knew it, your skirts were ripped off, and you were on someone’s lap with their cock so deep in you that you could only press closer.

“Yoongi, isn’t she so pretty?’’ you heard a voice call out, and a part of you that was still rational realized it was the Reverend.

The man underneath you laughed, the sound rich, and you let out a muffled cry when he pulled you up off his cock and slammed you back down onto it. He was pounding you, and the Reverend behind you was nipping brutally at your neck and leaving bruises on your flesh.

“Hey, hey, recite your prayers for us, won’t you? Pretty little angel, why don’t you—,” you heard a grunt that choked the remaining words,” Why don’t you—fuck she feels so good—why don’t you recite them?’’

Your brain was automatic; you had no more control over it. You could only obey the commands of the two men that you had once perceived to be holy men.

“For the s-strength to—ah...! Resist tempt-tempt…temptation!’’ you cried out as one particular thrust pried open your walls and pressed against your cervix,” And for…for purity nngh! So that I…So that I may live…oh my God, please, please, harder! L-live free from…sin!’’

He was spilling his cum within you, filling up your womb, and you could only twitch as he let out a husky moan. When he finished cumming deep in you, you let out a breath of relief as the heat within you cooled down, but just a few seconds later, it was coming back, and the Reverend was pulling you off the man’s cock. You let out a startled cry between clenched teeth as you were spread back open on another cock.

“Please, please! Ooh, it feels so good…,’’ you were drooling now, looking ever much like the whores that the sister had disdainfully warned you not to become.

You met eyes with the statue of the Virgin mother as you were being bounced on the Reverend’s cock and, just like Eve, fell into the temptation of freedom.

~

It had been years since your disappearance from the convent. Another girl pried open the door of the abandoned chapel and carefully walked in, her footsteps sending clouds of dust in the air. She scanned the chapel building, and her mouth fell open in surprise as it lingered on the stained-glass window that strangely seemed new.

The stained-glass window had a depiction of a young maiden, just like her, with a snake coiled around her neck and a white dove perched on her wrist. Her hands were raised up, an apple the color of blood gingerly clasped in her hand with a bite taken out of it.

Marked on the glass were the words of a prayer:

“For the strength to resist temptation, and for purity so that I may live clean of sin. Blessed mother, look upon me and guide me.”

And as the girl finished reading the words, the door clicked open.

[vagrantblvrd]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Late-night and also half-assed AU idea times?

The one where Luke gets sent back in time (Because Reasons) to Clone Wars era shenanigans.

Also Because Reasons Obi-Wan is put in charge of keeping an eye on this kid, idk, Biggs Antilles because everyone is so hapless in the Star Wars universe when under pressure, like seriously.

Anyway.

Obi-Wan is suspicious like a suspicious person and so is Anakin and Luke is kind of losing his mind because he never knew (suspected, but never had proof) that old Ben was a goddamned menace and all his lectures to Luke about same are like, wow, dude, wow.

Oh, and also his dad.

And Ahsoka?

And all the clones and everyone else and he’s like, ;____________________; at what could have been, you know?

But also not sure if he’ll ever get back to his time - he really hopes so because there’s this Mandalorian with an adorable kid - and oh, God, he needs to check on Grogu in this time stat, but yes.

Shenanigans in which Luke desperately tries to hide his real identity because everyone’s iike “He feels like Anakin,how strange, and Luke in the corner like “Hahaha, yes, STRANGE. :DDDDDD

And then adventures in which he ends up having to save Obi-Wan more than he ever expected to when he woke up twenty-something years in the past, and oh dear God is that his mom? (Leia looks so much like her. Mostly the angry part right now, because Anakin and recklessly endangering his life and uh, oops, he didn’t mean to eavesdrop???

But like. Luke is kind of bleeding again (he,too, recklessly endangered his life alongside his father and Obi-Wan) and thought medbay was this way and -

Wait, why are you looking at him like that?

Anaking and Padme worried Luke’s going to at them out to, idk, the Jedi council or whatever about their ~forbidden love, and Luke is just.

“What.”

So then the thing about attachments and how they’re bad because emotions is explained to him and Luke looks at his father who clearly loves his mother so much. Thinks about the nonsense about attachment and how scared it would make someone like Anakin, and Obi-Wan -

Luke loves him, but the man’s made mistakes. (And, like. Luke gets it, he does. Some adventure with Obi-Wan and sharing of past loves because they weren’t sure they’d make it out alive and why not share this thing with someone kind of friend-shaped, and anyway,)

Luke is like, okay, wow.

Because one, the thing about attachments is bullshit - show him one Jedi master who isn’t attached to their padawan for starters - and anyway.

Not his business who they love, an then he scurries off to medbay before he bleeds out in hallway or wherever, which is where Obi-Wan finds him and is like  >:((((( at the bleeding thing and :| about the attachment thing but also *SIGH* because Luke reminds him of this padawan he had once, what was his name???

Anyway.

Yes

Also, though, also.

Them taking Luke to Coruscant to meet with the Jedi council because they have no idea where he came from - Luke floated the possibility of time travel being real to Obi-Wan once, but as a hypothetical and really, never mind him - and anyway.

Luke being like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ as they ~question (interrogate) him because he has read up on the Jedi Order and their rules and whatnot. And where he might have been in awe of getting to meet all these Jedi masters once, now he just feels. Pity. He feels pity for them.

It shows, a little, and they call it arrogance for someone so young to think they know better than the entirety of the Jedi council and yet?

Luke doesn’t care.

Which kind of makes him a threat in their eyes, this incredibly powerful Jedi who appeared out of nowhere and shows so little - if any, really - respect for their Order.

And, they realize, who both Obi-Wan and Anakin like.

Ahsoka too, but she’s a padawan, young and such, doesn’t know better.

But also, also, after all the fun-times had with the Jedi council Luke walks out to find Palpatine talking to his father and his mother while Obi-Wan stands by and chips in with a comment or observation every so often and he is like !!! because he never expected this???

Somehow after hearing stories from people, he just. Didn’t expect the fall of the old Jedi Order to take place in a tastefully appointed waiting area, potted plants and chairs and such Maybe one of those little fountains you see in an office sometime for the soothing sound of moving water and whatnot.

Anyway.

Maybe it’s his own personal experience with the man in the throne room on the second Death Star with the dramatic lighting and so on, but it’s a wee bit jarring.

He has one of those “episodes” as the others call them, and gets hustled out of there posthaste while Palpatine is all, “Oh, dear, I do hope he feels better,” and Luke does all the meditating exercises so as not to blurt out that hey, so, that sith lord everyone’s trying to find? RIGHT THERE.

Because lack of evidence and such.

And it’s like.

After seeing what things were like, he’s just. He’s stuck here, probably, right? So. Maybe he can fix things, even a little.

(Right the wrongs that Palpatine wrought and so on.)

And while he’s doing that it occurs to him that Din, okay, Din is alive in this time. And he told Luke about the attack that killed his parents, about being rescued by Mandalorians, and is like.

Can he change that too? Should he? Searches everything he can only to realize he’s too late to do anything about it. That the attack happened before Luke arrived in this time and he has this.

This little breakdown in a library or some such somewhere, because all that fretting and whatnot he did about whether or not he should intervene was for nothing, a moot point because he was too late, and it’s like.

Existential crisis time because if he changes things more than he has, will he even exists in the future? Will Leia?

Will any of their friends exist, and on his way back to the quarters he’s been given he runs into Padme - perhaps sneaking out from visiting Anakin - and she’s surprised to see him, maybe a little worried too.

(She knows his views on the whole attachment thing, yes, but her and Anakin have kept their relationship a secret for a long time now and old habits)

Still, she notices he’s obviously not doing well and they talk for a bit, Luke asking her a hypothetical, like if she could go back in time to  change something to save someone she loved from suffering, would she?

And of course she is like. No, because doing so negates their choices and how would it affect others and so on?

Luke is just, right, of course.

But then she goes on and says, as a person, not a politician, a leader, she absolutely would.

Luke is like, oh, because of course that makes sense, doesn’t it.

Good of the many and so on and anyway.

He goes to his quarters and thinks on it for a bit and realizes, yes okay, the thing with Din was mostly selfish - he wants to say he wouldn’t have done it, but he still doesn’t know  - but Palpatine, okay, Palpatine.

How many million, billions, maybe more, lives was he responsible for? (Luke has his own count for the dead, and monstrously high it may be, but Palpatine is at the heart of all of it.)

So.

He he starts laying the groundwork to expose Palpatine, or maybe just build up, idk, say a Rebel Alliance to oppose him - and discovers that oh, would you look at that.

Because Padme and Bail and their closet conspirators who know something is coming, that Palpatine is surely part of it, but they don’t know the full scope of things.

And honestly, even Luke doesn’t, but.

They think he’s a spy or whatever, and there are all these shenanigans in the meantime, and Luke doing what he can to prove that he’s really on their side, and anyway, anyway.

He plants seeds here and there, everything Leia taight him, everything he picked up, and goes to Obi-Wan for help because his former master and watchdog, and anyway.

Before Luke gets to see if anything he’s done in the past pays off he gets booted back to his time.

Or a version of it.

Ripped back to his time and this moment where he’s sure he’s dead - in the middle of a space battle or collapsing temple somewhere and glowy doohickey, something like that, or, okay, Palpatine trying to kill hi again for the first time - and anyway.

Super disorienting.

Especially when he opens his eyes and Obi-Wan is there along with his father and is that Ahsoka?

But, like.

Older.

Also, though, Din.

And Grogu and Luke is very confused?

But there’s no time for that, as Padme and Leia run in and tell them the Imperials found them, did you get him? Yes, oh, good, and now with the running???

In which they do the running to a familiar ship Luke knows well, and also a few others he likewise knows, and anyway.

They escape just in time because an Imperial fleet was looking for them, and anyway.

Luke is super confused, but that’s okay because exposition time in which he finds out all those seeds he planted worked.

Palpatine was exposed, but didn’t matter because he had contingency plans, you know?

Order 66 never went into effect because someone - Obi-wan was prompted to go back to Kamino and ask after the clones, any...special features that may have been added and anyway.

Palpatine never got his clone army, but he made up for it with battle droids and conscripts and the Empire didn’t win? But neither did the Alliance.

Not yet, anyway, and they’ve been fighting for years at that point. No Death Star - at least not a completed one - and anyway, yes.

Alderaan’s still there, Leia doesn’t have to pretend she can see it in the night sky, and anyway.

A lot has changed but so much is still the same, and everyone, okay, everyone thinks Luke an idiot.

(They’re also not surprised by that, because Skywalker, but yes.)

This whole thing of Luke’s original memories clashing with this new timeline - he keeps his old ones, but it makes for a confusing time, you know? Some point where Luke gets this faraway look and turns to someone - maybe they were dead in that original timeline - and tells them how different everything is.

If they’re feeling brave enough, and honestly most people in Luke’s life are that brave, they ask what he was thinking about to get that look on his face and he’ll tell them about terrible future that didn’t come to pass.

One he feels a little guilty for missing sometimes because those other versions of the people he knew, loved, are gone and he’s the only one who remembers them? But then he’ll see one of them, or someone who was dead in that other timeline and realizes it’s not as simple as that.

Looks at the life he knew before and the one he’s learning now and can’t decide if what he did was the right thing?

But then he’ll catch his parents on a balcony somewhere lost in on another’s eyes and these soft smiles and the love between them that’s grown over the years. Or see Obi-Wan walking about with Cody, and soft smiles and quiet laughter and hundred dozen little moments like that and thinks, selfishly, he doesn’t truly regret it if these people he’s come to love get something like that, you know?

And, then, of course, then Din finds him, or maybe Luke goes back to their quarters on whatever ship or base they’re at then, and he’ll be waiting for him.

They were on the cusp of something when Luke got thrown back in time, but things changed once he got back.

Slow, awkward, because different timelines and experiences, but something new and good, and anyway, anyway.

Din’s there and Luke is being a little (lot) selfish in wanting to keep whatever the two of them are building between them, and Din seems to want the same, and anyway.

Yes????

[izzielizzie]

Hey you know how I’m At Last it’s mentioned that Skye went to prom last minute in a lab coat? Maybe could you do a fic where Skye goes with Melissa?

yes i do remember that! fic under the cut

"Skye?" somewhere in the world of microbiology - a world Skye isn't very fond of but has to explore for her semester's grade - she can hear a voice calling her. If it's a sister she's ready to stab her with a pen.

Fortunately, it's not a sister. Unfortunately, it's Melissa Patenaude. Skye pulls her goggles off her head and smiles at Melissa, who's leaning casually against the doorframe of the school's lab, already in her soccer uniform.

"Oh, hey," Skye says, nervously tucking a lock of choppy blonde hair behind her ear.

"Hey Penderwick," Melissa uncrosses her arms then crosses them again. "You're going to be late for soccer."

Skye glances at the clock and - rats - she is going to be late. The being late part isn't that bad, she's good enough that the coach won't yell at her or make her do extra drills. No, the real problem is Jane. After becoming captain, Jane made it a point to make an example out of Skye, and Skye is ready to accidentally push her sister out their bedroom window.

"Okay, yes, give me a moment," Skye says, pulling the goggles back on to gently put the petri dish back in the incubator. Once she's done, she wipes off the bench and pulls off her goggles and gloves. She's acutely aware of Melissa watching her, and for the millionth time, she's frustrated by the blush creeping up her neck. It's not like she doesn't know why - Skye's had a girlfriend before - but she really doesn't know how to deal with liking a girl she was once willing to pitch off the school roof. Not that she'd do that now.

"Science looks confusing," Melissa says as Skye pulls off her lab coat and hangs it on a hook.

Sky tugs her soccer bag out from under lab bench and loops it over her shoulder. "Says the girl who was in a play," Sky counters. After the whole Sisters and Sacrifice debacle, Melissa realized that she not only really likes plays but is good at acting. She’s even taking a stab at producing, and her show is playing this weekend.

“Oh speaking of,” Melissa says, reaching out and grabbing Skye’s arm, pulling towards her. “You’re coming on Saturday right?” She looks up at Skye pleadingly.

“Just as long as you don’t make me act in it, I’ll be there in the front row.”

Melissa grins at Skye as she adjusts her soccer bag. “Good. Now hurry up your sister’s going to kill us.”

The girls don’t talk again until the next day at lunch. “Penderwick, what are you wearing to prom?” Melissa asks as she drops into a seat next to Skye.

“Prom?” Skye asks, munching on a carrot stick. Melissa takes one from Skye’s tray and mimics the way Skye chews on it thoughtfully. Skye sticks out her tongue and Melissa laughs, pulling her dark hair into a bun, directing Skye’s attention to Melissa’s earrings. “Hey we match!” Skye says suddenly pointing to her own ears. Skye had never pierced her own ears since she hates earrings, but she deigned to wear clip-ons after Lydia enthusiastically gifted her shooting star earrings. 

“Yeah, I saw them at the store and they made me think of you,” Melissa says casually, like she knew that Skye would point out the earrings, but she looks secretly pleased. 

“That’s nice,” Skye says helplessly. After the surprise wore off, she now has no idea what to say to something so sentimental. Melissa snorts.

“You look so lost.”

“I am,” Skye says truthfully. This makes Melissa laugh a loud laugh.

“Shall I call Jane?”

“No, it’s fine,” Skye says, laughing along with Melissa. “So anyway, what were you asking?”

“What are you wearing to prom?”

Sky shrugs. “I don’t plan on going.”

Melissa sighs. “I knew it. Well, there goes my fallback.” Skye politely tilts her head, waiting for Melissa to continue. “Well you know how Genevieve and I broke up?” Skye nods. After years of listening to Melissa, she’s learned that trying to talk mid-rant doesn’t work with Melissa. She’s like Jane in that way. “Well obviously I needed a prom date so I asked Jane’s friend Artie - I mean he’s cute right?” Skye makes a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. She’s never thought of boys as anything other than someone to be friends with. “Well he can’t go, I think it’s because he likes Jane. And so, pride ruined, I asked Pearson and he’s going with Genevieve can you believe it?” 

Skye shakes her head as she chews meditatively on a celery stick. 

“So this brings me back to the only other person I’d like to go with.”

“Who’s that?” Skye asks as she swallows. Melissa stares at Skye for a moment as their friends groan around them. 

“I’ll figure it out.” Melissa says, disappointed. 

“Cool!” Skye says brightly before turning to Molly to ask her about the passing drills they did the day before.

It takes Skye three days - the morning of prom night to be exact - to realize what Melissa had been saying. She sprints down the steps to the kitchen, jumping fully over a tottering Lydia. Iantha, Rosalind and Mr. Penderwick look at her, startled, as Skye barrels into the room. “I’m an idiot!” she announces to the room at large. 

“We already knew that,” Jane says casually as she cuts waffles into pieces. 

“Why?” asks Batty more politely as she leads Lydia into the room. Iantha quickly bends down to put Lydia in her high chair. Ben follows, looks Skye’s face, and skirts around her, heading straight to the pile of waffles in the middle of the table. 

“Melissa was asking me to prom!” Skye cries, clutching at her cropped hair.

“We already knew that too,” Jane says as she takes a sip of orange juice.

“Jane,” Rosalind says in a warning tone. It’s a miracle she’s awake this early. Usually she sleeps late during vacation. If Skye believed in fate she’d pin the presence of her entire family on it. But she doesn’t so it’s all her fault. 

“Iantha what do I do?” Skye asks pleadingly to her step-mother, who’s looking at her with a sympathetic albeit resigned look. 

Iantha purses her lips as she hands a fussy Lydia her recently dropped crown. “I’m not sure honey. It’s too late to get you a dress or a suit isn’t it?”

“Rosy? Do you have your dress?”

Rosalind nods. “I do, but Skye will it fit?” 

Skye heaves a dramatic sigh. No, it won’t. Skye and Rosalind are built differently enough that none of Rosalind’s dresses will fit Skye. Skye turns to her father, always a steady ship in times of crisis. “Dad? What do I do?”

“I’m sorry filia mea but I don’t know. Perhaps just try speaking to her?”

“Speak. That’s a good idea. Thank you,” Skye says mechanically as she turns towards the front door, marching towards it with determined strides, pausing momentarily to grab her car keys before leaving. 

“What about breakfast?” Iantha calls after her. She turns to Jane who sighs. 

“I’ve got it,” she says, secretly pleased at this turn of events as she packs some waffles for Skye. She’s always thought Skye and Melissa had potential. 

Jane’s good mood dissolves, however, when she runs into Skye standing on the front steps looking dejected. Jane, who was ready to trek the mile to Cameron High School, stops short. “What’s wrong? Do you have a headache? Shall I bathe your forehead?”

“Stop with the headache,” Skye says, waving away Jane’s hand. “I just realized I’d promised my science teacher I’d work in the lab tonight, help her clean it before school ends.”

“On prom night?” Jane asks.

Skye throws her hands in the air. “I hadn’t planned on going when I’d accepted!”

Jane doesn’t say anything to Skye, who’s stomping around the front yard trying to find a tree she can kick while she rants about the pressure of school dances and dumb crushes. “Some maidens may balk from the fear, but Sabrina Starr never wavers in the face of pressure.”

Skye stops her pacing. “What?”

“Nothing! Get in the car, we’ll be late.”

As seven in the afternoon draws closer, Skye’s mood worsens, until she nearly stomps into the lab. She’d sat through an entire day of school with Melissa, who seemed glowing as Skye’s heart sank. Now, she feels even worse as she sees Jane fiddling with the rack of graduated cylinders. 

“Jane what are you doing here?” Skye asks as the science teacher steps out of the back room. She catches sight of Skye and grins as she puts the box in her arms on a dry bench. 

“Hello Skye, why aren’t you getting ready to go to the dance?”

“Dance?” Skye asks.

“Yeah don’t you remember? You mixed up the dates when you agreed to help tonight. You thought prom was next week, not this week,” Jane jumps in, making her just go with it face. Skye had seen that face enough times to know nothing good came out of it. “So I offered to help instead.”

“You’re cleaning a lab?” Sky clarifies. She’s pretty sure Jane would rather die than go near anything science related.  

“Of course! I mean who wouldn’t want to wash one hundred graduation cylinders?” 

“Graduated,” Skye corrects.

“From what?”

“Never mind. Jane may I talk to you for a moment?”

Skye not-too-gently takes her sister’s arm and drags her towards the rack of lab coats. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning gr-”

“Graduated cylinders I know. Jane this isn’t gonna work.”

“Why, it’s just in the gym. That’s a three minute walk.”

“I have nothing to wear!”

Oh. Right. How had Jane forgotten that? She looks around and catches sight of the coats. “There,” she points.

“You want me to wear a lab coat?”

“Yeah. Or you could just stay here and let Melissa go to the dance on her own.”

Skye sighs. “Fine. Help me put it on.”

Ten minutes later, after donning the coat and letting Jane twist her hair this way and that way until her eyes are uncovered, Skye slips into the gym. She looks around for a moment to get her bearing, and instantly someone is wrapping their arms around her. Skye turns to see Melissa grinning at her. Skye steps back and does a double take when she sees the blue gown Melissa chose.

“It matches your eyes,” Melissa says. 

“Yeah,” Skye says, smiling a little.

“God you really don’t know what to say do you?” Melissa asks with a grin. 

“No I do not.”

“Then why don’t I save you the trouble: ‘I, Skye Magee Penderwick, formally apologize to Melissa Patenaude for being dense and not realizing that she’s been asking me to prom for three months’.”

“That works,” Skye says, silently thanking Jane for cleaning the lab so Skye can be here, burning up under the gym’s bright lights in a lab coat as the prettiest girl she’s ever seen teases her. 

“Good. Hold out your hand.”

“What?” Skye asks, doing as she’s told. She looks down to realize that Melissa has tied a white rose corsage around her wrist. 

“Here. To match your lab coat.”

“Thank you,” Skye says softly.

“I assume there’s a story behind the coat?”

“Obviously.”

“And it has to do with Jane?”

“The one and only.”

Melissa links her arm with Skye’s. “Tell me all about it.”

[minaofmayhem]

IMAGINE #34 - Holidays

Here it is ! This is an imagine created for the 650 followers challenge created by @flowers-in-your-hayr ​ 🤩 I hope you’ll like it honey, your beautiful pinky moodboard gave me all I needed to be inspired. Congrats again for this deserved achievement and enjoy ! ❤️ 

Summary : A piece about the perfect holidays you have with your beloved Alexander somewhere on a little island in Greece. 

Pairing : Alexander Skarsgård x Reader. 

Warnings : nudity ; slight smut (slightly explicit). 

Tag list : @katerka88 ; @bonnieelizabethparker​ ; @flowers-in-your-hayr​ ; @ateliefloresdaprimavera​ ; @anangelwhodidntfall ; @fawnbrrry

The soft sunlight mixed with the delightful sounds of bird songs will wake you up. Slightly, you open your eyes, not yet accustomed to daylight after a long sleep. Your first reflex is to stretch your body under the blanket, slowly, while emitting a little groan of well-being. It had been a while since you had a very good night's sleep... 

Then you finally open your eyes and your gaze falls on the perfect view you have from your bed: a beautiful dark blue sea and a sky without limits. You just lie there for a while, head on your pillow, admiring the view, thinking that you are probably the luckiest girl in the world. You have at your side the most loving man who would do anything to make you happy.  

A few weeks ago, he noticed that you were quite tired, irritable and even demoralized because of your work. On the other hand, he was also exhausted because of all his frequent trips around the world, shootings, promotions...While he was filming “The Little Drummer girl” in Greece, he found this little piece of heaven : a charming little house, perched on the cliff, by the sea. This place made him decided that a break off far from work, Sweden, worries and so on would be good for both of you. He couldn’t be more right. You arrived five days ago and you did literally nothing since you arrived, except decompressing, cuddling, eating, swimming and walking. 

You are totally free, together and far from everything.

After some minutes of meditation, you roll on the mattress thinking that you’d bump into Alexander’s body but instead you see an empty place. You emit a little groan of disappointment before rolling on your other side to look at your watch. It is past 9 am and he is probably already awake. Alex never can’t sleep late. He’s used to wake up early due to his frequent shootings where he has to be awaken really early. 

Pensively, you look at the beautiful engagement ring at the turn of your finger and a smile appears on your lips as your remember what happened last night. Alexander asked you to be his wife, while you were having a romantic dinner by the sea. It was a complete pleasant surprise. Of course you talked sometimes about wedding and kids but you never imagined that he was ready to go further. You knew, however, that Alex would make something romantic and unforgettable...

With one hand, you remove the blanket and grab the little silk bathrobe posed on the wicker chair that stands next to the bed. You cover your naked body and tie the knot while you take a look out of the bay window. You stare down and see Alex putting his red shirt on after a short session of sunbathing and reading. You stay there a moment to admire the man you love the most and he suddenly raises his head, feeling your glance on him. He adresses you a big smile and you wave in return, with a pretty smile on your face too. God, your love for this man is so strong, it’s almost insane.

You go downstairs to greet him. Once in the living room, you open the little door and the heat immediately hit you in the face. It’s not noon yet and the temperature is already high. A hot draught caresses your body under your clothes and makes you shiver.

Alexander comes to meet you with a lovely kiss on your forehead as you put yourself in his arms. “Hey baby”, he says with a low voice, almost like a whisper.

“Hello handsome. Still up early ?”, you reply as placing your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat resounding in your hear. You missed that so much this morning in the bed.

“I woke up with the sun. You were sleeping like a baby. I didn’t want to awake you”, he says as holding you tight. You pull back your head as a sign for him to kiss you. He leans and his lips finally meet yours for a delicate morning kiss.

“I knew you’d wake up later this morning after...what we did last night...” he teases with a seductive voice and a smile in the corner of his mouth. You give him a knowing smile while your mind replays the tender love making session you had. His hands slowly glides along your hips to lift up the corner of your bathrobe and you startle of surprise. The fabric is see-through so he immediately noticed that you were totally naked under it. You shiver as feeling the cloth gliding along your skin and even more when you feel Alex’s hands on your ass.

“Easy big boy”. You place your hands on his to remove them and intertwine your fingers. He raises an eyebrow as a challenge.

“Are the future Mrs Skarsgård resisting to my natural charm...”. He uses his most charming voice and starts to walk, making you move back. You realize how much you like to hear him calling you like this. 

“Maybe...I always had been...a dangerous girl you know...”.

“Dangerous, hum? I’d rather have said...careless”. And suddenly, Alexander hands move quickly around your body. Right hand to support your back while the left one moves under your knees to catch you like a bride. Surprised, you let escape a scream. But he didn’t want to simply have you in his arms, he has other plans. He goes near the pool and before you had the chance to say something, he throws you into the hot water. 

Two seconds later, you return at the surface, catching your breath. You rub your eyes to make them dry and see Alex, squats on the poolside, laughing like a child, proud of his joke. You walk into the water, your wet silk bathrobe wrapping your body. 

“Very funny Skarsgård !”. When you arrive in front of him, you stand, using your arms to stay afloat. Then he whistles in a suggestive way as he shows you, with a head movement, the view he has from his point of view. You look beneath you and notice that your bathrobe is just open, the knot had been undoing, exposing your breasts to the world. Luckily, you are in a private area...

“Doesn't it bother you to expose your fiancee’s body like this ?”. You tease him once again as you walk in his direction, finally reaching the poolside.

“Not for my own consumption”. You laugh and put some water in your hand to throw it on his face.

“Pervert”. He raises his both eyebrows now, while standing up to look at you from all his height. He removes his shoes first, still looking at you seriously.

“I think you are still playing with fire my love...”. He undoes his shirt, button after button, before throwing it on one of the deckchair behind him. He takes off his short to be in boxer. You can’t stop looking at his beautiful body, tanned with the sun. The short hair on his pecs are even more blond than before. You bite your lower lip when you noticed the rising bulge in his boxer. This little game he started and your naked wet body apparently really turned him on...No need to specify that you are completely excited too.

“I’ll show you who’s in control here...”

“Oh...You arouse my curiosity”, you reply while making some movements in the pool, swimming back to go in the middle. The smile on his face is practically carnivorous when he enters in the water by the pool stairs. You know how much he likes playing role plays like this, when you pretend to be an innocent and shy woman, being at his mercy. A game that you appreciate as well.

Once in the water, Alexander jumps and swims to come and meet you. He’s like a shark reaching for his prey. You laugh as trying to escape from him but it’s late, he’s too fast for you. He catches you and traps you in his arms. Not able to escape, you surrender and wrap your legs around his hips to move with him in the water. 

“You think you can resist me”, he jokes as devouring your neck with hungry kisses. You laugh loudly, his kisses tickling you, and beg him to stop in the same time. But this isn’t an option. “I know your body is calling for me”. HIs sensual voice makes your core becoming hotter and you can’t wait for his hands to touch you.

“Then judge by yourself”. Judging by the fire burning in his eyes, you can say that this game won’t last longer. Without wasting any time, Alexander puts his hands under your behind to hold you firmly against him. He walks easily through the water until he reaches the stairs to get out of the pool. Still in his arms, clinging to his neck, he walks up to the deckchair where he gently drops you off. You know what he is about to do and your body is already shivering with pleasure. He goes up the edges of your bathrobe and directly attacks your belly which he covers with wet kisses. You giggle when you feel his nascent beard scratching your skin. 

Without wasting any time, Alexander puts his hands under your behind to hold you firmly against him. He walks easily through the water until he reaches the stairs to get out of the pool. Still in his arms, clinging to his neck, he walks up to the deckchair where he gently drops you off. You know what he is about to do and your body is already shivering with pleasure. He goes up the edges of your bathrobe and directly attacks your belly which he covers with wet kisses. You giggle when you feel his nascent beard scratching your skin. His fingers leave marks on your hips as he gradually descends towards your intimacy. 

"Alex...I want you...now," you moan, your hands bringing him back to your level. You are totally burning inside and you can’t wait any longer to have him inside of you. Alexander places one last kiss on your lower abdomen and then moves up to kiss you passionately. With one hand, he lowers his boxer shorts to release his manhood, hard as rock. He places himself between your legs and once he gets inside you, your fingers cling firmly to his back, your nails getting into his skin. Alexander moves, without further ado, already taking on a strong yet tender rhythm. 

You raise your legs and place them at his hips, so that you can feel his every movement. Your groans mix as he sticks his body to yours, wrapping you in his arms. 

"Don't stop...", you whisper feeling that if he continues at this pace, you won't last much longer. Alex steps back a little and grabs your hands from his back and places them over your head, intertwining your fingers. He looks into yours and doesn't leave it, gradually accelerating. 

"Will you cum for me ?" Alexander said in a hoarse voice as he put a tender kiss on your lips. You simply nod your head, biting your lower lip. "Cum for me, baby...". He knows how much it can really turn you on... You close your eyes, concentrating on the beautiful feeling you feel growing inside. 

When it explodes, like a fireworks display, your body bends under Alex's. Accompanied by the erotic groans, you open your eyes to look into his bright eyes, while your body tremble under the waves of pleasure that are spreading inside you. Alexander makes a few more movements before coming, leaning on his forearms, his body contracting under the effect of the pleasure. A masculine grunt escapes from his mouth as he pours into you. 

You catch your breath, still feeling the effects spreading. Both of you close your eyes and press your forehead together. 

"It was unexpected, to say the least, but... intense," you whisper with a  Alexander chuckles and withdraws gently, settling down on the edge of the deckchair. He puts one hand on your belly and gently caresses it.

"Always at your service," he says, bending over to kiss your belly button. 

"Wherever and whenever you want...", you reply by caressing his hair with your two hands. "We'll have to practice if we want to bring several little Skarsgård to the world.

"Or... we can already start...", he gently bites the flesh of your belly, pretending he wants to eat you. You laugh out loud under his tickles and get up to be sat in front of him.

"I would have loved to, but I know one who has completely forgotten that we rented a boat for a sea tour and that we have to be ready for 11 am".

Judging by the expression on his face, you're sure he had completely forgotten.  

"That’s what I thought...Come on, my dear Skarsgård...to the shower!"

[jacks-wylan]

It started to rain a day later.

Geralt's already bad mood started to increase even more, as he stomped down that trice damned mountain. His fingers trembled, and he knew very well that it was not because of the now terribly colder wind blowing, but he couldn't help but notice that the temperature was lower than the day before – lower than that same morning.

He gritted his teeth, eyes roaming up to the gray sky. Winter was coming, and that felt like the only blessing that was falling upon him lately, because winters meant home and late nights with his brothers and the closest thing he could ever have as a break, to have some time off everything .

He felt a pang of worry when, as the day passed, the weather worsened. Not for Yennefer, no, because she could take care of herself, and just portal out of there – but that idiot that went down the mountain path alone, without waiting for him at the clearing as he should have done no matter how much he was offended... the thought of him in a dangerous territory, with an upcoming storm no less, is worrisome. He tried to not think of Jaskier, because the he was still angered – and the guilt was already creeping up his spine, gnawing at his insides – and deep down he was hoping that he, indeed, joined the dwarves in the end, and he was not at all alone – as he was, as it should have been from the start.

Caingorn and the stables where Roach was waiting for him is half a way down, when he had to find shelter for the night. He found an empty cave, built a fire, and meditated. He couldn't fall asleep. Not that he tried, but he knew that slumber would not come easily on him this time. He would not fall asleep peacefully, safe , as he did with Yennefer ever again.

The rain became a downpour by the time he reached the inn.

He was surprised the same when, once entered inside the inn, knowing that he could not go anywhere with that kind of weather – he could not permit that something bad would happen to Roach – he found every single still alive member of the dragon hunt there.

Even Borch. Even Jaskier. Even Yennefer .

She did not deign him of a glance, and Geralt did expect as much. Jaskier, instead, looked at him with a relieved expression, but... but still, he didn't come to him, didn't run towards him and started to ramble as always. He noticed Jaskier's belonging at his feet, belongings that – apart from his lute – should have been inside Roach's saddlebags, with Geralt's things.

He told himself thank fuck .

He did not feel so thankful, though.

The common room was crowded, but Geralt found a table in a corner regardless. He settled there, ordered food and ale, and ignored the conversations around him. Someone was saying that if the storm did not placate, it would be impossible to walk the roads. He heard Yennefer snort and say that if things would not get better, she would just leave them all there and portal away. Jaskier muttered a mean: “Of course you will, but why are you still here?”

It was Borch that reached out to him. He sat next to him, and after he gulped a mouthful of ale, Geralt just asked: “Your child?”

“Safer than us here.” was his response, “The skies are enraged.”

“Shouldn't you be with them?”

“Not now, no.” Borch shook his head, “But I will be, if the rain ever stops.”

Geralt wasn't in the mood to understand Borch's cryptic words, so he just kept eating and drinking. Then he went out, saw Roach, gave her enough clean water and fresh hay, made sure that there still was pellet for her to sleep on. She seemed content, but she also seemed like she was waiting for something – for someone – that wasn't there with them, sniffing at Geralt's hands but not finding the treats he never gave her.

Geralt patted her muzzle and turned back in. The rain still didn't show any sign of stopping, falling almost cruelly on the ground. Roads became torrents, trees bent under the force of wind.

The skies are enraged.

None of the patrons could go back to their lives, when the night came. So the innkeepers decided that until the storm ended, the rooms were available for all of them – Geralt did not talk to Jaskier, as they walked up the stairs to their shared room, because he was expecting the bard to break the silence, but at first he didn't.

The awkwardness fell upon them until they had to look into each other's eyes by the only bed in the room, when Jaskier finally, finally talked. “Left or right?”

Geralt sighed, leaning his swords against the wall. “Jaskier,” he said his name, but abruptly stopped, because he didn't really know what to say.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. This is a very shitty situation, isn't it? We are all caged here for who knows when, and funnily right after–” Jaskier's voice faltered, until it stopped. “Can you endure me for a little more? I won't get in the way. You can talk with the witch, sort out all your problems, and live happily ever after. If there might be a silver lining here, it has to be this.”

Silence fell on them again. Geralt raised the blankets and got under them: he was pretty sure that not even that night sleep would come to him, but he could at least try. The road to Kaer Morhen was long and tortuous, he needed to be well rested before taking that way.

There was an acrid, bitter scent lingering in the air. Geralt ignored it.

“You really have nothing to say to me?”

Lying on the bed, Geralt looked at him with a sigh, “Just sleep, Jaskier.”

The room got illuminated by a thunder, fallen not too far from the inn. Jaskier jolted, head shot back towards the window with a panicking jump. Geralt could not see his eyes, but he imagined them being wide open, like a deer caught by a lightning. It might not even be too far from reality.

“If only I could.” Jaskier murmured, lying too on the bed but giving him his back. That position made Geralt feel lonely, but it was a sentiment so absurd that he just shrugged it off and closed his eyes.

Outside, the storm did not end, but it got calmer when he got up the next morning.

It was still a downpour, and it still made the roads impassable, but Geralt could see, with some difficulty, a timid ray of sun peaking through the thick, gray clouds covering the sky. He did indeed sleep, for a bit, he felt as refreshed as he could ever be.

Glancing at Jaskier, Geralt saw him still sleeping, his face relaxed, messy hair covering his closed lids. There was a slightly frown between his eyebrows, but so soft that it was difficult even for him to notice under the brown locks of his fringe.

Geralt swiped them off with the lightest touch he could gather so not to wake him up, then turned around and left the room.

The common room was almost empty, if not for Borch, the two Zerrikanians, and the innkeepers. “Most of the patrons went back to their home the second the storm calmed. After all, their houses aren't so far away.” one of the innkeepers was muttering, “Didn't even pay for the rooms, those whoresons.”

Not even an hour later, the storm increased again, with more force, with more violence it hit against the walls and doors. The sky darkened, it was an ominous scene.

“This looks like a catastrophe.” the other innkeeper said, “If it keeps like this, the land will become a giant swamp, and nothing will grow up again. If it keeps like this, our rations will end, and we will all die.”

“Always the same, you shithead. Stop being so gloomy, it's just the second day!”

“Myths spoke of a similar catastrophe cast by an angered God. It lasted forty days and forty nights, to drown the evil on Earth.” Borch said, calmly. “Just myths, they were. Evil is still on Earth, after all.”

The skies are enraged.

Moments later, Yennefer walked down the stairs, followed by Jaskier. They were talking in hushed tones, so low that Geralt couldn't understand most of the spoken sentences, but for the look of it Jaskier did not seem happy with their argument. Yennefer, though, she looked smug, a cutting grin baring white teeth.

Geralt felt something , something ugly and slimy kneading his mouth at their camaraderie. He felt left apart, abandoned, ignored. It was a feeling he should be used to – it was a feeling he always felt with Yennefer, it was a feeling he always made Jaskier feel – but somehow he felt the injustice of it burning on his cheeks, like embarrassment, if more humiliating.

He hated it, this weakness.

“I'm sorry, Yen.” he then said, because what else he has to do? Beg forgiveness, drop into his knees in front of her and say that what he did was wrong, but he just did it to save her. Not to see her die right after saving Jaskier's life, not to see her die after she mended his mistake which would have killed Jaskier, drowning him in his own blood that Geralt helped spill. “I had no right to do what I did, but I don't... I can't regret it.”

“Well, well.” Yennefer snorted. She sat gracefully on a chair, and looked up at him with an elegant black eyebrow arched. “You are apologizing. For someone else it might be enough, but not for me, Witcher.”

Geralt gritted his teeth. “Would anything be even enough?”

“I am kind of disillusioned, to be honest, now that I know the truth. Things I could not comprehend before are now clear, and bitter. I do not know what love is supposed to be, of course,” she pursued her red lips, then looked around until her violet eyes stopped on Jaskier – Jaskier that was standing still in front of a window, watching the hell outside. His back was tense, his hands were trembling so slightly. He was close enough to be hearing everything Yennefer and he were talking about. Strangely, Geralt felt guilty. “But I know that ours wasn't love yet. Not a love that matters.”

“Could be, one day.”

“Sure.” Yennefer sneered, “But am I willing to wait? With the risk that once we break the Djinn's spell, all will be lost? I am not an hopeless puppy like your bard,” at that, Jaskier flinched, “I will not wiggle my tail at every scrap of attention you'd deign to give, to be then discarded when you will get enough of it.”

“Like you've done all this time with me?” Geralt growled.

“Like you've done all this time with the bard.” Yennefer replied, unapologetic.

They stared at each other for long moments, Geralt trying so hard not to turn and look at Jaskier again. He didn't want to acknowledge that those words were true and how much effects they had on him. “Why do you care? You can't even stand Jaskier, damn it!”

A thunder fell just outside the window Jaskier was leaning on. He shouted, scrambling away from the shaking – cracking – glass, and it was not long before another thunder fell, and the window shuttered.

Geralt fumbled up from his table, but Jaskier didn't get hurt, just soaked in the rain gusted in as he fell on the floor in fear of it. He whimpered, and brought a hand against his chest. In the chaos surrounding them, Geralt could clearly hear his heart beating like a war drum, louder than any noise, more deafening than the storm outside.

Yennefer went and, with a flick of her fingers, the window returned whole again.

“Fucking hell.” Jaskier creaked, “What the fuck is happening?”

Geralt looked out, and the gray of the storm became black, filled with blue and white, blinding stripes that made the land shake. Trembling like Jaskier's fingers tightened around a chunk of his own red doublet.

The skies are enraged.

And they were bringing down on Earth all of their anger.

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

read the rest on ao3!

[albino-whumpee]

Demon Angel AU: Ritual sacrifice

Will I ever actually work on my WIPS or follow an schedule? Sigh.

Anyhow, a bit more of the AU with the boys for a late @whumptober2020! Sann discovers what did the gods capture a demon for! He´s not very happy about it and the fate of his friend.

CW// blood, ritual sacrifice, deity whump, captivity, pet whump (of sorts), forced to watch, torture, defiant whumpee, manhandling, creepy whumper and noncon touching (non sexual), wing whump, threats of murder, escape attempt and betrayal. Ask to tag!

Taglist: @as-a-matter-of-whump @grizzlie70 @orchidscript @giggle-evil-puppy @rosesareviolentlyread @haro-whumps

He was molded by his god to be perfect. Or their definition of perfect. Six pairs of wings that would allow him to soar through the sky as ordered. Perfectly white and soft for his God´s fingers to run through as he sang along to an ancient song the angel had never listened to but knew word by word.

Kneeling at his God´s feet, and singing to them like the perfect bird toy the demon had told him he was when he had gotten close enough to get a “hey, Angel, are you gonna tell me your name today?” instead of warning snarls. The angel had gotten defensive at first. Offended by the captive´s words when he was so much more to his God. So thankful to have been given the important job to stay by their side to serve them.

“You love flying don´t you?” the demon had told him shifting on his cell with his limbs going black from the friction of chains that cursed his touch.

He had a piece of cloth tied around the edges so it would pacify the pain for a little while, it was too risky to leave it, so the angel had to take it away when he went back to bed to his lord.

The angel bit his lower lip. Remembering his night strolls through the clouds, when he could simply put the three pairs of wings to work for him and him only.

“I do, but-”

“Then if your creator loved you so much they wouldn´t force you to stop. They would love to see you flying in the sky instead of forcing you to stay with them on the ground to show your devotion or whatever”

“It´s to bring honor to them! Besides, It´s my choice to do it or not!” the angel had yelled at him. The demon stood up and stomped his way to the bars of his cell. Until the chain yanked him back and he let out an exasperated groan before turning to watch the puffed out angel.

“Yeah? Is it really a choice when you´re terrified of saying no?” The demon refuted. “Do you even…Do you even know how they will fuck up your wings?”

The angel had frowned at the softening of his voice. He shook his head as the demon sighed.

“Come here, Angel” he said and the angel doubted moving, but ultimately walked towards the demon, curiosity itching to be satisifed. He jumped in horror as the demon pinched his hand with his own claws and black blood pooled on it.

“What are you-!?”

“Shh, I´m ok” he said crouching to take into his hands one of the feathers that had fallen off on one of the angel´s earliest visits. The three feathers hidden in a crack on the wall was his little treasure, but nobody, and most certainly not the Angel needed to know that “I´m not here just to be a party entertainer, Angel” he said dipping the feather in the blood as a sizzling sound crossed the air. The Angel´s heart stopped for a second.

The feather dissolved in less than a few seconds.

“I´m the main ingredient for your ritual. Once they dry me, you will coat your wings bloody black. But after suffering for a few hours, your god will give you wax wings. If you pretty please ask for them, they will give it to you. Just as perfect but absolutely useless”

“H-H-How do you know all this?” The freckled Angel heaved staring at the demon´s grim face.

“Demons disappear all the time you know? Who, besides your god´s soldiers, would take them? The humans? They wish! The Elder told me to avoid capture at all costs but I…” he sighed “I didn´t see them coming from above”

The Angel had never felt so betrayed. He couldn´t even say goodbye to the demon that night. He had wanted to sit next to his god at night, as the demon danced in his injured feet and enjoy along…but he couldn´t. He felt disgusted, afraid, of being forced to be the cause of pain inflicted on the demon. Of his friend. He could try to look away for as long as his god didn´t take his chin and make him watch.

It took guts to make a decision, and it had a cost to save the demon.

At night, his god called for him and he prostrated before them to be informed the ritual would be at dawn.

The Angel should have stayed quiet. Should have shown his excitement just like when they told him he was chosen among all the other angels to become theirs.

But nothing but questions and the need to cry came out.

“What´s wrong, Sann?” they asked him gently wiping the tears off his face. A name was given to him to respond to, but only the giver knew what to call. Only his god could call him Sann.

“My lord, I have a wish for you to answer”

“Ask and I may consider”

“What will happen to the white demon on the dungeons after dawn?” Sann asked with a knot forming on his stomach as the god took their hand away.

“Worried about your own enemy. What a pure little one I made. But don´t fret, it´s only natural for living things, no matter how cursed their existance, to cease. You should know that, Sann” suddenly the finger tracing his jaw didn´t feel like a gentle touch, but a warning. Sann´s wings shivered as his god planted a kiss on his forehead “You´re far more important to me than that funny creature of the underworld, Sann. I expect nothing less but perfection from you and you have relentlessly proved your worth to me. Do it one more time and get ready, my perfect little bird”

Sann knelt in one knee as they walked away to the gardens “Yes, my lord”

The Angel couldn´t focus on the gorgeous scent of the flowers that bathed their body and the brush that groomed their wings, neither on the voices that praised him for getting such a promotion and telling him how beautiful he looked on his ritual gawns. They all had been angels like him, promoted, without any lower angel seeing. He had always wondered about why such secrecy…

“Sister?” She asked the black skinned angel mussing his hair and hummed in reply. Her wings were always shiny and immobil behind her. Always dragging on the ground as she walked behind her own Lady “What are your wings made of?”

At the question he felt a sudden pull back. He let out a pained yelp through gritted teeth.

“Oh my! I´m sorry! I…what kind of question is that, sweetheart?” She said and didn´t speak again until she was finished and pushed him to the next room.

He didn´t miss how she didn´t answer his question.

They never did.

—

It was past midnight when the Angel started with his meditation. He was supposed to last until dawn, but no matter how hard the effect of the tea they had given him, he couldn´t force himself back into that state. Slightly dizzy, he stumbled his way to the window. Just to check how much time he had to get his last flying before the ceremony.

He saw the sky turning that pinkish tone he had soared through in his first flight. Racing the sun to see who could come higher faster. He remembered how the wind felt on his wings, how the currents carried him higher, how the clouds melted without touching, they had never been fluffy cutton, but scurried through his fingers like water.

More than once he had asked despite himself, what were they made of. What was everything even himself made of. Despite been forbidden from questioning the greatest god´s creations, he kept wondering. He wanted to know and appreciate it, not deminish it.

Why was it so wrong to ask?

At the thought a tear spilled off his cheek.

Because the answers may not be as innocent as he thought, he now understood.

It pained him to admit it. It hurt so much to make a coocoon of his wings and touch them in longing. The demon was right. He didn´t want to dissapoint his god, but he also didn´t wanna lose his flight.

He would prefer to fall.

The demon should still be on the dungeon. He could…he could save him. He could take him and.. He needed to…

He suddenly was yanked up by the arm by his sisters and brothers. A procession trapped him until they arrived to the plaza, just a few minutes before dawn.

In explicit detail he was instructed about the ritual´s procedures. Such was his shock that, before he knew it, he was on his knees in front of his god and…

“Control that beast!” the blonde, winged soldier cracked his whip at the demon. Hitting him plain in the face, blood splattered on the floor but the demon kept squirming and growling under the ropes holding him down. His tail tightly bound to one of his legs. He was kneeling with a muzzle over his face and a rope tightening more and more around his exposed, vulnerable neck. The more he moved the more it digged on his skin, black blood ran down in rivulets through the rope and to his wrists. Struggling just made it worse, but his eyes didn´t lose the fight in them. Like a red twilight, his eyes were filled with the omen of blood.

The demon was finally seized with the help of two other soldiers. Holding him in place to stare directly at Sann. His eyes widened as he found the sword on the angel´s hands and Sann understood immediately he bared his fangs in fury, in betrayal and then closed his eyes and stopped struggling.

The soldiers let him go and the demon jerked forward. His forehead barely brushing the Seraphim´s feet in defeat. He saw his eyes and there was no need for words to understand what they meant.

“I trusted you”

The demon lowered his head as Sann began with the first step of the ritual: singing an hymn in honor of the highest god. The creator of all. Even the demon´s elder.

It should be carried on with a dance with the sword on his hand. Gentle steps that got framed with the movements of his wings. The gods and Sann´s god watched his performance delighted.

The ritual dance stopped with Sann bowing at the demon with the sword on his back.

He whispered to the white haired demon then.

“I want to know your name”

The demon´s snort was muffled by the muzzle.

Golden bowls on the sides, so in his sweaty state he had to take them and put them right below the demon. He carefully moved slower, trying to make as much of a curtain as his wings would let him cover in a place filled with gods and soldiers.

“I´m not gonna hurt you” Sann whispered, moving gracefully behind the demon, sword on one hand and grabbing a fist of white hair to uncover the neck. He glared back with a venemous look.

It wasn´t part of the ritual to cut the muzzle off his face with the sword, yet it fell to a sudden silence of the public. To the demon´s amusement.

“I promise” he mouthed to the demon. Eyes were nailed on them in all directions, but the tension seemed to ease and quicken as he set the sword right over the tender skin of his throat.

The demon squinted but his lips twisted up, sensing the honesty of the winged creature.

“Tell me yours, and I will tell you mine”

The angel looked above and took a deep breath where he extended his wings and lifted his sword. Using the sudden roar of cheering to mouth his name at the demon. The sword pointed in a direction without guards.

The joy at the barbarie vanished just as quickly as Sann´s sword cut through the ropes, switching it for horror as the demon ran free. He was not an strong demon, he himself had told him so, yet he pushed the angel off his way and ran with little equilibrium with his tail still bind to one of his legs.

The soldiers were torn between going for the demon or for Sann, which he used to extend his wings and flap the three pairs of wings down, giving him enough power to impulse him up.

He was a fallen.

Sann had fallen and he could sense his god´s ire high up above the clouds.

But, if they had given him a chance to choose, they should´ve been prepared to hear a no.

He turned in the air and plummeted down towards the demon running to one of the borders. Saw him stopping cold and fighting inercia to avoid falling over. Sann extended his arms and curled on his wings to go faster and catch him right when the soldiers were about to reach him. Flying off with a twist and going down and down.

The demon screamed.

“DON´T LET ME FALL DON´T LET ME FALL DON´T LET ME FALL!!!” He panicked as he gripped to the angel´s chest.

“Hold tight!” Sann screamed back, as the muscles on his back protested the strain. They would have to hold on. Until they could lose the fifteen soldiers after them and their arrows.

The cold air pierced his lungs and the demon´s screams were starting to make his ears ring.

He turned through soldiers popping out, but if his calculations were correct, they could get through the barrier into the human world in just a few more meters.

Just a little bit and there would be freedom.

As soon as Sann flew away, his god trembled in fury but quickly collected themself to bark left and right to bring them their bow and a frask of poisoned demon blood.

If Sann refused to be theirs, if Sann had the guts to defy them and decide they wished to fall trying to protect a filthy demon, then Sann had been a failure needed of extermination.

The god prepared themselves. Picked up one of the arrows and submerged it on the frask. Then pulled back and waited. They knew their creation was fond of his wings and his flight, they had taken pride of a creature so devoted they would take what was most precious to him, himself.

“What a pity. But it´s alright, with your flesh, we will create a better version. Just like you surpassed the one before you” they let the arrow go “My sweet little bird”

Sann didn´t sense the arrow, but the demon did.

“Watch out!” He screamed turning Sann by pulling one of his wings. Right out of the arrow´s direction but in turn, it blew up one of his horns making him lose his grip around the angel.

He wasn´t a strong demon, he was not a shape shifter or had herculean strength. He was just a low class demon that was perfect for an angel without any battle training, to handle.

It was strange.

So, so strange to know he was gonna splat on the floor and he couldn´t avoid it, but had an angel rushing to meet him. Hand extended and screaming something he didn´t understand.

He was falling too fast and too hard, he was loosing consciousness, the last he saw were trees getting bigger and closer.

Ah, the human world.

The demon saw the black blood spill above him and made the effort to cover it.

He didn´t want the angel to get burnt with his blood.

In such dire situation his mind wondered back to those gray eyes telling him his name.

Sann…

He hadn´t been able to tell him his name.

He closed his eyes when he saw the angel´s wings expand and frenetically rush down. The last he felt was the angel´s…Sann´s arms wrapping around him. His wings covering them to protect them both as they fell into the woods.

[goodgodgodfrey]

Rebirth Part Nine | A Hemlock Grove Story

So, this was two years in the making. I am so so so so sorry I left this account behind without any explanation whatsoever. My life took an almighty bad turn and fell apart right before my eyes. I had an extreme rough patch with my mental health and I am extremely surprised I made it to the end of 2018. 2020 has been an horrendous year but I am back, I remembered my log in and I am ready to continue showing BIll all of the love! I hope the fandom can welcome me back with open arms! Many new fanfics and one shots to come, I promise! <3

Start the Rebirth saga here.

Tw; nakedness, self harm, blood, gore, dead Roman

Word count: 1760

 -

*flashback* 

It was late. Ana wasn’t sure how late, but the sky was dark, and the moon was bright. She awoke with a jolt, one hand gripping her chest, the other wrapped around her throat. Her breathing was staggered as pain ripped through her. Something had happened, something bad and it had rocked the universe. She pulled the blanket off her legs and swung them round, allowing her feet to hit the cold laminate flooring beneath her. The cold sent another jolt through her as her breathing steadied. Ana quickly turned and scrambled to find her cell phone, tapping the keys and pressing dial.

“Come on, come on, come on, pick up …” she said, anxiously, tapping both her feet on the floor. The dialling tone continued to ring out and ring out. With a dissatisfied grunt, Ana cancelled the call and threw her phone on her bed. “Dammit, looks like I’m taking a road trip!” She quickly threw some clothes and some supplies into a duffle bag, swapping her pyjamas for a knee length floaty dress, knee high socks and a pair of boots. She threw a cardigan around her shoulders and grabbed her cell phone and car keys from her bedside table. She threw everything into her trunk before speeding off away from her apartment. She drove for a couple of hours, the pitch-black night sky beginning to turning more royal blue as the moon left and the sun began to rise. As she past the sign welcoming her to Hemlock Grove, she slammed her foot down on her brake.

In front of her car was a wolf; a wolf with bright white fur, it’s teeth bared as it growled into her headlights. Ana’s eyes narrowed, falling on the giant red ball the wolf was holding between it’s teeth. A moment of realisation hit her. It wasn’t a ball, it was a heart. A human heart. The area around it’s mouth was stained pink.

“Oh shit …” she whispered to herself, eyes focused forwards. The wolf growled and began to slowly walk towards the car. “… Peter what have you done?” she whispered again, turning swiftly to get out of the car. From the pocket in her cardigan, she pulled out a handful of herbs. The wolf snarled, lowering its head towards the floor, preparing to pounce. Ana mumbled something under her breath before throwing the herbs towards the wolf. There was another growl, a whimper, a light thud as the heart dropped, followed by a larger thud as the wolf keeled over and hit the road. Ana quickly checked that the wolf had been completely knocked out before stepping forward. She collected the heart in her hand, a disgusted grunt escaping from between her lips. It was still relatively warm; it was fresh. Whoever this heart belonged too had only recently joined the realm of the dead. She got back to her feet, shuffling towards the boot of her car. With her spare hand, she opened the trunk and rummaged through her bag, pulling out a canopic jar. She dropped the heart into the jar before closing it and putting the jar back into the duffle bag.

“Now, what to do with you?” she mumbled under her breath, looking back over at the wolf which was now softly sleeping next to the front of her car. It took all of her strength to pull the wolf along the road and lift him into the back seat of her car. She placed another sprig of herbs by his nose, hoping it would keep him at bay. As she got back into her car, the hand which she had collected the heart, began to heat up, as if the blood it had left behind was boiling. With a swift intake of breath, she knew where to go. Her foot slammed down on the accelerator and she sped through the town of Hemlock. She was greeted with the sight of the Godfrey tower, billowing flames and smoke. Her stomach dropped as the realisation hit her that something big had gone down in this small Pennsylvanian town. As she pulled up to a large, extravagant looking mansion, her chest began to tighten. This was the place.

She slowed the car to a stop and got out, her eyes dodging around the area outside the front. As she wandered around, coming across nothing of suspicion, she turned on her heels and began to walk backwards. There was something not quite right. She could smell blood, a lot of it, but where was it coming from. As she took a step backwards, she tripped and fell, landing with a grunt onto her backside.

“What the …?” she said, lifting her grazed hand from the gravel. Her eyes fell upon a body, but not just any body. The body of the one and only Roman Godfrey, the youngest billionaire of Hemlock Grove. The guy who had taken over Godfrey Industries as a teenager. He was lying, on the gravelled exterior floor, his throat and heart ripped out. “Oh my god,” Ana shrieked, her hand almost subconsciously moving to cover her mouth. “Peter, what did you do?” she asked to herself. She removed her hand from her mouth, leaving behind a bloody handprint. Getting to her feet, she shook off the overwhelming feeling of darkness and death that surrounded her.

She stepped over Roman’s body and walked back to her car, flinging open the back seat. Her hands wrapped around the rear legs of the wolf as she began to pull the limp body of her cousins’ wolf form from the car. It hit the ground with a bump and was quickly followed by the sound of scratching gravel before coming to a halt next to Romans corpse. Ana removed the sprig of herbs from the wolf’s nose before running back to the trunk of her car.

Quickly, a pentagram was created of candles in the gravel. North. South. East. West. Spirit. Ana stripped herself down to her underwear before throwing an assortment of crystals around her neck. She sat down in the middle, crossing her legs and beginning to meditate. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours that Ana was sat inside the candle pentagram, the candles flickering and burning away. As the wolf began to stir, the flames flickered violently. Ana by this point was in such a deep trance, she did not notice, her lips were moving quickly, any words unintelligible. In order to save her cousin from life as a wolf, it would take an incredible amount of energy to channel the dark magic necessary.

The wolf staggered to its feet, shaking its head in order to rid itself of the fuzzy head the herbs had given him. It turned on its heels having caught a familiar scent and was met with five bright, flickering lights. A guttural growl began to grow in its chest, its head lowering as it prepared to pounce. Before the large wolf had a chance to pounce, Ana’s eye snapped open, her entire eyeball a faint grey colour; all colour from her iris and pupil completely gone. The wind grew, the candle flames flickering even more violently.

“Howls are heard from near and far,” Ana began to chant, her voice monotone, almost robotic.

“The moon shines on the pack. Running, howling, barking, fierce as the cold snow’

The wolf began to whine and howl in pain, writhing slowly. Ana slowly unfolded her legs, the trance she was in remaining still. She got to her feet and walked to the edge of the pentagram, where the wolf stood. She placed her hand on the wolfs face, palm flat against it’s nose.

“By the light of the moon and our piercing howls, you will become further from this cunning beast. From the circle of life to the evolution of man, you shall be reawakened as one with the land. Human once more, it shall be done!”

The wolf dropped with a short, high pitched whine. From within the side of her underwear, Ana retrieved a small knife. She lifted up her arm, placing the blade against it.

“Remus. Romulus. Capitoline. Mars. Take his curse and make it yours.” As she chanted, the blade ran down her arm, the blood dripping onto the fur of her cousins wolf form.

“Maketh the man, taketh the wolf, Maketh the man, taketh the wolf. Maketh the man, taketh the wolf.”

There was a crack of thunder and a gust of wind. Each candle flickered before extinguishing leaving nothing but the candle of the spirit. Another crack of thunder and a loud, guttural scream erupted from inside Ana, who fell to her knees. Her hand grabbed her throat as she struggled to breath. During her struggle, she did not notice the change her cousin was going through. His wolf form began to melt around him, disappearing into the gravel, leaving nothing but a blood stained and sticky, naked male form.

The urge to turn was growing inside her body like a burning sensation ripping apart each limb and muscle. The fight caused her to scream out in pain even louder, for longer. She fell onto her back, writhing into the gravel, hoping the physical pain on the outside would numb the burning sensation inside. The writhing became faster and more erratic, slowly turning into tranced fit.

“Ana? ANA!” came a male voice. Peter had come to, back in his human form, sticky and bloody. “Ana, Ana … fuck … come on…” he said as he grabbed the shaking body of his cousin. As the writhing got worse, Peter got to his feet and ran to the back of the car, rummaging through his cousins’ bag for anything that may help. He grabbed some of the herbs she had used to knock him out, running back to his cousins body and shoving it into her mouth. “Come on … chew it goddmit!” he said, panicked by the state his cousin was in. He was used to Destiny’s after spell exhaustion and fits but this was something else. It was like dark magic was ripping everything out of her. Ana made a few choking noises before rolling herself onto her side and throwing up a jet black, sticky goop.

“Ana ..” Peter said, rubbing her back. A few more coughs and splutters and Ana was sat bolt upright.

“It’s gone …” she said simply.

“What’s gone?” he replied, allowing her to place the palm of her hand on his cheek.

“The wolf!”

@fucking-hell-skarsgard

[certifiedskywalker]

Fools - Loki Laufeyson

When Loki visits Earth, you try to make the most of it. Only, Loki doesn’t like Earth. He likes you. 

AN: This is written without a lot of background plot so just keep an open mind! Trust me, this is soooo sweet!

“Shakespeare?”

“Read it.”

“It? You mean…”

“All of them.”

“Every play?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief.

Loki looked up from the book he had been studying to meet your eyes. His features were relaxed, for the first time in a long time. “Every play.”

You let out a hum and nodded as Loki peered at you. Ever since he had arrived, he had been watching you and you certainly felt it. It seemed as if every place you took him, Loki could have cared less. After trying the new cafe near your house and a failed attempt at getting Loki to paint pottery, you had resorted to your fail-safe: Dove’s Quill.

The cramped, musty bookstore had caught your eye the day after Loki left the first time. After he had zapped off Earth’s material plane, you had let yourself wander the streets to replay the memories of his stay in your head. You were across the street when you caught sight of the sign and worn, leather books in the window that reeked of mystery. In that instant, you knew you had to take Loki inside whenever he returned.

And judging by the softest of smiles you have ever seen on his thin lips, you knew you had been right. “Which is your favorite?”

“Hm,” Loki placed an old looking book back on the shelf before him. “That is difficult to pinpoint.”

“Really?” You squinted your eyes at him as you took slow steps towards him. It was funny stern his profile looked as you grew closer. His jaw was clenched, strained as he focused his gaze on the books in front of him. Almost as if he were trying not to watch you. 

“Yes,” Loki replied flatly. His eyes were still faced forward, away from you, and his jaw was still tense. You leaned against the shelved and tried to steal a glance at his face. Loki’s bright blue eyes were glued to the same spine of a hardcover book, rereading the title over and over again. You clicked your tongue and shook your head.

“You have a favorite,” you teased, “you just don’t want to tell me.” Your accusation pulled Loki’s eyes to yours for a split second. His pupils were blown when he saw how close you were but he quickly focused on a new book and let out a chuckle.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because,” you stepped towards him again, “you’re not looking at me. You’re lying.”

You leaned in towards Loki as you spoke in the hopes of teasing him further. When Loki turned his head he met your gaze with cold eyes. You waited for him to protest, tell you that you were wrong to assume such a thing and rattle off the titles of Shakespeare’s plays to taunt you.

“I don…” Loki’s eyes softened and his furrowed brow relaxed once more. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him and you saw his chilled expression melt away entirely.

“Care to finish that sentence?”

Loki grinned and turned his eyes back to the shelf. “No, I don’t.”

“Macbeth, maybe? I could see you enjoying the drama of it all.” You watched as Loki pulled a novel from the shelf and how he pretended to read the introduction. 

“No,” Loki sighed as his long fingers flicked through the pages. You narrowed your eyes at him and, as if he sensed your more pointed gaze, Loki looked up. 

“What is it?”

“Hamlet,” you mused, “it must be Hamlet.” The instant the title fell from your lips, Loki’s brow furrowed. It didn’t hit you until he spoke up.

“Too true to life for my taste, murderous brothers and all.” He waves a hand in the air as if gesturing towards the realm of his home. Loki and spared you most of the details but given you enough to know what you needed. 

“Aren’t you the murderous brother?” You pointed a teasing finger at Loki who, unamused, crossed his arms over his chest. The material of his black shirt stretched with the motion and you tore your eyes away from his shoulders. 

“Aren’t you smart enough to know better than to mock a god?” You stifled a laugh and dared to meet his eyes. There was a coldness in Loki’s features that, even when warmed, never entirely left him; but when you looked at him, you saw past it. He wanted to smile.

“Maybe the bookstore wasn’t my brightest idea,” you sighed and pushed yourself off of the shelves. Books shook with the absence of your weight and Loki gave the old wooden shelves a wary glance. 

“Everything on this horrible planet is broken, weak,” he poked at the splintering shelf and sighed. “I need some air.”

You only nodded in response and followed Loki out of Dove’s Quill. The older man with large, salt-and-pepper beard thanked you, but Loki didn’t say a word. You gave the kind shop owner a nod before you stepped outside. The nerves in your stomach and the worries in your head were as swirled at the colors of the dusk sky above your head.

Loki, on the other hand, could have cared less. “I assume you have a new location you wish to share with me?”

A frown made its way to your lips and you racked your brain for any spot nearby that might, at the very least, put Loki in a non-hostile mood. Sadly, you glanced back at the door of Dove’s Quill and silently cursed yourself. You had hoped Loki’s love for literature and knowledge would have overshadowed his disdain for Earth’s inferiority. Although, you imagined if you had grown up spoiled by the richness Loki had at his young disposal, a crumby bookstore would have little glory in your eyes. So with a defeated sigh, you shook your head.

“I don’t.” Loki turned to face you with a quirked brow.

“You don’t?”

“I’ve shown you every place worth knowing.” You shrugged and shoved your hands in your jacket pocket. “Where do you want to go?”

Loki’s lips parted with some readied retort but nothing came your way. Instead, Loki pressed his mouth into a thin line and let his eyes fall to the pavement. He was relaxed but not happy. If he hated Earth so much, why did he insist on coming back to it? Just as you prepared to let the question go free off your tongue, Loki stepped towards you.

The scent of the bookstore still clung to his dark clothes and it took all you had not to lean into him. “Where do you want to go?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Loki pressed. “Where do you want to go, Y/N?” 

His eyes were searching yours, urged to find the answer before you yourself could even think of one. Loki took another small step towards you and you felt your cheeks warm. He was so close now. You weren’t sure if it was the setting sun that made you shiver in the newfound chill or Loki himself. It must have been the latter. 

“I-I, I don’t know.”

“Here. Give me your hand.” Loki’s palm laid flat in front of you. As you placed your hand on top of his, another shiver ran down your spine. “Now, close your eyes. Let your mind go blank. Let a place come to you.”

“Is this some Asgardian meditation practice?” You asked wryly. Loki gave you an unamused look and you closed your eyes. “Fine.”

Loki’s hand was soft and cold to the touch. You were overjoyed that your eyes were closed when his grip on your hand tightened. Your cheeks were warm despite the coolness of Loki’s presence and you knew he was watching you. It was impossible not to feel Loki’s gaze, especially when you were so close to him.

“Let your mind go,” Loki said, his voice so soothing you feared you might get drowsy. “Don’t think.”

You wanted to tell him that was impossible. Tell him that there was no way you would be able to silence your racing thoughts with him so close to you. All you could think about was how you wanted to fall into him or scream at him for making you feel that way. Yet, you stayed quiet and tried to lean into the sound of his voice.

The moment you did, a flood of warmth wrapped around your body. Even with the chill, evening air, you felt as if someone had kicked on a small heater in your chest. You tried to search for its source, think of how you could feel so warm, but your mind was blank. Only wisps of green danced under your eyelids and it was then you found the strength to open them.

“What was….that?” When you opened your eyes, Loki was there but the street you had been standing on was not. “What did you do?”

“I brought you to where you wanted to go,” Loki said flatly. As he took in the sight around him, his dark hair fell off his shoulders. “Where exactly is that?”

You too looked around and let out a heavy breath. The sky was a purple-pink now as night began to fall, completely hugging the city in darkness. You knew exactly where you were as you peered over the tops of oak trees to gaze up at the stars.

“The park.”

“The park?” You tore your eyes from the sky and looked at Loki. With a raised brow, he studied you, undoubtedly trying to surmise why you wanted to go to a park of all places.  

“I mean, had I known you could just zap us anywhere, the park wouldn’t have been my first choice.” Loki sighed and it was then you remembered he was still holding your hand. Your eyes found his and Loki let his hand fall to his side immediately. So much for that. 

“But why this park?” Loki raised his hands and gestured to the path before you. It was a local park, nothing special aside from a few educational plaques near particular bushes and trees. Other than a few benches, lamp posts, and the paved path that cut through the man-made forest, there was little evidence that the park was made for people to use. 

“It’s quiet here,” you mused aloud. You walked towards a nearby bench that was illuminated under the yellow glow of a streetlamp. “Peaceful.”

“Perhaps,” Loki agreed, his arms now crossed over his chest. You sat down on the bench, the wood was still warm from the sun which was now set on the horizon. As you made yourself comfortable, you looked up and met Loki’s gaze.

His blue eyes were glued on you, waiting and watching. You gave him a soft smile and scooted over enough to give him space to sit. Loki remained still, watching you watch him. Before you felt your cheeks heat up anymore, you turned your attention back on the stars. With your gaze averted, you could only hear Loki’s footfalls as he walked over to take the seat beside you. 

“So you can just...go anywhere?” You asked, eyes still focused on tracing random constellations in the sky. 

“Anywhere,” Loki replied and you looked to the side to steal a glance at him. Only, when you did, you saw that he was looking at you rather than the sky.

“Then why do you come back here?” Your breath made a little cloud in the darkness when you asked and Loki gave you a half-smile.

“You’re the one that brought us here,” he jabbed and you shook your head.

“No, I mean, here, like Earth in general.” Loki’s charming smile faded in an instant. He turned his attention to the sky to avoid your eyes. A new quiet fell over the two of you and you couldn’t help but frown. When Loki visited, you tried everything to make sure he saw the best that Earth, that mortal life, had to offer. Perhaps you simply weren’t enough.

The silence seemed to stretch on and on until you shifted in your seat. You readied to stand on your shaky legs and start the walk home. Loki would be leaving soon anyway, what was the point?

“Romeo and Juliet.”

You gave Loki a puzzled look but when he turned his head to meet your gaze, you were smiling. “Romeo and Juliet?”

“It’s the peak of satire, in my opinion, dueling houses and all.” Loki let out a breath and let his eyes fall to his lap. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

“You’re lying again,” you teased and leaned back against the bench once more.

“I am not,” Loki said, blue eyes widening at the claim. “I thoroughly enjoy Romeo and Juliet.” You squinted and held his gaze.

“That’s not what you were lying about,” you continued, “you like the romance.” Loki cringed and made a sound of disgust.

“No, I find that deplorable.”

“I’m sure you do,” you played along with a grin. Silence returned, only this time it was more comfortable. 

“It is simply foolish to fall in love so quickly. To keep coming back to something you don't understand." Loki’s comment hung in the air between you and made your heartache. Something about his tone was wistful yet it was mocking. Why must he be so hard to read?

You were fed up, filled with emotions that had nowhere to go. Anger at Loki but love towards Loki were muddled in your brain. How could he be so blind yet so bright? Why hadn’t he answered your question from before?

“Then why do you keep coming back to Earth?” You pressed the question again, even going as far as to lean towards Loki. His blue eyes lifted from his lap and met your eyes. The softness you saw in them was scary. You had never seen that before. 

“Because I want to understand you, Y/N.” Never once did he look away. Loki held your gaze like a lifeline. He wasn’t lying or joking or tricking; he was telling you the truth.

“Loki, are you saying that-”

“I fell in love too quickly?” He raised a brow and you swallowed hard, but the joke came back up your throat.

“I was going to ask if that makes you Romeo or Juliet,” you teased, “but that works too.”

Loki let out a breathy laugh, something that was so rare you thought you had imagined it at first. “That makes me a fool.”

“We’re both fools then,” you replied. The humor your tone once held had been replaced with the same tenderness you saw in Loki’s eyes. He was still staring at you, the stars above your heads long forgotten now. He held out his hand to you and you took it. “Are you planning to take me somewhere?”

“Wherever you want to go, darling,” Loki drawled before he placed a kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ll take you there.”

[illfoandillfie]

5 Simple Rules for a Successful Fake Relationship: Failure To Launch

5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summery: Tensions rise as you try to deal with Ben's secret and keep your fake relationship afloat. But when the script calls for an argument, will too much be said?

Warnings: Still pretty innocent. Some swearing, passing reference to Ben smoking, references to sex but not explicitly so, a discussion of a douchbag ex, a public argument.

Words: 6587

A/N: We’re really in it now folks. 

Originally there was going to be more in this chapter but it was getting too long and kind of undercut what is now the end of the chapter, so I rearranged some stuff. But that just means there’s a whole extra chapter that I didn’t think would be there when I wrote the masterlist lmao. 

Taglist:  @laedymoon  @dtfrogertaylor  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor  @hannafuckingsucks  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie @tenement-funstah 

@coni-martina @johndeaconshands​

When you finally found the courage to leave the bathroom Ben was waiting for you in the seat he’d vacated earlier, now under a crocheted throw and staring at his phone. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, smiling softly when he saw you. “Sorry,” you blurted out, dropping onto the end of the couch furthest from where he sat. “No worries,” he laughed, “you ready to keep watching?” “Mmhmm,” “Are you alright? You look a little pale,” “Fine, thanks. Just tired. Might call it quits after this ep.” “You wanna share the blanket?” “Nah, I’m not that cold,” your heart was racing with every word of forced naturality, white noise filling your brain and nervous butterflies filling your stomach. Did he always smile like that when he saw you? What other signs had you missed? You tucked your legs under yourself and pulled your phone out, a barrier between you and he, and a way to keep your hands busy as you tried to focus on the show. It was pointless though. It felt like an age had passed since you began the episode. A dramatic shift in your reality had occurred. You couldn’t remember what had been happening when the pause button was hit let alone understand what was going on now. There just wasn’t space in your head, not when you had to keep reminding yourself to breathe and not look over at Ben. God how you wished you hadn’t gone into the kitchen. Ignorance truly was bliss. You rubbed your thumb over the locked screen of your phone, occasionally unlocking it and opening an app before locking it again, the episode dragging on in the background. Finally, it finished, after much too much time. “Ready for bed or d’you wanna squeeze in one more?” Ben asked, apparently completely at ease. “Definitely time for bed,” you yawned as you stood up, praying Ben wouldn’t stop you. “Alright. I’m gonna stay up a bit longer so if the TVs too loud let me know.” “Night,” “Sleep tight, cuddle bunny.” You could feel Ben’s eyes on you as you headed through the doorway, only barely stopping yourself from sprinting to the safety of your room. You weren’t at all tired, but you turned the light out all the same, stumbling towards your bed by the glow of your phone. As you settled again the pillows you let out a long breath, finally allowing yourself to relax. There was nothing else to do but try to distract yourself, until you felt tired enough. You checked your emails again, but there was nothing new besides some spam for bitcoins. Then you opened youtube, hoping to find some sort of relaxing video that would help you get to sleep. It worked for a while, made you focus on counting your breaths and the meditation that was calmly being spoken. But then it stopped working, thoughts of Ben wriggling back to the forefront of your mind, making a lump form in your throat. A little while later you heard Ben’s footsteps pass by your door as he made his way to his room, the low hum of voices on the TV now quiet. You held your breath as he paused outside your room but his footsteps backtracked, a light flicked off, and then the door to your spare room shut behind him. You didn’t dare move until you were sure he was in bed. But he didn’t stir again, and you fell into a fitful sleep, interrupted by dreams in which you and Ben walked around hand in hand, sometimes blissfully happy, sometimes unable to separate, glued together like a bug caught on flypaper.

The sun had risen by the time you called a time of death on a decent night’s sleep, though it was still what you’d normally consider much too early. It was even too early for Ben who, as you’d come to learn in your months crashing at each other’s places, usually woke before you and enjoyed teasing you about being a teenager for sleeping in so late. You tiptoed to the kitchen and tried not to make too much noise as you brewed yourself a coffee. Maybe it was the new morning bringing clarity or maybe it was delirium from lack of sleep, but you felt you had a better grasp of the situation now. The fact was you didn’t like Ben in that way. And he knew that. So the obvious thing to do was nothing. If you said anything, confessed that you’d overheard him, it’d just end up with both of you feeling embarrassed and you having to put what you both already knew into words that would just hurt Ben more. And that would only add extra stress onto whatever dates and staged relationship moments you’d have to take part in. Because you couldn’t just stop pretending to date. Not when your story was creating buzz for your movie. Not when you were looking for a new job and every scrap of notoriety you could find would help increase your chances of actually landing some of the roles you auditioned for. You’d just have to grin and bear it for a few months. But you supposed that’s what Ben had been doing since who knew how long. With coffee in hand you made your way back to your room, fortifying yourself for what was to come.

It was a few hours before you saw Ben, sleep tousled and searching for caffeine. He took one glance at you and then stepped in close, bringing his hand up to your forehead. You were too stunned by the sudden warmth and how all the air suddenly smelt of him to do more than quietly ask what he was doing. “Checking your temperature. Not like you to beat me out of bed. And you still look kind of pale. Are you sure you feel okay?” “I feel fine Ben.” He withdrew his hand slowly but didn’t move away, his eyes darting to your lips and away again. You stepped back. Ben cleared his throat and turned back to the coffee he was halfway through making, “Are you still okay to give me a lift back to the pub?” “Yeah, of course. Just let me have a shower first.” “Yeah, no rush.” You managed to mostly avoid Ben until you were both in the car. The evidence of his breakfast was loaded into the dishwasher when you got out of the bathroom but he himself was standing on your back patio, looking up at the overcast sky as smoke from his morning cigarette dissipated around him. He waved through the window when he saw you. After that all you had to do was wait for him to brush his teeth and gather up his bag while you flittered from room to room making yourself look busier than you were. Once in the car you started a safe conversation about what you’d be doing for the rest of the day. “I’m going over to a mates house in the afternoon to watch the football but that’s about it. What about you?” “Um, nothing much really. I have a couple of scripts to look over but other than that nothing. I’ll probably just go back to bed though.” “Probably a good idea.” “Do I look that bad? I thought the concealer covered the worst of it.” He shook his head with a smile, “No, you look lovely. Always do. But I heard you tossing and turning a bit last night, didn’t sound like you got much sleep.” “Yeah, just had one of those nights,” you tried to wave him off, back to safer waters. “Are you sure you’re okay?” “Yes, I promise I’m okay,” when Ben didn’t stop looking concerned you added, “Just had some weird dreams, that’s all.” “You should’ve come hopped into bed with me. Nothing like a boyfriend to scare off weird dreams.” You forced yourself to laugh along, “Not sure fake boyfriends work so well. And it really wasn’t that bad.” He shrugged, “The offer stands for next time.” You didn’t know what else to say so you fell quiet. On one hand it was Ben. Ben who’d come to be one of your closest friends, who could make you laugh at the drop of a hat, who geeked out about sports and didn’t mind when you teased him for it. Usually you would have called him a dork and made a joke about how you’d hog the blankets or kick him in your sleep if he was unlucky enough to share a bed with you. But now that didn’t seem right. You didn’t want to lead him on at all. Didn’t want him to read more into your dumb jokes than you meant. So you let the radio fill the silence until Ben thought of a new topic. Thankfully the pub wasn’t far away, and you only had to fill a few more minutes with idle chatter until you arrived. You followed Ben inside and up to the bar where an amused barman handed over the keychain as Ben thanked him profusely. “God I would have been screwed if they hadn’t been there,” he said, relieved, as you stepped back out into the grey street. “Good thing they were there then,” you knew your tone was off, knew you should be standing closer to him in case anyone was looking, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take the step, “Where’re you parked?” “Just around the corner. Thanks for the lift, cuddle bunny,” Ben stepped close enough to pull you into a hug. Your chest tightened as you tried to stay relaxed, throwing your own arms over his shoulders like you normally would have. “Have a good day. Get some rest,” he said, kissing your cheek as he let you go. “I’ll try. Have a good day yourself.” With a wave Ben took off down the street and you got back in your car, driving in the opposite direction. It wasn’t until you were back home in your pyjamas that you realised that if Ben had heard you not sleeping, he mustn't have been sleeping either.

 Filming being over was a blessing, even if it did mean you were unemployed. It at least gave you a reprieve from being around Ben, although, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, it also felt weird to not see him every day. He’d become such a consistent part of your life, even without the whole fake dating thing, that the absence of his almost constant presence made you feel a little off kilter. You hadn’t seen him since he’d stayed the night, too nervous about how to act around him now, but you had exchanged a few texts and he called once to check that you’d caught up on sleep. It was the sort of thing a friend might do, so it didn’t make your stomach do flips the way seeing him in person did. But seeing him was unavoidable, especially after Mary called you to organise the next photo session. She gave you the time and the place and then asked if you had any concerns. You paused, weighing up whether it would be worth it to tell her. Would she tell Peter? Would it get back to Ben? “No, that’s all good. Ben knows?” “Yes, Peter’s talking to him about it. We’ve also been talking about the argument you’ll need to have.” “Oh?” “We’re considering planting someone in the area to record it on their phone. Pictures are good but video is better.” “Okay, that, uh, makes sense, I guess. I s’pose that means we should work out what it’s going to be about.” “That would be useful, Y/N. We’re leaning towards doing it next week.” “That soon?” “Yes, that soon. There’s been an upswing in comments online about the relationship potentially being fake and we’d like to try and clamp down on those.” “People are onto us?” “No, no, there’s always a few unbelievers, we were entirely prepared for that. Every Hollywood couple has endured the same sorts of comments at one time or another, no matter how real they were. But there’s been a few more this week than there were before. We hope that if people see you being unhappy with each other, they’ll be less likely to think it’s fake because A, fake relationships should be happy and B, it’ll make you seem more down to earth, relatable. Every relationship has moments when things aren’t the best and your relationship should reflect that to seem natural.” “Okay, so next week we fight. What about this week? Should we still act super happy and loved up?” “Look, there are pros and cons for that. On one hand if you act like everything is perfect now, it’ll take people by surprise when the argument happens which some people will see as normal and some will see as more evidence for it not being real. On the other if people suspect something is happening then the argument story could lose some of its impact when it runs. Either way, if people are talking about you it’s good, so it’s really up to you and Ben how you want to play it. Maybe give him a call and figure it out before you get there.” That made you feel a little better, hopefully any awkwardness or tension you weren’t able to hide would just be seen as a couple going through a small rough patch.

You bit the bullet and rang Ben as soon as Mary hung up, while you could summon the courage. “Hey, Ben, it’s -,” “Y/N!” A few male voices in the background rose up making high pitched oooo noises and someone wolf whistled. “Sorry, I’m just in the middle of kicking these dickhead’s arses in FIFA, gimme a sec,” “Sure thing,” You hung on the line, trying to work out what you were going to say as you listened to the guys trash talking each other and controller buttons being mashed. Eventually there was a cheer from Ben followed by a hearty suck on that, wanker, and then his laughter. “Hey, cuddle bunny,” The teasing voices started buck up again, but they faded as Ben carried the phone into another room. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked as he closed a door behind him. “Have you spoken to Peter yet?” Ben’s voice lowered, “You mean about the shopping photos? Yeah, he called about an hour ago, why?” “Did he mention the fight next week? “Yeah, it came up,” you weren’t sure whether the melancholy tone you heard was in your heard or not, “is that why you called, to work out what we’ll argue about?” “Not really. Um, I was more thinking about the photos this week and the sort of, um, mood they’ll have.” “Mood?” “Well, like, if we’re leading into a fight wouldn’t it make sense to, I don’t know, kind of hint what’s coming?” “I’d just assumed we’d be all over each other like usual.” “Yeah, I mean, not a huge change. We’d still like hold hands or whatever they want us to do but y’know maybe if we just like make things look a bit tense?” “Oh-kay,” there was definitely less of a smile in his voice now than before, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it off though.” “You’re a good actor Ben, I’m sure you’ll manage,” “I wasn’t fishing for that but thanks. It’s more that I’ve missed hanging out with you as much since filming ended, it’ll be hard to hide how happy I am to see you.” “That’s sweet” You wondered if that was because of how he felt about you or just a change in routine throwing him off that way it had done you, “It has felt kind of odd not seeing you every day.” “So let’s just see how we feel on the day then, before we decide what we’re going to do.” “Ben you know I like to plan more than that,” “We have a plan. Go out. Hold hands while we go shopping or whatever and some guy takes our photos. Go home. That’s a pretty solid plan.” “Not quite what I meant though.” There was a muffled shout and you heard Ben cover the receiver and shout something back. “Sorry, the boys think we’re having phone sex or something,” he laughed. “No, I’m sorry, I’m interrupting, I should let you go.” “It’s okay, they can play without me for a bit,” “No, no, you go back to your game.” “Wait, we didn’t talk about what we’re gonna argue about.” “We can discuss it while we’re shopping. Wouldn’t want them to overhear you anyway. You go have fun beating your friends, I’ll see you in a couple of days.” You hung up before he could say anything, feeling more unsure than when you called.

The day of the photos you spent the trip into London psyching yourself up, reminding yourself that this was just acting, and acting was something you could do blindfolded with one hand tied behind your back. Besides, if some of your discomfort showed, it wouldn’t matter, at least you hoped it wouldn’t. Ben was already at the designated meeting spot when you arrived in the city, a photographer nearby waiting to capture your reunion. Having someone to perform for helped ease the tension that had been weighing on you. You smiled at Ben as you approached, legs feeling unsteady, heart racing. As soon as you were close enough you leaned in to steal a quick kiss and let him brush a strand of hair behind your ear, almost whispering your greetings. With the hellos out of the way he took your hand and began leading you up the street. “So where are you taking me this time, babe?” “Nowhere specific, babe,” he laughed, “They just want us to like, be out and about. I’ve been directed to walk us up this way, maybe pop into a shop or stop for a drink or something.” “Any idea how long it’ll take?” “Why? you got somewhere to be?” “Nah, just curious. I can stay for as long as the job takes.” Ben’s fingers flexed against yours, but you weren’t sure if it was in response to your statement or just a coincidence. Either way it made you worry that you were putting more emphasis than usual on this being work for you. Ben couldn’t suspect that something had changed, he couldn’t know what you knew about him. You corrected yourself by squeezing his hand and smiling up at him. As you walked you tried to treat it like you were filming a scene in a movie, just with less blocking and more improv. You were playing a role, playing the girlfriend, and nothing outside of the scene mattered, though occasionally you couldn’t help wondering what was going through Ben’s head. Was he trying to remind himself it was all manufactured or was he letting himself believe it was real? You shook your head and pulled yourself back into the scene. Together you ambled past shops, stopping to look in the windows of some, actually going into others. Inside a cute secondhand bookstore you’d seen but never been in before, Ben insisted on buying you something. He jokingly showed you a copy of the Kama Sutra, softly assuring you that the inernet would lose its mind if that book was seen in a photo. You shook your head and laughed and he put it back and let you pick something much less suggestive. You tried to tell him you could buy it yourself but he took it from your hands with a, “nuh uh, I spoil my girlfriends,” taking it up to the counter before you could protest. All the same you repaid the favour by pulling him to a halt outside a donut shop and buying the both of you a snack. It had the added bonus of giving you an excuse to drop his hand, needing both to keep from dripping chocolate ganache down your front as you continued walking. Ben wasn’t quite so neat as you managed to be, a spot of raspberry jam smeared across his lip and chin. As soon as you noticed it you pointed it out to him, earning a groan as he tried to wipe clean the wrong part of his face. “No, to the left more. My left, sorry.” “Why don’t you just get it for me?” “Really?” “yeah, c’mon. That’s the sort of cute couple thing they want. It’ll go over well on twitter with everyone who mashes our names together in hashtags.” You couldn’t think of reasonable argument not to so, with a smile you hoped didn’t seem too fake, you swiped your thumb over the patch of jam, hesitating for a second before you brought it to your lips and sucked it clean. A soft blush rose on Ben’s cheeks before your eyes and, seemingly unconsciously, he pulled his lower lip between his teeth. You didn’t want to hear whatever he might possibly say so you quickly turned to set off walking again, “So, our argument next week.” Ben shook his head, “Right, that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s gotta sound believable if there’s going to be a camera.” “Guess that rules out all the which brand of tea is best type arguments,” “Yeah, it should probably be a little more serious than that,” you conceded with a chuckle “Have you ever had a public argument before?” “Umm,” his question distracted you from the tension you’d been fighting since you arrived, “not like a full on fight but there’ve been snippy comments and disagreements. Sometimes they turned into full on fights once we were home. You?” “Once. At her parent’s place during their anniversary party.” “Yikes,” “Yeah, pretty much,” he chuckled, “We found a spare room before we really had it out, but people still heard.” “God that would have been horrible. I think my worst one was when me and my then boyfriend went out for dinner with some other mates. They were new parents and it was like their first night out since the kid was born and they were talking about how wonderful it all was,” “It’s a miracle don’t you know,” You laughed, “So they said. But they were talking about how hard it had been to start having sex again and then my boyfriend said something like it’s hard enough to get Y/N interested and that’s without a kid.” “Jesus,” “It gets worse. He had another dig at me later for not being adventurous enough and I realised it was because I’d said I wasn’t comfortable with something he wanted to try in the bedroom.” “What an arsehole. Please tell me you broke up with him on the spot,” “God I wish. I stayed with him for another two months,” you sighed at the memory, “But what about you though, what happened with the anniversary fight?” “Uh, well, it all happened pretty quickly. One second I was joking about what we’d be like at our anniversary party, the next she was saying she didn’t see us getting married and then we were in her old bedroom tearing into each other. And not in the fun way.” “Oh shit,” “It was for the best. We were way to young anyway but, still, not super fun. I don’t know if that helps us at all, with our fake argument I mean.” “Well, ours both started with small comments, right? So maybe we start with something small, like how you never put the toilet seat down?” you nudged his shoulder. He laughed, “Yeah, makes sense.” “Then we just have to work out what it builds to,” “Uhhh, things couples fight about… moving in together? Sex? Money? Control?” “Not sex. I’m invoking rule one here, sex is off limits. That’s way too close to home.” “Okay, fair enough.” “What about meeting the parents? We’ve apparently been seeing each other for three or so months now, so that’s not an unreasonable thing to argue about.” “Yeah. And we’re already both coping it from our families anyway, so they’d believe it if one of us wanted to do the family meeting thing and the other didn’t.” “Exactly. So, should I be the hesitant one or you?” “Honestly? I normally would have brought a girlfriend home by now. My parents think it’s really weird that I haven’t.” “Okay, so that makes me the hesitant one then.” “You okay with that?” “Yeah, absolutely.” You were slightly relieved at your role, figuring it’d be easier to act averse to the concept than all for it. “Let’s stop in at that café up there, talk though some things we could say. Give them a shot of us feeding each other chips or something.” Ben said with a playful smile, pointing ahead. You nodded, letting him take your hand again, returning the reassuring squeeze he gave you.

You were woken from another dream about Ben by your phone ringing. Groggily you answered. “Y/N, oh my god, is everything okay with Ben?” “Felicity?” you groaned, trying to push away the surprisingly detailed picture of Ben and you and a page from the Kama Sutra that your brain had conjured during the night. “Were you seriously still asleep? It’s midday.” “Shut up, I’m allowed to sleep in. No job, no auditions. And a shit night sleep.” “Was it because of Ben?” “Why would it be because of Ben?” you asked too quickly. “I saw the photos of you and him out yesterday. Is everything okay between you two?” “What photos?” “They’re on the Heat homepage,” You wedged the phone under your ear as you grabbed your laptop from the bedside table, willing your fingers to work a little faster as you found your way to the website. There was a gallery of photos. You and Ben smiling as you greeted each other. Walking hand in hand. Him through a shop window holding up a book and you laughing at it. You licking jam from your thumb. You paused for a second longer on that shot than the others, automatically focusing on Ben’s expression. Did everyone else see the flush on his cheeks and the look in his eyes? “Why would anything be wrong?” you asked, forcing yourself to move to the next photo, “These all look fine. Normal.” “Really? What about those last few?” Rolling your eyes you keep clicking through until you reached one of Ben, hands in his pockets, frowning a little. The next was you, sitting at the café, looking away from Ben. “Are you going to break up with him?” “What? No, definitely not. We were just talking about something kind of serious, that’s all.” “Break up serious?” “God, Felicity, no,” you almost laughed at the irony of her suggestion, “I guarantee you, we’re not breaking up anytime soon.” An idea came to you. If the world was going to see you arguing about meeting his parents then why not get the ball rolling early, “We were talking about meeting each other’s families. We haven’t done it yet.” “Really?” “Yes, really. He wants to but I’m not super keen to rush into that and it was just a kind of serious conversation. Everything is totally fine.” “Well one of the betting apps has odds up for when you’ll break up. And for who’ll actually end it. Odds are on you, by the way.”

Later that day Mary emailed to let you know the photos were working perfectly – the talk of your relationship being fake had died down – and when the argument would happen. They wanted you to go out to dinner and leave before you were finished, looking like you were on the verge of blowing up. Easy enough. You were prepared. You and Ben had hashed out some things you could use in the argument, without going so far as to write a full script. But the mention of the photos made you curious. What exactly were people saying about you now? Could anyone see what was actually going on, how one sided it all really was? In the days before the scheduled argument you found yourself looking at your own photos more and more. When you weren’t spending your time rehearsing for an audition or with your friends you were on twitter, falling down a rabbit hole of comments and reposted photos. If Felicity, or anyone else you knew for that matter, had found out she would have called you a narcissist. So you kept it to yourself. Your guilty pleasure. Seeing the comments about what a cute couple you were made you feel simultaneously pleased and queasy. You got a strange delight from knowing people believed you enough to speculate about your future, to write fanfiction about you. It was hard to pull your eyes away once you started and it definitely didn’t help you stop dreaming about Ben. The trail of reposted photos in your couple name hashtag led to compilations of screenshots of every comment Ben had left on your photos. All of them flirty and playful and beyond sweet. And he meant them. They weren’t just for show for him, they were real. The queasy feeling grew but still you kept scrolling. Day after Day as you killed time, night after night before sleep took you. Photos posted on Instagram by you or people you’d worked with on The Perfect Match, copied and reuploaded to twitter followed by screencaps of yours and Ben’s comments. Photos of the two of you on set, on dates, cuddled up on your couch. Every single one of them commented on by him. Kiss face emojis or cutesy pet names or sincere messages of attraction, love. The more you looked the more uncomfortable you felt about the whole situation. If Ben really did feel something for you beyond just friendship, then your arrangement wasn’t just unfair it was downright heartless. But, as you reminded yourself, he’d chosen it. If he’d had a crush on you and had still gone ahead with the studio’s plan, that was on him. You could hardly be blamed when you’d been working with half the information. And if it had developed afterwards then it was on him to talk to Peter and call the whole thing off if he had to. You huffed out a breath when you saw the first photo he’d posted of the two of you. The last day of filming, snuggled up in bed. My perfect match. As fucking if. You scrolled further down the hashtag and then back to his photo. The queasy feeling was lessening, being replaced with frustration and anger. Why would he have agreed to the arrangement if his crush was real? Why wouldn’t he have come up with some excuse? You’d expected him to say no anyway, it wouldn’t have surprised you or upset you and they’d had made it clear that you had the option to say no. Who was he to indulge his fantasies about you like this? Without telling you. Was he so sadistic as to enjoy torturing himself like that? If you could only ask him why. Ask how long he’d felt like that. But you couldn’t without admitting to eavesdropping and you couldn’t put an end to it anyway. You were stuck. It was enough to make you want to scream. With a long exhale you made your way to the kitchen for a calming cup of tea. As you reached into the cupboard for a mug your fingers brushed against a handle of his, the one you’d painted for him. You pulled it out and examined the lyrics you’d so carefully lettered. Why’d you have to pick that song of all things? Did he take it as encouragement that you’d picked a song with such lovelorn, infatuated lyrics? You had the sudden urge to smash the mug against the bench top. But you refrained, putting it back and grabbing another.

By the time you were getting ready to meet Ben for the dinner before the argument you were fed up with him and the whole arrangement. You couldn’t open a social media app without seeing a comment or a direct message from someone about Ben, if not from the man himself. You had no one you could talk to about it since, aside from Ben, Mary and Peter were the only people who knew your relationship was fake and neither of them was going to put an end to it if Ben wasn’t uncomfortable enough to mention it himself. Once or twice you’d considered messaging Joe, since he apparently knew everything too, but you’d chickened out every time, not sure how to go about it since you’d never met him and he was likely to tell Ben, even if you swore him to secrecy. You’d even considered telling Felicity but, though you trusted her to keep it to herself, she was kind of getting on your nerves too. Whenever you saw or heard from her, her first questions were always about Ben. She was mostly well intentioned, checking that you were happy and asking how things were between you, but sometimes she was closer to straight up gossiping – updating you on the odds given to those betting you’d still be together by the end of the month, slyly telling you what the latest article in Heat implied. And every time you were reminded of the impossible situation you found yourself in you couldn’t help but blame Ben. You wanted to have a crack at him about it, call him out for being a selfish git. But you had a job to do, and you were nothing if not professional. You went over the plan again – a snippy comment about him not putting the toilet seat down, he’d say something about a bad habit of yours, you warning him no to start something, him starting something anyway by suggesting you weren’t as invested since you refused to meet his family. Lots of crossed arms and unhappy glances and then the strained suggestion you leave. You’d walk back to his car in silence and let the photographer get a few shots before you got in and drove away. Easy.

Ben greeted you outside the restaurant with an easy grin and a complement. “Tone it down, Ben, we’re not meant to be too happy tonight.” “Hey, I’m allowed to be happy until we get into it,” he stopped talking as you went inside and found your table, waiting until the waiter had disappeared with your drink orders before he said anything more to you, “You nervous?” “Not really. It’s just acting.” “So having a public spat doesn’t bother you but you almost lost your lunch over our first date?” You looked down at the menu, “That was just because the whole situation was new and I felt weird about going on a date with you.” “Right,” he looked at his menu too. You didn’t care if it had sounded mean or if he took it personally, it was the truth, “Are you nervous?” “A little.” “Any particular reason?” “Uhh,” he drew the sound out as long as he could, “I just get more nervous before argument scenes than love scenes. I don’t know why. They’re harder to make convincing maybe?” He shrugged and made a face like it was a random suggestion pulled from thin air and not an excuse he’d come up with while stalling for time. You put the menu down and tapped your fingers on the table, looking around at the other patrons but barely taking notice of them. Ben glanced at you but only for a second. It was a relief when the waiter returned with your drinks and asked for your orders, though that didn’t help the strained silence that fell once he’d left again. “So, seen Felicity lately?” Ben asked, making a valiant attempt at polite conversation that you weren’t going to rise to. “The other day.” “How is she?” “Fine.” “That’s good. She still subscribed to Heat?” “Unfortunately. Brings you up every time I talk to her.” You huffed. Ben sighed. Even that annoyed you. You bit your tongue to stop from saying something bitchy before the food arrived. There was a plan to stick to. “How’re you going with auditions?” Ben tried again. “Okay I guess.” “Any callbacks?” “Not yet. You?” “A couple,” he shrugged, “You’ll get one soon, I’m sure. You’re too good an actress not to.” “Yeah, maybe.” Ben took a sip of his drink and sighed again, the noise grating on you, “What’s got into you tonight, Y/N?” He leaned forward and dropped his voice so as not to be overheard, “I know we’re meant to argue but you’re obviously not in a good mood anyway. Did something happen?” “Nothing, Ben. Everything’s fucking peachy.” “Doesn’t really sound like it.” “Drop it Ben.” “Fine. Suit yourself.” He leaned back in his chair and took another drink. You took a drink too, staring at the other side of the room. You hoped that the hired paparazzi was in position and getting some good shots.

The food arrived and you forced yourself to eat some of it, though you didn’t feel like it at all. Ben tried again to get you talking, asking how your meal was but you gave him another short answer. You stopped trying to eat and just moved the food around your plate. He took another drink and gave you a concerned look, “Y/N, if this is about something I’ve done, can you please just tell me.” You couldn’t hold back anymore, all thoughts of the plan, of the argument you were meant to be having, gone, “Of course it’s about something you’ve done.” “Then tell me what it is so I can try to change it.” “You can’t change it Ben.” “Not if I don’t know what we’re talking about. Just talk to me. Do I leave the toilet seat up? Do I load the dishwasher wrong?” He was trying to pull you back on track, “Whatever it is I can fix it. I never want to upset you.” His last sentence was said with such sincerity that you felt your chest constrict, “That’s what I’m talking about Ben. It’s too much.” “Babe,” he reached across to grab your hand but you pulled it back out of his reach, “What do you mean?” “I mean this – us, you and me. You’re so earnest and I can’t keep….” “Y/N, don’t.” “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay Ben. Not when you’re posting on Instagram that we’re a perfect match and you’re calling to check up on me and acting like we’re super fucking serious. You’re clingy and needy and I can’t keep pretending I love you as much as you love me.” You bit your tongue before you could say anything more you shouldn’t and stood up, “I’m sorry. I need some space.” Ben looked completely stunned only managing to blurt your name out once you’re back was to him. With a hand over your mouth you hurried from the restaurant, able to feel the eyes of everyone in the room burning into you. There was a clatter of cutlery as Ben stood up behind you. but you didn’t know if he’d followed. You didn’t turn back.

[unsteadygalaxy]

all is soft inside chapter 8

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on ao3 at:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475064/chapters/67835227

previous | next

8. you cannot kill what we are

Bloodhound sits cross-legged on the top of the Epicenter tower, still and silent, hands folded in their lap. Their Kraber lays next to them, easily within grabbing distance. In their hands, they hold a small silver case, and Elliott can’t see what’s inside it. Maybe a picture of a boyfriend or girlfriend? Or partner? Elliott thinks, and a spiky flicker of jealousy rolls through his chest. Bloodhound was free to have any life they wanted, of course. Elliott just wished they would tell him more about who they were. They were so secretive and so private it made him crazy, but he wanted to respect their choices. He would settle for any small bit of information they gave him, and last night’s discussion only proved to make him more interested in them.

It strikes Elliott that it looks as though Bloodhound might be praying. Or meditating. He can’t really tell the difference, because of their mask, and it’s not like he would know the difference if he could see them. Elliott had never been a religious man. Putting hope and faith in some imaginary person never seemed logical for him. But he had to admire Bloodhound’s devotion to their Allfather. They remain still, and their breath through the respirator is even and quiet. He wonders what they’re praying about. He wonders, for the millionth time, why they are so closed off, and why they need the mask. God, he wants to ask so bad, but he won’t. He can’t.

Makoa crouches across from them, watching the hill between Overlook and their current position. He occasionally aims down the sights of his G7 to observe faraway battles and update them on who still remains. Elliott hasn’t ever met someone like Makoa- he was so accepting and supportive of every person around him, which was something Elliott was very grateful for. Anytime he needed a little energy boost, he knew to strike up a casual conversation with him. He was almost like another brother.

His heart clenches at the thought of his brothers, probably dead out in the universe somewhere. It had been so long since he’d seen or heard from any of them, and part of him gave up hope a long time ago. Pain and discomfort begin to creep their way in, and his first instinct is to block it out. But he remembers again what Bloodhound had said to him. You are allowed to feel the pain you bear. 

So he lets it come. 

It washes through him like hot syrup, clinging on to the bruised and broken parts of him as it passes. It hurts horribly for a few awful moments, but begins to subside faster than he thought possible. Huh. That’s not so bad, he thinks. But then it surges up in a fury, grabbing him by the throat and closing his windpipe off. Pain clogs his lungs and cements his airway, making it impossible to breathe. Water floods his chest, but he tries to acknowledge it, to let it reside there. Uh… just… feel it. Try to feel it.

Time slows to a crawl, and it squeezes Elliott in its static-filled fingers. A thick, buzzing substance descends upon his shoulders and draws all of the air out of his lungs, replacing it with some toxic chemical that numbs his insides on the way down. Oh, god. This is horrible. This fucking sucks, he thinks. He holds himself a little tighter, trying to shake himself out of whatever the hell this is.

“You doing okay, bruddah?” 

Elliott jerks his head up and sees that Makoa has his eyes trained on him, the bigger man’s face full of concern. It’s only then that Elliott realizes he’s not breathing, and he gasps, sucking in air like he’s a man dying of thirst. The static fog around his head subsides somewhat, but stubbornly remains. Nevertheless, he does feel a little better- at least the grief isn’t swallowing him in waves anymore.

“Oh, yeah, I’m great!” he replies, plastering a smile on his face. He gives Makoa a thumbs up. “Don’t worry about me, I was just d- devis- coming up with a battle plan for how we’re gonna win this thing.”

“If you say so,” Gibraltar says, but he doesn’t look altogether convinced. He chuckles and turns back to his sights.

“Remember to breathe, Elliott,” Bloodhound murmurs, not turning to face him. They’re still sitting quietly across the way, their head bowed, the case still resting in their hands. His name on their lips makes a brief flash of excitement zap through him, one which he promptly suppresses. How the hell did they know? he thinks, amazed by them as always. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck as he tries not to stare at them. He doesn’t really want to sit with these emotions right now, but he does it anyway. The grief is still there, yes, but it’s subsiding, and Elliott can’t be more grateful. A brief surge of embarrassment makes an appearance, and he pushes it away. Old habits die hard, he thinks.

Makoa whistles, sharp and low, and Bloodhound is at his side in an instant. They cradle the Kraber in their hands reverently, and aim down the sights. Mirage pops to his feet, charging up his Holo emitters. Two squads are running down the hill from Overlook, and a third squad is running in from their left. Bloodhound lets out a small sound that can only be a laugh, and Elliott’s stomach jumps sharply. Not now, he thinks, berating himself. He can’t afford to get distracted by them today.

The sound of two Kraber shots ricochets in the air, and Bloodhound jerks back a bit, displaced by the recoil. Right before Elliott’s eyes, two members of one squad drop to the ground, bleeding out. The third member of their squad is quickly taken out by the squad behind them, leaving two squads milling about, about to face off. No- another squad is running in from the right, which means every remaining team must be here.  Elliott’s heart begins to pump hard, and he knows that his squad will soon have to jump into the fight. The sound of rapid gunfire fills the air, and electricity shoots through his veins, amping him up, readying him for the struggle ahead, all thoughts of his brothers forgotten.

Mirage pulls out his Wingman, makes sure it’s fully loaded, and spins it around in his grip. He looks over to Gibraltar and Bloodhound. “What’s the plan?” he asks. 

Gibraltar laughs at him. “I thought you had it all figured out, bruddah.” There was no malice in his eyes, just a sense of relentless teasing that makes Elliott relieved.

“Uh…” Elliott’s thoughts are a scramble. He looks over to Bloodhound helplessly, but they only shake their head and cross their arms. God, he hopes they’re smiling. He has no choice but to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Um, how about this? Once they’re all a little closer, let’s get Bloodhound on the ground to scan and see who’s nearby. If there’s a bunch of enemies around, then Gibraltar, you can throw your Ultimate down. Some of the missiles might hit the tower, but it will give us enough of a smokescreen to run around and take some suckers out, since Bloodhound can see through smoke and we’ve all got digital threat optics.” The words tumble from his mouth, and even he is surprised by how coherent the plan seems to be. Huh. Would you look at that?

“Well planned, vinur minn,” Bloodhound affirms, a note of amusement in their voice. A giddy sense of pride surges through him, and he’s determined to let that feeling stay as long as it wants.

“You got it, Mirage,” Gibraltar says, clapping him heartily on the back. All of his breath exits his chest in a whoosh, and he stumbles forward, coughing weakly. He can hear gunfire beating a wild tattoo against his ears, and he knows it’s almost time to join the fight.

Makoa tosses his Ultimate canister up and down in his hand, an infectious smile splitting his face. Bloodhound looks over to Elliott, and even through the goggles, their gaze makes him want to blush. Instead, he gives them a cheeky grin and a thumbs up. Bloodhound nods to them, and turns to the balcony under the zipline. They stretch their arms upwards, and then roll their neck, bouncing on the balls of their feet. The hunter takes a brief moment to bow their head once more. They open the service panel on their wrist gear to press a few quick buttons, and Mirage glances down at the squads fighting below. 

They really don’t know what they’re in for, he thinks. 

He watches in awe as Bloodhound takes a running leap off the Epicenter tower and howls into the sky, the familiar red hue glowing around them as they plummet to the ground. Their jump pack boosts them just enough so they don’t destroy their knees, and when they hit the snow, they immediately activate their scanner. Nine orangey-red figures highlight through the structures and ice around their team, and Bloodhound yells over the comms, “Gibraltar, now!”

Makoa follows suit, hurling his Ultimate canister down between the warring teams. The familiar hum fills the air, and a barrage of missiles scream through the sky. Thick gray smoke descends upon the landscape, and the missiles beat against the ground, creating miniature craters where they explode. “Two down!” Gibraltar announces, examining the scene through the digital sights of his Prowler. “Go get ‘em, Mirage! I’ll be right behind you.”

Mirage hops up and down on the balls of his feet, just like Bloodhound did, and snaps his goggles on. “It’s dupes o’clock!” he says, grinning like a little kid. The adrenaline was really kicking in now, and he feels powerful and confident, for once. He leaps off the tower after Bloodhound and hits the icy ground hard. His knees wobble and his feet ache, but this is no time for hesitation. It’s time to help his team. 

Immediately he takes advantage of the smoke that’s still clouding the air, and sends a decoy running straight through it. He follows it and releases every clone he has. Even though he’s running blind, he trusts himself, because he knows the contour of the area like the back of his hand. Gunfire begins to ring out, and the churning sound of a Devotion greets his ears. Dread threatens to flood his stomach for a brief second, but he acknowledges it and lets it pass, surprised at how quickly it leaves. Three of his decoys are shot down, and Elliott has to smile. Bamboozling his opponents never got old.

A sinister, skeletal shape looms out of the smoke and Elliott cringes. Why did it have to be the damn murderbot? he laments internally. He raises his Wingman, aiming through the sights. Revenant turns to him, highlighted in red, his mechanical hand splitting in two to reveal the silencer. Mirage dodges the huge fiery projectile just barely, and his heart pounds harder than ever before. He aims again and two shots from his pistol connect with Revenant’s chest just as the robot levels his Hemlok. To Elliott’s horror, Revenant disappears in a flash of orange light, no doubt summoned back to his death totem. 

“Dammit!” he yells, and he feels a peppering of bullets smatter against his head and chest. His shields are dangerously low, and as he turns to see his attacker, a hazy red and brown shape flashes past him. Bloodhound sprints across the battlefield, raises their Spitfire and shoots down an unfamiliar face in a matter of seconds. Must be one of the new hopefuls, Elliott thinks wildly, fighting the urge to just stand back and watch Bloodhound dominate the field. They run off behind another glacier in search of their prey.

He shakes his head and continues on.

By his count, there should only be six other people left- two of the previous nine had been taken down by Gibraltar’s Ultimate, and Bloodhound had just finished the third of that squad. He’s not sure who’s left, but he also knows there’s a big chance Revenant’s squad is still intact. His totem tended to complicate things, so Elliott hated trying to win against him. He’s not sure which he prefers- losing to Bloodhound or fighting against a squad of shadows.

The ring was getting closer by the second, and Elliott could almost hear it humming. “We’d better make this quick, guys,” he says over comms. “I like pork chops but I definitely don’t want to become them!”

“Come to me, félagi fighters,” Bloodhound replies, their voice raspy and deep because of their Ultimate. The sound of it electrifies Elliott’s insides in an instant, and he has to fight every weakness he’s got as his knees turn to jelly. 

He rounds the corner and ducks into the room below the tower, fidgeting with his Wingman. Gibraltar jogs in with them, his Prowler smoking slightly. “Downed another one, but I think they had a gold knockdown. They’re probably up and running again.”

“It is no matter,” Bloodhound replies, and Elliott is sad to hear their Ultimate fading away. “We have the means to vinna.” They kneel on the ground quickly, regaining their balance from the rush. He places a hand on their shoulder.

“You all right?” he asks them. 

Bloodhound stiffens, almost shying away from his touch. “Yes. Do not forget to recharge your shields. We have need of your skill.”

A weird sense of awkwardness sparkles in his ribcage, and he retracts his hand. “Oh, right.” He takes a moment to swing his backpack from his shoulders and to his feet. The familiar hiss and sting of the shield battery jolts through his veins, and soon enough he is fully charged again. “How many are left? Six?

“Four,” Bloodhound pants. “I killed two opponents before assisting you, so there should be four remaining, assuming the one with the gold shield evaded death. Who was it?”

“Don’t know,” Gibraltar says, popping a shield cell. “Didn’t get a good look at them. Might’ve been Dr. Nox.”

Bloodhound nods, and reloads their Spitfire. Gunfire echoes around them again, too close for comfort. Mirage darts to the other doorway and peeks out. Sure enough, the remaining squads are battling it out by the respawn beacon. Revenant and Lifeline are shooting at Wraith and Wattson from the hill, pinning the two women between them and Elliott’s squad. A blue-black void portal is hidden expertly among the rocks, no doubt leading to a safer location. 

“It’s a two on two out there,” Elliott yells back to his team. “Lifeline and Murderbot against Wraith and Wattson. I don’t know what happened to their thirds, so keep an eye out.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Gibraltar says. “Wraith will be able to tell if we’re aiming at her, thanks to those voices of hers. Bloodhound, how about you take her portal while they’re distracted and wait for them to come through? Give us scans when you’re charged up. Mirage, you send a few decoys out as you get them. I’ll circle around to the side and try to gain ground on the two up the hill.”

“Hey, sounds good,” Mirage replies, just as Bloodhound nods their agreement. “Almost as good as my plan, but you know, you’ll get there!”

Gibraltar just shakes his head at him in amused exasperation. “You keep telling yourself that. You two ready?”

Mirage grabs an arc star from his bag. “Ready.”

“Ready.” Bloodhound’s voice is smooth and even, free from the heavy breathing from before. 

“Go!”

Elliott runs through the door with no hesitation, sending a decoy in the direction of the gunfire. He lobs the arc star high and far, hoping to land it right between the squads. Bloodhound is close behind him, and they run straight to Wraith’s portal. Gibraltar jogs up the hill, pulling out his G7. Bloodhound disappears into Wraith’s portal in a flash of white light, and Elliott starts firing at Wattson with his R-99. About half of the bullets miss, whizzing over Wattson’s head when she ducks. Wraith disappears from his peripheral, slipping into the void. Elliott can only hope she’s gone after Gibraltar and isn’t sneaking around behind him.

Bloodhound suddenly cries out in pain over the comms, and Elliott’s heart twists itself into knots. 

“What’s wrong?” he yells, his fingers fumbling as he ducks and reloads his R-99.

The hunter reappears beside him, heaving and groaning in pain. “Do not go through the portal!” they gasp. “Wraith left the other end outside the ring!” Bloodhound runs off to take cover, pulling a med kit from their backpack as they go. 

Wattson fires her Flatline straight at Elliott’s head, and a dangerous amount of bullets make contact. His shields instantly vaporize, and his helmet is barely holding on. He knows it's now or never, so he takes a deep breath and fires his R-99 at her. His friend hits the ground almost instantly, and Elliott feels a twinge of sorrow. Wattson was one of his favorite Legends to be around, and he always felt this weird sense of guilt when he beat her in the Games, even though they’re here to repeatedly kill each other. “Sorry, Nat!”

“It- It’s fine,” she groans weakly, pressing a hand to her neck as the blood gushes from between her fingertips. “I’ll get you next time!”

He lingers for a moment, not really wanting to finish her off, but more bullets fly in his direction. He doesn’t really have a choice, so he fires a few more bullets at her, and her body goes limp. 

A large, orange, sparkling something hits Elliott squarely in the chest, and he realizes too late that Revenant has hit him with his silencer. “Shit, shit, shit!” he mutters, diving out of the way. He ducks behind a pillar and pulls out a shield battery, willing it to charge faster. Bullets smack into the ground near his feet, and he scoots away from them. 

“Wraith is down!” Gibraltar yells over the comms. 

“Wattson’s out too,” Mirage replies, breathing hard. “It should just be Revenant and Lifeline, right?” Fully healed, he discards the battery and peeks precariously around the pillar. 

A web of orangey-red energy sweeps the area, highlighting three enemy figures.

To his horror, a shadowy Revenant, Lifeline, and Caustic are running down the hill at full-tilt. Caustic raises an arm back, holding a large, cylindrical object in his hand, and Elliott is familiar with the sight. Still silenced, he can’t do much else besides run, so he darts away from the respawn beacon structure and back towards the imposing ring. It has closed just shy of the space under the tower, so he throws himself back in and waits for his abilities to return. “Bloodhound, where are you?”

Just as the words leave his mouth, Caustic rushes around the corner, still holding the canister in his hands. Elliott immediately sends a decoy in his direction, but he is not fooled- he steps aside and throws the canister right at Elliott’s feet. Caustic fires a round of ammo from his Havoc right into Elliott’s chest. Elliott throws himself backwards, but his right elbow smashes against the doorframe, and he feels it fracture. Mirage falls through the doorway just as clouds of green gas spew straight at his face. 

“Fuck, shit-” he gasps, breathing in gas and crawling frantically away. He was so close to death, and his blood is pumping white-hot terror through his veins. Pain funnels into his lungs and into his entire body, radiating from his arm. 

“Failure after failure,” Caustic seethes through the mask, slamming his foot on Mirage’s chest just as the effects of Revenant’s totem leave him. He reloads his Peacekeeper and presses the muzzle into Elliott’s forehead. 

Same damn place I was just a few days ago, Elliott thinks, his chest seizing in agony. All this fighting, and for what? He grabs around frantically, trying to find something, anything to help him out.

His left hand brushes across the handle of his Wingman.

Three ear-splitting shots ring out, and Caustic crashes to the ground, three bullet holes in his forehead. 

Elliott scrambles to his feet and instantly falls right back over, hacking his lungs out. He roots through his backpack in a panic, trying to find a med kit and a shield battery. To his dismay, he only finds two syringes and a shield cell. 

“Caustic’s down! Hey, I could use some shields here!” he coughs, leaning against the wall and taking the syringes. He feels his arm heat up uncomfortably, and the fracture heals itself, but still aches.

“Give me a sec!” Gibraltar yells. “Lifeline’s low, but so am I!”

“Revenant has downed me,” Bloodhound calls, their voice thick with what Elliott can only assume to be blood. 

This is bad, Elliott thinks as he pops a shield cell. His chest is tight with pain and fear, and all he wants to do is scramble to his feet and find Bloodhound. Gibraltar sprints around the glacier, throws down his dome, and drops a shield battery, which Elliott scoops up and uses as fast as he physically can. “Bloodhound, where are you?”

“Near the respawn beacon!”

“Shit,” he hisses. Bloodhound had to be right between them and Revenant, and Revenant had to be coming for them. “Gibraltar, did you finish Lifeline off?” 

“Yup,” he says, reloading his Prowler. “Anyone got some heavy ammo?”

But his words fall on deaf ears, because Elliott takes off towards Bloodhound’s indicator.

Another fiery orange projectile hits Elliott squarely in the chest, and he yells in frustration. “Hold on, Bloodhound, I’m coming for you!”

“No, Elliott, finish the match!” they yell weakly. “Leave me!”

“But-”

“Go!” 

“No!” Elliott protests. “I’m not leaving you behind, so shut up!” He slides across the ground to Bloodhound’s shaking form and plunges the revival syringe straight into their chest. They gasp hard, and their body convulses for a brief moment. “Come on, stay with me,” he murmurs. His hand goes to theirs and hovers over it for just a moment, but he thinks better of it. Now’s not the time.

A fiery orange projectile hits the ground only a few feet away from them, just as Elliott is pulling Bloodhound to their feet. “You good?” he asks them.

“Yes. Now go!”

Elliott pops to his feet and grabs a stray syringe from the ground, plunging it into his wrist as he runs. His Wingman is almost out of ammo, and he only has a couple clips of his R-99 left. “Gibraltar, you good?”

“Right behind you!” he replies. “But I’m low on health!”

Revenant’s skeletal form comes into view once more as Elliott runs up the hill towards Refinery. He’s kneeling over Lifeline’s body, attempting to revive her. 

Elliott fires the last two Wingman shots he has at Revenant, but to his dismay, only one of them connects. It collides with his shoulder, and he jumps to his feet, leaving Lifeline behind. Good, Elliott thinks. Now she can’t back him up. He switches to his R-99 and sprints harder, trying to catch up with him.

Elliott rounds the corner and promptly ducks as he sees another of Revenant’s silencers flying towards his head. He shoots another decoy forward, trying to give Revenant something else to focus on. Gibraltar gets hit with the silencer and grunts in frustration. Elliott pursues Revenant relentlessly, determined to get revenge on the bastard. 

Finally the robot comes into view, and Elliott raises his gun at him. Most of the mag hits his target, and Revenant has to be close to dead. 

“Mirage!” Gibby yells. “Get behind me!”

“Wh-”

“Just do it!”

Elliott shakes his head in disbelief but he does as Gibraltar says. “I don’t know what you’re planning but I hope it’s good.”

“Trust me,” Gibraltar says, raising what’s left of his gun shield. Elliott reloads his R-99, and in front of them, Revenant fires back with a few well-placed Eva-8 shots, obliterating Gibraltar’s gun shield. Gibby falls to the ground, his arm and gut bleeding profusely.

“Dude, what the hell-”

“Just finish him!” Gibraltar coughs, blood spattering onto the ice. 

Elliott looks up in alarm. Revenant is almost upon him, and he’s leveling his R-301. The too-familiar panic settles in, but Elliott takes a deep breath, allowing it to remain inside him.

Everything goes quiet and still. 

His R-99 moves seemingly of its own accord, locking onto Revenant’s head with ease. His fingers pull the trigger, and the stream of bullets shoots out like a laser, deadly accurate. Every single bullet connects to its target. Revenant is knocked backward by the force of it all, and he slumps to the ground, dead. 

The R-99 falls out of Elliott’s hands. 

His eyes sting and his knees give out.

“Attention. Winner decided.”